LoLa Pretty, Chapter 2

With God's grace, I am now a LoLa, twice over.

I have settled for Wowa instead of lola, because I do not want to lose the wow factor in being a grandmother. But as i've said in an earlier post, I will have no objection should my grandsons decide to call me LoLa Pretty, instead.

Rajan Adam Delos Santos Inocencio was born on February 12, 2012, 2:55am, at the Capitol Medical Center in QC where his parents, my very handsome son, Nad and his beauteous wife, Ann, both work. Rajan was all of 7.13 lbs when he was born.

I didn't realize the seriousness of being a grandmother when, during the times when I had to put my grandsons to sleep, I always ran out of a lullaby to sing. Worst, I realize that I no longer remember the complete and correct lyrics of Paruparong Bukid, Leron-Leron Sinta and PenPen de Sarapen. Talk about aging! Most times, I end up singing the first two stanzas of Home On The Range, a song I learned in elementary school, back when the American model of instruction was the norm. The song goes-

Oh, give me a home where the Buffaloes roam

Where the Deer and the Antelope play;

Where seldom is heard of discouraging word,

And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Home, home on the range,

Where the deer and the antelope play;

Where seldom is heard of discouraging word

And the skies are not cloudy all day.

Its melody is very easy on the ears. It lulls anyone to sleep, as all lullabys should. But the most important thing this song does for me is that it connects my youth with my journey to senility.

Mr dear Jacob and Rajan, i love you both beyond the stars!

Goodbye to the Angry Years

I am taking a break from the preps for tonight's media noche. I remember I had no time to post the whole month of December as it was the busiest month I've had this year. But as a year ender, I'd like to say goodbye to the last last four years.

2008 was a very trying year for me and my family. That year was the start of the "angry mode" I was automatically shifted to by some strange forces I had little control of. I was angry at certain individuals, some of whom were even very significant to me; I was angry at institutions, for their lack of mechanisms that could have made my plight easier to handle. I was so angry and the anger stretched into years. I floundered helplessly as the objects of my anger came to fore and I was destroyed beyond recognition. Until one day, I came face to face with what I have become and I was astounded and frightened that I am fast becoming someone I am not meant to be. I remembered the one person -my father- who was such a great model of kindness and amiability and asked God to save me from the elements of evil that have turned my person upside down.

I knew I had to exert more efforts towards the changes that I long for myself. With a lot of help from my trusted friends and with my family as my inspiration, I slowly got back on the right track. The antagonism that occupied the space between me and some persons have slowly faded and civility followed. Except for this one lost soul who chose to perpetuate the evil she was used to in her formative years, I can say 2011 will end with a happy note. I am now deliberately checking on myself whenever I am piqued so that whatever she does to annoy me, I just turn my head the other way, where I can see better people who can take me to better places- where things shape up in more positive ways.

Goodbye, angry years. From now on, I will strive to connect with my inner self more so that I can achieve the change that I seek.

Losing Nina

I wanted to write about her since the week she died, but I didn't get to. There was that hole-like something inside me since that moment that I read this message on the night of November 8, 2011 from our classmate Vicky Pagsibigan in our group site:

Re: [fabfourone70] Carolina B. Cruz

NINA   DIED AT ABOUT  5PM  TODAY.   MAY SHE REST IN PEACE.

The next day, I opened her account at Facebook and posted this on her wall- wishing that somehow, she would know that I mourn her death-

How do we say goodbye to a dear, dear friend who did not want to bother us with all her worries and pains and instead kept them all to herself? It's pretty difficult. I will miss you, Nina. I will forever treasure our days together at Marcelo; our days at T-170B, UP Diliman; the semester we spent together in your aunt's apartment in Cataluna St., in Sampaloc, wading into the floodwaters of Espana as we go to Diliman for our classes; your assistance to my son at BSU; the little secrets we shared; your gentle ways. You've been an angel here on earth. No doubt the Lord has a special place for you in heaven.

Like ·  · See Friendship · November 9 at 6:49am ·


I last spoke to her on the phone sometime in July this year- when Yollie Torres, another classmate, came for a short visit. That call was for her to attend a dinner with Yollie, hosted by our class valedictorian, Vic Mariano, who has just been appointed DOST Regional Director for Reg. 3 then. She begged off saying she is still recuperating from an illness. It showed in her voice so I did not insist. Her last outing with our classmates was in 2005, when Angie San Pedro went home for a quick visit and a little later, when Frank Santiago came home to bury his mother in Hagonoy.

