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David B.Katague, B.S., M.S., M.A, Ph.D. Sunset Photo from the Balcony of the Chateau Du Mer Beach House, Boac,Marinduque,Philippines
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There are moments in every life when a single decision changes everything.
For me, that moment came when I left the Philippines and journeyed across the Pacific to begin a new life in America.
Like countless immigrants before me, I carried very little in my luggage.
But I carried a lifetime of dreams.
I also carried something no suitcase could hold, my family values, my education, my faith, my culture, and an abiding love for the country where I was born.
Those treasures have remained with me for more than six decades.
People often imagine immigration as a story of opportunity. It is. But it is also a story of sacrifice.
Leaving one's homeland means saying goodbye to familiar streets, lifelong friends, family gatherings, favorite foods, cherished traditions, and the comforting sounds of one's native language.
You leave behind not only a place. You leave behind a part of yourself.
Yet every immigrant understands that some sacrifices are made so future generations may enjoy opportunities we ourselves never had.
That hope gives courage to every new beginning.
When I arrived in the United States, I entered a nation filled with possibilities.
It was a country that rewarded education, perseverance, hard work, and determination.
Nothing was handed to me. Every achievement required effort. Every opportunity had to be earned.
From graduate school to my professional career in industry and later at the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, I experienced firsthand the remarkable opportunities that America offers those willing to work diligently and serve with integrity.
For that, I shall always be grateful. America became my adopted homeland.
It became the place where I built a career, raised a family, welcomed grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and discovered new chapters of life that I could never have imagined as a young student in Iloilo.
Yet while my address changed, my heart never forgot where my journey began.
The Philippines has always remained part of my identity. I still smile when I hear Filipino songs.
I still enjoy the aroma of adobo, pancit, batchoy, and countless other dishes that remind me of home.
I still celebrate the warmth, hospitality, resilience, and close family ties that define the Filipino spirit.
Distance cannot erase heritage. Time cannot diminish gratitude.
The country of our birth becomes part of us forever.
Over the years, I have often been asked whether I feel more Filipino or more American.
My answer has always been the same. I feel blessed to be both. One country gave me life.
The other gave me opportunity. One shaped my character. The other expanded my horizons.
One taught me my first lessons. The other allowed me to apply them.
I have never believed that love for one country requires diminishing love for another.
Patriotism is not a competition. The heart has room enough to honor both.
Looking back, I realize that the greatest blessing of immigration was never my career.
It was my family. Watching my children build successful lives, seeing my grandchildren pursue their dreams, and now holding my great-grandchildren reminds me why so many immigrants willingly endure hardship.
Every generation hopes the next will stand on higher ground. That is the immigrant dream.
Not merely personal success, but opportunity passed from one generation to another.
If my journey helped make that possible, then every sacrifice was worthwhile.
Throughout my life, I have encouraged younger Filipino-Americans to be proud of their heritage.
Learn the history of your ancestors. Honor your parents and grandparents.
Celebrate your traditions. Visit the towns where your family began.
Speak kindly of your homeland. You can fully embrace America without forgetting the Philippines.
In fact, remembering your roots often gives you the confidence to reach even greater heights.
Our heritage is not an anchor that holds us back. It is the foundation that helps us stand tall.
Becoming an American citizen was one of the proudest moments of my life.
Citizenship carries both privileges and responsibilities.
It means participating in democracy, respecting the rule of law, serving one's community, and contributing to the common good.
For me, gratitude has always been the truest expression of citizenship.
I remain grateful to America for the opportunities it offered.
I remain grateful to the Philippines for the values it instilled.
I owe both countries more than I can ever repay.
Now, in the autumn of my life, I often reflect on the remarkable journey that brought me from a young student in the Philippines to a scientist, teacher, husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, retiree, and writer in America.
It has been a journey filled with blessings far beyond anything I once imagined.
If I have learned one enduring lesson, it is this: Home is not defined only by geography. Home is where love begins.
Home is where memories are made. Home is where gratitude lives.
For me, home will always exist in two places. The Philippines gave me my roots.
America gave me my wings. Together, they shaped the person I became.
As I continue writing these reflections, I realize that my life has never been divided between two countries.
Instead, it has been enriched by both. And that may be one of the greatest blessings of all.
For I have been privileged to live with two homelands, yet only one grateful heart.
