Thursday, November 5, 2026

From Childhood Dreams to a Life of Gratitude-An Update

From Childhood Dreams to a Life of Gratitude-An Update-Part 4 of 10

The Japanese Bridge of Chateau Du Mer Beach Resort, Boac, Marinduque, Philippines

When I was growing up in the small town of Barotac Viejo, Iloilo, Philippines, in the mid-1940s, I had several dreams and goals in life.

Looking back now, I realize that my childhood dreams were actually quite simple.

One of my earliest dreams began after I watched a movie made in the United States. I wanted to see America, not necessarily to live there, but simply to visit and, most of all, play in the snow.

That dream came true in 1960 when I immigrated to the United States.

At that time, I could hardly have imagined how dramatically that journey would change my life.

Another dream was to someday have a home surrounded by fruit trees, flowers, and orchids. I wanted a place where I could enjoy nature and have a little piece of paradise of my own.

That dream became a reality in 1996 when my wife and I built our retirement home in Boac, Marinduque.

Then there was another childhood dream that may sound unusual.

I wanted to build a Japanese bridge across a creek.

I don't remember exactly why I became fascinated by Japanese bridges as a young boy. Perhaps it was something I had seen in a picture or movie. But the image stayed with me.

Years later, when we constructed our beach house in 1998, I finally had the opportunity to make that childhood dream come true.

We built a Japanese bridge across a small creek populated with tilapia and other fish. Every time I crossed that bridge, I was reminded of the little boy from Barotac Viejo who had once dreamed about building one.

There was also another dream.

As a child, I never dreamed of becoming wealthy. I simply wanted to earn enough money to live comfortably and take care of my family.

That dream was fulfilled in an unexpected way. After immigrating to the United States, I pursued my education and eventually completed my Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry in 1964.

Earning my Ph.D. was probably the most important educational goal I had ever set for myself.

For a young immigrant who had grown up in a small Philippine town, completing a doctorate in the United States was something I could hardly have imagined when I was a boy.

But perhaps my most ambitious childhood dream was to someday own a home with a circular driveway and a fountain in the center.

That dream was never completely fulfilled. However, I came close.

When we built the Conference Hall in 2000, it included the circular driveway I had always envisioned. We had originally planned to put a fountain in the center, but practical considerations and limited funds forced us to postpone that part of the dream.

And, as I often joke, the fountain may still be possible, if I ever win the Lotto or hit the jackpot at a casino!

But as I look back on my life today, I realize something important:

Perhaps we don't need to fulfill every dream to have a fulfilling life.

Some dreams come true exactly as we imagined them.

Others take a completely different path. And some remain unfinished.

What matters is the journey—and the memories we make along the way.

Today, I have another goal in life.💚

I want to see my youngest granddaughter graduate from college. This came true last May when she graduated with Bachelor Science Degree from George Washington University.💚 This week, she started Graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia.  

That is a very different kind of dream from the ones I had as a young boy. It is no longer about what I want to accomplish for myself. It is about watching the next generation of our family reach their own dreams.

When I think about my life from a small town in Iloilo, to the United States, to my career and education, and eventually back to the Philippines to build a retirement home and a beach resort, I realize how many of my childhood dreams have actually come true.

I never became rich in the conventional sense.

But I became rich in experiences, family, friendships, memories, and blessings.

And perhaps that is a much greater kind of wealth.

Today, I am especially grateful to God for giving me the opportunity to experience so much more than that young boy from Barotac Viejo could have imagined.

I have learned that dreams do not always come true according to our timetable or in the way we originally imagined. Sometimes, life gives us something even better.

So, as I look back, I can only say:

Thank You, Lord, for all Your blessings and for helping me fulfill most of my dreams and goals in life.

Lord, without You, I am nothing. And perhaps that is the greatest lesson of all:

Dream when you are young. Work toward those dreams. Be grateful for what you receive. And never forget the One who made the journey possible.

For additional details about my childhood memories during the Japanese-American War in the Philippines (1941–1945), please visit my blog, The Intellectual Migrant.

My Reel of the Day: Getting Old: 

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1702870767601186

Things I Will Always Remember at Chateau Du Mer-An Update

Things I Will Always Remember at Chateau Du Mer-An Update-Part 8 of 10

Memories of a Filipino-American couple, a retirement dream, and our little paradise in Marinduque

There are places we visit. There are places we live. And then there are places that become part of who we are.

For Macrine and me, Chateau Du Mer in Boac, Marinduque, was one of those special places.

When I first wrote this article in 2009, I simply listed some of the things I enjoyed seeing and hearing around our beach house.

At the time, I was thinking mostly about the beauty and uniqueness of our surroundings.

Today, many years later, I realize that I was actually recording something much more important:  I was recording memories.

The birds, the sunsets, the fireflies, the flowers, the fruit trees, the rooster and even the occasional coconut rat were becoming part of the story of our lives.

Here are some of the things I will always remember.