When we went to UP together, along with a number of our classmates, Nina took up Business Administration. She was persuading me to shift to BA, but it was her who ended up shifting to BSE, major in Math. There were times during our college years when my Tatay and I would come over to their house in Sto. Rosario, Malolos. I distinctly remember one time when we were served nilagang gabi with niyog and asukal by her parents. It was so good I took note of it and made it a regular merienda fare at home, until now.

She has been sick for while, owing to the fact that her heart is not functioning so well. She even asked me once to go with her to see my son's heart doctor. But it never happened. For some reason, she changed her mind about seeking another opinion. According to her eldest sister, there was a need to replace a valve in her heart, a procedure she did not undergo. It must have been so painful and heartbreaking for her mother, sister, brother, nephews and nieces to lose her within a month of her younger sister Choly's death. She and Choly had the exact, same heart condition. She was buried alongside the graves of her father Andres and her sister Choly. The family lost two daughters with the same medical condition in less than a month's time. Life is really strange.

Goodbye for now, dear Nina. Your time has come while we, the ones you left behind, have no way of knowing when ours will come. But your death is a reminder to us that we have to live each day to the fullest, after all, it's the only life we've got.

Finding Rachel

She wasn’t really lost. I just lost track of her.

Rachel Recomono was my boardmate at 103 Valenzuela St., Area 2, UP Diliman, Quezon City. It was one of those row houses inside the UP campus, then occupied by Mrs. Nenita Ocampo, a math professor, and her family. There were six boarders occupying three double deck beds in one of the two rooms in that house. I recall that I was there ahead of Rachel. Although we both entered the university in 1970, we did not have a chance to be classmates even in a single general education subject. I was taking up BSE, she was pursuing AB Mass. Comm.

Rachel and I had different circles of friends, owing to our respective courses, but it became easy for us to befriend each other. In fact, as our stay in that boarding house progressed, we became a threesome with a much younger student, Joy Versoza.  The three of us shared an experience which has now become a memory, one which a wise man said is like wild violets, better oft left untouched.

After graduation in 1975, I stayed one more year in that house, which I loved so much, since I was accepted at the high school department of Maryknoll College. Joy was still with me then. Rachel went on carving her own future, but we had no cue as to what she was into at the time. When I decided to get married in 1976, I wanted very much to have both her and Joy in the entourage. Since I did not know where she was then, I ended up having only Joy as my bridesmaid. She should have been the other one.

Sometime after my marriage, I was surprised when she came to my hometown and asked around about my whereabouts. We hugged each other so tightly when she was guided by a neighbor into my in laws’ house where my husband and I were staying. We spent the afternoon just chatting on the second floor of the house.  Then she was gone again.

In the early 80’s, she again surprised me by coming over, this time to a house where I, my husband and three children were staying. I was overjoyed upon seeing her again and learning that she was then with UNESCO in Paris, France. She, in fact, brought me a bottle of red wine then. Early on, she has sent me some pictures of her taken with the Eiffel Tower as the background.  My daughter Timmy was still a little girl then, and up till now, she remembers that in that visit, her Tita Rachel gave her a lavender bag, which I know is just somewhere in our closets, since neither Tim nor I don’t just throw away things given to us.

Many years passed and we lost track of each other. When I learned how to work on the internet, I tried looking for her in as many ways as I knew how. On Facebook, I tried dropping some messages to people surnamed Recomono but I did not get positive results. In fact, I wrote a certain Rach Recomono, whose name I thought may have come from my friend’s name, but I did not get a reply. I was disappointed, but I very well understood her since I was a total stranger. One time I searched linked.com and found there a Rachel Recomono from France  without an email address. Since the name was part of a group, I tried emailing one with an address. The lady replied that the Rachel Recomono she knows was a 22 year old student and might not be the one I was looking for based on my given description.

Life went on.

Until Thursday, November 25, 2011. I was about to shut off the computer when I remembered checking my email for messages coming from my husband’s clients in Saudi Arabia and in Canada. I no longer email my friends since all of us are in Facebook, anyway. As I opened my inbox, my attention was caught by one from a Rachel Apertiti with the subject Rachel Recomono. It turned out it was my friend Rachel’s daughter and she was giving me the address where I can communicate with her mom. Somewhere in my inbox was another email, this time from Rachel Jakubowicz, the Rachel I knew, telling me she discovered my blog through her daughter. After an exchange of short emails, we are linked once again. Now we are reconnected. And it was such a blessing my heart overflows with so much happiness.

I was looking for Rachel, but she found me, instead!