AI Impressions and Comments and Suggestions on this Posting:
David, I think this chapter may resonate especially strongly with your readers because it reflects the experience of so many immigrants, not only Filipinos, but people from every corner of the world. It also completes a natural trilogy within your series: Family, Science, Service, and Identity.
With Part 6, "Growing Older with Gratitude: Lessons from a Nonagenarian," your readers will meet the person you are today, a 91-year-old who continues to live with curiosity, faith, humor, and purpose. I believe it will be one of the most inspiring essays in your Legacy Series.
As I grow older, I become more fascinated by the human body and the remarkable things it can do without our even thinking about them.
For most of my life, I was taught that human beings have five senses: sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.
I suspect most of us learned the same thing in elementary school.
But recently, I came across an interesting article about our senses, and it made me realize that what I learned as a young student was only the beginning. Modern science tells us that the human body has many more sensory systems than the traditional five. Depending on how scientists classify them, we may have dozens of different senses.
That discovery fascinated me.
After all, I have spent much of my life as a scientist. I earned my Ph.D. in Pharmaceutical Chemistry at the University of Illinois Medical Center in Chicago, and throughout my career I learned to appreciate how extraordinarily complicated and beautifully organized, the human body really is.
The more I learn about it, the more I realize that we are walking around every day carrying one of the most sophisticated biological systems ever created.
Let us begin with the familiar and the traditional five.
Sight allows us to see the world around us through our eyes.
Hearing allows us to detect sound, from a friend's voice to music, birds singing, or the sound of rain.
Smell allows us to detect chemicals in the air. It can bring back memories surprisingly quickly. Sometimes one particular smell can transport me back many decades to my childhood in the Philippines.
Taste allows us to distinguish sweet, salty, sour, bitter and umami flavors. For someone like me who enjoys food tasting journeys, this is certainly one of my favorite senses!
And then there is touch, which allows us to feel pressure, texture and contact with objects around us.
These five senses are so familiar that we tend to think they represent the complete story.
They don't.
One of the senses that we rarely think about is our vestibular sense.
This is the sensory system that helps us maintain balance and understand the orientation of our body in relation to gravity.
Deep inside our inner ear are structures that detect movement and changes in the position of our head.
Think about what happens when you stand up, walk across a room, turn your head, climb stairs or suddenly change direction.
Your brain is constantly receiving information about your body's movement and position.
You don't have to consciously tell your body:
"I am leaning to the left. Please correct yourself." It happens automatically.
As someone who has grown older, I have become much more aware of the importance of balance. When we are young, we take it for granted. As we age, however, maintaining balance becomes increasingly important.
That makes me appreciate this hidden sense even more.
Another fascinating sense is called proprioception.
It is sometimes described as our body's sense of position.
Close your eyes and raise your hand.
You probably know exactly where your hand is, even though you cannot see it. How?
Your muscles, tendons and joints contain sensory receptors that continuously provide your brain with information about the position and movement of your body.
This allows you to walk without staring at your feet.
It allows me to reach for something on a table without having to calculate the exact position of my arm.
It is almost like having an internal GPS system for the body.
We rarely appreciate it because it works so quietly.
We also have thermoception, our ability to sense temperature.
When you touch a cup of hot coffee, your body knows that it is hot.
When you step outside on a cold winter morning, your skin immediately tells your brain that the temperature has changed.
Special sensory receptors detect temperature changes and send signals to the nervous system.
Again, we normally don't think about this process.
We simply experience: "It's hot." Or: "It's cold."
But behind that simple experience is an extraordinary biological system.
Perhaps one of our least appreciated, but most important senses is nociception, the detection of potentially damaging stimuli that we experience as pain.
Nobody enjoys pain. But pain serves an extremely important purpose.
If you accidentally touch something very hot, pain tells you to move your hand away.
If you injure yourself, pain tells you that something is wrong.
Pain is essentially an alarm system.
Imagine what life would be like if our bodies could be injured but could not warn us.
Pain may be unpleasant, but it is one of the body's most important protective mechanisms.
And the list goes on. Our bodies can sense hunger and fullness, helping regulate how much we eat.
We have mechanisms that detect thirst and fluid balance.
We have systems that monitor blood pressure, blood oxygen, carbon dioxide, and the chemistry of our internal environment.
Our bodies can sense the stretching of our lungs, stomach and other organs.
