Trail of Footprints

By Frida Brewer

The title itself refers to the footprints taken by an expat family across the world. The foot prints refer to the literally as well as to the figuratively. The stories sometimes tell about family life. Sometimes the stories tell of discoveries welcome and unwelcome, and sometimes the stories tell of adventures unforeseen. The stories may make some uncomfortable, but perhaps each storys atmosphere will make another expat family nod their head in recognition.

The book tells of good times and not so good times; it also tells about different cultures and past history. It is stories of love, laughter, anger, loyalty, and betrayal.
It is an emotional journey that spans over thirty years.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 31, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499022070

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Copyright © 2014 by Frida Brewer.

Library of Congress Control Number:                 2014909056

ISBN:                  Hardcover                         978-1-4990-2208-7

                            Softcover                           978-1-4990-2209-4

                            eBook                                978-1-4990-2207-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Scripture taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

Rev. date: 05/27/2014

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CONTENTS

The Rock

Denmark

Germany

Amarillo

Spain

New Orleans

Borneo

Singapore

Solitaire

The Philippines

Praises

Not the End

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

In 1965, just after Jim and I married we visited a Danish couple in Frederica, Denmark. Jim smoked then. Jim and I both wore a coat due to the cold February weather. On our drive from Kolding to Frederica Jim needed a smoke. He opened the window, on the driver’s side on our small Volkswagen, and proceeded to light a cigarette. When he lit the cigarette, I saw a small spark fall from the match he used. I looked for the spark. Everything looked normal so we kept driving with the window open while Jim smoked. However, suddenly flames exploded from the front of Jim’s coat. I looked at Jim, and the burning coat, in absolute shock. I had never before seen such an upsetting sight. Jim quickly pulled to the side of the road and stopped the car, and we both jumped out of the car. The doors slammed shut behind us. With his bare hands, Jim choked the flames coming from the chest area of his coat. After the danger had disappeared, we looked over the damage. The coat showed a large hand size hole… the damage was too big to be repaired. Jim was upset over the burned coat. I succeeded not to laugh… I secretly hated that coat. I did not know then that the burning coat, the sudden stop, the doors that slammed behind us, would be a symbol of my future life with Jim… loving, funny, door-slamming upsetting, surprising, infuriating, but never boring.

So to you Jim… I say ‘Thank you for never boring!’

INTRODUCTION

By,

Frida E. (Moisen) Brewer

Born May 30, 1941

The Danish author, Karen Blixen, starts her written stories about her life in Africa with a phrase that explains the rest of her book.

"I had a farm in Africa," she said.

I never had a farm in Africa, but I did have homes in Denmark, Germany, Spain, Borneo, Singapore, The Philippines, Canada, and the USA. My life in these countries explains my stories.

You are modern day gypsies, Mor said. You are living without roots.

Mor spoke about the entire Brewer family.

I agree with half her sentiment. We did move about like gypsies, but we did not live without roots. Our roots may not have been deep in thousands of years of history like my roots in Denmark. My expatriate roots are in vivid memories about the places I lived, events in which I partook, and in the people, I met and came to know. This is a collection of little stories, and poems, about my gypsy life as a Chicago Bridge & Iron (CB&I) guy’s wife/life. It is just a small collection of my memoirs. I left out many stories not to protect the innocent or the guilty but just because.

Sometimes one story will be connected to another; sometimes a story will stand alone; and perhaps sometimes, a story will look awkward and lonely.

A lonely feeling would sometimes attack me when I engaged in shallow talk at a cocktail party or when I laughed at a well-told joke at a dinner party. But mostly I experienced joy while I merged myself into the many different cultures in which we lived. But I also experienced, or saw, things that made me angry, sad, or bewildered.

I have always thought it bizarre that men or women travelled to California to find themselves. Why did these people think themselves lived in California? Wherever I lived or wherever I travelled, I always walked along with myself.

You will not find extreme tension that will make you breathlessly turn to the next page and then the next. You will not find writings like that of John Le Carré or Stephen King. But, most of the time you will see through my writings, my Danish accent… perhaps a few English grammar mistakes. I write in my own style about observations I made, common knowledge, conversations, and events in which I participated, as we Jim, Anette, Jane, James Michael, John, and I, travelled the world.

