The Lego Car

 

It was March of 1980 and I was staring at the ceiling of the reconstructed, Metropolitan Theater at the Plaza Lawton. I was wearing a white shirt and a tie—the first time I ever wore one (or maybe during my First Communion?). I was embarking on a new journey into the life of an adolescent.

I remember not wanting to have a photo of me and my grade school teacher taken at the time but later on, that image would serve as a “happiness anchor” to a time when one only thought about getting out of the house and being with playmates and wondering what’s for dinner.

But a boy must turn into a man and that seemed to have taken a while. It was not until I was in my 30s that I realized what adulthood was, being a husband and a father and all.

That day at the “Met”, I had a toy with me—a vehicle made out of Lego components. I loved that little sucker and I had taken it with me as I climbed up the stage and took my diploma. I remember the person who gave that to me. His name was, “Nelson” and he was the quietest person I have met at the time.

As young boys were back then and even today, my classmates picked on Nelson every chance they got. They called him, sinto-sinto or “abnormal” simply because he never opened his mouth, not even during recitation. Nelson was tall and dressed well, unlike some of the sinto-sinto kids in school. He seemed to go about things quite like a normal kid would and he had a talent for drawing. At times, classmates would wager as to who was the better artist. I thought I was and to some degree, I was critical of Nelson’s work. I guess one can surmise that Nelson and I were rivals.

 

Rivals at what or to what end?

It’s not that I didn’t like the guy. I just never took the time to communicate with him, given that he seemed spaced out most of the time, pondering who-knows-what? He didn’t blend in with anybody else anyway and to be associated with him meant that one was considered of the same mental profile as he was and I somehow avoided such a label.

It was not until we were rehearsing our “graduation march” and all the ceremony that followed commencement exercises that I had an intimate encounter with Nelson.

While sitting in the orchestra section of the theater, waiting for the next activity, I saw Nelson happily playing with something on the backrest of a seat. I was watching him play with the Lego car and as our eyes met, he raised his hand holding the toy and offered it to me. I accepted it and started doing what he was doing and when I finished, I offered the toy back but he wouldn’t take it. instead, he gestured in a manner that meant, “Keep it. It’s yours!”

I didn’t quite know how to react at the time but that was such a nice toy and I smiled at him, indicating my appreciation and he smiled back. That same Lego car was one of the last few toys I would keep with me as I left Manila and studied in Baguio. I carried that thing with me everywhere until I started growing up.

Over time, like many of my toys, the car went to someone who needed cheering up, I guess. I don’t remember where it went and I hope some kid out there enjoyed it as much as I did. What I did take away from that encounter was, generosity—that I learned to be a “giver” and less of a “taker”.

I may have lost the toy over time but the lesson I learned that day lives on. It was proof that life-changing events can stem from the simplest of interactions. Of course, one has to be enlightened to see it.