I Am Woman

When things go wrong, as they oftentimes do, I turn to the lives of the most celebrated women in the world to see how they would have acted and reacted when confronted with the dilemma I am in. I have often looked up to strong-willed, passionate women whose formidable characters have made a difference in the lives of other people, men and women alike. The different stages of my life brought forth different experiences that oftentimes posed different challenges. As I dealt with each of such challenges, I sometimes grew, but most of the time, I felt like I was diminished, defeated and beaten. Sometimes, self pity sets in, making me very unproductive, but at the same time making me aspire to do more, given how limited my circumstances are.

On November 26, 2008, at the height of a very disturbing and severe challenge that my family had to face, I found myself in a bookstore browsing at the pages of Living History by Hillary Rodham Clinton. Since I was gifted with a copy of My Life by Bill Clinton a year earlier by my daughter, I thought Mrs. Clinton’s book would be a very fine addition to my yet growing personal library. After all, the Bill-Hillary team shaped the world and made it better during the eight years they were in the White House. I reckoned that Hillary Clinton’s life, as she herself has written, can surely provide me with new insights and perhaps lead me towards a clearer direction in developing a true sense of fulfillment.

At the first chance I got to start reading Living History, I immediately opened the pages where she discussed the events leading to the discovery of the Monica Lewinsky scandal which threatened Bill Clinton’s second term with an impeachment and their family’s break down. Mrs. Clinton’s honest and down to earth account of how she knew of her husband’s indiscretions and how it almost shattered her world is something I believe most women similarly situated should read. (My interest in this episode does not necessarily mean I am in the same boat. Luckily for me, my concerns regarding my husband lie along another line.) Reading her account of how her husband admitted his failure to tell her the whole story about this sorry episode in their life and the painful days, weeks and months she experienced thereafter made me realize that women as prominent and renowned as Hillary Rodham Clinton are as human as I am. I felt the anguish and the pain she lived through as I read her description of how she coped during those trying times. She made me proud of being a woman when she decided to stick by her man despite the agony of those months when her family was the focus of international attention, albeit in a negative way. Knowing her, through her own words and actions expressed in the book, made me realize that there are still feminists out there who can keep a family and feel blissful about it.

Just the sound of Hillary Rodham Clinton’s name can be intimidating. After all, she was the United States’ First Lady twice over, from 1992 to 1996 and again from 1996 to 2000. One who has not taken a glimpse of the life she lived may even think it was a fairy tale. But she was as real as any other woman in any part of the world. She was as real as your lady dentist; she was a real as the customer assistant in my favorite mall; she was as real as the Italian chef we always see on the Food Network. She was as real as any real woman can be.

Mrs. Clinton’s book is aptly titled because she really lived history. Her circumstances and the great opportunities given her allowed her to become not just a part of history but to transform and modify it for the greater good. Her advocacies- women’s rights, children, education and health care system, to name some, were not merely lip service. She acted passionately towards the achievement of her dreams and ambitions to help others in many parts of the world. She lived her life under the spotlight but she was conscious of the fact that her life echoed the experiences of millions of women, who like her, were struggling to balance the demands of work and family.

If there was one aspect of Mrs. Clinton’s life that was highlighted in her book, it was perhaps the volitional area of her life. The choices she made even during her younger years were consistently responsible. She owned such choices and acknowledged their consequences at any given time. Coupled with an unwavering faith in God, Mrs. Clinton’s informed choices helped her to deliver the enormous tasks that she had to carry out. Her days in the 70’s as a law student at Yale were not spent merely for studying and memorizing the law. As early as then, she lived history by working as a staff member in a committee that investigated President Nixon’s involvement in Watergate. When she married Bill Clinton but decided to keep and use Rodham as her surname in the practice of her profession and in her daily dealings, she not only asserted herself and her identity but she showed other women that they have a choice. At the time when she needed to help in ensuring victory for her husband’s political plans, she willingly used a hyphenated name, perhaps one of the first women to do so. Thus was born Hillary Rodham-Clinton. Her direct involvement in choosing the best schools for her daughter Chelsea, especially during the White House years, showed how hands-on she was as a mother. Her physical presence at the hospital where her father was taken during the days when she was supposed to be elsewhere fulfilling her official duties was another proof that her commitment to her family comes before anything else. All throughout her life, she made and kept friends who are still with her to this day. Her circle, which was called Hillaryland, was there for her through thick and thin. Indeed, what matters most to us ordinary women were also those that mattered to Hillary Rodham Clinton.

