Group chats across generations
My enterprising younger sister, Marlyn, and I used to have a small gift cheque business that lasted a decade. She was the guarantor/financier while I was one of her sub-guarantors. It was called “GC” at the time. The business stopped when someone in my household had a stroke, and I could no longer attend to it.
Today, “GC” means group chat and is one way of interacting with others on the social media platform. I’m a member of 13 group chats on Messenger and of two on Viber. It’s time-consuming but, as an active retiree, I consider it as engaging in mental exercise on a daily basis.
The noble purpose of a group chat is virtual camaraderie, being updated on each other’s life, extending birthday greetings, and sending or getting notifications about births, marriages, or deaths. The subject of conversation is random—personal, local, national or international issues, or any topic that one believes is interesting enough to share with group members. All such actions are considered keeping in touch.
Group chats also serve as an important avenue for information dissemination especially on current political issues which are, sadly, about corruption in government involving appointed or elected officials who make public coffers their milking cow. Currently trending is the increasing number of power-hungry political dynasties in the country from north to south.
I created only one group chat since my optional retirement from government a decade ago, the initials of which represent my former office. The 20 members are retirees, male and female, from former rank-and-file employees to lawyers and former presidential appointees. Comm. Tito is the most prolific in sharing his articles. He’s also the highest former official among us. The rest are either content to just read his informative, legalese articles, post short comments, or simply click an emoticon, which is also a form of communication.
I interact with members of different group chats whose ages range from 14 (my granddaughter, Munin) to 90. I regularly chat with my younger former colleagues who, like me, are fun-loving and travel aficionados. We hold a lunch-reunion every time our former boss, Nel, now almost 94, celebrates a birthday. Luckily, none in our group has crab mentality or is a backstabber. It’s a happy group.
My other group chats are with my “formers”—classmates, co-teachers, and students in two private high schools in Manila. We see each other on scheduled reunions—in Leyte, Manila, Quezon City, or Makati, and once, in southern California with United States-based classmates.
My later teenage years were spent in Kundiman, a narrow street in Sampaloc, Manila. I’m in touch with former neighbors, although we’re now living miles or oceans apart from each other. They named our group chat “Queens.” I’m not comfortable though with the name, as we’re all elderly and not queenly.
One of my daughters created a group chat, with me as the oldest member. My eldest daughter lives half an hour away, my second is a 20-minute walk away, my third is eight hours away by plane, and my youngest is two connecting plane rides away. Not the demanding type of mom, I never obligated them to call, video-call, or text me regularly. No unreasonable expectations, no disappointments. Four of my six grandchildren are now my text mates. I’m like a star to all of them. They may not always see me but they know I’m always here. “We may grow in different directions, yet our roots remain as one.”
My late Big Brod, Dante, created a group chat for us nine living siblings. Today, two years after he passed on to eternity, only three have stayed loyal to the group he had created: me and my truly supportive sisters Bernadette and Marlyn. No elaboration needed.
Katy Viacrucis, 72, considers herself assertive and frank, and not maldita.