I write more stories about my life in South East Asia because of the many years we lived there. And you may wonder why I am writing about my life and not our life. My family is very much included in my experiences, but I am unable to write about their lives since they experienced the world from a different place such as childhood, school, friends, and/or Jim in his career. My experiences and how I saw and reacted to our travel experiences may not match Jim’s or my children’s reactions.

We don’t want children, because then we can’t travel, a CB&I couple said to me in Singapore.

I have never concerned myself about the reason why couples prefer a life without children. However, I will travel with children with more ease than with adults.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude to the Almighty for all the places He let me walk. I am in awe of the integrity of some of the men and women I met, and I am still saddened of the hypocrisy and deceit I found in other men and women, yet, all these varieties of human characters have made my life rich with emotions.

‘I feel I have left a piece of my heart in so many places that I have no more of my heart to give." I told Jane a few years ago.

But Mom, she said. Haven’t you filled these same spots with memories from all those places?

Of course.

I will not try to explain about the reasons we moved, and moved. Instead, I asked Jim to write about his jobs and jobsites.

When I read Karen Blixen’s memoirs about her farm in Kenya, I felt she left a piece of her heart in Africa. When Karen Blixen returned to Denmark, she rested in her memories and in the security of her fame.

I have only returned to my wonderful birth-home Denmark on short vacations. Jim and I have never returned to Germany, Spain, Borneo, Singapore, or The Philippines, but we have, and still do, visit Alberta, Canada. I have never been famous. But, like Karen Blixen’s journey from Denmark to a life in Africa of which she knew very little, so did I journey from Denmark to an expat’ life of which I knew very little.

Frida Brewer 2014

THE ROCK

"Silver moon softened shattered walls

only the ghosts remain."

Certus H. Jones, Sgt.

In 1977, my family and I camped on Corregidor for a long weekend. We had not before that weekend visited the famous island. But, the history surrounding Corregidor could not but pull on our curiosity. So when the scout leaders at IS planned a history campout to Corregidor the entire Brewer family signed up for the trip.

Some of the soldiers who fought in battle with the Japanese during WWII, also called the island The Rock, others called it The Rock of Gibraltar.

The front staff for the International School’s boy and girl scouts arrived on the well-known island one day before the main scout cluster arrived. Since my title for that particular trip was that of a ‘quartermaster,’ I arrived with the main staff. So did John, Pat Alberto, her daughter Anna, and a group of adult scout leaders. Mel Victoria, our CB&I driver, also joined the front staff. On the scouting trip, Mel helped everyone but mostly he helped John and me. The bumboat on which we arrived docked at the very dock from where General Douglass MacArthur left the island in February 1942. Many awed and took pictures.

In 1977, Hollywood made the movie McArthur starring Gregory Peck.

The movie chronologies General Douglas MacArthur’s military career and war fame.

The movie showed that same year in a movie theatre in Makati.

The Brewer family watched the movie with great interest. Parked in the theatre lobby was General Douglas MacArthur’s 1937 Ford Cabriolet.

The fabulous car received as much attention as the movie. I was told by a Filipina friend that the car was originally made and given to The Philippine President Queson, but the following year the car was turned over to General Douglas McArthur. Why? I do not know.

We could in the movie theatre watch the Hollywood version of the bombing and siege of Corregidor and General Douglas MacArthur’ and his family’s departure from Corregidor.

I have heard that currently, 2014, the island has become a tourist attraction with casual hikers, and casual campers. I have also heard that there are now hotels on Corregidor.

Not so in 1977.

Only scouts and military camped on Corregidor. The tourists arrived by boats and departed by the same boats on the same day. The small civilian town San Jose that had thrived before WWII did no longer exist. On our arrival on the lofty island, I saw only a few military barracks and an office. The entire island lay quietly as a war memorial. I did not see any privately owned nipa huts or off shore-fishing huts. Only the Filipino military lived on that island. The scouts came to learn about the history of the island.