Like Mrs. Clinton, I set my sights on many ventures early in life. I believed that I have inherited the adventurous genes from my father’s side of the family such that in my youth, I was raring to go and conquer the world. But unlike Mrs. Clinton, I failed to assert my individuality and made my choices based solely on the needs of my family. I was educated to become a teacher. I had fourteen fruitful years behind me as one before I made the choice to stay home and assist my husband in the practice of his own profession. I admit that there were times when I felt sorry for myself for not living my own professional life. I wanted to be so many things and to be in so many places wearing so many different hats, but always, I had to limit my choices to fit them into my family life- the one that I know I will live till the end. My experienced reality is one in which I have given up myself in order to give light to others- primarily my husband and children. My faith tells me that one’s purpose in life is to glorify God in whatever we do. Raising a family and pushing its members to succeed were the main events in my life. In this regard, I believe I have done what was expected of me and I have produced results beyond my expectations. If the little triumphs that my children bring home to us are a gauge of how I did things in my life, perhaps I am just as successful as Hillary Rodham Clinton. She has been challenged so many times in her life. So have I. She responded very well to those challenges. So did I. She holds high hopes for the future of the world. So do I.

Women all over the world have often asked so many questions about their roles in their respective societies. What can women do? What can’t women do? What could women do? What should women do? Living History provided answers to these questions. Hillary Rodham Clinton’s life teaches us that there’s no reason to feel inadequate and worthless. A woman can do as much if she possesses a vision, a passion and a mission. It can be a little overwhelming when we are beset with the demands of family, career and society, but we can respond to them appropriately.

A few years back, as I begin to live my golden years, I asked myself, what lasting impression and legacy shall I leave to my children and all the other people I have been with during the different stages of my life? It was then that it occurred to me to write a blog chronicling the significant people, events and places in my life (http://bugaki.blogspot.com). When I am long gone, I want my children and their children to know who I am and what I did in my life. It may pale in comparison with Living History but no matter how small my deeds were compared with that of Hillary Rodham Clinton’s, no one can refute the fact that we were both women who tried and succeeded to make a difference in the lives of people we care about. As Helen Reddy’s song says, my wisdom was born of pain, I paid my price, but look how much I’ve gained, if I have to, I can do anything, I am strong, I’m invincible, I am woman.

They're Havin' A Baby

Four months ago, I was near depression. There was so much angst and pent up emotions within me. I was a bomb waiting to explode. An "incident" took place, perhaps a conspiracy of the stars, which made my life a living hell once again. I've gone through this state of affairs many years ago and I didn't think I would go through a wretched life once again at this point. Surely, out of the billions of people in the world, the chances of me having to go through an unhappy and forlorn existence AGAIN seems nil. But no, I had to pass the test again. But instead of giving in to depression, I choose to be angry. That was the more logical reaction to that particular "incident". Nonetheless, it was still burdensome. With an abiding faith, I accepted the ordeal but prayed so hard that I may carry the load till it is extinguished.

The lonesome days of September slithered slowly until I noticed that the air becomes cooler at the same time that the leaves turn gold and started to fall to make a yellowish/brown earth floor. Soon, the anger and resentment in me vanished. Perhaps it was the "good" in me that was planted early on by my father which made me more and more and more understanding and indulgent. I only have to remember him, ask him for prayers and guidance and everything will be alright. Almost immediately, I started to live life again as if that "incident" never happened.

What my faith teaches me is true. When you erase all negative thoughts and feelings, good vibes follow. My youngest son landed a very good job in the IT department of a reputable hospital in QC. Later, the long overdue trip to anywhere Tim wanted us to take became a reality when we visited Cebu and Bohol in the last week of November. We were able to close a deal with a friend regarding their inherited property. Each day, I find good reason to live life more fully and positively. The advent season intensified the euphoria that replaced the cheerless and gloomy state I was in after the "incident". One day, I found myself in the company of my high school friends as we met for the planning of our 41st anniversary reunion, an activity which I willfully avoided the past months since I lost all inspiration to be with them for quite a while. I made peace with one of my high school friends who I thought had something against me. I was wrong. It wasn't me after all. I wasted time worrying about nothing.

By mid-December, I realized I am still alive- vibrant and vivacious. I thanked God for all of these. I praised Him for always remembering me and giving me what my heart desires. But I did not know that He still has more for me- one of the greatest gifts He abundantly showered my family. Tj and Timmy are pregnant- with their first child, our first apo. We have patiently waited for this since their wedding in 2005 and now it will be just eight months away.

