GRANDMA IS TALKING

THE LITTLE BOY SOLDIER

2011-03-13T18:46:00.000-07:00

“What is your name son?” a visitor of the family asked.

“Angelo sir,” replied the little boy.

“And how old are you Angelo?”

“I am seven years old sir.”

“And what do you want to be when you grow up son?”

“A soldier sir, I want to be a soldier,” the boy said this with his chest out and with such bravado that the visitor can’t help smiling.

“Ah, a soldier ... so you are brave boy, and why do you want to be a soldier Angelo?”

"I love my country sir and I will defend her from the enemy.

I will not allow anyone to take over our country ever again sir.”

Angelo’s mother, who was sitting nearby smiled to herself and thought; ’Oh my son, he will grow up to be a fine young man, he has such noble dreams; I am so proud of him’. She took the boy’s hand and from then on guided him to his noble dreams. The boy, confident that his mother is holding on, soared to his dream and his destiny.

When he reached the place where his dreams are, trumpets blared his arrival. People he knew and people he has not met before were waiting to welcome him, they were all clapping their hands. The noise was deafening but he enjoyed it. It was such a nice feeling to be on top of the world.

And as it was with all those who reached their dreams, he was given a welcome gift; a simple mirror. This will be the mirror of what he has become when the time to account has come. It was such a simple mirror that Angelo opted to keep it in the box and store it in the closet rather than hang it on the wall.

His mother, knowing his son has reached the summit of his dreams, slowly unclasped her now old weary hands and said to herself, “My boy will be fine; it’s time to pass the baton of our generation. It will be safe in my son’s hand. It is time for me to rest,” and then she smiled and put the baton in Angelo’s hand.

She was so proud of her son, and proud of herself too; she has passed the baton to a son that she nourished with love and principles … the baton of service to country. For didn’t she run her miles of service with such dedication to the country too? She was after all a teacher; teaching is such a noble profession too. She was sure her son would hold on to that small voice of the brave little boy soldier, the voice of service to country and countrymen.

And Angelo, true enough to his promise, fought for his motherland. He was brave and he was principled, he was a teacher’s son after all.

But somewhere in time, something went wrong. The trumpets stopped playing, the people around him vanished; Angelo found himself alone. Where there was a deafening welcome before, there was a deafening silence now.

Angelo could not understand it, and then he remembers the mirror given him as a gift; he took it out from the box and look at himself. He wanted to find out what he had become and what made the clapping stopped. But when he looked at the mirror, he got scared; he could not see himself in the mirror anymore. Frightened, he looked at his hands hoping to find his mother’s hand, but he cannot see nor feel his mother’s hands too.

He looked at the mirror again hoping to find a glimpse of him but there really was none. There was just the glittering gold and diamonds.

He did not know then that, for every gold and diamond

that he gilt his mirror with, a part of him will fade.

The mirror is now full of gold and diamonds,

there is no more space for Angelo; Angelo has to go.

Realizing this, Angelo fell down to his knees and cried. Then he heard the small voice of the brave little boy soldier with its noble dreams;

"I want to be a soldier sir. I love my country;

I will defend her from the enemy.”

The voice jolted Angelo. It suddenly dawned on him who and where the enemy of the country is. They are not in the mountains where he pursues them. Oh such a waste of lives and ammunitions, he was fighting blindfold; the enemy is within him. They are the demons lurking in his brain and playing havoc on his soul. He has been a prisoner of the enemy for some time now, how could he not know? Once again he heard the voice of the boy soldier;

“I love my country sir; I will defend her from the enemy.

I will not allow anyone to take over our country ever again sir.”

The dawning took so long; it is too late now, the enemy is winning the war. Angelo sob, he knew he failed; he failed himself, he failed his mother, and he failed his country and countrymen.

When his crying stopped, he realized there is still one place in him that the enemy has not captured yet and so, afraid that they would also invade the place where he can still hear his mother’s voice, took out his gun and pointed it to his heart, for this is the only place that the demons have not reached yet and Angelo cried out to heaven;

"Mother I am sorry I failed you.

I was not strong enough to fight the enemy:

I lost ... the enemy won."

And the family's baton fell down the muddy ground.

“No! no my son. Listen to me," Angelo's mother cried. "Do not be a hero to your family, friends and comrades at the expense of our beloved country. That’s false heroism my son. Have you forgotten what I have been telling you ever since you were young? Our country comes first. Please my son, be the brave soldier that you are; pick up our baton and wipe off the mud, there is still time.

But Angelo's blood is now on his mother's tomb; he can hear no more.

WHAT MAKETH A HERO

2011-02-26T23:33:00.000-08:00

y husband and I were watching news on TV when Joy- joy, my 8 yrs. old grandniece came in, I thought she would soon be bored with the news and leave, but I was wrong; she seems to be mesmerized by the military parade and the hearse full of white flowers.

“Lola, why is he a hero? What did he do for our country, Lola?

I looked at her and said, “Let’s finish the news first, ah?”

“Ok Lola”. I thought she would now stand and walked out but I was wrong,

“Our teacher said Rizal is our hero because he fought for our independence from the Spaniards and then our school guidance counselor said the fathers and mothers of our classmates who went abroad to work are heroes too because they bring in dollars to our country, and these dollars goes to building schools for us and bridges and roads for the farmers, and now the TV man said …………. .”

