30 Days of Bayani Behavior

On a sunny day last week, I decided to go out for a 3-mile run. About 3 blocks into the run, I hear a loud crashing noise. Less than 10 feet in front of me, 2 cars have gotten into a head-on collision. Initially, I thought it was none of my business, but when I saw that an elderly woman in the damaged car, for some reason, I felt like I had to do something. There were about a dozen on-lookers just staring stunned at the accident as well as a bunch of rubber-neckers scoping out the scene as they passed by. No one offered to help, so...I did.

The woman was in her late 70s to early 80s. She was clearly shaken up. I ran to the car and asked her if she was physically okay. She said she was, and after a quick look at her face to make sure she wasn't injured, I helped guide her into the closest parking lot. The guy who hit her was an 18 year old kid who was also just as emotional. He was mad that he got into the accident and was equally as mad that he forgot his insurance card at home. Now, if I were to have stumbled across this scene at 17 years old, I would've given that kid a tounge-lashing the world has never seen before. But this time, I didn't...I felt bad for the kid. He clearly didn't mean to do what he did, and he was genuinely concerned about the old lady. I sat him on the curbside and told him to relax...I told him it could've been a lot worse.

What made things even more shocking for me was the fact that no one came to help. No one. In fact, there were 3 Filipino guys at the side of the street just staring, and I looked at them as if they should've helped, but they turned away and walked away as if nothing happened.

In about 10 minutes, the police showed up. They assumed I was in one of the cars...which I told them I wasn't. I was simply trying to help the two people in the accident. After a brief questioning period, they thanked me for helping them and let me go and I continued the rest of my run. During the rest of the run, I couldn't help but wonder why I helped and no one else did. I also didn't know why I was so compelled to help them. For the first time in a long time, it was something I did that I haven't done before, but it felt so natural to do. I didn't feel an obligation to help them...I just wanted to. I'm not sure why.

Honestly, I'm not a hero by any means.

Seriously, I'm not.

I'd much prefer to just spend my days training and practicing FMA. I don't know why, but for some reason, I just feel the need to help people I think are in trouble. This has gotten me into trouble several times...with one instance involved a guy threatening to shoot me (another story altogether). It's because of incidents like these that I've tried to avoid helping people who don't ask for help. I've been told that you should only give help to those who ask for it, but oftentimes I'm not sure where to draw the line. Right now, I don't have a "formal" job. I earn my living teaching Filipino martial arts, and right now I'm not doing that bad money-wise. However, I want to know what else I can do. I want to do something where I can just help people in a way that feels natural to me. There are millions of ways to help people, but they are all different ways of helping. The way a doctor helps someone is different than they way a teacher can help someone...the way a cop can help someone is different than the way a priest can help someone. I know for a fact that I want to help people, but quite frankly, I'm really not sure which way of helping people is the right job for me.

So, I figured to take the guess work out of it, I'm going to commit to something I've never done before.

Starting this Monday, July 27, everyday for 30 days, I'm going to go around wherever I am, and spend days trying to find random ways to help people who need help. It can be anything...from helping a person move into their apartment to helping someone out of a sticky situation like a car accident or something like that.

I'm honestly nervous. I'm not sure how this is going to play out. Let's just hope I learn what I'm supposed to do and hope that I can do the right thing.

Ninong

My Ninong (Tagalog word for "godfather") Joey (real full name Joseph Navarro), was one of my dad's best friends since their days living in Queens, NYC. When I was born, a handful of people were selected as godparents to look after me in case anything happened to my parents. Ninong Joey was one of them.

My Ninong Joey passed away yesterday unbeknownst to us. We aren't sure of the details surrounding his death. We don't know when he passed away or how he died as of this writing. However, instead of dwelling on his death, I figured it'd be best to write about his life...or at least the life I saw growing up.

I have fond memories of my Ninong Joey. I would see him at family gatherings for as long as I can remember. If we were at a party, Ninong Joey was there. On Christmas, he'd always get me something pretty awesome since I was his godson. However, the most memorable moments I had with him was when my family lived overseas in Bangkok, Thailand while I was here in the USA waiting for them. While my mom and dad couldn't look after me, my dad made sure that my Ninong Joey was always around to look after me and drive me to my martial arts classes. One time, he was real late coming from work and he was supposed to take me to a training seminar. I remember getting incredibly upset because I didn't want to be late. However, when he finally showed up at the house to pick me up, it was as if nothing happened. I no longer felt any anger towards him or my situation. I was just glad this guy remembered me and took time out to take me to my session.

Ninong Joey had no family in New Jersey as far as I knew. He was single and had no kids. Honestly, I think my family and I were the closest he had to family in the area. On holidays and special occasions, Ninong Joey would come over to the house to have a meal with my family. Deep down, I always knew Ninong Joey's arrival to the house on a holiday meant some good times were about to occur in the Pana household. There was always going to be good conversation at the dining table. He was also at my parent's 25th Wedding anniversary last March, and at the church service where my parent's renewed their vows, he was telling me about the original wedding ceremony 25 years before. It's like he was a relic from another time, a time before me and my siblings were born. He knew my dad not as a dad, not as I know him, but as his drinking partner and one of his best friends.

Ninong Joey was also always there for us. If we had a car that was out of service, he would lend us his pick-up truck to borrow, which for me was always a good thing, especially since I always wanted a pick-up truck and I always got a chance to play around with his. If we needed help with something, he was there. He was like our family relative who wasn't related to us.

I'm not sure why I'm writing all this. Odds are, many of you reading this have no idea who this guy was. He wasn't your Ninong. He wasn't your dad's best friend. He may not matter to most of you. I'm not writing this out of mourning or sorrow, nor am I writing this because I want to make a pseudo-eulogy or asking for condelences. I guess I'm writing this because I still see him in my head. I still see him at my family's computer in the kitchen checking his email last Easter Sunday. I still see him standing outside his house in his bathrobe after I returned his truck to him 2 months ago. I still see him on Christmas 2 years ago when my siblings and parents had no special plans and had simple Adobo for our Christmas meal and he shared it with us. For my parents, he will be a lifelong friend that they will miss dearly. To my siblings, he will always be known as Tito Joey who spent time with us on holidays and was my dad's buddy.

To me, he will always be the guy in the pick-up truck who pulls up to the driveway and drove me to my FMA classes...who made sure I got there on time and looked after me when my dad couldn't. In a way, I guess if it weren't for him, I wouldn't be the FMA guy I am now. The last time I truly spoke to him, he saw me demonstrating Balisong knife work on my cousin and he panicked, and told me that I might go to jail for doing stuff like that. But, he knew I was in control.

In a world where I am finding that it's harder and harder to find people to trust, Ninong Joey was one of the handful of people that truly remained loyal to my family.

For those of you who never met him or knew him, I think this picture describes him perfectly. He's the guy on the right-hand side of the photo dancing and smiling.

The picture above says it all. Anytime I saw him, that's who he was.

I'll miss you Ninong Joey.