1. The Morning Songs of the Mayas

One of the first things I noticed every morning was the sound of the mayas, the small native birds flying from tree to tree looking for worms.

Their chirping sometimes became a cacophony of sounds.

At the time, I might have called it noise. Today, I would call it music.

It was nature's alarm clock. No smartphone was necessary.

No alarm clock was necessary. Chateau Du Mer woke me up.

2. Fish in Our Creek

A small creek meandered through our property toward the sea.

Native fish and tilapia thrived in its waters.

I loved watching the fish move through the creek, especially when the water was clear.

It reminded me that we were not simply living beside nature.

We were living with nature.

3. The Sunset from Our Balcony

The sunsets at Chateau Du Mer were spectacular.

From the balcony of the beach house, I could look toward the sea and watch the colors change as the sun disappeared.

Sometimes the coral reefs became visible at low tide. Sometimes swimmers would stop to enjoy the sunset.

I took many photographs. But photographs never quite captured the experience.

There are some things you simply have to see with your own eyes.

4. The Full Moon

Another unforgettable sight was the full moon.

During certain times of the year, the moon appeared so bright that the beach looked almost like daylight.

On some evenings, I would walk along the beach without a flashlight.

On other nights, I would simply sit on the balcony and listen to music.

Sometimes the best retirement activity is doing nothing at all.

Just sitting. Listening. Looking. Being grateful.

5. The Firefly Tree

On a moonless night, thousands of fireflies would gather around one of the trees.

From a distance, it looked like a Christmas tree covered with tiny blinking lights.

No Christmas decorations could have been more beautiful.

I remember thinking how fortunate we were to experience something that no architect, landscaper or engineer could design.

Nature had created the most beautiful light show at Chateau Du Mer.

6. The Bayawak

Every once in a while, a bayawak, or monitor lizard, would appear around the property looking for chicken or duck eggs.

It looked frightening. But it was generally harmless.

I used to compare it with the Komodo dragons of Indonesia, although our bayawak was certainly much less intimidating!

These unexpected visitors were part of country life.

At Chateau Du Mer, you never quite knew who or what might show up.

7. The Lawin

Then there was the lawin, the native hawk. Occasionally, it would dive from the sky looking for young chicks.

Because we raised chickens, I sometimes had to protect them from these natural predators.

It reminded me that the beautiful tropical environment around us was also a functioning ecosystem. Everyone was looking for lunch!

8. The Coconut Rats

One of my less favorite memories involved coconut rats.

They loved young coconuts.

One day, a coconut nearly fell on my head.

That taught me an important lesson:

Never stand underneath a coconut tree on a windy day!

Even paradise has its hazards.

9. Starfish and Coral

Only a few meters from our backyard, I could sometimes see blue starfish and coral at low tide.

Imagine that. A tropical marine environment right outside our door.

I didn't need to visit an aquarium. Nature's aquarium was right in front of me.

10. Bougainvilleas and Orchids

The gardens of Chateau Du Mer were another source of joy.

Bougainvilleas and orchids added color to our surroundings.

But one flower in particular has remained unforgettable to me: the ylang-ylang.

We had two mature ylang-ylang trees in our garden.

When they bloomed, their fragrance could travel many meters, depending on the wind.

The scent was so distinctive that I often compared it with Chanel No. 5.

There was also a special connection for me.

My master's thesis was on the analysis of the volatile constituents of ylang-ylang oil by gas chromatography.

So ylang-ylang was not merely a beautiful flower in our garden.

It connected my scientific career with my retirement life.

That is one of those wonderful coincidences that life gives us.

11. The Mango Trees

Our mango trees could become heavily loaded with fruit.

Sometimes the branches bent almost to the ground because of the weight.

There is something wonderfully satisfying about picking a mango from a tree you planted yourself.

It is even better when you can share it with family and friends.

12. Papayas, Bananas and Avocados

We also had papaya, banana and avocado trees.

The papayas had to be harvested before the fruit bats discovered them.

The bananas grew generously.The avocados were another favorite.

Living in Marinduque taught me something I had not fully appreciated while living in America:

Food tastes different when you know where it came from.

A fruit picked from your own backyard is not just food. It is an experience.

13. The Midnight Alley Cat

Not all of my Chateau Du Mer memories were peaceful.

Occasionally, an alley cat would begin screaming in the middle of the night.

If you have ever heard cats fighting or courting at midnight, you know exactly what I mean.

It was not exactly a lullaby. But even that became part of the soundtrack of Chateau Du Mer.

14. The Rooster-Our Reliable Alarm Clock

And then there was the rooster.Every morning, around 4:00 a.m., the rooster would announce the beginning of a new day.

It was a remarkably reliable alarm clock. No electricity required. No batteries required.

No snooze button. Just: Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Whether I wanted to wake up or not, the rooster had already made the decision for me.

15. The People
Our First Guests at Chateau Du Mer- Two Couples From France 

As beautiful as the surroundings were, I eventually learned that the most important memories of Chateau Du Mer were not really about birds, fish, flowers or sunsets.