“Hush child, I can’t hear what the announcer is saying.”

“Ooops ,soooorry,” She said this with wide eyes and with the palm of her hands on her mouth. I didn’t say anything.

Minutes of silence past and I could see her staring at the TV and watched the hearse and the military parade go by. “The flowers, Lola, they’re beautiful ha, they must be expensive,” she just couldn’t help interjecting. I did not answer. My silence must have reminded her to stay silent too because she did not talk anymore after that.

And so I have several minutes more of silence,minutes to get ready with my answer. To tell you the truth, I really don’t know why Angelo Reyes is called a hero. He didn’t die in a battlefield; he didn’t die for a cause; he didn’t even die battling the strange disease of our land. So why is he a hero then?

I do not want to lie, so I thought of telling her the simplest true answer that I thought of; that Angelo Reyes was a soldier and was our country’s former AFP chief of staff. I hope she won’t ask if all AFP chief of staffs are heroes, or much much worse, she might asked, “Papa is a soldier Lola, is he a hero then? If he dies, will it be like that too?” Now, how can I tell her where the line is if I myself can’t see the line anymore?

Luckily for me, a call from her mother prompted her to stand up and say bye bye.

THE WAND ON THE TWELFTH MONTH

2011-01-30T21:49:00.000-08:00

nce upon a time and up to this time, there lives a great giant that lives in the forest that sits beside a great mountain.

The Giant is so peaceful and his heart is so pure that everything that he wishes to happen always comes true and everything in that place pays homage to him; the tree would bear him fruits and its leaves would give him shade; the river have plenty of fish for him to eat and clean water to drink, and the mountain would stoop to give him a ride round this dominion; and every minute of the day, a bird would sang happy songs for him.

The Giant was happy and so were the river and the mountain and the tree and the bird.

One day, while the Giant was resting, he heard the four talking.

“I have so many fruits but nobody eats them; birdie eat so little, my fruits often go to waste,” Said the tree .

“Yes, I eat so little and slowly too, but that is because I took good care of my vocal chords. I want to sing happy songs with a beautiful voice for all of you, but just like you, I wish many more would hear me sing,” said the bird.

“I could sing too, “ quipped the river. “ I let my water drop and bump on the stones so that whoever comes and drink from my water would enjoy hearing my music. I purposely do that so that whoever drinks my water would not leave me immediately. I love company, you know; but, just like you two, I wished there would be many more to drink on my water and keep me company. My water is so pure and nourishing and a plenty, it is a shame that sometimes they just go past you because you have your fill already,” continued the river.

The mountain who was sitting nearby could not resist joining the conversation.

“May I join your conversation please?” he said as a way of entrance. “I am sad too, I wish many more would come and ride on my back. They would be happy to see our place. We have such a lovely and peaceful place, you know.” The mountain said this with such a twinkle in his voice that the rest could not help smiling.

All in the meeting agreed. They all have these happy smiles on their faces. Then suddenly the bird fluffed his wings and flew over heads and sang. “tra la la ... I got an idea … I got an idea … I got an idea ... tra la la la.”

“What is it?” chorused the others. They all looked at the bird who was flying over their heads fluffing and fluffing his wings quite excitedly.

“Let us all go talk to the Master, he can do something about this,” said the bird.

“Yes, yes, yes” all of them said. And so they troop to the Giant with so much happiness and excitement and made their request known, albeit hesitantly.

“Master, we thank you for the precious gifts that you gave us. It gives us so much happiness that, we …” they hesitated, not so sure how to say what they wanted to say. “We wish that there are more creatures to whom we can share our happiness with,” all of them eventually said.

The Giant pondered on this request and then one day he took his magic wand and wished “I wish to have small creatures, who would be company to the tree, the river, the mountain, and the bird. I wished them to have mouth to eat the fruits and drink the water, ears to hear the songs, eyes to see the beauty of the place and a nose to smell the wind.”

Lo and behold! Small creatures with feet and hands and eyes and nose and ears came out of the dust from the magic wand.

The Giant was so pleased that he gave these small creatures the freedom to partake of all that is in that place, and to feel the same happiness that all of them in that place enjoyed.

When the small creatures opened their eyes and saw the fruits on the trees and the clear water of the river. They could not stop their joy and so they climb the trees and ate their fruits, then they jumped on the river and drank the pure water and splashed and bathe. They were very very happy and so were the tree and the river.

After their bath, they climbed the mountain and the mountain showed them the beauty of the whole place. While they were enjoying the view, the bird sang them a beautiful song. The small creatures could not help laughing. Their laughter echoed thru the entire place and everyone, including the Giant was pleased.

These went on for so many days, but on the twelfth month something happened. The Giant noticed that the leaves of the trees are falling in great numbers, the water in the rivers are getting dark and moves slower. There were not many fish in the water too, and when he turned his eyes to the mountain, he saw that the mountain too, looks sad. The birds too, they stopped singing. These kept the Giant thinking.

The Giant pondered on what he saw and decided to call a meeting.

“Oh Master, we do not want to bother you but … your latest creatures, they uuh… uhm…,” the tree stammered. He is not sure if he ought to bring their problem with the master. You see, they never bothered their master before. Everything that they wanted and needed were provided even before they asked for it, in fact there never was an instance when they asked for anything except that instance when they asked for the small creatures. But the master was waiting for an explanation and so the bird continued what the tree wanted to say.

