THAT.....is the White House?

October 1975--

My kind and jovial boss, Mr. Williams, would always take his personal calls on a high note, saying/yelling "Hi how you doin, Tiger?!" I called him Mr. Willams in two syllables with my tounge rolling the "ll" as in "paella" of the high-Spanish pronounciation that the Filipinos have learned in Spanish 11 and 12. I am digressing... This crisp morning, Mr. Willams has tasked me to take an envelope to an address at K Street. "Take a cab and take this to..."

I hailed a taxi and told the driver how to take me to K street. Annoyed, the cabbie cut me off, "Young lady, you sit tight, let me do the driving! I know where to take you." The cabbie was gruff. I shut up. Until I saw a fenced white house. "Sir, what is that?" "What?" "That over there, with many people outside! "That is the White House!" "That is the White House?" "That- is- the- White House."

Every morning on my bus ride, I see a majestic white building, which I thought was the White House. I would think the US president would live in a place as majestic and palatial. It was dissappointing to learn that he and his family lived in a more modest abode as that one on Pennsylvania Avenue! Imelda Marcos would have turned that white house into her sun room.
"Okay young lady, this is your building," the cabbie said in his gruff voice.

"Thank you, sir. Have a nice day. God bless you. God bless your family. Have a nice time, have a nice day, have a nice life, and have a nice one..." All of the above.

This is America, strangers exchange niceties like they meant it--they smile with their gargantuan chiclet teeth. They have flouride in their water. In the meantime, I avoided eye contact; I looked at something else when people spoke to me; it was rude to look at your superior's eyes. I was taught to respect the line between me and those who I thought were better than I. After all, I was just a humble kid on leave from college, experiencing what the technicolor USA looked like. I tell you, it was drab; the trees were all bare, the air was cold, it was always rainy, and the Americans were always high pitched when they spoke. Always, on the up-note. Do-re-mi-fa-sol-la-ti-do! Take it on a higher octave, take the last "do", and that would be the note they are on when they spoke, lest they are misunderstood.

The Americans were always smiling, always friendly people. Their newscasters are always happy, chirpy, with coiffed hair and flawless alabaster skin. "This is America on Live News at six, bringing you the latest news. The serial killer struck again. A 14th victim was identified, found in the ravine by Interstate South 95, grim, grim, grim facts....A small plane in such and such state, carrying five people crashed and killed all passengers.The authorities are investigating the cause of this deadly crash." And then, smiling at the camera she ends, "and this is America Live News, have a great evening everyone!" And she smiled widely with those chiclets...

Two years later, I started working at the "White House." The majestic US Capitol, visited by countless visitors, where I spend many days going around its hallowed halls, is one of my sources of joy. It is not unusual for me to sometimes get lost in this mammoth building and I would turn on my smile and approach a US Capitol Police to get directions. They would always be kind to this Filipino kid and would invariably converse with me, "Where are you from? I was in the service, I was stationed in Subic. Hey, you know balut, you know balut? Do you know Miguel Alejo? Enjoy your visit!"

I am from the Philippines, I grew up in Manila, there are 7000 islands. I think.
I have not been to Subic in the 70's.
I know balut, I do not eat that gross part either.
I do not know Miguel Alejo or any of his family and friends.
I am enjoying my visit---
Have a nice day, have a nice one, take it easy, take care....
All of above, on a higher octave.