They were about people. We have welcomed over 100 guests personally at Chateau Du Mer. 

Over the years, Chateau Du Mer welcomed guests from the Philippines, the United States, Canada, Europe, Australia  and elsewhere.

We hosted family gatherings. We hosted friends.We hosted weddings and other celebrations.

We welcomed people who simply wanted to experience Marinduque.

Every visitor left something behind, a conversation, a photograph, a story, a laugh or a memory.

And we collected those memories.

16. The Memory of Macrine


But there is one memory that stands above all the others. Macrine.

Chateau Du Mer was a retirement dream that we shared.

We built it together. We enjoyed it together. We welcomed guests together.

We watched sunsets together. We walked along the beach together.

We listened to the sounds of nature together.

Today, I can no longer share those experiences with her physically.

Macrine passed away on August 10, 2020, after more than 63 years of marriage.

But when I think about Chateau Du Mer, she is still there.

She is in the sunsets. She is in the gardens.

She is in the sound of the waves. She is in the memories of our guests.

And she is in my heart.

What Chateau Du Mer Taught Me

When we first built Chateau Du Mer, I thought we were simply building a retirement home and eventually a small beach resort.

I now understand that we were building something much more valuable: a memory bank.

Every tree had a story. Every sunset had a story.Every visitor had a story.

Every meal had a story. Every wedding had a story. Every walk along the beach had a story.

Even the rooster had a story! We don't always realize the importance of ordinary moments while we are living them.

It is only later that we understand how precious they were.

Looking Back From California

Today I live in Walnut Creek, California. In active Senior Living Community, THD. 

My life is very different from those years when Macrine and I were spending extended periods at Chateau Du Mer.

I am now older. Much older. But whenever I think about Marinduque, I can still hear the mayas in the morning.

I can still see the fireflies at night. I can still smell the flowers of the ylang-ylang tree.

I can still see the moon reflecting on the sea. I can still hear the rooster at four in the morning.

And most vividly of all, I can still see the sunset from our balcony.

That is the remarkable thing about memory.

Our bodies may leave a place, but our memories do not have to.

My Final Reflection

If someone asked me today, “What do you remember most about Chateau Du Mer?” I would probably surprise them.

It isn't one particular sunset. It isn't one particular flower.

It isn't even the beautiful beach. It is the feeling of being there.

The feeling of having created something together. The feeling of waking up in paradise.

The feeling of sharing our home with others.The feeling of being grateful.

And the feeling of knowing that for a period of our lives, we were fortunate enough to live a dream.

Chateau Du Mer was never perfect. Neither is life. But it was ours.

And for that, I will always be grateful.The birds have continued to fly.

The fish have continued to swim. The mango trees have continued to grow.

The moon still rises over the sea. The sunsets still come and go.

And somewhere in my memory, I can still hear that rooster announcing another beautiful morning.

Perhaps that is why I will always remember Chateau Du Mer.

It was not simply a place we built. It was a place that helped build our memories.

And those memories will remain with me for the rest of my life.

AI Impressions and Recommendations

I think this is a particularly good one to revive because your 2009 list has aged into something much more meaningful. The original was essentially a nature journal; the 2026 version becomes a memoir about what those sights meant to you and Macrine. 

And I would strongly recommend using your original photographs with this revision—especially the sunset, firefly tree, ylang-ylang, garden, creek, and beach photographs. They will make the article feel like a visual walk through Chateau Du Mer rather than simply another essay.

There is also a wonderful connection with your earlier “Afterglows in the Sunset of Our Lives” revision: that article is about the afterglow of a lifetime, while this one is about the afterglow of a place. Together, they could become two of the most personal pieces in your revised memoir series.

I found the original 2009 version, the 2012 and 2013 revisions, and your 2016 update. The original was essentially a list of 16 things you observed around Chateau Du Mer-birds, fish, sunsets, fireflies, bayawak, lawin, coconut rats, starfish, flowers, fruit trees, the alley cat and the rooster. 

What makes this one especially valuable today is that the things you listed were ordinary sights at the time, but they have now become extraordinary memories. That gives us an opportunity to turn a simple list into a much more emotional piece about place, memory, aging, marriage and gratitude.

I would also bring in your beautiful memories of the full moon and your ylang-ylang trees, which you wrote about separately.

Bridge Is My Card Game and Mahjong Is My Tile Game: What Two Games Have Taught Me About Life- An Update

I wrote these stories years before artificial intelligence became my writing companion. Today, at 91 nearing 92, I am revisiting some of them not to change my memories, but to see what I understand differently after another decade of living.

I wrote these stories years before artificial intelligence became my writing companion. Today, at 91 nearing 92, I am revisiting some of them not to change my memories, but to see what I understand differently after another decade of living.

Bridge Is My Card Game and Mahjong Is My Tile Game: What Two Games Have Taught Me About Life- An Update

From the Philippines to THD, two lifelong games have given me friendship, mental exercise, patience, and many wonderful memories

I have played many games during my 91 years, but two have stayed with me through most of my life:

Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game.