“It’s the small creatures, Master, we cannot satisfy them. It seems that there is nothing that could make them happy and contented, not even my beautiful songs," he paused, looked at the others then he lowered his head and his voice and said, "Well nothing from our end, that is.”

“Yes Master. I never stopped bearing fruits for them to eat but they are not satisfied with what comes out of me naturally, they put something on my roots that makes me comes out with fruit though I am not ready yet. They never give my body time to rest; and those that they put on my roots, Oh Master, it hurts, it really does. It sears my veins that some are useless already and it makes my leaves fell too. Oh, if they will only give us time to recover,” said the tree holding back his tears that were about to fall. He does not want to show the master his tears. He loved his master so much and he does not want him to feel sad too.

“Yes, if only they will give us time to recover,” butted the river. “I gave them fish to eat everyday and even sang song for them while they were fishing, but … it seems that what I give them for a day is always not enough for them. They wanted me to produce more and more and more, there is no let up. What is worse is, they put poison on my water that they are not as pure and cannot move as fast as before. If only they will give us time to recover.”

The mountain who was sitting nearby did not talk, he was just listening. But the bird and the tree and the river all looked at him. He has to say something.

“Forgive me Master, but I never felt this tired before. It is always my joy to carry everyone on my back and show the beauty of your kingdom but … the small creatures, they are not satisfied with riding, they wanted more. They peel off the covering of my back that it hurts during a hot day. I worry too, that with a bare back, I cannot control the waters to give to the river during rainy days. If only they will give me rest for a while just so I can get my skin back, then everything will be like as before,” said the mountain gloomily.

The Giant was sad. He had given the small creatures so much but still they are not satisfied. And so he thought of a way that would bring back the things back as before. And so he took out his magic wand again and wished that the small creatures would be as they were when they were first created, happy and satisfied.

Lo and behold! All the small creatures were transformed to being good again. Smiles were again pasted on their faces and they only climbed the trees and fish the river when they were hungry and they also stopped peeling off the skin of the mountain. And because they stopped climbing the trees and fishing the river so many times, they now have the time to hear the song of the bird. And just like the river, and the tree, and the mountain, and the bird, they too shared with each other whatever gifts they got from the master. Laughter and happiness once again permeates the place.

The tree had recovered, its leaves stopped falling and its veins are healthy again. The river too, it has started singing again and its water is again pure. The mountain too has regained the skin on its back and the bird started to sing joyfully again.

And so, again, everyone was happy, including the Giant. But not for long because after so many many days, on the 12^th month that is, the same thing happened. The tree, the mountain, the river, and the bird were again sick. This time the Giant did not call for a meeting, he knows the reason already.

And so the Giant pondered on what to do with the small creatures. Will he wish them to disappear? The Giant can certainly do that with just a whisk of his magic wand but then he loved the small creatures already. They may have created so much unhappiness but then, they also bring so much joy and laughter to the place. Then an idea hit the Giant and so he took out his magic wand again and wished;

“I wished that every 12^th month, all the small creatures will be happy and satisfied as they were when they were first created.”

And so no matter how bad they become, the small creatures would always go back to being good, happy and satisfied every 12th month. And the tree, the river, the mountain, and the bird, no matter how abused they were, would always recover on the 12^th month.

These happened many many years ago but until today, the magic of the wand is still with us.

NO MORE DANCING WITH THE SUN

2011-01-30T21:48:00.000-08:00

t was the garden that caught my attention. It was devoted to roses only, no other flowers, just roses ...red red roses; it was in fact, a red garden. I stopped on my tracks and just stood watching.

He must have sensed me because he looked up from what he was doing and squinted at my direction. He smiled, showing his yellowing teeth. I introduced myself and commented on his garden.

“Oh ...thank you," he stood up and stretched his small aging body. He could not be more than 5 ft., I thought.

"I'm Melo," he said. He took off his thin gloves and we shook hands. His hands were callused and scarred and … like a blue train running across a parched brown field, the veins in his hands runs throbbing thru his sun burned arms.

He picked up his tools and walked to the neem tree. I followed.

"It is extremely hot today, it might rain this evening. You came a visiting?” Melo asked.

“Yes sir,” I answered, pointing to the direction where I came from.

He nodded. We sat on the ground and savored the sweet relief of the neem shade. The silence of the place was so soothing that I wished there was a bed under the tree. After a while, Melo offered me a cigarette and lighted one.

And we talk about flowers. How he made them bloom during off season.

Gardening is my hobby and Melo knows a lot about plants. That afternoon chat became a weekly chat; despite our age difference, we became friends.

*****

We have been friends for quite a while when I asked him the question.

“Why do you stay here Melo, no relatives?”

Melo looked at me and smiled,“I have four sons.”

“I don’t understand, do they know you are here?”

“Yes," was his curt reply.

“Don't you get lonely here? No neighbours, no radio, no TV."

“Huh, I am surrounded by neighbours here. In fact, I know them by names already, even their birthdays,” and he made a feeble laugh.

“Tell me your story Melo, I am struggling to be a writer. Maybe I can write your story,” I pleaded. “I never had a story published though,” I added sheepishly.

He did not answer, as if weighing if he can grant me my request. After a while he said, “Is that why you come here, to get my story?”

