The Last Great College Campus- A THD Satire

The Last Great College Campus: A Satire from THD

By the time you reach your seventies, society expects you to spend your days in a rocking chair, watching game shows, and wondering where you left your glasses.

Then you move into THD.  THD is not a nursing home. It is a social experiment with 167 participants ranging from age 75 to 102, proving that retirement merely exchanges office politics for Bingo Politics, Bridge or Mahjong Games.  

The demographics alone tell a fascinating story. Men are outnumbered five to one. In economic terms, we are a scarce commodity. In practical terms, a man only needs to walk into the dining room carrying his own tray, and suddenly he has acquired a fan club.

The women pretend they are not looking. The men pretend they don't notice. Nobody believes either side.

There are twenty-four married couples living here. They provide stability and reassurance to the rest of us that lifelong love still exists, while also demonstrating that after fifty years of marriage, one can still argue passionately over where to sit during dinner or what soup of the Day is better.

The activity calendar resembles that of a luxury cruise ship. This place is like a cruise ship  on land.

At nine in the morning, energetic octogenarians gather for Zumba or Tai Chi. Some dance with remarkable grace. Others perform movements that could either be exercise or attempts to find where their hearing aid fell.

Bridge players enter the room smiling and leave looking as if they have just negotiated an international peace treaty. To Play on Monday or Friday Bridge Games require a Dollar. Some Forget it more often than others. Luckily, I am there to lend a helping hand, with my accumulation of dollar bills from my previous winnings either in Bridge or our Mahjong Games. 

The Mahjong players create enough clicking sounds to convince newcomers that construction work is underway. Speaking of mahjong, I created a Modified Game,  I called it Quadjong. Quadjong because instead of three tiles to make a set, it requires 4 tiles, ether a run (consecutives) or 4 of a Kind, thus the name Quadjong ( Four). The Mahjong set will have 10 jokers, making the Game a little less boring, but more challenging.  

Arts and crafts sessions produce masterpieces that grandchildren proudly hang on refrigerators, unaware they are displaying work by someone who once balanced million-dollar budgets, performed surgery or in-charge of the approval of new anti-fungal Drugs.

The reading club spends twenty minutes discussing the assigned book and the next forty minutes discussing everyone's knee replacement or diet because of late stages of CKD. 

Our excursions to museums are educational. Half the group studies the paintings. The other half studies the benches or just staring on the Walls.

Restaurant outings are even more entertaining. The waiter quickly learns that taking separate checks for twenty seniors is an advanced graduate course in mathematics.

The biggest spectator sport, however, is not Pickleball or Chair Volleyball.  It is Romance.

I recently wrote about "Second Chance of Love," and some readers thought I was joking.

I was not. Cupid apparently does not retire at sixty-five. He merely trades his arrows for a walker. Dating in a senior community is refreshingly honest.

Instead of asking, "What's your sign?" people ask, "Who's your cardiologist?"

Instead of discussing career ambitions, they compare prescription plans and daily vitamins.

The phrase "Do you come here often?" is unnecessary because everyone comes here every day.

And unlike high school dating, parents are no longer an obstacle. Children are.

They become surprisingly interested in inheritance law whenever Dad starts having lunch with the attractive widow from the third floor.

Watching relationships develop here reminds me of the movie Queen Bees. Cliques form, friendships blossom, rumors spread faster than the Wi-Fi, and alliances shift depending on who reserved the best table in the dining room.

Every community has its celebrities. There is the gentleman who tells the same naval war story every Tuesday with such conviction that we all politely listen again, pretending the ending remains uncertain.

There is the lady who has won so many bridge tournaments that newcomers suspect she is secretly counting cards and putting Aces on her Bra.

There is the fitness enthusiast who insists that ninety is the new sixty, although everyone notices she still takes the elevator.

And then there are bloggers like me, quietly observing everything while assuring everyone, "Don't worry, I never mention names.", just initials. 

That reassurance comforts absolutely no one. Living at THD has taught me something unexpected. Old age is not a quiet epilogue. It is an encore performance.

The cast members may move a little slower, rely on hearing aids and walking sticks/canes, and occasionally forget why they entered a room, but they still laugh, flirt, argue, learn, dance, and fall in love.

We have traded corporate titles for first names. We have exchanged deadlines for happy hours.