Both are more than games to me. They are part of my life story.

They have followed me from my childhood in the Philippines, through my married years with Macrine, into my years in America, and now into my life at The Heritage Downtown (THD).

Looking back, I realize that these games have given me something more valuable than winning.

They have given me friendship, companionship, mental stimulation, laughter, patience, and memories.

Bridge and Macrine

My love affair with bridge really began during my married life with Macrine.

In the 1970s, while we were living in Modesto, California, Macrine and I played party bridge at the Sportsmen's Club of Stanislaus County. We met many wonderful people through the game and enjoyed some very happy evenings together.

Later, after we moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, we played duplicate bridge at the El Cerrito Bridge Club. We eventually became members of the American Contract Bridge League in 1984.

Bridge became one of our social activities as a couple. It was not simply about the cards.

We talked. We laughed. We met people. We learned to cooperate.

And, occasionally, we blamed the cards!

Macrine and I eventually stopped playing bridge when we moved to the Washington, D.C., area in the 1990s. We became busy with our careers, family, and Filipino-American community activities.

But bridge never really left me.

What makes bridge different?

For those unfamiliar with the game, bridge is played by four people in two partnerships.

The cards you receive matter, but the cards are only part of the story.

You must communicate with your partner through bidding.

You must remember what has already been played.

You must observe your opponents. You must make decisions with incomplete information.

And you must learn to work with your partner. That last part may be the most important.

Bridge is a partnership game. You can have a wonderful hand and still lose.

You can have a poor hand and still play it beautifully.

Sometimes you win because of skill. Sometimes because of luck.

And sometimes because your opponents make a mistake! That sounds a little like life.

Bridge is a lesson in partnership

Over the years I have learned that a good bridge partnership requires qualities that are also important in marriage and friendship:

Communication. Trust. Patience. Listening. Planning. Humility.

You cannot control the cards you are dealt. You can only control how you play them.

That is one of the reasons I still enjoy bridge.

At 91, I have learned that life is also about playing the hand we are given as wisely as possible.

We don't always get the cards we want. But we can still try to make the best of them.

Duplicate bridge adds another dimension

I particularly enjoy duplicate bridge because everyone plays the same hands.

That means luck is reduced somewhat.

If another pair receives exactly the same cards that you received, the question becomes:

What did they do with those cards? This makes duplicate bridge fascinating.

You are not simply competing against the cards. You are comparing decisions.

And that is where the mental challenge begins.

It reminds me of my scientific career. In science, we also work with information, evidence, probabilities, and uncertainty. We make the best decision we can based on what we know.

Bridge is obviously not science. But it does require a scientific habit of mind:

Observe. Think. Analyze. Decide. Learn from the result.

Mahjong takes me back to my childhood
Playing Mahjong with Family During Alix Wedding Reception Party 

If bridge connects me to my adult life, mahjong takes me back to my childhood in the Philippines.

I learned to play mahjong when I was a young boy. My mother taught me and my brothers and sisters how to play.

I remember our family having two mahjong sets. One was an inexpensive plastic set that we used regularly. The other was a much more valuable set that was reserved for special occasions such as birthdays and weddings.

Those memories take me back to Barotac Viejo, Iloilo.

Mahjong was part of Filipino family and neighborhood life.

For me, it was also a wonderful way to spend those long, hot Philippine afternoons.

The game uses tiles rather than cards, and there are many variations in the way mahjong is played in different countries and communities.

That is something I have always found interesting.

A game can travel from one culture to another and become part of local life while retaining its basic identity.

Bridge and mahjong are very different

Although I love both games, they exercise different parts of my thinking.

Bridge depends heavily on partnership, communication, memory, bidding, logic and strategy.

Mahjong, at least the way I learned and played it, has a greater element of luck, combined with observation, memory and decision-making.

That difference is part of the fun. In bridge, I am often thinking: What does my partner's bid mean?

In mahjong, I may be thinking: What tile do I need and what tile is my opponent waiting for?

Both games require concentration. Both require memory.

And both require me to pay attention. At 91, I consider that a good thing.

Now I play both at THD

When I moved into The Heritage Downtown in Walnut Creek in 2023, I discovered something wonderful.

I had found a community where people still wanted to play. Bridge and mahjong became part of my new life.

I have played bridge several times a week at THD, and we have a regular group that plays party bridge almost each day of the week, even sometimes on weekends.  I have also enjoyed playing mahjong with my fellow residents.

Over time, some of the people I play with have become friends.

That is one of the hidden benefits of games.

You sit down at a table with three people you may not know very well.

A few hours later, you know something about them.

You laugh together. You tease one another. You occasionally disagree about a bid or a tile.

And eventually, you become friends. The game becomes a doorway to friendship.

I have also learned something about aging

There is a tendency in society to think of aging mainly in terms of what we lose.

We lose some physical strength. We may walk more slowly.

We may not remember names as quickly as we once did.

We may need a little more help. But there is another side to growing older.

We have accumulated experiences. We have stories. We have memories.