We had military transportation from the dockside to the topside. Since we had arrived with everything needed for a scout camp, we had much gear that needed to be transported topside. The Filipino army men, and we, loaded up all the tents, backpacks, tent poles, food, drinks and anything else we had brought along for the weekend. The military dropped us at clearing topside and down a narrow trail.

On our short steep ride, I experienced the first sight of some of the destruction that occurred during the siege, and bombing, of Corregidor from late December 1941 until late April 1942. It did surprise me that the mile long buildings that had been destroyed during the battles for the island, still stood un-restored. However, the ruins did not look hopeless like the grey ruins I had seen in East Berlin. The ruins on Corregidor blended with nature in a stubborn dignity. Elegant looking vines of different sorts had climbed over the hollow ruins. Only the houses occupied by the Filipino armed forces had been restored. However, the Filipino military housing could also have been new building and built since WWII.

On our drive up the hill, we passed the tunnels where General MacArthur, his family, the US and Filipino soldiers, the nurses, and I guess a snake or two had lived during the intensive bombing by the Japanese forces. Topside, and before we arrived at our campsite, we passed an official memorial site and a US military tank.

At the campsite, I immediately organized my quartermaster tools. Every one needed a hammer to secure the tents stakes, some needed an axe to clear the ground of a stubborn bush-roots. One of the Filipino leaders suggested we set fire to a pit filled with branches.

It may be a snake pit, he said.

The fire concerned me a bit. I envisioned how we may start a fire that would engulf the entire island. However, the Filipino leader and the American women who overlooked the snake-pit fire knew how to contain the fire within the pit. One of the adult American Boy Scout leaders turned pale when he heard about the snake pit.

If I had known that snakes lived on this island, I would never have come, he said.

Mel Victoria helped me to pitch my tent close by the trail that led from the war memorial to our campsite. Pat Alberto, Janet Baker, the first aid nurse, the Filipino service troop, and an American historian also pitched their tent in that same area. We who arrived early pitched the tents for the ones who would arrive late. Their main scout camp occupied a space about a hundred feet from the trail. We sweated much, and we developed blisters on the palms of our hands by holding on to the very hot tent stakes. The Filipino service patrol under the guidance of Mrs. Gilbert cooked our evening meal and all of us then gathered around the campfire… we relaxed in the facts that we had done much work since our arrival. And with muscle-tired tranquility, we drank our campfire coffee.

Is there anything as tasty as a campfire meal or campfire coffee?

The humidity present in the island air seemed a little less in the evening peace. The jungle gave no sounds of life. Perhaps the jungle creatures had retired for the night.

By late evening some of the girl scout leaders retired to the girl scout tents. Some of the boy scout leaders retired to the boy scout tents. John, Anna, Pat Alberto, Janet Baker, and I retired to our tents up by the trail. Others stayed by the campfire.

I hoped for a night of rest-filled sleep. But, the strong coffee worked on my kidneys. Both Pat Alberto and I had to go…

Neither Pat Alberto nor I thought the open-air latrines, placed close to the main camp and in tall grass behind a few bushes, would be an option. We did not worry about night crawlers since the latrines had seen much traffic during the day so the crawly ones would have crawled to more quiet places. But we did not want to go back down and through the main campsite. The unpaved trail that lay about twenty feet from our tents and hidden by tight growing bushes seemed a more attractive option.

We brought one flashlight with us. Just in case…

And there we stood half dressed, barefooted, and ready for the sleeping bag when we would return to our tents.

I’ll go first… guard me, Pat Alberto said.

I took the flash light and without moving and with my back toward Pat Alberto I searched with the flashlight beam the bushes and trees for anything that could hide in those places such as man or beasts. Behind me I could hear Pat Alberto prepare to do what we came to do. For a few minutes I flashed the light over the trees, down the trail, from bush to bush, and from grass clusters to grass clusters. And then for no reason at all felt a need to look down and light up the surface around my feet. The sight gave me frosty goose bumps. Less than an inch from my naked toes crawled a long and fat black snake. It aimed at the trees on the far side of the trail. It came from our campsite behind the bushes. The crawlers were still in flight from our busy campsite! I for the first time truly understood the ‘fright and flight’ reaction. Before I fully embraced my fright, I had in flight from the danger jumped behind Pat Alberto. I slung my right arm over her shoulder and pointed with the flash light.