My baby girl Timmy is havin' a baby! I will only be a grandma, but I already have plans for our coming baby. I will search all bookstores for the best copy of Desiderata- a poem all parents should teach their children. I will go online to search for new trends in teaching little kids what they ought to know at their age. I will make sure Tim's and Tj's firstborn will learn the lessons I learned from my father. But make no mistake about it- I will not and will never pick a name for the baby; nor will I reject a name Tim and Tj will pick for him/her. I will not choose my first apo's ninong and ninang. It is a task only parents should do. I will only be in the shadows since the little bundle of joy in Tim's womb now is first and foremost her and Tj's responsibility. What I can promise is that I will love him/her as much as I will love the other grandchildren that God will give us through Poy and Nad. Just thinking about it- I already am giddy.

I guess until the time that s/he comes out, Lola Pretty will just be sitting pretty.

Balik sa Bohol, Balik...

There was so much excitement these past weeks owing to the fact that at last, the hubby and I got our feet moving and went on a short trip to the south which Tim had been planning to book a long time ago. Prior to our trip to Cebu and Bohol, we have been locked up at home due mainly to the hubby's accident in September, and for which he is now undergoing therapy. (This is not part of the excitement I am talking about).

Cebu City offered nothing new to us. Like Manila, its malls are now its most important attractions. The best things I found there were the churches, specially the twin cathedrals- the Sto. Nino and the Metropolitan Cathedral, and the historic spots, particularly the very small Fort San Pedro. The fort brought back memories of the years I was teaching Philippine history to first year high school students.

I was surprised at myself for riding a Supercat from Cebu to Tagbilaran City. After that Super Ferry ride from Cebu to Manila in 1997, I swore not be in the middle of the ocean ever again. But the hour long ride from Cebu to Bohol was just a breeze. It helped that I took some medication for dizziness an hour before boarding the ferry boat. And it helped that a comedy film was shown throughout the trip.

Bohol was a pleasant surprise for me. Seeing it for the first time, I can't help but mourn for Bulacan. If Bohol were to become the gateway to the Philippines, the country will all the more become a tourists' haven. There's no traffic anywhere in the city nor in the provincial highway which is the main route to most of its attractions. Even the smallest inroads in the island of Panglao were cemented. I did not see men having a drinking spree in front of their homes. It was so clean everywhere. We passed by several public schools but there were no vendors that would create an ugly sight. All the churches we went to as we cruised the road to Carmen, where the Chocolate Hills are, kept all their historical relics. Like Cebu, its churches have the most ornate retablos which showcases the style introduced by the Spaniards when they arrived in the islands.

The cruise down Loboc river is one that I will forever cherish. I used to get annoyed before whenever I see Cesar Montano on tv saying good things in praise of his home province. I thought, 'yeah, I love my own', little knowing that he was not exaggerating. Had I known, I would have gone there with either the hubby or my kids a long time ago. Call me OA, but when I was in Bohol, I did not see the usual ugly sights in the Philippines.

There are still so many true, good and beautiful things I can say about Bohol during my very short stay there, but lest my fellow Bulakenyos call me a traitor, I will stop here. But one thing is sure, I will visit Bohol another time, and I hope it will be soon, with our best friends in tow, to make the trip doubly remarkable.

It's Christmas

Every year, I make the mistake of commencing the preparations for Christmas depending on the events unfolding in society. I am aware that's it's wrong, but I am always affected by changes and sometimes, upheavals, that take place around me. I remember in December of the year 2000, a great year as it was the start of the 3rd millennium, I was so horrified by the scandals that rocked the country which led to the impeachment proceedings against Pres. Erap. I refused to put up the tree. But on December 21, I think, a bank executive by the name of Clarissa Ocampo, an eyewitness to Erap's signing bank records in the name of Jose Velarde, came forward and testified in the trial that was beamed on national tv. Late into the night that day, I was putting up the tree because an angel named Clarissa told me there was reason to rejoice.

This year, I promised myself that no matter what, at least the Christmas tree should be up by November 15, and that's how it's going to be from this year on.

In 1999, on our first Christmas in our new and very own home built from the ground up by my husband, Timmy bought a six feet tall Christmas tree out of her bonus as an employee of Pag-ibig. She has since moved to other jobs but the tree is still with us, standing tall, straight and proud of her services to my family. Each year, we change the color motif of the decors, beginning from the poinsettia flowers. In 2001, our 25th anniversary, I bought silver and sapphire blue decors (our wedding color motif was light blue). Then, in later years, we went gold, orange, chartreuse, red, etc. This year, I put out all the flowers in different colors and thought it looked quite good, so I had it that way, minus all other decors, like Christmas balls and ribbons.