And we can continue learning. That is why I believe activities such as bridge and mahjong are valuable for older adults.

They give us something to look forward to. They keep us socially connected.

They require concentration. And, perhaps most importantly, they give us a reason to sit around a table with other human beings.

At 91, I don't play these games because I am trying to prove that my brain is still young.

I play because I enjoy them. That is enough.

Games are better when there is no money involved

I should add one important point. I enjoy bridge and mahjong primarily as social games, not as gambling. But on Mondays and Fridays, each player put a dollar in the pot.  

There is nothing wrong with friendly competition.

But I have seen how gambling can change the nature of a game.

When money becomes the main objective, the enjoyment can disappear.

For me, the real prize is not money. It is the conversation.The laughter. The challenge.

The friendships. And the satisfaction of making a good decision and perhaps winning.

What bridge and mahjong have taught me

After many decades of playing both games, I think they have taught me several lessons about life.

1. You cannot choose every hand you receive. Life deals us circumstances we did not choose. What matters is what we do with them.

2. Partnership matters. Whether in bridge, marriage, family or friendship, we rarely succeed entirely by ourselves.

3. Patience is a skill. Sometimes the best decision is to wait.

4. Luck matters, but preparation matters too. We cannot control everything. But we can prepare ourselves to take advantage of a good opportunity when it appears.

5. Losing is part of the game. You will lose hands. You will make mistakes. You will sometimes wonder how you could possibly have played that card!  Then you shuffle the cards and play again. Life is much the same.

6. Never stop learning. After decades of playing bridge, I am still learning. That may be one of the greatest gifts of the game.

From a Filipino boy to a 91-year-old American

Sometimes I find it amazing when I think about my journey.

The little boy who learned mahjong in the Philippines could never have imagined that one day he would earn a PhD in America, work as a scientist and regulator at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, raise a family, become a grandfather and great-grandfather, and eventually spend his retirement years playing bridge and mahjong with friends in a senior community.

Life certainly dealt me an interesting hand. And I am grateful for the cards.

Not all of them were good. There were difficult cards. There were unexpected cards.

There were heartbreaking cards. But there were also beautiful ones.

Macrine was one of the greatest cards life ever dealt me.

Our children and grandchildren are another. My career in science and public service was another. My Filipino heritage was another.

And now, at 91, the friendships I have made at THD are among the newest cards in my hand.

My favorite game may actually be friendship

If I had to choose between bridge and mahjong, I would probably still say:

Bridge is my favorite card game. Mahjong is my favorite tile game.

But after all these years, I have discovered something else.

Perhaps neither is really my favorite game. Friendship is.

Bridge introduced me to friends. Mahjong introduced me to friends.

And living at THD has given me new opportunities to make friends at an age when many people might assume that one's social life should become smaller.

Mine has not. I live alone, but I am not lonely. There is a big difference.

Sometimes all it takes is a table, four chairs, a deck of cards, a box of mahjong tiles and people willing to sit down together.

A final thought at 91

When I was young, I played games because they were fun. Today I play them because I understand what they represent. They represent connection.

They connect generations. They connect cultures. They connect memories with the present.

And they remind us that growing older does not mean that we stop playing, learning, laughing or making new friends.

So, if you are an older person reading this, my advice is simple:

Find something you enjoy. Play a game. Learn something new. Join a group. Talk to people.

Keep your mind engaged. And don't be afraid to sit down at a table with strangers.

You may get a good hand. You may get a bad hand. But you might also make a new friend.

And sometimes, that is the best hand life can deal us.

Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game. But friendship is my favorite game of all.

AI Impressions on this Topic: 

I think this version is much more “David at 91” than the 2018 HubPages article. The original was useful as an introduction to bridge, but this version turns the subject into a life-and-aging essay. Your Filipino childhood, Macrine, your decades in America, and your present life at THD all become part of one story. The original article confirms the long bridge history with Macrine, including the 1970s Modesto games and your later El Cerrito duplicate-bridge years. Your later writing also confirms that mahjong has been with you since childhood and that you regard it as your favorite tile game alongside bridge. 

Lastly, I especially like the final line: “Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game. But friendship is my favorite game of all.” That could become the central theme of the article and would resonate well with your worldwide readers.

From the Philippines to THD, two lifelong games have given me friendship, mental exercise, patience, and many wonderful memories

I have played many games during my 91 years, but two have stayed with me through most of my life:

Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game.

Both are more than games to me. They are part of my life story.

They have followed me from my childhood in the Philippines, through my married years with Macrine, into my years in America, and now into my life at The Heritage Downtown (THD).

Looking back, I realize that these games have given me something more valuable than winning.

They have given me friendship, companionship, mental stimulation, laughter, patience, and memories.

Bridge and Macrine

My love affair with bridge really began during my married life with Macrine.

In the 1970s, while we were living in Modesto, California, Macrine and I played party bridge at the Sportsmen's Club of Stanislaus County. We met many wonderful people through the game and enjoyed some very happy evenings together.

