Thursday, December 30, 2010

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.

Friday, December 17, 2010

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.

Monday, November 22, 2010

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.

Monday, November 15, 2010

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!

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

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.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

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.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

The Fourth Sorrowful Mystery



A story was told about a man who persistently prayed to God to ease him of the cross he has been carrying for years. One day, St. Peter appeared before him and said he is being summoned by God who has heard his prayers. The man went up the gates of heaven with St. Peter who later brought him to a roomful of crosses. There they were, in different colors, materials, sizes. Some were very simple and some were ornate. Some were as huge as the trees in a virgin forest and some were as small as the palm of one's hand. Then, St. Peter told the man that because God was a just and fair God, he can take a look and choose the cross which he thinks he can carry without much difficulty. The man went around the room. He paused when he saw one that caught his attention. It took a while before he chose one, got it and showed it to St. Peter. The gatekeeper asked him if he was sure it was what he wanted. After giving his assurance, St. Peter instructed him to look at what's written on the back of the cross. The man was astonished to find his name engraved thereat.

I always recall to mind this story whenever I have choices or decisions to make at this point in my life. I know it pleases my God to know that I have accepted my cross long ago, and though I sometimes feel burdened heavily, I always look forward to the promise of resurrection which would lead me to everlasting life.

I am no Bible-carrying nor Bible-quoting Christian. I just know that the story of the man who refused his cross and ended up with the same is repeated several times over in all parts of the world. Being an orphan at a very young age is a cross. Difficult mathematical equations are themselves a cross. A vicious husband, a nagging wife, a special child and sickly parents are each a cross. So are a parasitic friend, an unproductive sister and a gossipy neighbor. Even a low-paying job, a know-all-boss and an inefficient assistant are crosses one must have to bear. There are as many crosses as there are people on earth. Sometimes, a person feels s/he has a lot of burdens on his/her shoulders. It would take a lot of self-searching to discern which of the crosses we bear is the one for us. I believe this means that like the man in the story, we can bargain with God, but only on His terms.

I can't recall how many times I turned down someone in need because I know that it is a cross I shouldn't have to bear. (The times when I carried this cross far outnumbered the times I didn't.) Or the times when I refused to heed the messages sent by listen-to-me-I-know-it-will-be-good-for-you fellows, who only wanted to pass their crosses to me so subtly, they think I wouldn't know.

It is very clear to me what my cross is in my lifetime. Sure it's heavy. But I know it's mine. It manifests itself in different forms at different points in time, and when it does, it weakens and debilitates me. Good thing I am a half-full glass of milk-person. It helps a lot to carry that weight. Plus, I get a lot of help from the One who carried His cross to Calvary, and His mother, who did not leave His side.

Image lifted from yakub_israel flickr.com