Just this morning, the hubby found two flowers, one chartreuse and the other gold, all mashed up and tousled. It must be the handiwork of my other bunsoy - Bitoy. Instead of getting mad, I felt good because Bitoy must be feeling joyous too as we await Christmas. Next week, I will be starting on a make-over, sort of, of the house. Just a few changes in the positions of the old furniture and perhaps some new curtains ( the hubby says, "Curtains? Not again!. Christmas really makes me move my big and little bones. And it feels good!

In a few days, I will be making a mental list again of the ingredients for pancit molo, a regular Christmas table fare requested by my nieces and nephews. We will bring food and more food to share on Christmas eve. We will be thinking of more games to play before each family goes back to our own homes. Last year, Pinoy Henyo was a hit among us. We will be merry once more, because we choose to be happy even if Amang and Inang are no longer around; even if Rico and Lina are now spending white christmases in Ohio (they send goodies, anyway, LOL); even if Sam, Poy and Erick are in countries that don't celebrate Christmas (LOL again, these countries become richer because of Christmas); even if there's a chance Nad will have a night duty on Christmas eve; even if we don't have that much to spend on Christmas finery; even if some others choose not to be part of our family merrymaking because they are busy soaring up high in the sky. This time of the year is a time to be happy and merry and joyous. After all, it's the best time to think of and give thanks for the birth of The One who makes all things possible.

Merry Christmas to all of us! May this season be filled with love and joy to keep in our hearts forever.

Bunsoy

This is the first time i will be blogging with a deadline- 12:00 midnight tonight. And it's already half past nine in the evening. Today is my Bunsoy's 30th birthday and because i was caught up in so many inconsequential matters the past days, i failed to grab enough time on the computer to do what i needed to do- write about my youngest, dearest son. The whole day today, i was in the kitchen with my bff and my cousin turning up some scrumptious dishes for family and his buddies. As i write this, his titos and titas and his cousins have gone back to their respective homes, but the buddies and the birthday boy are still up in the bahay-kubo, having a blast, as if being thirty is the most significant stage in a man's life.

Ronald, my Bunsoy, was named after Ronald Reagan who won the US presidential elections on November 4, 1980. Eleven days later, Nad was born. Since his elder brother, Gerald, was named after Gerald Ford, we reckoned that, maybe, it will be more consistent if we go by that name. I am quite proud of the choices we've made for our children's names primarily because we made the choices ourselves. When I was still single, I made a vow never to let another person give the names of my would-be children. I'm glad I did not have to go through the distress of having to turn down someone who, for some reason, would be so assertive enough as to choose a name for someone not his/her child.

Among my three children, it is always Nad who makes a big deal of his birthday yearly. It is as if he was so exultant and ecstatic that he was born. And that alone makes me happy, too. When I hear other young people question why they were born, I feel sad for them because their reservations clearly have something to do with the kind of life they live. Nad is nothing like that. He loves life and he lives it to the fullest. He may not be the gifted son nor the young entrepreneur who earned his first million before he reached 30, but my Bunsoy gives me so much joy, like all other Bunsoys in the world do to the own mothers. Like his eldest sister and elder brother before him, Nad has been and is always a constant source of joy and inspiration for me to go on living, despite the stresses attendant to aging.

Nad and I have our own share of spats and misunderstandings, but one thing I will always appreciate about him is his ability to take things lightly, as if unpleasant things didn't happen at all. When it is I who have done him wrong, it does not take too much time for him to forgive and forget. Perhaps the only thing I could never make him appreciate is my being a worrier. He wants me to relax when he goes anywhere, but what can I do? I am a mother who thinks I am the only one who can protect him.

I know I owe my children so much. To this day I still cringe when I recall that on Nad's second birthday in 1982, I left him and his sister and brother in the care of a househelp and attended to a problem with a bounced check that was paid us by a customer in Pasig. All along I thought I could make it by noon time, but my aunt-in-law and I arrived back home late in the evening- with everything in disarray on the homefront. I hated myself then for being away on my son's birthday and I feel that I have never forgiven myself to this day because the memory is still fresh in my mind and the tears still flow when I recall the events of that day.