We have replaced business meetings with book clubs and board meetings with board games.

Perhaps THD is not the end of life's journey after all.

Perhaps it is simply another college campus- one where the students have more wisdom, more medications, better stories, and absolutely no final exams.

And if you happen to hear laughter echoing down the hallway, don't assume someone is telling a joke. It may simply be another day at THD, where the average age is over eighty-five, but the human comedy is forever young. 

I hope I put a smile on your Face, today! 

Let me conclude this Satire about THD with following three Paragraphs 

One of the most meaningful moments of my three years at THD came when I found myself representing an entire culture. As the only Filipino-American resident, I felt both honored and genuinely seen when, during Philippine American History Month, our Activities Director invited me to give a one-hour presentation about the Philippines to the residents. It was more than a lecture-it was an opportunity to share the history, traditions, and spirit of the country of my birth with friends who had become my extended family. To make the celebration complete, I was asked to design an authentic Filipino dinner menu for our in-house restaurant, introducing everyone to adobo, pancit, lumpia, and other favorites. I even recommended several award-winning Filipino films that were shown over five nights in our little cinema. For one week, THD became a tiny cultural embassy, and I realized that even at this stage of life, one can still be an ambassador.

Of course, every community has its growing pains, and THD is no exception. The revolving door of employees in the Activities and Resident Services departments has sometimes been dizzying. In just three years, thirteen staff members have departed, some by choice and others unexpectedly, leaving residents to learn new faces and new names all over again. The departure that affected me the most was that of an Activity Director (TT) who first introduced me to the remarkable world of artificial intelligence. That simple introduction transformed my daily blogging and opened a creative chapter I never imagined possible in my ninetees. Equally surprising was the disappearance of our newest General Manager, whose tenure lasted only five weeks before becoming another footnote in THD history. Among the residents, we joke that activities personnels come and go faster than the weekly dessert menu, but beneath the humor is the reality that continuity matters. In a community where many of us have spent a lifetime building lasting relationships, stability among those who serve us becomes part of what makes a place truly feel like home.

These experiences have taught me that life at THD is a blend of comedy and poignancy. One day I am giving a lecture on Philippine history and watching my neighbors enjoy lumpia for the first time; the next day I am saying goodbye to another staff member who had become a familiar part of our routine. Such is life in an active senior community, where friendships are formed quickly, farewells come too often, and every ordinary day has the potential to become a story worth telling on a blog.

Lastly, THD News: 

1. Alexis Jones, Newly Hired Activity Director

I talked to Alexis the day after she was hired ( I think mid-May) and informed me she has experience working with Senior Citizens having work at an Assisted Living Community in San Francisco. I was impressed with Alexis youth, energy and emphatic behavior to senior citizens here at THD. The activities after her employment is again in full swing. One of the recent events, Seniors enjoyed recently was Her Hola Hoops Dance Exhibition at the Liberty Pavilion. I hope Alexis will be a Keeper and not another statistics and footnote in the high employee turnover here at THD. Again, welcome Alexis to THD, I will give you six months to know all of the 167 residents here at THD.  

2. Caleb- Newly Hired, Food and Beverage Director.- 

 I saw the above photo posted yesterday. I hope with Caleb's on Board, we will have more variety in our menu and more monthly ethnic dishes to enjoy in the Future. Welcome to THD, Caleb.      

Bridge, Friendship and the Long Journey to Retirement

Bridge, Friendship, and the Long Journey of Retirement

When I first arrived in the United States as a graduate student in Chicago many decades ago, I was introduced to a strange new word: bridge.

Growing up in the Philippines shortly after the devastation of the Japanese-American war, the word “bridge” meant only one thing to me - a construction project made of steel and concrete crossing rivers and highways. I had never imagined that bridge could also refer to a card game considered by many to be one of the most intellectually demanding games ever invented.

In graduate school, life revolved around laboratory work, examinations, research projects, and the endless writing of Master’s theses and Ph.D. dissertations. The pressure was intense. Yet during weekends, my dorm mates and classmates would gather around small tables with decks of cards, cups of coffee, and animated conversations. That was where I first learned the game of bridge.

At first, it seemed impossibly complicated.