“No. I'm sorry, forget it," I said. I must have looked sad and hurting because after a while he said;

“No, I will tell you my story.”

*******

When I arrive the next Sunday, I catched him taking a nap under the neem tree.

“I bought you some groceries, a pack of beer and peanuts for our chats,” I said

“You shouldn’t have bothered; my son came this morning, brought groceries like am going to be a 100.”

“You are now 80...just 20 more laps. Besides, you haven’t told me your story yet.”

We laughed, then after a long silence he said; “I don’t intend to stay that long, there is no purpose, everything’s in its proper place, nothing to arrange or re-arrange, everything is perfect,” Melo said, quite seriously now.

“What about grandchildren?” I countered,trying to dissuade him from his thoughts.

“They have lives of their own, let it be. I have passed the baton of living to my sons. Let them be the lights of their children... My lights are fading, so be it.”

I couldn’t answer. I don’t even know where my mind is at that time, all I remember was the silence; we sat silently, a peaceful silence. He was puffing on his cigarettes; I was looking at the neem tree dancing.

I remember thinking, how happy the two were; the neem tree and the wind.

Joyce Kilmer must have seen the tree dancing when he composed his poem.

*******

Two Sundays ago, Melo decided it's time to tell his story.

“What really made you stay here Melo? “

“I’m gonna tell you why, but just like the others, you may not understand,” He said.

“Try me,” I replied, and he started.

“I didn’t intend to stay here at first, but then, you see ... Lillian is always afraid of being alone. She would always say ‘Don’t leave me alone Melo, please’, so when we brought Lillian here, I made it a point to visit her everyday just to keep her company,” Melo replied.

I didn’t answer him back. I took a glance at Lillian and I felt sad.

“Then one day, it rained cats and dogs. It didn’t let up till evening, I didn’t bring my umbrella, so I stayed the night. I sat beside Lillian’s bed and put to rest my aching back, immediately I fell asleep,” Melo paused and smiled, then he continued;

“It was the most relaxed and restful sleep I had for a long time. I found the peace that I have been longing for, I feel like … I have finally arrived home.”

“And so I talked with my sons, all were against my decision, one even suggested to bring me to the doctor. They said it is just depression that I will get over it.”

“And so I said ‘then let me stay with your mom just until I can get over my depression. Let me lead my own life the way I wanted it’.”

“I promised my sons I will take care of myself, if only for their sake. And so they let me be,” Melo paused, looked at me, smiled and said “they know they can’t stop me,” I nodded.

It took him a long time to continue that I thought it was the end of his story, but he continued, there is no stopping Melo now.

“Everything in our house reminds me of Lillian, of my youth, of the past; of the things that I should have done but didn’t do and those that I did that I shouldn’t have done.”

“I tried to cure my so called depression; I involved myself with various activities; I get active with the senior citizens club; I volunteered for church activities; I go and chat with my friends.”

“Well, I am happy while chatting and working but when I rest and when my friends are gone, when I am alone, I feel very very empty; it is like I can think and I can feel but my body is somewhere. As if there were two of me. Oh, am sorry, I really cannot describe that feeling to you.”

“I had never cried in my whole adult life before, not even when Lillian finally said goodbye. But days after that final parting, many nights I cried and when the nights of crying stopped; I feel ashamed of myself. I feel as if I should no longer exist.”

“I wanted to go home, yet I do not know anymore where my home is. I feel like a lost child.”

“When I transferred home here, I feel at ease, I could talk to my maker more freely. It seems like only the three of us are here, Lillian, me and my Maker.”

“I am happy with my life. I am still no bonkers as you can see. I have books and once in a while I read. But no news for me anymore, I am done with that, I have passed the baton of living to my sons,” he ended.

“Do you keep a diary Melo?” I asked.

“No. when I die, my life is finished. I don’t want anybody to spend time reading

what is already kaput. Everyone ought to look forward as I look forward to my end,” he replied.

“The everyday silence of this place gets me closer to my maker. I spent my mornings thanking him for my life, for my relatives, for my friends and for my neighbours.”

“On evenings, before I go to sleep, I would ask forgiveness for whatever sin I committed that day. I would thank him for giving me the sun, the moon, the wind, the water and the earth and everything that grows on it.”

“I learned how to dance with the sun and to sing with the wind.”

“I learned to listen to the trees and to converse with the flowers.”

“When you get old, you will have to choose the final path you wanted to tread. Others go to church daily, others commit themselves to their community, others enjoy their last moments with their family, and a few others, commit suicides. I chose mine; I wanted to be alone, just to be alone.”

“I spent 80 years of life with my kind, I want to spend the remaining with my Maker”.

“My sons worried constantly about me, my friends doubted my sanity," then Melo looked at me and asked, "You, what do you think of me?”

I was caught off guard. I couldn’t answer. I was still thinking for an answer when he continued.

“Every day, I would tell my maker how the wind smelled; how the trees shielded me from the rain; how the rain nourished my thirst and how the sun egged me to use my body. And the moon … yes … the moon would always come in the evening to sooth my aching body and keep me company.”

“You say I do not have neighbours. We all have neighbours, the trees, the plants, even the grass are our neighbours, for together we exist in this planet”.

“I am grateful that I still have time to thank my maker for His beautiful creation”.

He stopped, looked at me again and said;

“So, did you get everything? You think you can get a story published now?”