Nad was my passport to a renewed professional life when, in 1986, his first year as a kindergarten in St. Mary's, I also started my stint as a classroom teacher in the same school. I was to resign in 1998 when he graduated in high school, but was given a bonus of one more year. Many years later, Nad finished college. Many girlfriends later, Nad is still here with me, celebrating his 30th, still single and still giving me the joy only a mother could feel.

Happy birthday, Bunsoy. I love you beyond the stars!

A September to Not-Remember

This month is my birth month. Sadly, September 2010 wasn't a joyful one. On August 31, 2010, I had the thrill of redeeming my prize, a DVD-CD combo of James Taylor and Carole King's concert at the Troubador in 2007, which I got by joining a promo of the Lifestyle Network at ABS-CBN. When September slowly tiptoed in, it brought a lot of anxiety to me and the whole family.

First, Tim had to be up on her toes for the month long bar, which ended bloodily and violently for some students.( Pilipinas kong mahal, bakit ka nagkakaganito?).Then, the hubby had an accident the details of which are painful to recount. Then, there are the previous transactions with our office that are not moving in the concerned government offices, which make our clients impatient. The list goes on and on. It makes me want to just sleep and wake up when the month is finally over.

Tomorrow, October comes in. I hope it brings with it the cold wind that can calm down my nerves. Need it so desperately.

Men in Blue

PROLOGUE: This article will be published in the author’s personal blog not to initiate a never-ending debate on the police’s perceived incompetence. This is a ventilation of her ideas, sentiments and opinions on a lot of matters concerning law enforcement in the country. This piece contains both matters-of-fact and matters-of-opinion and is never intended to hurt any relative of a police officer, whether known or unknown to the author.

My family was once a victim of police abuses. That gives me the right to write this piece. I would rather not deal on the gory details of those tense, agonizing hours and the days and months following that first Sunday of May in 2008, for they are now water under the bridge. But believe me, the ghosts of that night still haunt me, thus making it hard for me to move on to more productive endeavors. I cringe whenever I imagine how a police officer pointed an armalite on my very precious, kind and adorable son just because he was getting the names of the police that detained my husband and his companion, an uncle. I cry when I recall that my daughter, present then to help my husband, was pushed down to the ground by burly police officers. My knees jerk when I recall the witnesses’ account that my husband, a lawyer, was hit by one of the police officers while in detention, because he kept on asking why they were being detained. (Incidentally, I always kiss the hand of this police officer’s mother when I see her in church, before and after the incident, since we know each other's family.) On Thursday following that Sunday, men armed with long firearms were in my next-door neighbor’s house, making sure they were visible to us, allegedly investigating the loss of their cell phone. Very funny. The events of that night caused my blood pressure to shoot up to 230/110 and I had to be confined in a hospital. The charges and countercharges filed have since been dismissed after a settlement initiated by the public prosecutor. The main reason we agreed to it is the safety of our family, relatives and friends. But to this day, when I see policemen whether in uniform or in civilian clothes, I can’t help but become tense. Then I realize that after this encounter with them, my life will never be the same again.

The events of Monday, August 23, 2010 at the Quirino grandstand over-emphasized what was obvious all along- that there is something very wrong in the country’s police institutions. The hostage crisis proved that many of our police officers are inept and that they lack the necessary system, training and equipment to deal with crisis situations. But what struck me the most about last Monday’s crisis was that point when the brother of the hostage taker, another policeman, refused to go with the team that will take him to the police district’s office. On national TV, he said to media people, “ Tulungan ninyo ako. Wala akong kasalanan. Idadaan nila ako sa likod. Wala akong tiwala sa mga yan! Mga pulis yan.” The police afraid of the police? Wasn’t it absurd? Or does it tell us we are correct in our perceptions?

If we go back a few weeks and months earlier, we will recall how the whole police force of Ampatuan, Maguindanao allowed themselves to be used in murdering more than 50 persons. Then, the Ted Failon episode showed us the kind of police work that is available to us. A few days ago, a torture video, featuring a police official and his victim, a supposed criminal, was released on television. The best word I can use to describe it is karimarimarim. The morning after the hostage crisis, two policemen were being investigated in connection with the rape of the wife of a man they were investigating. In this case, one of the officers had the guts to say that he has never met the woman before- which made her hysterical. What woman would say on national TV (Bitag) that she was raped if she wasn’t? Many years ago, police officers were the ones who took and brought a female UP Los Banos student to their town mayor who raped her. Afterwards, they took turns raping her again. When their lust was satisfied, they killed her and her companion and dumped them in a garbage site. The mayor and some of the policemen may still be in jail now but I am convinced that the lives of the families of those UP Los Banos students have been turned upside down. I can only wish that they have now accepted their fate and somehow forgotten their ordeal. The list of police abuses and brutality is very loooong. And it doesn’t seem to end, even after a very much trusted person is elected president of this country. This situation is both frightening and terrifying.

