One Liners on Aging, Part 1 of 3

This is Part 1 of 3 on my Series on One Liners about Aging 

Aging Gracefully with a Punchline: Notes from Senior Living (Part 1)

If there is one thing I did not fully anticipate when I moved into a senior living community, it is this: humor is everywhere.

Not the loud, stage-performing kind. Not the kind that demands attention. But a quieter, more refined humor delivered in passing, often with impeccable timing, and almost always rooted in lived experience.

One Sunday morning, while waiting for brunch, one resident looked at the long line and said, “At our age, we should get priority seating and priority caffeine.”

No one laughed loudly. But everyone smiled. That is how humor works here.

In my earlier years, humor was often something you sought out through television, films, or the occasional comedian. Today, it seems to find me. It shows up unannounced, usually in the form of a one-liner, and leaves behind a small but lasting imprint.

Take, for example, this gem I heard during a recent conversation:

“I joined a fitness class for seniors. Now I just attend for the sitting portion.”

Or this one, offered during a discussion about memory:

“I have a great memory-short, but great.”

There is something deeply comforting about humor at this stage of life. It is not trying to impress. It is not trying to compete. It simply exists to lighten, to connect, to remind us that we are all navigating similar waters.

Living here these past few years, I have also come to realize that humor is a form of resilience. We joke about our aches and pains, our forgetfulness, our changing routines not to dismiss them, but to live alongside them with a bit more ease.

One gentleman I know, who walks daily with the assistance of a cane (a familiar companion of mine for several years), once remarked:

“This isn’t a cane-it’s a conversation starter.” And indeed, it is.

In a way, these one-liners are more than jokes. They are small declarations of independence. They say: we are still here, still observing, still finding ways to laugh at the absurdities of life.

I sometimes think that humor becomes more honest as we age. There is less pretense, less need for embellishment. A simple truth, slightly tilted, becomes a perfect joke.

As I continue this journey, both in life and in writing, I am reminded that reaching readers around the world, as this blog has now done with its two million page views, is built not only on stories of significance, but also on moments of lightness.

After all, a shared laugh can travel just as far as a serious reflection.

So I leave you, for now, with a few more lines from the unofficial “hallways anthology” of senior living:

“I don’t need an alarm clock. My body has its own early warning system.”

“I thought about joining a marathon… then I remembered I like sitting.”

“My daily exercise routine? I walk… to the refrigerator.”

“I’m not forgetful-I just give my brain a break.”

And my personal favorite from this week:

“At our age, we don’t need a bucket list, we need a ‘remember where I put the bucket’ list.”

There will be more of these, I am sure. Enough, perhaps, for a Part 2.

Until then, I remain a careful observer of life’s quieter jokes and a grateful participant in them.

THD Notes: 

If you pay your rent, via Door Loop be sure not to be late. I heard from a resident the other day, she was charged $7 more as penalty for being one-day late. Paying automatic is very convenient if you have some loss of memory. I sign for auto pay and so I am sure I will not be a victim of late penalty. I feel that the penalty for being late only one day is not fair. We should be given at least 2-3 days before penalties are added to our high rent.   

Observation on Furniture Arrangement at the Fireside Lounge: The other day, the couch divan and chairs were moved back to the Wall.  I like the arrangement, since you can see the fireplace clearly from outside and the room look more spacious.  Today the furniture is backed to its original arrangement, that is the couch and big chairs are in the center of the room just by the side of the Fireplace. 

Who is charge of Furniture Arrangement at our Fireside Lounge? Just Curious? 

Newton's Menu This Week: My Favorite is Linguine with Clams. I had it now for 2 days. The other day I commented to Joel that perhaps adding a couple more clams in the dish would be appreciated. So last night I had 9 clams in my dinner. There were only 6 clams in my linguine the first day I had the dish. Kudos to Joel and his Kitchen crew. I asked Joel, when will we have an Asian dish. He said pretty soon, Chinese Orange Chicken will be in our future menu. How about some Pinoy Food? 💚 

 Thank You Joel for listening to our needs and wishes. Keep up with Good Work. 