There… there is a big snake, I whispered.

What, what, she said.

I guessed she did not hear me so I repeated what I had said earlier. I hoped to catch another sight of the snake within the beam from the flashlight… . while all the time I sheltered myself behind Pat Alberto. Fortunately, the snake had disappeared into the dense tree-crowded area.

The situation could only be described as wacky. Me hiding behind Pat Alberto’s much smaller body frame and Pat Alberto trying to absorb what I told her about the snake.

Pat Alberto also tried to act dignified while she tried to organize her clothing back in the proper order. I tried to act dignified in spite of my fright and flight reaction. Both of us started to laugh unbridled and a bit frantic. I leaned on Pat Alberto. She leaned on me. We did not know what exactly to do. Should we stay very still, so as not to make the snake snappily return? Or should we run for our lives. We finally stopped laughing and then we ran fast for our tents while trying not to stub our toes on the many rocks that lay about. Our feet barely touched the surface… there could be other snakes leaving our campsite. Before I crawled into my sleeping bag I checked on John who slept soundly. John and I shared a tent.

The tents did not close up. Before the Brewer family arrived in The Philippines, the American scout movement had purchase army surplus tents. The heat and the extremely tight weaving of the tents made it impossible to breathe if we closed the front and back openings. So the sides and top covered us but we kept the front and back entrance open. Anything could unobstructed enter our tents while we slept.

But the latrines did no longer seem far away.

The next day the main scout group arrived from Manila. Hot and parched the scouts arrived at our campsite after first spending a couple of hours on the deck of a Filipino Navy vessel and then walking from the dockside to the topside. The Philippine military stationed on the island had promised to drive the children and their leaders from the dock to the camp. So the early arrives waited topside… except for Pat Alberto and I.

The scouts had no cover on the 30-mile trip across Manila Bay. They sat, or stood, on the deck of the navy vessel without any shade. Anette insisted she might have burned her behind on the hot metal deck. Jane spent time in the back of the ship talking with friends and listening to the waves crash against the ship. James Michael also busied himself with friends. Jim sweated a lot and developed a tan on top of the one he already carried. Never the less they all came walking up the steep road from the pier to topside and our camp. All the children and the adults arrived red faced from the heat and a bit angry that we did not meet them at the dock with cool water and transportation as we had promised before we left Manila. The scouts had emptied their canteens on the trip between Manila and Corregidor.

Due to a typhoon that had threatened the Manila and Corregidor area we had all arrived a day later than first planned. Therefore the promised army trucks were busy somewhere else.

Before the US navy vessel docked, Mrs. Gilbert had asked Pat Alberto and me to ‘please, go down to the Military compound to request a truck with containers of water.’ Again the Filipino military had no truck available because of the one-day delay. Unsuccessful in our quest Pat Alberto and I had to walk back up the steep road. Half way up we caught up with a bulldozer and hitched a ride. Within five minutes Pat and I gave up on the ride since we could walk faster than the bulldozer that moved at a snails pace. But for a few minutes we gratefully rested our legs.

John and Anna had stayed in the scout camp in the company of Mel Victoria.

Pat Alberto and I arrived back at the scout camp about the same time as the arrival of the red faced, thirsty, group of adults, boys, and girls… Jim, Anette, Jane, James Michael, Alex, Matti, Marco, Joe, and all the others. The scouts had walked up on a different trail than Pat Alberto and I.

Pat Alberto and I told our story to Mrs. Gilbert. By the look she gave us, I am not certain she believed us. Perhaps she thought we had been lollygagging. Mrs. Gilbert’s concern was always for the children. Perhaps she had expected us to have done more to obtain the trucks. Yes, perhaps we should have begged much more and much longer rather than just accepting the refusal and returning to the scout camp. Somehow Mrs. Gilbert managed to find a truck that delivered a new supply of fresh water.