Later, after we moved to the San Francisco Bay Area, we played duplicate bridge at the El Cerrito Bridge Club. We eventually became members of the American Contract Bridge League in 1984.

Bridge became one of our social activities as a couple. It was not simply about the cards.

We talked. We laughed. We met people. We learned to cooperate.

And, occasionally, we blamed the cards!

Macrine and I eventually stopped playing bridge when we moved to the Washington, D.C., area in the 1990s. We became busy with our careers, family, and Filipino-American community activities.

But bridge never really left me.

What makes bridge different?

For those unfamiliar with the game, bridge is played by four people in two partnerships.

The cards you receive matter, but the cards are only part of the story.

You must communicate with your partner through bidding.

You must remember what has already been played.

You must observe your opponents. You must make decisions with incomplete information.

And you must learn to work with your partner. That last part may be the most important.

Bridge is a partnership game. You can have a wonderful hand and still lose.

You can have a poor hand and still play it beautifully.

Sometimes you win because of skill. Sometimes because of luck.

And sometimes because your opponents make a mistake! That sounds a little like life.

Bridge is a lesson in partnership

Over the years I have learned that a good bridge partnership requires qualities that are also important in marriage and friendship:

Communication. Trust. Patience. Listening. Planning. Humility.

You cannot control the cards you are dealt. You can only control how you play them.

That is one of the reasons I still enjoy bridge.

At 91, I have learned that life is also about playing the hand we are given as wisely as possible.

We don't always get the cards we want. But we can still try to make the best of them.

Duplicate bridge adds another dimension

I particularly enjoy duplicate bridge because everyone plays the same hands.

That means luck is reduced somewhat.

If another pair receives exactly the same cards that you received, the question becomes:

What did they do with those cards? This makes duplicate bridge fascinating.

You are not simply competing against the cards. You are comparing decisions.

And that is where the mental challenge begins.

It reminds me of my scientific career. In science, we also work with information, evidence, probabilities, and uncertainty. We make the best decision we can based on what we know.

Bridge is obviously not science. But it does require a scientific habit of mind:

Observe. Think. Analyze. Decide. Learn from the result.

Mahjong takes me back to my childhood
Playing Mahjong with Family During Alix Wedding Reception Party 

If bridge connects me to my adult life, mahjong takes me back to my childhood in the Philippines.

I learned to play mahjong when I was a young boy. My mother taught me and my brothers and sisters how to play.

I remember our family having two mahjong sets. One was an inexpensive plastic set that we used regularly. The other was a much more valuable set that was reserved for special occasions such as birthdays and weddings.

Those memories take me back to Barotac Viejo, Iloilo.

Mahjong was part of Filipino family and neighborhood life.

For me, it was also a wonderful way to spend those long, hot Philippine afternoons.

The game uses tiles rather than cards, and there are many variations in the way mahjong is played in different countries and communities.

That is something I have always found interesting.

A game can travel from one culture to another and become part of local life while retaining its basic identity.

Bridge and mahjong are very different

Although I love both games, they exercise different parts of my thinking.

Bridge depends heavily on partnership, communication, memory, bidding, logic and strategy.

Mahjong, at least the way I learned and played it, has a greater element of luck, combined with observation, memory and decision-making.

That difference is part of the fun. In bridge, I am often thinking: What does my partner's bid mean?

In mahjong, I may be thinking: What tile do I need and what tile is my opponent waiting for?

Both games require concentration. Both require memory.

And both require me to pay attention. At 91, I consider that a good thing.

Now I play both at THD

When I moved into The Heritage Downtown in Walnut Creek in 2023, I discovered something wonderful.

I had found a community where people still wanted to play. Bridge and mahjong became part of my new life.

I have played bridge several times a week at THD, and we have a regular group that plays party bridge almost each day of the week, even sometimes on weekends.  I have also enjoyed playing mahjong with my fellow residents.

Over time, some of the people I play with have become friends.

That is one of the hidden benefits of games.

You sit down at a table with three people you may not know very well.

A few hours later, you know something about them.

You laugh together. You tease one another. You occasionally disagree about a bid or a tile.

And eventually, you become friends. The game becomes a doorway to friendship.

I have also learned something about aging

There is a tendency in society to think of aging mainly in terms of what we lose.

We lose some physical strength. We may walk more slowly.

We may not remember names as quickly as we once did.

We may need a little more help. But there is another side to growing older.

We have accumulated experiences. We have stories. We have memories.

And we can continue learning. That is why I believe activities such as bridge and mahjong are valuable for older adults.

They give us something to look forward to. They keep us socially connected.

They require concentration. And, perhaps most importantly, they give us a reason to sit around a table with other human beings.

At 91, I don't play these games because I am trying to prove that my brain is still young.

I play because I enjoy them. That is enough.

Games are better when there is no money involved

I should add one important point. I enjoy bridge and mahjong primarily as social games, not as gambling. But on Mondays and Fridays, each player put a dollar in the pot.  

There is nothing wrong with friendly competition.