Finally, Quotes on Pinoy Food💚 and My Photo of the Day:   

• "Filipino food is as rich and vibrant as its culture.".
• "Nothing beats the Pinoy Food. It brought me back to my roots and somehow I got the chance to unwind my mind." — Steemit.
• "From the first spoonful, the warmth of the rice porridge soaked into my bones. It was care in a bowl." — Goodreads.
• "The Philippines isn't just a feast for the eyes—it's a feast for the stomach too.".
• "It's got to have the calamansi lime juice in it to make everything else sing." — Goodreads.
• "In the Philippines, food isn't just about eating—it's about bringing people together.". 

         

A good meal is about than just food; it's about the people you share it with.

Who is David B Katague in FDA?

This posting is triggered by a question, I was asked by a New THD resident during our meal time conversation just recently. I titled it, The Names We Do Not Hear- Who is David B Katague in FDA? 

My FDA Fellow Scientists and Colleagues, Rockville, MD, 1990. From L to R: Ernie Pappas, M.S.,  Suva Roy, Ph.D and David B Katague, Ph.D (me) 

There are names that echo across history, spoken on television, printed in bold headlines, remembered in public squares.

And then there are names like David B. Katague.

A name that does not shout. A name that does not seek the spotlight. A name that, quietly and faithfully, does its work.

In the vast machinery of the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, where decisions ripple out to millions of lives, David B. Katague served not as a public figure, but as something perhaps more enduring, a scientist entrusted with responsibility. A first-line supervisor, not a public figure. 

A Chemistry Team Leader in the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research.

It sounds clinical. Almost sterile. But behind those words lies a human story, one of discipline, precision, and a kind of silent guardianship.

I often think about the unseen hands that shape our lives.

When we take an antibiotic, when a treatment works as expected, when a medication does what it promises, we rarely pause to ask:

Who made sure this was safe? Not the executives. Not the politicians. But individuals like Katague.

People who read through pages of data most of us would never understand.
People who question, verify, challenge. People who sign their names not for recognition, but for accountability.

There is something deeply humbling about that signature.

A name written at the bottom of a document that says, in essence:

This is safe enough for the public.

Think about that for a moment. The weight of that decision. The quiet courage it takes.

The discipline to remain invisible in a world that often rewards visibility above all else.

As I reflect on my own journey, through years of public service, through moments that placed me close to history, through a life now measured more in reflection than ambition, I find myself drawn more and more to these quieter stories.

Because in the end, most of us will not be remembered for grand gestures.

We will be remembered, if at all, for the integrity of our work. For the way we showed up.

For the responsibilities we carried when no one was watching.

The Katague name, as I’ve come to understand it, stretches across continents from the provinces of the Philippines to communities in America, Australia, and New Zealand.

In some places, it carries public recognition. In others, it blends into the fabric of everyday life.

But in this particular story, in the life of David B. Katague, it represents something universal:

The dignity of doing one’s job well. The quiet honor of contributing to something larger than oneself. The unseen legacy of care.

There is a kind of poetry in that. Not the poetry of grand speeches or celebrated achievements, but the poetry of consistency. Of showing up, day after day, and doing work that matters.

As I write this, I cannot help but think of the many individuals I have encountered in my own life, colleagues, professionals, public servants whose names will never be widely known, yet whose impact is immeasurable.

Perhaps that is the real story worth telling. Not just of David B. Katague, but of all those who live lives of quiet consequence.

In a world that often asks, “Who is famous?” Maybe we should ask instead,

“Who is faithful?” Because long after the headlines fade, it is the faithful who have been holding the world together all along.

Meanwhile, here's the AI Overview:

There is a real record of David B. Katague connected to the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA), but he is not a public-facing or widely profiled official like an FDA commissioner or political appointee. Instead, he appears to have been a career scientist within the agency, working behind the scenes in drug evaluation.

🧪 His Role at the FDA

Based on official FDA documents:

• David B. Katague, Ph.D.
• Served as a Chemistry Team Leader
• Worked in the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research (CDER)
• Specifically in the Division of Anti-Infective Drug Products

His name appears on multiple FDA approval letters and regulatory documents in the late 1990s–early 2000s, where he:

• Reviewed new drug applications (NDAs)
• Oversaw chemistry and manufacturing quality
• Signed off on approvals for drugs like antibiotics (e.g., Augmentin) 

This places him in a key scientific gatekeeping role, ensuring medications met FDA standards for safety, quality, and consistency before reaching the public.