The bidding alone sounded like a secret language. Terms like “trump,” “finesse,” “slam,” and “dummy” were completely foreign to me. But gradually, I began to appreciate the beauty of the game. Bridge was not merely gambling or entertainment. It was a game of logic, memory, psychology, teamwork, and discipline. Unlike chess, it required partnership and trust. Success depended not only on one’s own skill but also on communication and cooperation with another human being.

Years later, when my wife, Macrine, joined me permanently in America, I taught her how to play. What began as a pastime slowly became one of the enduring social activities of our married life. For more than twenty years, we played Party Bridge simply for enjoyment and companionship.

Bridge became part of our social circle. Friends gathered around card tables, sharing laughter, stories, food, and occasional disagreements about missed bids or risky contracts. The game helped strengthen friendships and created moments of relaxation amid the demands of work and raising a family.

After my retirement from the U.S. Food and Drug Administration and our move to California, our involvement in bridge took a more serious turn. We joined a bridge club in El Cerrito near our home in Pinole and began playing Duplicate Bridge.

Duplicate Bridge was very different from the relaxed Party Bridge we had known for years. It was competitive, disciplined, and often intense. Every bid, every play, and every mistake mattered. Rankings and master points became the measure of success. Over four years, Macrine and I accumulated more than 100 Junior Master Points. Together with another couple, we traveled throughout Northern California participating in tournaments and duplicate games.

For retirees, it gave us purpose, travel, and intellectual stimulation. Bridge players often say the game helps keep the mind sharp, and I believe there is truth in that. One must constantly analyze probabilities, remember played cards, and anticipate opponents’ strategies. In many ways, bridge is mental exercise for aging minds.

Yet there was also another side to competitive bridge.

What had once been relaxing slowly became stressful. The pressure to perform well, avoid mistakes, and accumulate points began to overshadow the simple joy of the game itself. Friendly recreation had transformed into competition. After several years, Macrine and I made a difficult decision: we stopped playing Duplicate Bridge altogether.

For the next twenty-two years, bridge disappeared from my life.

Only after moving to The Heritage Downtown senior community in Walnut Creek did the game return once again - not as competition, but as companionship.

Today, I play Party Bridge four days a week here at THD. I manage the Monday games, helping organize players and keeping the activity alive within our senior community. At this stage of life, bridge has returned to its original meaning for me: not stress, not rankings, not master points, but human connection.

In retirement, social interaction becomes increasingly important. Many seniors experience loneliness, isolation, or declining social networks. Activities such as bridge provide structure, conversation, laughter, and mental engagement. Around the card table, people forget for a while their aches, medications, doctor appointments, and worries about aging.

For me personally, bridge now complements my daily blogging and writing activities. Writing exercises memory and reflection; bridge exercises concentration and social connection. Together, they provide balance in my retirement years.

Looking back, I realize that bridge has mirrored the stages of my own life journey in America.

As a young immigrant student, it represented learning and adaptation.
As a husband and father, it became family recreation and friendship.
As a retiree, it became competition and travel.
And now, in senior living, it has become community and companionship.

The game taught me something deeper than strategy or card play. It taught me that life itself is a partnership. Like bridge, life requires patience, communication, trust, and the ability to recover gracefully from mistakes.

And perhaps that is why, after all these years, I still enjoy sitting down at a bridge table. Not because of the cards alone, but because every game is really about people - their stories, their personalities, and the invisible bridges we build between one another across time, culture, and generations.

Meanwhile, here are the basic Differences between Party vs Duplicate Bridge: 

Bridge is a four-player partnership trick-taking game played with a 52-card deck, split mainly into social Party Bridge (often Rubber or Chicago style) and competitive Duplicate Bridge. Party bridge emphasizes relaxed, cumulative scoring, while Duplicate removes luck by having multiple tables play the same cards, comparing scores against others. 

Party Bridge (Social)

• Structure: Usually 4 players, often played as "Rubber Bridge" (best of 3 games) or "Chicago" (four-deal bridge).
• Atmosphere: Casual, often played in homes, focusing on social interaction.
• Scoring: Cumulative points for tricks bid and made, honors, and penalties.
• Rotation: Players may rotate partners or seats after a "rubber" or 4 hands. 

