Rich Dads Prophecy - Personal Statement Example

GIFTS Wisdom, wisdom, wisdom, but, who would be smarter than grandmother! Grandma loves us so much that she would always take the risk of smuggling in a lot of stuffs when father is out at work. Children behold goodies! especially when it means ice cream, cookies, chocolates, lollipops and best is on the house. This is why father does not like her. She is bountiful. But, she is an excessive spender. Grandma does not like father. He is poor. He is a cautious financier. It is so, especially with us his children. But, we, we adore them both. We just did not understand their differences. It was maybe differences of values. Besides, seldom was it physically manifested. After all the joy of material affluence bringing comfort clouts it all. Often, when grandma is around we were like the "seven dwarfs". There are four of us sisters and three brothers and it was always like a drama of Alice in wonderland. With a little pageantry, it would seem a fairytale come true. Imagine the goodies plus the colorful, artistically designed matching little dresses with partner shoes, stockings, veils and a tiny shoulder bags for the church on Sundays. On the other hand, very young as kids, there are instances when it is sullen. The world seems silent. That would only mean father is around. It is a school week day. So, we would be in our little nooks browsing out notes and books from school. This was always before dinner on a table for twelve. When it's bedtime, we all have to wash. Then, we put on our fresh lingerie. After which we go off to bed. Sometimes, father and mother would come upstairs with glasses of milk. They would read us few stories from a Bedtime Story Book till we all fall sound asleep. The next thing we hear is the banging of a grandfather's clock. This is an alarm for the four thirty early in the morning ritual. We have to rise up. Then, freshen and do the custom of prayers and novenas as Catholics. When bath time is up, it is ever according to seniority. No one is allowed to break the line. It is a procession of routine, speedy, quick minutes. So we would always wait for our turn in silence. Minutes before school time would commence, a school bell will be heard. Everyone will be on toes to race for the ceremony of flag rising. In many occasions during Friday afternoons, grandma with a host of assistants and of course goodies and toys would secretly come. She would connive with us. She conspired with mother too. Grandma would carry us back to her farm. Sometimes on a rented car that drove us off to a dike where three canoes were waiting with its respective rower and paddle. What follows would be a tremendously exciting, thrilling adventure of a 30 minutes canoe ride rowing through a brackish water creek. It is really like in the never lands. We esteem for the waters which were always irresistible. It smelled salty. But, it is so transparent that you can see the bottom. It is teeming with a variety of life. Swimming wouldn't have to be missed out. So after the trip we would take a little siesta and in between meals of fruits and delightful young coconut meat and juice. After, it would be a gloriously, pleasurable exercise which is an alternate of whirling underwater, spinning on the surface over inflated, old interiors of used tires. We would play racing for a coin in the shallow areas of the creek. We usually stayed in the waters till dusk when we have to rush out as we hear the chapel bells ringing to the tune of run for the six p.m. prayer and then to a sumptuous dinner of broiled prawns, shrimps, crabs and some fried fish with rice, a glass of coke and a slice of fruit to finish. Bedtime was a big, big deal. We have to sleep on a mat on a wooden floor. It is laid with white linen blankets and matching white pillow cased. It was in a very large room. This was actually the receiving room in my grand-parents house. Lying down under a mosquito net we would watch some falling meteorites and the stars above through some roofing holes. There is always this background music of the crickets. They hum their favorite melodies. We could only guess they would have to be telling us its okay. The frog's quacking and squealing does not bother us. Not even the snakes' hissings and the owls crowing with a baritone from a short distance. It was so refreshing to breathe the fresh farm air perfumed by the grasses, flowers and trees while we would be telling and retelling bedtime stories among ourselves, laughing, giggling, chuckling until we get too tired and fall asleep. Ringing bells would wake us up at three thirty dawn. The little flashes of light from a petroleum lamp would lead us out to a small family chapel. There was where my grandma, grandpa and a host of assistants singing a Latin ritual. It is some sort of a song to mark the beginning of a novena and thanksgiving prayer. After a quick thirty minutes of solemnity, grandmother would call us to a table of enchanting, mouth-watering delicacies of breakfast. Not one of us would say no to a cup of hot chocolate, a piece of glutinous rice cooked in coconut milk spiced with sugar and ginger, a piece of very sweet and delicious yellow mangoes and a pair of bread sandwich with sweet tamarind jam and cheese. Oh yes, indeed, it is another lovely day after having been refilled almost to the brim. With the sun just rising at the east, it is a beacon of another day of fun, laughter, swimming and fishing. It was Saturday, a weekend. Grabbing a small fishing line, a small bucket and a pair of rubber slippers, off we go to the dikes of the creek. Seven in a row of fishermen children chuckling, crackling, digging into the desire to catch even a fry, we could only look up to see from the dried up portion of a pond the little crabs gently crawling while waving its single colorful arm. They seem to be telling us hello and goodbye! We knew we could catch up with fishing later because we have plenty of time to spare for a day at the creek. So, one at a time we would begin diving in and swimming down the waters again, once more delighting in its flowing coolness. At half past nine a time for in between meals, grandmother, grandfather, the assistants, mother and father came with many different baskets full of sweetly designed generosities. We would be in awe. All then, the seven of us siblings would come up yelling, running, rushing down to hug, embrace and thank our most beloved and precious gifts from the sky, our folks. Looking back, it is real, family is a gift from the sky and if there ever is a need to invest, we need to invest on something far more important than simply to become rich (Kiyosaki 10). Reference: Kiyosaki, Robert, with Sharon L. Lechter. Rich Dad's Prophecy. New York: Warner Books, Inc., 2002. Read More