But I have seen how gambling can change the nature of a game.

When money becomes the main objective, the enjoyment can disappear.

For me, the real prize is not money. It is the conversation.The laughter. The challenge.

The friendships. And the satisfaction of making a good decision and perhaps winning.

What bridge and mahjong have taught me

After many decades of playing both games, I think they have taught me several lessons about life.

1. You cannot choose every hand you receive. Life deals us circumstances we did not choose. What matters is what we do with them.

2. Partnership matters. Whether in bridge, marriage, family or friendship, we rarely succeed entirely by ourselves.

3. Patience is a skill. Sometimes the best decision is to wait.

4. Luck matters, but preparation matters too. We cannot control everything. But we can prepare ourselves to take advantage of a good opportunity when it appears.

5. Losing is part of the game. You will lose hands. You will make mistakes. You will sometimes wonder how you could possibly have played that card!  Then you shuffle the cards and play again. Life is much the same.

6. Never stop learning. After decades of playing bridge, I am still learning. That may be one of the greatest gifts of the game.

From a Filipino boy to a 91-year-old American

Sometimes I find it amazing when I think about my journey.

The little boy who learned mahjong in the Philippines could never have imagined that one day he would earn a PhD in America, work as a scientist and regulator at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, raise a family, become a grandfather and great-grandfather, and eventually spend his retirement years playing bridge and mahjong with friends in a senior community.

Life certainly dealt me an interesting hand. And I am grateful for the cards.

Not all of them were good. There were difficult cards. There were unexpected cards.

There were heartbreaking cards. But there were also beautiful ones.

Macrine was one of the greatest cards life ever dealt me.

Our children and grandchildren are another. My career in science and public service was another. My Filipino heritage was another.

And now, at 91, the friendships I have made at THD are among the newest cards in my hand.

My favorite game may actually be friendship

If I had to choose between bridge and mahjong, I would probably still say:

Bridge is my favorite card game. Mahjong is my favorite tile game.

But after all these years, I have discovered something else.

Perhaps neither is really my favorite game. Friendship is.

Bridge introduced me to friends. Mahjong introduced me to friends.

And living at THD has given me new opportunities to make friends at an age when many people might assume that one's social life should become smaller.

Mine has not. I live alone, but I am not lonely. There is a big difference.

Sometimes all it takes is a table, four chairs, a deck of cards, a box of mahjong tiles and people willing to sit down together.

A final thought at 91

When I was young, I played games because they were fun. Today I play them because I understand what they represent. They represent connection.

They connect generations. They connect cultures. They connect memories with the present.

And they remind us that growing older does not mean that we stop playing, learning, laughing or making new friends.

So, if you are an older person reading this, my advice is simple:

Find something you enjoy. Play a game. Learn something new. Join a group. Talk to people.

Keep your mind engaged. And don't be afraid to sit down at a table with strangers.

You may get a good hand. You may get a bad hand. But you might also make a new friend.

And sometimes, that is the best hand life can deal us.

Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game. But friendship is my favorite game of all.

AI Impressions on this Topic: 

I think this version is much more “David at 91” than the 2018 HubPages article. The original was useful as an introduction to bridge, but this version turns the subject into a life-and-aging essay. Your Filipino childhood, Macrine, your decades in America, and your present life at THD all become part of one story. The original article confirms the long bridge history with Macrine, including the 1970s Modesto games and your later El Cerrito duplicate-bridge years. Your later writing also confirms that mahjong has been with you since childhood and that you regard it as your favorite tile game alongside bridge. 

Lastly, I especially like the final line: “Bridge is my card game. Mahjong is my tile game. But friendship is my favorite game of all.” That could become the central theme of the article and would resonate well with your worldwide readers.

Growing Old in the Philippines


Growing Old in the Philippines

Growing old is something that all of us eventually experience, but how we grow old can be very different depending on where we live, our family traditions, our financial circumstances, and our personal choices.

For many Filipinos, growing old in the Philippines traditionally means growing old surrounded by family.

When I was growing up in the Philippines, it was common for several generations to live under one roof. Grandparents, parents, children, and grandchildren often shared the same home. The elderly were not simply considered people who needed care. They were important members of the family whose wisdom, experience, and presence were valued.

I remember this way of life from my own childhood.

Today, however, the Philippines is changing. Filipinos are living longer, families are becoming smaller, and millions of young Filipinos are working in other cities or overseas. The traditional extended family system is being challenged by the realities of modern life.

This raises an important question: How will Filipinos grow old in the future?

For many years, the answer seemed obvious. Children would take care of their aging parents. It was almost a cultural obligation.

But times are changing.

When adult children have jobs in Manila, Cebu, Singapore, Hong Kong, the Middle East, Europe, or the United States, they cannot always be physically present to care for aging parents. Even when they want to help, distance can make it difficult.

This is one reason I believe the Philippines will eventually see more retirement communities, assisted-living facilities, and other forms of senior housing.