Duplicate Bridge (Competitive)

• Structure: Played at clubs or tournaments. The same hands are played by different sets of players at other tables. 
• The "Board": Cards are not reshuffled. They are placed in a tray called a "board" after a hand, keeping them in their original slots for the next table to play. 
• Scoring: Your score is compared to others holding the same cards (matchpoints or international matchpoints). Luck is removed; skill is measured by doing better with the same cards than opponents. 
• Movement: Players (and often boards) move around the room to compete against different partners and opponents.

Comparison Table

Feature	Party/Rubber Bridge	Duplicate Bridge
Primary Goal	Socializing & Fun	Competition & Skill
Luck Factor	High (luck of the deal)	Low (cards are balanced)
Scoring	Cumulative (rubber)	Comparative (Matchpoints)
Setup	Shuffled and dealt each hand	Pre-dealt in boards

Our Life Stories are Our Legacy-Write It !

Over the last twelve months, my blog has felt less like a collection of separate posts and more like a quiet conversation with my own life. When I look back at what I have written, I see memory, gratitude, aging, resilience, and wonder woven together into one long thread.

At this stage of life, I do not write to impress anyone. I write because writing helps me remember, and remembering helps me live. My words have become a way of honoring the years behind me while still making room for the days that remain.

Aging has been one of the most common themes in my recent reflections. I have written about it not as a defeat, but as a deeper chapter. The body changes, of course. It slows down. It asks for more patience, more care, and more acceptance. Yet age also brings its own gifts. It teaches us to value the small things: a peaceful morning, a kind word, a familiar routine, the gift of another day.

I have also written often about living alone. That is not the same as being lonely. After a long marriage and a life filled with family, work, and responsibility, solitude can carry both sorrow and grace. There are moments when silence feels heavy, yes, but there are also moments when silence becomes comforting. In those moments, I am reminded that a person can live alone and still be surrounded by love, memory, and purpose.

My blog has been a place to revisit my autobiography, my family, and the long path that brought me here. Each memory matters. Each chapter matters. When I write about the past, I am not only telling my story. I am preserving the people, places, and experiences that shaped me. Memory is a form of gratitude, and gratitude is one of the deepest truths I know.

I have also found myself returning again and again to questions that never grow old: the meaning of life, the relationship between science and faith, the mystery of the soul, and the quiet strength required to meet suffering with dignity. These are not questions with easy answers. But they are the kinds of questions that keep the heart awake.

If I have learned anything from these months of writing, it is that a life does not become less meaningful with age. In many ways, it becomes more visible. The important things stand out more clearly. Love, loss, faith, memory, endurance, and hope take on greater shape. What once seemed ordinary now feels precious.

To readers across the world, I offer this simple truth: every life contains a story worth telling. No matter how many years have passed, no matter what has been lost, there is still meaning in reflection. There is still beauty in gratitude. There is still purpose in waking up and choosing to keep going.

And so I continue to write  not because I have all the answers, but because I still have memories to honor, thoughts to share, and a heart that remains open to the mystery of being alive.

This posting  is a reminder that our stories are our legacy, and there is immense value in sharing, documenting, and honoring them at any stage of life. Write it!

AI Overview: Our stories are the living breath of our legacy.

 They are not just memories; they are the blueprints for those who follow us. When we write them down, we transform fleeting moments into a permanent bridge across generations.

Why We Write

• To Preserve Truth: If you don’t tell your story, someone else will, and they might get it wrong. Authenticity is the only way to ensure your true voice survives.
• To Share Wisdom: Your triumphs, heartbreaks, and even your "silly mistakes" serve as potent lessons for your children and grandchildren.
• To Anchor Identity: For many communities, storytelling is a form of survival and strength, keeping heritage alive when history books fail.

How to Start Writing Your Legacy

You don't need to write a novel to leave a mark. Small, consistent efforts often carry the most weight:

• Keep "Memory Notes": Write down the small things-your first concert, how you met a partner, or what you were like at your child's current age.
• Document Community History: Join initiatives like the Digital Archive projects that record oral histories to protect a neighborhood's collective memory.
• Share "Heart Prints": Focus on the advice you still follow and the values you want to pass on. These are the "flames" that keep a legacy burning.

Legacy is not accidental; it is built. By choosing to write it, you ensure that your story and the stories of those who came before you-remain a gift for the future.

Finally, My Photo of the Day:

My Younger Years: FDA. 1990-2002