Many things have been said about last Monday’s hostage crisis. There was a blame game in the aftermath. Finger-pointing was soon followed by the washing of the hands of those perceived to have contributed to the tragic end of the daylong drama. As I write this, I am listening to the Senate investigation on both the torture video and the hostage crisis. I hear so many issues. But I believe, with full conviction, that the tragedy which put the Philippines to shame in the international community, should be blamed only in the hostage taker himself- a captain who is soon to retire. His relatives and his colleagues have described him as a kind man. Praises for his person and the awards he has received were enumerated for whatever purpose may serve his supporters. But I beg to digress. What virtuous policeman would get himself embroiled in an extortion case that led to his dismissal from the service? If he were really kind, where in the world did he get such an idea as to take hostage foreign tourists and later kill them? Kind? Sorry, the Holy Bible tells me those were not the acts of a kind person. It is very clear that this man, wanting to regain the powers he lost through his dismissal from the service, wants instant reinstatement. As for his awards, a retired policeman-friend (almost a relative) of ours says, they can be bought. In fact, he says, during their Sunday runs, those who did not want to go the distance because they are not capable (bulging stomachs, etc.) or they simply didn’t want to can have their way- if the price is right. This policeman-friend of ours even tells the story of how their superior police officials would demand weekly amounts that lead the subordinates to engage in illegal acts to raise the money. To avoid doing this, our policeman-friend decided to be just a 15-30 public servant, with a certain percentage of his salary going to his superior. A lesser evil, I suppose, but it is tantamount to stealing public funds. (We are not brave enough to tell our friend this, because his acts may not be too pleasant, but he is well mannered compared to others.)

But come to think of it, what is it that move many police officers to do such horrible acts? A brief review of our history gives us some insights on how we Filipinos handle power. We have been under Spanish rule for exactly 333 years and under American rule for more than 50 years. Our republic is relatively young. It’s not even a century-old. Filipinos are hungry for two things as an aftermath of being colonized- freedom and power. Hunger for freedom is a good thing. Hunger for power only becomes good depending on the purposes for which it is sought. The nouveau riche, having acquired enough wealth would soon become a politician. Having both money and position, he is now assured of power. Even a poor man who barely eats three square meals a day aspire to have power so much so that the relatively easiest position, such as being a barangay tanod is very attractive to him. Most Filipinos are power trippers because there is something in our blood that desperately wants to come out after being suppressed for more than three and a half centuries. Having a firearm makes a person powerful. Having a firearm wearing a uniform makes a person doubly powerful. The powers vested by law unto policemen obviously make them powerful to the point that they extend these powers beyond limits. Martial law in the early 70’s aggravated this hunger on the part of the law enforcers. As they say, power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Many people say there are more upright and decent policemen than there are unprincipled and corrupt ones. I agree. I know of a policeman whose daughter was molested by a young man in their community. Instead of taking the law into his own hands, which he can very well do, he took the case to the courts of law. Very commendable. But I ask, where are the rest? Why are they failing us? If there were more good ones, how come the institution is as indecent as it is now? Can’t they do something? Can’t they overpower the bad eggs in their ranks? I wish they would do the right thing to serve and protect the people truly, justly and faithfully.

My father was a member of the Philippine Constabulary for most of his life as a man in uniform. When it was integrated into the national police, he chose to transfer to the army, where he started. I am very glad of his decision. For if he stayed in the police force, then I will become one of those who are hurt by the many criticisms generated by the bad eggs in the basket that is the national police.

We need the police. We need law enforcers. We need peace keepers. We do not need torturers, rapists, extortionists, murderers and hostage-takers in uniform.

Last Saturday, I attended the class reunion of Batch ’94 St. Mary’s Academy, Baliuag. I learned that two of my former students became police officers- a young man and a young woman. Before I went to sleep that night, I thought about them and I prayed that they may always be guided by the Catholic, Marian and Ignacian teachings that they got from their alma mater. I prayed that they may always find what they need in discharging their duties faithfully to their fellowmen. Some good things are really easy to find. We do not need to go far. They are in our hearts.

Picture taken from militaryphotos.net.