We both laughed.

*******

This Sunday I came back to see Melo, but alas, he can talk no more.

My friend cannot change banter with me anymore.

No more laughing, no more remembering.

No more dancing with the sun, no more singing with the wind.

No more talking with the trees and the flowers, no more playing with the grass.

*******

The dark clouds are coming... I can hear the trees, the grass, the flowers excitedly waiting for the rain. I must go home now, I did not bring my umbrella.

Tomorrow the sun will come back and together with the wind and the Neem tree, they will again dance ... the dance of life.

Before I turned my back to leave, I went back inside the mausoleum and read once more the epitaph;

“Here lies our parents, even death cannot do them part.”

What a fitting epitaph for Melo and Lillian, I thought. I said goodbye to Melo and to Lillian then took one rose home with me; the others, they have to stay with the sun and the rain and remain a red garden.

From the author;

One Sunday last year, while visiting the grave of my mother, I came across an old man sitting on a stool
beside a grave.

He was alone and he was lighting candles. When the candles were lighted, he took the old flowers from the vase and put in the new ones he bought.

For hours, he just sat there and looked around, puffing on his cigarettes. He seems to be happy left alone. When the sun set and darkness starts creeping in, he took his things, arranged the flowers again and left the place.

I could not help myself. When he left, I went near the tomb he is tending; it was that of a woman. I learned later that she was his wife. Although she passed away years ago, the man would always come and brought flowers every Sunday.

I remember thinking how enduring his love is and this inspired me to write this love story of Melo and Lillian.

LAUGHTER AFTER ONDOY

2011-01-30T21:46:00.001-08:00

From the Author;

My husband said that he likes all my works except this one, so better read this last, you may not like this too, it's kind of inhuman, you know.

LAUGHTER AFTER ONDOY

We were home that Thursday morning when it started to rain.

At first I enjoyed the comfort of a cooler air; I heated some popcorns and snuggled under my blanket and watched TV.

By the afternoon however, there was already water on our yard and by early evening, it reached our floor. Before the road gets impassable, we decided to evacuate and stayed with a relative.

Two weeks after, when the flood water subsided, we returned to our house.

Oh ... there was mud and there was dirt, there was plenty of cleaning to do.

But what dismayed us was not the task at hand, it's what we found on our dining room . Believe it or not,

... WE CAUGHT A FAMILY OF FOUR EATING ON OUR DINING TABLE !

Yes, and I was more surprised than alarmed that I just stared at them eating. It took seconds before they noticed us; they too, were surprised.

“Who are you?” said the one who appears to be the father.

“Huh ... we are the owners of this house. Who are you? Why are you in our house?" I nervously asked while holding on to a cane.

“Ah...we are neighbors then. We are evacuees. No more time to tread the fast rising water, your house was the nearest and the safest place we could go to. We are sorry for forcing ourselves in, but we have no choice. I know you will understand,” he said.

How can I not understand? We ourselves leave hastily because water was fast rising and there is just one way out of the subdivision. If the water continued rising and we are trapped, there is no other way but up the roof. Saving your family is the only thing important at that time, nothing else matters ... nothing else.

“Ok then, but how did you get in? I see no force of entry?”

“Ahh … yes. We were careful not to destroy your property. Don’t worry, we are no thieves. All your belongings are exactly where they were when you left them... but the food ... we ate them. There is no food outside, there’s just water ... water everywhere ... a vast ocean of water.”

His head was down and he was shaking his head, and he looked very defeated that I actually found myself sympathizing with him.

“OK ... no problem with the food, you may even bring whatever is left, but please leave now.”

“We cannot do that. Do you see that river over there? That’s where we live, in the riverbank. You cannot see our house though, it is still under water.”

I look out the window and noticed that indeed the river is still swollen. I never noticed houses there before. Are they really my neighbors? Once again the disturbing feeling came back.

“Look...private houses are not evacuation centers. Go somewhere ... anywhere."

"But ... there is still water outside"

“There are ways. I don’t want to appear rude but I really don’t care where you will stay and how you will get there, all I care is for you to leave, so please ...you really must go now.”

“I want to leave your house just as much as you want us to leave but please, give us a week more. I think the water will subside in a week’s time, we could go back to our own house then.”

A week with complete strangers? He must be crazy, I thought.

“Look, we will be very very silent; you won’t hear nor see us. All day we will stay in that cove on your kitchen. We will take our dinner when you have retired, that way we will be non- existent to you. Is that fair enough?”

“No you cannot, just the thought that you are still here gives me the creeps.”

The whole family of intruders did not even stir. They just stared at me with mournful eyes, perhaps expecting me to give them mercy and change my mind. But I was losing my patience then, my face was already red with exasperation and anger.

“You are exhausting my patience. You must leave now, and I mean NOW! Otherwise I will call for help.”

“Ok then, just give us a day, Ok? I will look for a dry place where we can stay,” the father pleaded.

“I said NO! If you don’t leave now, I will have to hurt you.”

"You can't do that."

I am not a violent person but they leave me no choice, so I raised my arm and aimed my cane.

They ran, all of them, with their short stubby legs and hid behind the chairs.

“Ok then, you leave me no choice,” I said.

I then went to the telephone and dialed for help.

“Hello, is this Pest control? Will you please send somebody to my house right away? There are rats in my house and I can't make them leave. I need help.”