The many boy and girls scouts brought a lively atmosphere to the entire campsite. Talking, laughing, and squealing echoed from one end of the campsite to the other. Everyone found a tent and dropped their belongings. Jim and James Michael found a tent, but not together. James Michael wanted to sleep in a tent with his friends. Jim and I understood. The Sea Adventures to which Anette and Jane belonged wandered away from the main campsite and found an empty spot among bushes where they wanted to sleep. They did not want tents. I did not like that, but they won since they were teenagers and I was not their Adventure leader.

Mid afternoon the sightseeing started. Some of the boy and girl scouts, adult leaders, as well as the historian left the camp for a walking tour of the island. On the tour, they saw the small ruins, the mile long ruin, Battery Way, and the memorial erected in honour of the many American and Filipino armed forces personnel who died in the battle for the island. The children walked into the Malinta tunnel and saw how the soldiers and the wounded lived before they were captured. Around the island, the sightseers came upon rusty jeeps, and other dead war equipment, that stood where they were left as homage to the soldiers who died and the ones who survived.

The main staff stayed in the camp and prepared for the evening meal and the evening campfire. During the campfire, one of the girl scout leaders told everyone to leave anything found that pertained to the past war. Even an empty shell from a pistol had to be left where it lay. The entire island had to be preserved as a war museum.

Also during the campfire James Michael thought it was fun to scare his younger brother with a horror tale. James Michael told John that a giant bat lived in the island’s jungle and that at night the bat flew about and picked up small children to eat. The story worked. Alex Kahl told John not to be scared of the bat,

‘It won’t hurt you, he said. Because I am the bat."

I do not think Alex’s words made John fear the bat less.

Camp fires make the hours quickly pass. Late evening we encouraged the children to aim for the sleeping bags. No one complained, but I doubt they went to sleep. Jim and I did not share a tent. Jim’s job was to watch out for the boys in his troop, so he slept in a tent among the boy scouts. John and I left for our tent up by the trail. The sleeping bag and the cot on which we slept felt good after the long day, but I constantly worried about snakes. I had my flash light close by my side. Whenever I heard the slightest sound, I aimed the light in that direction… to great annoyance for the other leaders who tried to sleep.

Then I heard the sound of footsteps and sounds of a person moving about outside the front of my tent. I lifted my head for a better look and saw Mel Victoria unroll his sleeping bag in front of the tent opening.

Mel?

I am here to protect you, Mel Victoria said.

I found the gesture most kind. It was such an unselfish gesture that I did feel tempted to say thank you. I would have liked Mel Victoria there in front of the tent opening. And perhaps if I knew Mel Victoria would protect not just me but also John, I would relax and get a good night sleep. But if I had done so Mel Victoria would have slept on the ground without any cover for protections. So, I told him I would be okay. I convinced Mel Victoria to return to the tent he shared with one of the other Filipino scout leader. But, for about ten minutes I had a bodyguard; it was a fabulous feeling.

The following day the historian again left with a group of scouts and another group of scouts made plans to go swimming. But first we had to make certain that the beach did not comprise danger for the children. During the bombing and battle for Corregidor, much ammunition was used on both sides. Much of the bombs and other war weapon bullets did not explode.

So, the leaders did something that in retrospect seems unbelievable. The leader of the Sea Adventures and the ‘highest’ leaders of the scouts asked the Sea Adventures, teenagers, to go to a specific beach and look for live ammunition. The ocean waves and the tides moved about and exposed artillery one may not have seen a week earlier. If the teenagers found any ammunition such as unexploded bombs or unused bullets, they should inform the Filipino military stationed on the island.

The teenagers enjoyed the swim in the clear ocean. They also found unexploded ammunition.

Everywhere around us in the water was left behind world-war-two unexploded bombs on the ocean floor. Later on the beach, I ran my fingers to the sand and found many bullet shells buried in the sand, Jane told me.

James Michael thought the Sea Adventures including Anette and Jane, had all the fun by being allowed to look for real bombs. He wanted to do the same. He nearly had his wish because the leaders took the children to a different beach, and not to the one that had been searched and deemed safe, or unsafe, by the Sea Adventures.