Now I remember again the Rachel I knew. She -with that very voluptuous body (she loves figure hugging shirts which she carried with aplomb), with hair so fine and so long. She who reads and reads very thick paper bound novels  in between her  school activities. She who goes to the beach alone to unwind. She who loved "Harry" or Cliff Richard with all her heart. She who said I was a good letter writer which made me think I can write, even if the topics are limited to my own experiences. It was Rachel who brought me all the way to her aunt’s house in Olongapo City one week end without my father’s knowledge.  If it wasn’t her, my very smart and audacious friend, who talked me into going there, I would not have gone. Rachel was so gutsy and fearless I knew I was safe in her company. As I write this, I recall bits and pieces of the many times we would go to her place in Pasig, near the kapitolyo, especially that one time when her mother cooked chicken adobado for us- a Bicolano fare. Both I and Rachel have Bicolano roots- maybe it was one of the reasons why despite the years of being apart, our hearts remained connected.

I know I won’t lose Rachel again. I just have to remember-

"We all lose friends...we lose them in death, to distance and over time.

But even though they may be lost, hope is not. The key is to keep them in

your heart, and when the time is right, you can pick up the friendship right

where you left off. Even the lost find their way home when you leave

the light on." - Amy Marie Walz

Dear Ate Saling

Just as I was trying to finish the book Kapeng Arabo by Manny A. Garcia, I received a private message on my Facebook account from a dear friend and classmate in graduate school back in 1999. She was then a new teacher, single and was very idealistic about the teaching profession. In her message, she was asking for some advice on her present predicament. Her letter reads-

Dear Ate Saling,

Musta na po kau. Sencia ka na po, Ikaw ang naisip kong hingan ng advice. Kasi mukhang ang happy ng family mo based sa pictures na naka-post dito sa fb. Ate, nasa ____ pa rin ako at in charge sa third year. Konti lang students namin kaya hindi ako masyadong hirap. Saka pag non-sectarian hindi masyadong mahigpit ang admin. Kaso, super kunat sila sa sweldo. Di ba nasabi ko na po syo yung problema ko sa Tatay ko. Talagang pilit nya akong pinag-aabroad kasi daw walang mangyayari dito. Ako din kasi ang inaasahan nila. Saka yung mister ko po kasi naglalabas lang ng jeep na hindi sa amin. Meron na po akong kausap na tutulong sa akin makaalis para maging DH sa HK. Sabi po ni Tatay sila na ni Nanay ang bahala sa 5 years old kong daughter. Nahihirapan po ako magdecide. Yung mister ko po ako daw bahala. E kasi po hindi rin sila magkasundo ni tatay kasi driver lang daw po ang pinili ko. Ate, alam ko wala kang pakialam sa buhay ng iba pero kahit konting insights lang sana mabigyan mo ako. Thanks po sa abala.

Minda ( not her real name)

The letter made me smile. Since when have I become an Ate Charo or an Ate Helen or a Kuya Eddie? Haha! But I need to answer her asap. Instead of answering her through the message box of FB, I thought maybe I should blog about this. So here's my reply to your letter, Minda.

Dear Minda,

Your letter was so short and yet I have so many points to answer.

First, yes, I have a very happy family, BUT, we also have our own share of sorrows. Hindi mawawala yan sa kahit kaninong pamilya.

I am glad that you are still teaching. I told you then that you were good and good teachers are what our schools need right now. Math ka pa naman. Ang maganda sa profession natin, we can achieve excellence even on our own, independent of other people, but of course, with some help from institutions, like a graduate school, na mas makakaganda. If you will quit teaching with a low salary and become a DH with a higher compensation, do you think it is a sort of a promotion? The answer can be found in your heart. Nowhere else.

Whatever we do, whether we decide for ourselves or follow the dictates of others, is reflective of the hierarchy of values that we have. If your father's wishes are more important to you than the family you are building now, why did you get married, in the first place? And why are you still with your parents? Is there no way you could live independently? Masarap bumuo ng decision ang isang couple pag silang dalawa lang ang tumitingin sa buong picture. Hindi pwedeng isa lang sa inyo. Have you thought of how your father would look down upon your husband more if you go abroad and he stays here? What about your daughter? Kaya mo ba matulog sa gabi not knowing where she is and who she's with? Kung kaya mo yan, girl, you are made of steel. Let me tell you a brief anecdote. When my daughter and her boyfriend ( now her hubby, they kissed and made up after a few years) broke up after years of being together, my daughter was inconsolable. She slept in our room, in our bed, between me and my husband, for many nights. The tears dried in her eyes as she tried to catch some sleep. Believe me, my husband and  I were so devastated. But at the same time, I was glad I was still alive then and was with her at her most trying times. Had I been an absentee mother at the time, I would perhaps have gone mad. Being a mother is a purely personal act. No substitutes, ever. If you've never watched Anak, buy a copy now and watch it seven times.

