Dad and the Letter


Dad received a registered letter from Centre Pompidou yesterday. It’s an institution in France. It’s a sort of museum for art, artworks, architectural stuff and photographs. Apparently, the centre’s website is being built. The letter informs dad that architectural drawings, photographs of scaled models, buildings, etc., etc., which bear his name along with others, will be uploaded to the website. And then the letter requested some assistance in contacting a couple of Singaporeans whom he collaborated with so they can be informed as well. The institution didn’t have the architects’ details in their records.

Alright. What do you want to know, child?

What’s the purpose?

I have no idea.

Yes, You do! You just don’t want to make it easy for me!

Oh no, dear one. It’s easy. That is why I Am letting YOU figure it out for yourself. Your awareness is at its peak. Make use of it.

I know. Miss Awareness is so hypersensitive that I can sense a soul’s disposition in a split second.

What makes you say that?

In the bus just now, I got up to alight and stepped towards the exit. When, at the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a sudden movement from a young lady. She shifted in her seat abruptly when I passed which my soul felt as anger. I made a quick glance at her. She didn’t have joy in her for sure. And it was because of me. Whatever.

You may just be jumping to conclusions, dear one.

Maybe. But my sudden rapid heart rate and surge of heat to my face told me otherwise.

It’s inconsequential, child. Best ignored.

Yeah. That’s what I did. But I’m sure she noticed that I noticed.

That single glance is good enough to defend one’s divinity. It’s over, it’s done, forget it. Let’s get back to your dad. So what do you think is the purpose of that letter?

I’m not sure yet. Let me type it out so I can organise my thoughts.

Go ahead.

Okay. So when I handed dad the letter when they came home from their game (I signed for it from the post person) mum took it from him, opened it and read it first. Dad didn’t even look eager or curious. I read it with mum. I was quite awed by the letter and I told him so. But dad still seemed lackadaisical about it. And then I realised why. After reading it, he simply chucked it in one of his box files. I asked him whether he’ll reply. He said, “Bah! It’s probably a scam.” I said, “But it’s registered. I checked out the website and it looked like the real deal.” (Even though I couldn’t understand the French stuff.) But Dad just ignored me. And the letter.

You sound upset.

Yeah, I am.


I mean. Here’s a chance to give himself some accolade or prestige for all the hard work he did for Singapore and he brushes it off just like that. He simply does not trust anyone or anything. That is what is so upsetting.

What does the institution want him to do?

Well, to simply try to get in touch with the other Singaporean architects he worked with. But I have a feeling they’ve passed on. That’s why they’re uncontactable (unless by a seance expert). Dad’s already over 80 after all. So his colleagues then must be around the same age now or older if they’re still around.

So what do you want your dad to do?

To at least acknowledge the letter. Reply with an acknowledgement and a thank you or something. It’s common courtesy, isn’t it? And apologise that he’s not able to contact the others. Done!

Not done, child. Your dad thinks it’s a scam so the letter will be ignored and forgotten.

Yeah. I guess so. Anyway, whether he does or not, I think his name will still be online. The projects were submitted many years ago in another exhibition. The letter mentioned that dad belongs “to the group of architects involved in one of the 681 projects submitted within the international architectural competition launched in 1971, upon the initiative of French President Georges Pompidou.” Projects “which have been preserved for more than forty years then digitized by the Centre Pompidou.”

There you go.

To me, “there you go” means coincidence.

There you go.

Ha ha. Very funny.

Good. You’re not upset anymore.

You’re to blame. Thank You.

You’re welcome. Always remember, God does not force anyone to do anything. I simply give advice, remind, coax and maybe give a little persuasion. I never force. May I suggest you do the same?

I’m trying.

Better than doing nothing.

Couldn’t agree more. I’ll be bored to death.