“Each day of our lives, we make deposits in the memory banks of our children”. – Charles R. Swindol. 

Psychologists claim that long lasting memories of children begin at 14 to 18 months. A happy, loving face can be imitated/remembered much earlier – making it important that your child is looked after with love and tenderness.

When Oliver was born, I saw a child whose life depended on me. The umbilical cord may have been cut but there and then I saw myself as secondary to the child I was holding. The first time I laid my eyes on my son, I knew my life would never be the same again – because there is another human being whose life will be shaped primarily by me and how I respond to things.

I laid down my own rules for parenting, my credo, so to speak and tried to lead by example to my little boy. Luckily for me, Oliver was never a problem child. Perhaps I am lucky but the imprints of nurture that I made, of which I am very proud of, manifest to how he lives today as I know it.

The prime virtue I taught him are compassion and giving back to the community when he can.

Not all parents will show their children the ugly facts of society. I did exactly the opposite. As a child in his safety child seat behind me, he would see children selling flowers, faces with the weight of poverty, hunger in them.

I would talk to him while driving, asking if he is alright as I know he is watching them. He would asked why I wouldn’t buy any if only to help – and I would explain that if I did, the children will be given more flowers to sell instead of going home. It is compassion by not giving – and at an early age, he realized how the cycle works.

One time when he was in his late teens, he spent some time in Thailand with his Dad and over Skype, he related how angry he was with the people who watched and gave money to a man who was making her contortionist daughter perform late into the night in the busy streets in Chiang Mai. He said he didn’t stop to ogle and applaud, but observed how even adults could not understand the cycle that the more they give, the worse it is for the little girl.

And there I knew the imprint I left on Oliver on how compassion is not necessarily giving – it could mean the total opposite. It is breaking a cycle of abuse of children who are made to work by their parents, to beg, to perform when they should be in bed nurturing their bodies with rest and sleep.

The other face of compassion and social responsibility he learned was when I took him to Smoky Mountain when he was 14. This is hell on earth, a dumpsite in Manila where children are expected to pick up cans, plastic bags and anything that can be resold to junk yard owners. It is believed that five thousand families are supposed to live here.

It was a prelude to the Mosman Cup 2007 and I invited Oliver and some of his friends (with the permission of their parents) to visit the dumpsite to donate old football boots, shirts and school supplies to the children of the Philippine Christian Foundation.

What he saw, smelled, experienced in the grey, impoverished hell of Manila is still vivid up to this day. He was sick as a dog the following day – but saw the realization that not all live like he and his friend do.

By spending time with the children under the wings of the PCF kicking ball and teaching them tricks on how to entertain themselves, he learned social responsibility.

Not long afterwards, he was tasked to organize a football tournament at the British School Manila for the benefit of the disenfranchised football teams in Manila. I observed him do the works, and my heart skipped when I saw him bringing food, taking charge of the event and being called “Kuya Oliver” by the kids from Smoky Mountain and The Achievers, the players from the squatter area in Manila.

I want my son to continue knowing and practicing compassion for others – but it is not me who can attest to that – only the people around him can.