I have nothing against migrant workers, personally, but I have certain issues with mothers leaving their small children behind. Many lives have changed for the better because of the OFW phenomenon, but more were destroyed because of the same. I know of a mother who has had an affair in Dubai while her husband also kept a mistress around here. I know of another mother whose daughter died of malnutrition because no one took care of her and her siblings while the mother was abroad. I know of still another mother who thought her children were in school only to learn later that they were out-of-school, hanging out with their friends and use their allowances for vices. There are many other horror stories about the families of migrant working mothers but now I am not sure if you have heard of them. One thing I am sure of though is that statistics show there were more sad stories than the good ones. Along this line, be reminded that no amount of success in one's job ( financial success) can compensate for the failure in the family.

I heard someone said that the OFW phenomenon is the curse of our children's times. I tend to agree. For those older than my generation, war was their curse. Wars caused families to be broken, and societies to disintegrate. That's what migrant work does to most families now. As the book I am reading now states, our government, instead of providing more productive jobs here, encourage Filipinos to go out of the country. At para me consuelo de bobo, they labeled them heroes. Perhaps, if you were single, I would not have told you all these. Because then, you would have discovered what direction to take without any mental baggages left behind. But you have a family and more importantly, you have a child. A five-year old can't do things on her own without the guidance of a mother.

As I've said in the early part of this letter, your decision will reflect your values. Your Tatay or your husband? Toys for your daughter or good times with her? Your students or the children of your would-be amo? I-phone or unlitxt with your good old mobile phone? You are in a forced-choice situation now. Arm yourself so you can arrive at an informed decision.

All the best!

Ate Saling

PS. When Secretary of State Hillary Clinton visited the country last year, she told Pres. Aquino to find ways by which Filipinos would not need to go out of the country to work. This was at the same time that she acknowledged how good the Pinoy OFW is. I love Hillary!

Random Things Bajekjek Should Know About Wowo and Wowa

Wowo is the third of eight children.
Wowa is the eldest of three children. Wowa's sister Connie died in 1967 at the age of 10. She has three more siblings from her father's remarriage.

Wowo and Wowa went to the same elementary and high schools. They were both in the honor roll while in elementary school.

Wowo finished college in 1974. He went to law school in 1984 till 1986. He went back in 1988 till 1992. He passed the bar in 1995.
Wowa finished college in 1975. She went to graduate school in 1997 till 1999 but didn't pursue thesis writing.

Wowo and Wowa got married in 1976, a year after meeting each other again after 4 years in college.

Wowo is a pure silverswan. Wowa is more diluted.

Wowo is more reflective. Wowa is the talker.

Wowo loves numbers. Wowa loves letters.

Wowo shuns fine dining. He loves to eat with his hands. Wowa eats anywhere.

Wowo is an early riser. Wowa stays in bed as long as she needs to.

Wowo and Wowa both sing very well. They both like 70's songs, The Beatles, Elton John, James Taylor and Carole King.

Wowo likes fish and veggies. He can also eat frogs, snakes, eels, birds. Wowa eats anything traditional and cooked!

Wowo is very claustrophobic, agoraphobic and glossophobic. Wowa is afraid of heights, long hours on a plane or a ship and anything that crawls.

Wowo stays in the bedroom till kingdom come. Wowa goes out as soon as she wakes up and stays in the kitchen all day long.

Wowo and Wowa love Bajekjek beyond the stars!

The Marian Connection

I named my first born daughter, Fatima, after a former student at Maryknoll College high school where I taught for one year- right after graduation from college in 1975. I am ashamed to admit now that, yes, I did not know Mama Mary that well then, even if Maryknoll (now Miriam College) was a famed exclusive, Marian, Catholic school.It was actually in St. Mary's Academy (now SMCB) in Baliuag, Bulacan that I had a deeper, more personal knowledge of Mother Mary, owing mainly to the many retreats, recollections and seminars that I had to attend to as a faculty member. But more importantly, the personal crises ( yes, that many!) I had to endure during the years I was employed at St. Mary's led me to the foot of Mama Mary's statue in the school chapel. Oh, I can't forget the many times I cried alone, first in the upper floor chapel of the old Holy Family building and later at the ground floor chapel of the newly constructed elementary school building.

I consider it a blessing to have known some RVM sisters who lived true to their vows as daughters of Mary. (There were others who didn't, sorry!) Likewise, it was a blessing to have known Marian priests such as Fr. Monic Cadiz, who was instrumental in instilling Marian values not only among student retreatants but to the teachers as well.