Only then did the family of rats went out my house.

REMINISCING TYPHOON ONDOY

2011-01-21T23:29:00.000-08:00

Typhoon Ondoy visited our country last year. The nine-hour deluge submerged houses, washed away vehicles, turned roads into rivers and, subdivisions into oceans.

In some areas, water reached as high as the roofs of 2nd floor storey houses. This flood water rose so fast that terrified residents who acted too late were forced to climb the roofs of their houses.

They stayed there thirsty, hungry, and cold: rescue came 2 to 3 days later.

It was a very heart wrenching situation.
There were many lives lost,

many properties destroyed, and many families shattered. But out of that savage onslaught of nature, one sweet moment emerged;

it was a moment that says " he is not heavy, he is my brother".

Out of this calamity sprang the many silent heroes of our land... the men and women who risked their lives to save someone elses' life.

Although the deluge may have devastated our nation, it also brought out the best of "humanity". Help came from all over the world.At that time, there was no hatred; there was no greed; there was no religion; there were no politics; there was just "empathy".

Tragedy somehow paints all men's skin with just one color and make all the men's heart beat as one.

Note; The photos used here are not of the author (I didn't have the time to take pics as we were in a hurry to evacuate our house too). They were taken from other sources that reported the onslaught of typhoon Ondoy. I give my thanks to the anonymous photographer/s.

Retirement -Contributed by Ben Zaldivar

2010-11-06T22:50:00.000-07:00

There is a place in the Philippines......

where people neither see nor experience a typhoon in their entire life. Occasional rains, yes, but 'Manila like typhoon', is none existent in this place.

Where Fruits and vegetables are abundant and very cheap.

..... Where you can easily move around the city for a 7 peso ride in a Jeepney.

..... Where there is always a continuous flow of traffic.

.... Where crime rate is very low.

.

Where the people are friendly.

... Where life as a whole is peaceful and not stressful.

.
..... Where can you find a place like this?

   **************************DAVAO CITY ! ***************************

   PHILIPPINES !

*

************ The place where we opted to retire.************

********* MAAYONG BUNTAG SA INYONG TANAN ! ! !**********

Retirement House

Working At Home Saved Me From Depression -

2010-10-21T01:11:00.003-07:00

It is somewhat weird when you have the feeling of not knowing what to do or where to go, especially if you have already reared four kids, retired, and are in your 60’s.

But that is exactly how I felt many months ago, when I don’t know what to do with the remaining years of my life. Call it post menopausal syndrome or whatever, but I do remember staring at the ceiling of our bedroom every morning, wondering what to do with the next 8 hours of that day.

When you have 4 kids to raise and is a working mom, 8 hrs a day seems so short, there is so much to do you would wish you could stretch the hours.

Now that my kids are all grown up and have homes of their own, I found myself with plenty of time in my hands with nothing to do except the daily mundane task of cooking, cleaning and gardening.

One day, perhaps sensing my boredom, my youngest daughter Reanne, against our protestations that it is a waste of money, bought my husband and me a desk top computer.

For many days, the computer would sit in the corner, patiently waiting for a user. I would often stare at it and muse on how much money it cost.

Until that day when I asked my daughter what diseases have a sudden stabbing pain on the stomach symptoms. She did not answer me outright, she went to the computer, open it and taught me how to ‘google’ the answer.

This started my almost daily consultation with the search engine.

I was so fascinated with the ease and the speed of getting answers to my questions that I became adept with the mouse and the keyboard. I soon learned how to email and to chat, to reconnect with my far away relatives and friends.

My daily chat with my virtual company of friends and relatives started to add colour to what was once my drab boring days. Little by little I became knowledgeable with the new technology. Our computer now became my ally, an ally that now brings me money.

It just started with this text;

“Mom, can you please help me post our Company’s ads online? “

To be honest, I really don’t know what ‘posting ads online ’is, and so I texted back,

“What is posting online and how will I do that?”

To which she replied, “See my email.”

Her email listed the procedures step by step including how to ‘copy / paste’. It took me some time to learn, but with perseverance, I did learn, not only how to do posting but other online jobs as well.

After days of doing small task for her company, my daughter one day asked me;

“Mom, would you like to sign up as a virtual assistant? it could get you work.”

“Do you honestly think I can do it? I mean, will somebody get an oldie like me?” I answered.

“Just try it mom, there is no age limit anyway, and they will not force you to get a task you don’t want to do.”

“Ok, if you said I can do it then I can do it,” was my confident reply.

There and then, we log on to an online site and sign up in their ‘join us’ section.

And that is how I started with my part time virtual assistance job.

Looking back;

I do remember the day I retired. Though sad to leave the camaraderie of my officemates behind, I was also eager and confident that with my big basket of experience I can easily go into business, give work to the unemployed and contribute to my country’s progress. Well, in six months time, when I saw my retirement money going down the drain, I hang my white handkerchief. Eagerness turns to fear....fear that we may have to defend on our children for our lifetime support.

I know I am not alone on this boat, many of the seniors and the retirees can empathize with me. Just when you have amassed vast amount of knowledge and experience, you will find yourself with nowhere to apply it. Business is not that easy to start and you can’t go back to employment. Companies look at your age and appearance before they look into your brain.

But I am glad our children did not allow the new technology to bypass us. Glad that just as we painstakingly teach them the alphabet when they were small, they are now teaching us the ABC’s of computers. This new knowledge helped me get work again.