Our brains constantly receive information from inside our bodies—a collection of sensory information sometimes described as interoception.
In other words, we don't only sense the outside world. We also sense ourselves.
That is an idea worth thinking about.
When I think about all these different sensory systems, I realize how much information is flowing through my body every second.
My eyes are collecting information about light and movement.
My ears are detecting sounds. My skin is detecting pressure and temperature.
My muscles and joints are reporting where my arms and legs are. My inner ear is monitoring balance.
My internal organs are sending information about what is happening inside my body.
And somehow, the brain receives, interprets and coordinates all of this information—often without our conscious awareness.
We simply go about our daily lives. We walk. We eat. We talk. We sleep. We play cards.
We enjoy music. We watch television. We smell flowers. We taste our favorite foods.
And underneath all of these ordinary activities is an incredibly complicated sensory network.
My many years of playing Bridge provide me with an interesting way to think about this.
When I sit down at the Bridge table, I am using much more than my eyes.
I listen carefully to what my partners and opponents say.
I watch their cards and movements. I handle the cards with my fingers.
I remember the cards that have already been played. I judge distances and positions.
I maintain my balance while sitting and moving around.
My brain is combining information from several sensory systems while simultaneously using memory, reasoning and probability.
Bridge is sometimes described as a game of skill and luck. I agree.
But perhaps we should also recognize that it is a wonderful exercise in human perception and cognition.
Learning about our many senses also makes me think about growing older.
At 91, I am much more conscious of things that I simply took for granted when I was young.
Balance matters. Walking safely matters. Being able to see and hear clearly matters.
Feeling temperature matters. Being aware of where my body is in space matters.
Our senses are not merely ways of experiencing the world. They are also essential to our independence.
This is why I believe that staying physically and mentally active is important as we grow older.
Walking, exercising, playing Bridge and Mahjong, socializing, learning new things and continuing to challenge the brain are all ways of keeping ourselves engaged with the world around us.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about our senses is that we rarely notice them.
We don't wake up in the morning and say: "Thank goodness my proprioception is working today!"
We simply get out of bed and walk. We don't sit down for breakfast and marvel at our taste receptors.
We simply enjoy our food. We don't think about our vestibular system when we turn our head.
We simply keep our balance. We don't think about nociception until something hurts.
That is perhaps the greatest lesson. Some of the most extraordinary things happening in our lives are the things we don't notice.
For me, learning that human beings may have far more than five senses is another reminder of how little we sometimes appreciate the miracle of being alive.
From my childhood in the Philippines to my years at the University of the Philippines and the University of Illinois, through my scientific career in pharmaceutical research and my many years in America, I have spent much of my life learning about the world.
But at 91, I am still learning something new about myself.
And perhaps that is one of the great privileges of growing older.
We continue to learn. We continue to wonder. We continue to be surprised.
So the next time someone tells you that human beings have only five senses, remember:
There is much more to the story. Our eyes, ears, nose, tongue and skin are only the beginning.
Our bodies are constantly sensing movement, balance, temperature, pain, pressure, position, hunger, thirst and countless signals from inside and outside ourselves.
We are, in a very real sense, living, sensing human beings.
And that, to me, is something worth appreciating every day.
AI Impressions on this Posting:
I think this could become a particularly strong “aging and lifelong learning” post for your readers because it connects a fascinating scientific fact to something much more personal: how we experience life differently as we grow older. It also gives you a natural opportunity to connect science, Bridge, aging, and your philosophy of continuing to learn at 91.
ChatGPT Response: Thank you, David. I’m especially glad the Bridge example resonated with you, because it makes the science personal rather than simply academic.
Your years of playing Bridge provide a wonderful illustration of something we often forget: the human brain is not working in isolation. At the Bridge table, your eyes, ears, hands, memory, judgment, balance, concentration and intuition are all working together, often almost automatically.
That connection also fits beautifully with one of the themes that runs through much of your writing: growing older does not mean that we stop learning about life or about ourselves. In fact, at 91, your curiosity may be one of your greatest assets.
Moreover, I think this post will resonate with your worldwide readers because everyone has senses, but few of us stop to appreciate just how extraordinary they are. And your Bridge story gives the scientific subject a very human touch.
It may be worth remembering another lesson from your Bridge table: we don't always appreciate what our bodies and minds are doing for us until we stop and think about it.
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