🧬 What His Job Actually Meant

As a Chemistry Team Leader, his responsibilities likely included:

• Evaluating drug composition and stability
• Reviewing manufacturing processes
• Leading teams of FDA chemists
• Advising on whether a drug should be approved, modified, or rejected

This is highly technical, rigorous work, not visible to the public, but absolutely essential to modern medicine.

📍 Career Context

• Active in FDA records roughly 1990s to early 2000s
• Part of the internal scientific workforce rather than leadership
• His signature on documents indicates senior-level responsibility, not entry-level work

Some secondary sources suggest:

• Background in pharmaceutical chemistry
• Prior work in private industry before joining the FDA
• Filipino-American heritage (consistent with the Katague name’s origins)

🌎 Why He Matters (Even If He’s Not Famous)

People like David B. Katague represent a category that rarely gets attention:

The career scientists who quietly determine whether drugs are safe enough for millions of people.

Every FDA-approved medication passes through individuals like him. While names like
David A. Kessler become publicly known, the scientific backbone of the FDA is made up of professionals like Katague.

✍️  Reflection 

There’s something quietly powerful about a name that doesn’t make headlines.

David B. Katague’s story, what little we can see of it, is not one of spotlight or speeches, but of signatures at the bottom of documents that changed lives. Antibiotics approved. Treatments validated. Standards upheld.

No applause. No recognition. Just trust. And perhaps that is the deeper thread connecting the Katague name across continents from Iloilo, Negros Occidental, Philippines to America, to Australia, New Zealand, UK  and beyond:

Not always visible. But always present. Doing the work that matters.

Finally, my Photo of the Day:  Surface of the Moon taken by Artemis II Crew 

Love is Patient, Love is Kind....

This posting is inspired from several positive comments I received from my recent posting on Macrine (RIP) would have been 90th Birthday ( 3-26-26)

Love Is Patient, Love Is Kind: Lessons From a Long Life

“Love is patient, love is kind.” Many people hear these words only at weddings, as if they belong solely to young couples at the beginning of their story. I hear them now, approaching my 92nd birthday, as a summary of a life lived through marriage, migration, caregiving, illness, and the quiet routines of an active-senior community.

For me, patience and kindness are no longer abstract virtues; they are muscle and memory. They were there when my late wife, Macrine, decided to pursue nursing at forty, after raising our four children, starting at the hospital bedside and later serving as a visiting home-health nurse and head of Quality Assurance in Maryland. They were there when we left the Philippines and built a new life in the United States, joining the countless Filipinos whose journeys form part of the global diaspora of caregivers and professionals.

Love Does Not Envy, It Does Not Boast

“Love does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.” In a world that measures success by titles, followers, and bank accounts, these lines feel almost countercultural. My own path, from the Philippines to a professional life that included work at the FDA, and now to my days of bridge, mahjong, and blogging has taught me that real achievement is quieter than most people think.

I saw this most clearly in Macrine’s nursing career. She did not envy younger nurses or boast about late promotions. She began her profession at an age when many are slowing down, but she simply focused on doing the work caring for patients in their homes, checking charts, and later safeguarding standards as a quality assurance leader. There were no billboards or headlines, only grateful patients, colleagues, and a family who saw, day after day, what love without envy or pride looks like in practical form.

As I age, I find that the things I once might have boasted about matter less. At ninety-one plus, no one is impressed by how fast you walk or how many projects you juggle. They are more interested in whether you listen, whether you show up, and whether you can still offer a smile even on days when your kidneys ache and your legs remind you of every mile you have traveled.

Love Is Not Easily Angered

“Love is not easily angered.” That line has grown on me with time. When you live alone but not lonely, you have a lot of time to think about losses, about misunderstandings, about all the little ways life could have turned out differently. It would be easy to become bitter about aging, illness, or the inevitable frustrations of the healthcare system that I know both as a patient and as someone who spent a career inside it.

Yet I have learned that love, in this stage of life, often takes the shape of gentleness. Gentleness with the nurses who are overworked, the doctors running behind schedule, the staff at my community who have their own family worries at home. Gentleness with friends who repeat the same story for the third time at the card table. And perhaps most of all, gentleness with myself, when I cannot move as quickly or do as much as I used to.