Now, I am starting to earn again, in my own home, and at my own pace. I feel useful again.

I STARTED WRITING AT 60

2010-10-09T17:18:00.001-07:00

It was a hot, humid, Sunday afternoon. We were sitting in the porch sipping cold lemon juice when my daughter Sheila, suddenly said;

“Mom, you remember your promise?”

“What promise?“ I asked.

“You said if I needed any help, I could count on you, do you remember that? I need them now Mom.”

“Of course you can count on me, so what can I do for you?” I asked.

“Please write me an article about an oldie doing online jobs. I want your own experience mom.”

Quite a request . . . I have never written a piece, not even a page in a diary. All I ever remember writing were the required school essays when I was in high school and that was 45 long years ago.

“Shell, I have a confession to make, I almost did not pass my English subjects.”

“But mom, all you have to do is to write down your experience, it is just like telling your friends what you are doing now,” my daughter said.

“You know that is different, my friends would not mind my grammar and spelling,” I countered.

“You can at least try. You will be doing me a great favour.”

You can at least try . . . These were exactly the words I gave them as encouragement whenever they were facing difficult tasks. How can I not practice my own mantra?

The pendulum . . . it is now my turn.

Mustering courage, I sat in front of my computer and told the machine how I became a virtual assistant and how that job saved me from depression.

When I gave her my piece, I felt so triumphant, not because I made it: But because I have proven once again . . . it pays to try.

LIFE IS A RELAY

2010-06-11T18:09:00.000-07:00

As I ponder on my 60 yrs of existence, I came to the conclusion that the World is just like a big oval stadium: Some people are running, some are in the tracks waiting to run, and some are in the bleachers cheering and clapping.

And … we are in the tracks right now and we are running the relay of life.

Yes, life is a relay. You run and at the end of your distance, you pass the baton to your children, and then your children to their children and so on and so on till generations to come.

I noticed … some runs very fast, never looking at their surroundings, never hearing the cheers, all they have in mind is to reach the finish line.

Some seems to be just walking, smiling at the cheerers and enjoying the run, never minding the distance.

Some stumble and fall and while others get up and run again, others just quit the run.

My run. . .

I may have run thru life very fast and stumbled so many times, but despite the bruises and the scars of life, I got up and run again.

I can almost see my finish line now.

My children are now alongside me ready to receive the baton, giving me support and encouragement to run the few more miles to the finish line.

Tired and weary I may be I am glad that my children run with me. Encouraging words like;

“You can do it mom”
“You still have your brains mom”
pushes me up.

Yes indeed, I still have my brains. My bones maybe aching, and my skin sagging, but my mind is still healthy and fit to run.

I will let my mind do the running then.

MY MOTHER-IN-LAW and her battle with Alzheimers

2010-05-21T04:24:00.000-07:00

- I remember -

It was on one of our visit in her home in Angela Village.

I was reading a magazine in their garden patio when Mommy came over and sat beside me.

I put down my magazine and waited for her to say something; she didn’t say anything, I didn’t say anything either. We just sat and look at the flowers in her garden.

After a long while she said, “I’m sad ... I don’t know why.”

Tio Maning died just a few months ago so I understood, or I thought I did.

“Do you want us to go to the mall?” the mall is just about 5 blocks away from their house.

“No, I don’t need anything ...that’s what makes it more difficult. I have everything that I want, I could eat all the foods I wanted to eat, but I am still unhappy,” she said, depression in her voice. “Now I understand why some people end their life,” she continued.

“Maybe you just miss Tio Maning,” I said.

No answer. To distract her from whatever lonely thoughts she had, I talked about my children’s performances in school. This usually makes her happy ... but not this time.

I am not sure if she was listening because she didn’t say anything. Her gaze was afar, her mind wandering. After a while she stood up and went to the stereo cabinet.

“I miss this man,” she pointed to the picture of Tio Maning prominently displayed atop the cabinet.

She forgot Tio Maning’s name again. Mr Alzheimer’s visits are getting frequent.

I felt sad. I am slowly losing a dear friend to the visitor.

Yes, Mommy is not just a mother- in- law, she was a friend.

- I remember -

It was during our 1981 Christmas reunion in Monumento.

I was sitting in my favourite corner in the veranda, looking at my children playing when mommy came and sat beside me.

“You can get over it ... the loneliness,” she said.
I could not look at her nor answer so I just nodded. Then she patted my shoulder and went back to her kitchen. Only then did I allow my tears to fall.

My husband left for Saudi Arabia November 1981, barely a month to that day.

Nothing much was said but a mountain of understanding was created. One simple sentence and a pat on the shoulder told me she understood.

Yes, Mommy knows how I feel; Mommy understood loneliness.

- My Father in-law -

My father-in-law, Bienvenido Rosal Zaldivar, was a Captain of the Philippine Constabulary.

As a military man, he was always sent to missions and assignments. And on many of these times, he would bring along Mommy with him.

I remember her stories about their stay in La Union, about how she decorated their drab quarters with curtains, about their duty free shopping, about their city walks in Baguio...Mommy must have loved being with his man on these missions.

However, when the children came, many times she has to be left behind with her relatives in Caloocan. In one of those times, the one she must have dreaded the most, happened.