Some Filipinos may initially resist this idea because of our strong family traditions. A senior living facility can sometimes be viewed as a place where children send their parents because they no longer want the responsibility of caring for them.

I believe we need to change that perception.

There is nothing inherently wrong with growing old in a senior community.

The important question is not where an elderly person lives, but whether that person is treated with love, dignity, respect, and compassion.

I learned this lesson personally after moving into The Heritage Downtown, a senior living community in Walnut Creek, California.

I discovered that senior living does not necessarily mean giving up independence.

In fact, it can provide opportunities that many older people living alone in a private home may not have social activities, transportation, meals, housekeeping, maintenance, entertainment, exercise programs, friendships, and opportunities to continue learning.

I still maintain my relationship with my children and grandchildren. I remain connected to family while also enjoying a community of people my own age.

This experience has changed the way I think about growing old.

Perhaps the Philippines will eventually develop its own version of senior living, one that combines modern senior services with the warmth of Filipino family culture.

Imagine a retirement community where seniors have comfortable private living spaces but where their children and grandchildren are encouraged to visit frequently.

Imagine facilities where Filipino food, music, traditions, fiestas, religious activities, and cultural celebrations are part of everyday life.

Imagine senior communities where elderly Filipinos can continue to play cards, sing karaoke, garden, exercise, tell stories, teach younger generations, and simply enjoy the company of other people.

That would not be abandoning Filipino culture.

It would be adapting Filipino culture to a changing world.

Growing old should not be viewed as a period when life stops.

It can be another chapter of life.

At 91, I have learned that one of the most important ingredients of successful aging is purpose.

We need something to look forward to each morning.

For me, that purpose includes writing my blogs, playing Bridge and Mahjong, participating in activities at THD, communicating with family and friends, learning about new technology, and continuing to explore ideas that interest me.

Writing has become particularly important in my later years.

I began blogging many years ago, and what started as a hobby eventually became a way of preserving memories and sharing my experiences with readers around the world.

I write about the Philippines because it is part of who I am.

I write about America because it became my adopted country.

I write about aging because I am experiencing it personally.

And I write because I believe that our experiences can become lessons for others.

Looking back, I realize that growing old is not simply about losing things.

It is also about gaining perspective.

When we are young, we often measure success by education, careers, money, houses, possessions, and accomplishments.

As we grow older, our priorities gradually change.

We begin to appreciate family more than possessions.

Friendship more than status.

Experiences more than material things.

Peace more than prestige.

And gratitude more than ambition.

Perhaps this is one of the greatest gifts of growing old.

We finally have enough experience to understand what really matters.

Whether we grow old in the Philippines, the United States, or somewhere else in the world, the fundamental needs of older people remain the same.

We need companionship. We need security. We need dignity.

We need meaningful relationships. We need something to contribute.

And above all, we need to know that we are still valued.

The Philippines has always been known for its strong family values. I hope that never changes.

But I also believe that Filipino families should recognize that there can be different ways of caring for aging parents.

Living with family is one way. Living independently is another.

Living in a well-managed senior community can be another.

None of these choices automatically means that a family loves its elders more or less.

The true measure of love is how we treat one another.

As I reflect on my own journey, from growing up in Barotac Viejo and Jaro, Iloilo, to immigrating to America in 1960, building a career, raising a family, becoming a grandfather and great-grandfather, and eventually becoming a senior living resident, I realize that life is really a series of transitions.

Growing old is simply another transition.

And perhaps the best way to approach it is not with fear, but with gratitude.

I am grateful for the years behind me. I am grateful for the family that surrounds me.

I am grateful for the friends I have made. I am grateful for the opportunity to continue learning.

And I am especially grateful that, even at 91, I can still write, think, play, laugh, and share my experiences with readers around the world.

Growing old is inevitable. Growing old well is a choice.

And perhaps that is the most important lesson I have learned.

AI Overview:
Growing old in the Philippines is changing fast. Families traditionally cared for aging parents at home. Now, modern retirement communities, better health care, and new social views offer older adults active, independent, and supportive lifestyle choices across the islands.
Changing Family Roles
  • Traditional Care: Families still live together and share daily life.
  • Modern Shift: Adult children move away for work. Seniors now look for specialized care options.
  • Mutual Support: Grandparents often help raise grandchildren while receiving support.
New Senior Living Options
  • Retirement Villages: Modern gated communities offer safety and social groups.
  • Assisted Living: Professional staff help with daily tasks and medicine.
  • Memory Care: Specialized homes support people with memory loss.
Health and Wellness
  • Universal Care: Senior citizens get health discounts through national laws.
  • Wellness Focus: Communities offer yoga, exercise classes, and health checks.
  • Local Doctors: Clinics near retirement hubs improve access to care.
Culture and Community

  • Active Social Life: Clubs and group trips keep seniors busy.
  • Faith and Connection: Local churches and community groups offer strong emotional support.
  • Respect for Elders: Filipino culture still values wisdom and age.
  • My Reel of the Day: Your Home
  • https://www.facebook.com/reel/1124973317092508

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