I think of the Filipino nurses I have written about, spread across the world, working long shifts in hospitals and home health agencies, including the one my wife once helped lead. Their patience in the face of difficult patients, complicated families, and exhausting schedules is a living commentary on this verse. They remind me that not being “easily angered” is less about personality and more about purpose: when you know you are there to heal, you choose calm over outrage, understanding over accusation.

Love Keeps No Record

“Love keeps no record.” That may be the hardest line of all. As a daily blogger, I literally keep records: of my thoughts, activities, memories, and reflections, shared with readers around the world. But the record-keeping that this verse warns against is different, it speaks of grudges, of scorecards in relationships, of bitterness carefully preserved like old letters in a drawer.

Over a long marriage of 63 years, believe me, there were plenty of opportunities to keep score. Who sacrificed more? Who was right in old arguments? Who carried the heavier load when raising children or managing the household while the other pursued career goals? In our case, any honest tally would show that Macrine gave more than her share, working as a nurse, a mother, and a quiet anchor of the home. Macrine was the Disciplinarian and I acted as the good guy. 

But love, I have learned, is not an accounting system. As I look back now, widowed for six years, what remains is not a ledger of rights and wrongs but a collage of ordinary days: shared meals, late-night conversations, her stories from home health visits, the pride in her eyes when our children succeeded, the quiet comfort of knowing that, whatever happened, we faced it together. The disagreements have faded; the affection remains. That is what it means, I think, to keep no record.

Living the Verse in an Active-Senior Community

Today, I practice these words in smaller, slower ways. I walk slowly around the THD compound of my active-senior community, greet neighbors, and sit down at the bridge or mahjong table to keep my mind sharp. I manage Stage 4 chronic kidney disease with the help of doctors, nurses, and my own determination to keep moving, even when my legs protest. I even abstain from alcohol and sweets. 

Love, in this season, looks like patience with my body’s limits, kindness to the people who help me navigate them, and a deliberate choice not to dwell on what I have lost but on what I still have, time, memories, community, and the ability to write. Each blog post is a small act of hope, a message to readers across the globe that life after loss, aging, and illness can still be rich with meaning.

“Love is patient, love is kind” is no longer just a verse for weddings to me. It is a daily practice: in the way I remember my wife with gratitude, not regret; in the way I honor the global story of Filipino nurses through her example; and in the way I greet each new day with as much grace, humor, and gentleness as I can muster. At nearly 92, I am still learning that love is less about grand gestures and more about how we treat each other and ourselves-one ordinary day at a time.

Meanwhile, here's the  AI Overview

"Love is patient, love is kind" (1 Corinthians 13:4-7) defines love as an active, enduring choice rather than just a feeling, emphasizing long-term commitment, humility, and kindness

. Lessons from this, often viewed as a guide for a long life, include enduring hardships without resentment, serving others selflessly, and prioritizing compassion over winning arguments. 

Key Lessons on Love's Endurance:

• Active Endurance (Long-suffering): Patience means actively enduring injuries or difficult situations without being easily angered or seeking revenge.
• Active Kindness: Kindness involves proactively doing good, serving others, and showing compassion, rather than just being passive.
• Choice Over Emotion: Love is a daily decision to be humble and gentle, not just a fleeting emotion.
• No Record of Wrongs: A lasting, loving life requires letting go of grudges and not keeping track of faults.
• Selfless Attitude: Love is not selfish, boastful, or proud, but instead protects and trusts. 

These principles emphasize that a loving life requires intentional, daily, and often challenging, actions of kindness and patience.

Lastly, here are the benefits of my weekly whole body massage therapy:  

Relaxation and stress relief: Massage helps reduce muscle tension, promoting relaxation and calming the mind.
Pain relief: Massage can alleviate pain caused by muscle strain, cramps, or injuries by increasing blood flow and reducing inflammation.
Improved circulation: Massage helps improve blood flow, which can aid in the delivery of oxygen and nutrients to muscles, promoting healthy tissue repair.
Reduced muscle soreness: Post-exercise massage can help reduce muscle soreness and improve recovery time.
Enhanced flexibility and range of motion: Regular massage can help increase flexibility and range of motion by breaking down adhesions and scar tissue.
Improved lymphatic function: Massage can help stimulate the lymphatic system, promoting the removal of toxins and waste products.

Thank you, Indy! Your services are no longer a luxury but a necessity.