I was accepted for a teaching position at SMA in 1986, just after the EDSA revolution. That first year was a very memorable and eventful year for me. That year, Alex Villangca was kidnapped for ransom during one lunch break. As soon as it was reported to me by Irene Yabut, who saw the kidnapping near the church, we tried to find ways to contact the family. The Villangca siblings came at once, and because I was the one who called them using the phone of the RVM sisters, I was subjected to so many interrogations and investigations. A policeman even went to my house in Plaridel, Bulacan, which caused me so much anxiety I had to absent myself from school later. It turned out Alex was kidnapped by a public school principal who was heavily indebted. Hence, the ransom demand.

It was also in 1986 when a female third year student from my advisory class (Alex's section)was supposed to have been "sinapian" by evil spirits during class. S. Naty came and asked the class to recite the rosary. The girl was trembling and shouting and was very, very strong, with a different voice which somehow led me to believe that these things really happen. Scary, really scary.

In the elementary level, a child was kidnapped and was killed by his kidnappers when the family refused to pay ransom. He was found inside a sack thrown in a ditch somewhere in Baliuag.

Coming from Plaridel, I had mixed emotions about living in Baliuag, the new community I was to serve for the next thirteen years.

Maybe it was a sort of a baptism of fire. Maybe. But during those early years, I was still a "hilaw na Marian". The turning point for me were the early 90's when I had to ask God for many, many blessings and changes in my life. My husband then has just finished law school and was about to take the bar. During the many times that I prayed, I came to realize that one of the best ways I can ask the Son of God for blessings is through His Mother. I was not disappointed. Despite the many difficult trials my family had to face on ALL fronts, there was Mama Mary, a listener and a doer. Through her intercession, the good Lord has answered my prayers through different persons and things. Like S. Cely and S. Paula, who were both sensitive to their teachers' needs and woes. S. Luz Dela Cruz, despite her formidable character, gave me a lot of review materials for my husband. When we decided to relocate to Baliuag, since all my three kids were enrolled at SMA, God led me to a house with a very good neighbor- the Sauco family. Their matriarch, Tita Elsa has been a very accomodating and caring neighbor. The circumstances we were in during those five years we lived in Baliuag were the best years in my married life. I attributed the many miracles and faith experiences that enriched me to Mama Mary who, to this day, remains as my number one "kasangga" against all odds.

Whenever I am in an awkward situation, I immediately pray the Memorare, whether I'm stuck in traffic or I am dealing with a very corrupt government employee as an assistant of my husband. I do not leave the house without a Rosary in my bag. I know I still have a long way to go insofar as my Marian devotion is concerned, but as it is, I can say that I always try my very best to be as faithful as Mother Mary.

I do not think I could have this kind of veneration for Mama Mary had I not become an SMA employee. My St. Mary's experience exposed me to so many people, in and out of the school, who lived the values of Mary- values such as loyalty, dedication and constancy. Among my peers, Mrs. Myrna Bondad stands out as one of those with these virtues. Her loyalty to SMA and everything that it represents is awesome and remarkable. She is the one constant in the life of the school, next to the retired Ms. Herminia Demetrio. If she wishes, she could be more financially productive in another turf, owing to her superior academic achievements, but she chose to stay where she can be productively happy. The many faculty members who still sweat it out at SMA, despite and inspite of, can be said to have been inspired by the Holy Mother.

Leaving St. Mary's in 1999 was a personal choice. It was a multi-factorial decision. I felt some kind of "burnt-out" in school (I looked at lesson plans and other paper works as necessary evils then). On the home front, there was a more urgent, pressing demand for me to quit teaching. I made the decision to leave a year before I tendered my resignation. But it was a very difficult decision. Looking back, I believe that what made it easy for me to turn my back on the job I so love was the inspiration from Mama Mary's fiat- "Let it be done with me according to your word". I had this fear of the "unknown" at the time since it was unclear to me how I can be productive as a mere assistant to my husband. But then, through constant prayers, I came to realize that all beginnings start with a yes, and so from then on, Mother Mary's ultimate yes has become a very powerful inspiration and guide in my journey. I can't imagine how a 14-15 year old woman, with her openness to God's plan, can say yes at once and change the course of history. Come to think of it, was there a woman in our times who was confronted with a dilemma more difficult than those that Mary faced in her lifetime? I guess none.

My yes, my fiat, like Mary's, changed the course of my personal history. There were bumps every few miles along the way, but I am assured that I have a never-ending lifeline to my MOTHER MARY.

*Image from www.thedivinemercy.org*- Many thanks.