While the Sea Adventures went to search the beach, I snooped. I wanted to know where Jane and Anette slept. I did not know what I would find. The Sea Adventures sleeping arrangements shook me. One hammock hung helplessly between two trees, the rest of the young teenager slept on the ground without any shelter, clothes had been strewn about. When the Sea Adventures returned to camp I did talk to Anette and Jane about my concerns, but they wanted to stay with the other teenagers at their small private enclosure.

Much later I was told by my daughters that during the first night, when moving about was necessary, Jane and Anette stepped on snails that also moved about. With every step in their flip-flops, my daughters squished the snails and the snail’s blood splattered up on their legs. The second night they saw not one single snail.

How weird it was. Jane told me much later. She also told me that,  . . . in our camp, I heard the rustle of the leaves when snakes moved in and out of our camp site.

Even in the scout camp the surroundings reminded everyone about Corregidor’s past. A wrecked military jeep had been left close to the Sea Adventures sleeping area.

The last evening we celebrated the finale of the campout with a large campfire and much entertainment. Some of children and the adults sang or danced. I only watched. One of the girls scout leaders gave a small speech and handed out the important History merit badges earned by the boys and the girls. The badges would later be worn proudly on their uniforms. The Filipino service patrol also received their Service merit badges.

I have been told that ghosts walk about the many ruins and in the many cave tunnels on Corregidor. I did not see any during our weekend visit. Still I am not disputing that story. About 2000 young American, Filipino, and Japanese men died during the siege and capture of that island. More died later from their wounds. So, if silent ghosts of dead soldiers walk about the island, then it is most appropriate that their presence is mixed with laughter and conversation from noisy children.

During the long weekend everyone had fun and excitement mixed with a little fear as a camping trip should have. The scouts had learned many things about the Corregidor history. Coming or going the War Memorial topside and the many ruins constantly reminded us about that history.

On that first day when the scouts arrived many of the young children felt the sober tranquility of Corregidor. On the hike from the pier to the camp Jane felt there was a solemn atmosphere on the island.

It felt like it was sadness and death all around us, she said.

I did not know until our return to Manila that Anette had concentrated much on coping with a very easily cured, yet painful, ailment she had developed before we left Manila.

And then we said goodbye… Jim, Anette, Jane, James Michael, John, Pat Alberto, Mel… and all the other scouts and leaders left from the same pier from where we arrived. All the scouts returned to Manila on ordinary bumboats.

I left Corregidor with a gift given to me by Rodney Corpuz, a young Filipino Scoutmaster. It was not any one-inch size metal from the rusty jeeps standing about the island, nor was it any of the thousands of spent cartridges that lay buried in the sandy beach, behind bushes or hidden by tall grass. All these things were considered strictly off limit. All of us honoured the islands past history as we should.

During the campfire Rodney and I sat side by side. Rodney picked up from the ground a smooth rock, 4inch by 5inch, and wrote on one side.

Frida Brewer

Camp Staff/Qmter

GMA Rock ’77

Scouts of America

Greater Manila Area

Far East Council

Philippine Dist.

One the other side he wrote:

May ’77

To Jim and Frida for outstanding Friendship To Filipino Boy Scouts,

Rod

OriginalCorregidor Rock

Philippines

Rod. B. Corpuz

Scoutmaster

Colegio San Augustin

Philippines

Rodney handed the small rock to me as a gift. I accepted gratefully the small rock and thanked him for his thoughtfulness. I still consider the rock and the campout on Corregidor a special gift for the entire Brewer family.

DENMARK

Lust

LUST

We met where the manic waves

bleached the stairs climbing

freely up the steep dunes

to the Inn with the glowing windows

And the earth was real when we

danced in silent stillness

while ferries and fishing boats

motored through the narrow strait

for their planned destination

But, we didn’t speak with false promises

when the May thistles

sprouted in clumps

by half grown lawns

and we didn’t speak with false sentiments

to forever be framed like golden crowns

and hung on a wall as a visible reminder of

times past

Yet, one autumn past

And when the