Ben, my husband, said the only scene he recalled of that time was seeing Tia Feling holding a pitcher of water while comforting Mommy. Mommy was leaning on the wall with her hands on the dining table and she was crying.

Ben was just 3 yrs old then, he remembered nothing more. If he was older, he would have known that he is already an orphan; Mommy was crying because she just received the news that her 32 yrs old husband was killed in an ambushed in Barrio Buboy, Nagcarlan, Laguna. The ambushed was staged by the HUKs, a rebel group, remnant of the former guerrillas fighting against the Japanese.

Yes mommy understood loneliness. She suffered not only the loneliness of separation but also the almost unbearable pain of losing a husband.

Mommy became a widow at the very young age of 30.

- Single Mom -

Because her husband died in line of duty, and because she was well qualified to work in an office, the government offered Mommy a position in Camp Aguinaldo's computer department.

Left with four little children to feed, Mommy was left with no option; she accepted the job and sought the help of her siblings for the care of her children.

Typical of many Filipino families then, Mommy’s siblings helped her reconstruct her life;

Edna and Ben at the back, Linda and Eddie in front

Tia Feling and Tio Ciano took care of 5 yrs. old Edna, Tio Itong and Tia Sioning took care of 2 yrs. old Eddie, and Mama Rita, another aunt, took care of the youngest, 9 months old Linda.

Mommy, now left with just one child, Ben, to take care of, slowly recovered.

- 2nd Marriage -

Seven years after the death of my father-in-law and while working as a panel board wire programmer in Camp Aguinaldo, Mommy met Manuel Brazal, an intelligent bachelor from Burgos, Pangasinan. Tio Maning works in the computer department of Camp Aguinaldo too.

From this union, they begot three beautiful daughters, Winnie, Agnes, and Jannel.

Jannel

Agnes on the left and Winnie on the right

Tio Maning is a good husband; he took care of Mommy well, especially when Mommy could not tend to herself anymore and even when he himself, was sick with prostate cancer.






- Mommy's earlier Life -

Mommy graduated salutatorian in High school and earned her teaching degree at the National University.

Ben said mommy must have gotten her brain from his grandfather, Vicente Vicencio Malapitan of Caloocan city, who was known in the neighbourhood as a mathematician.

Her life after her graduation from college is quite hazy. Nobody from the children knows except that she did some teaching job in far away Masbate, a province in the Visayas.

I think it was in Masbate that she met her first husband, my father-in-law, I am not sure though, she never shared this part of her life with us.

But her life as a kid, she shared with us.

   - I remember -

I was then mending the hemline of my daughter Sheila’s uniform. Mommy took a peek of what I was doing and said;

“When Feling, Osang, and I were in our teens, we made embroideries on children clothes for a high end store. They would bring these clothes in our place and pick them up when we are finished.”

“They said I was the best embroiderer because my stitches were small and neat ... I even got an award for that. We earned quite a sum during the depression because of this work,” she paused, took a glance in my direction then continued.

"I knew the trick on how to do stitches that looks like a machine stitch.”

I smiled to myself. Mommy never corrects someone directly. She can see my stitches were amateurish but she did not want to hurt my feelings. It is her way of asking me if I needed help with my stitches.

. - Mommy's Passion -

Mommy and I had the same passion, sewing and gardening. The only difference is: she sews neatly and cultivates flowers, I sew haphazardly and grow vegetables.

Red bouganvilla

She loved Bougainvilleas. How her eyes lights up when she sees her Bougainvilla's profuse with flowers.

White bouganvilla

And she loved Gumamela’s too, particularly the single petal(s) Gumamela’s. I do remember now the reason why she prefer the single petal; she said " it is the real gumamela, the other new breeds does not look gumamela anymore."

The double petal gumamela

The single petal gumamel

Her flowers grew abundantly and beautifully. Anyone who passes her house could not resist looking and commenting on her garden.

- Mommy Getting Old -

When the task of a yard garden put a toil on her back, she turned to dish gardening, a much smaller medium.

On a dish pot, she would construct a small house and a river with a bridge, all made of sticks. There would be birds made of colored clays too; these birds are smaller versions of real birds because she would fashioned them with an open encyclopedia beside her.

- Mommy's Battle with Alzheimer -

Later on when Mr. Alzheimer’s visit became more frequent; even the dish gardening has to go. We would often catch her just sitting on her garden chairs, looking at her garden with eyes that seem to look farther than her flowers.

Mommy’s hold on reality is weakening ... and she knew it.

“Your Tio Ano sent me magazines and books about aging and taking care of oneself. I am reading them now. It says that if you read and keep yourself busy, it will halt the onset of Alzheimer’s. It is good that I never stopped reading, my mind is still alert.”

But even when she said this, I could sense some doubt on her voice. She knew Mr. Alzheimer is just around the corner: all her siblings got it.

Sometimes I would ‘stimulate’ her memory.
“Mommy, who is the youngest among you siblings? is it Tio Ado or Tio Itong?”

This simple question would keep her thinking and when she got the right answer from the deepest recesses of her brain, a triumphant smile would form on her lips.

“Oh no... It’s Ano. Yes, our youngest is my brother Ano.”

This time she won. But later on, she would find the answers buried in quicksand, the more she thought about them, the more they burrow deeper.

It took so much effort for her to dig the answers that it is almost painful to watch her puzzled expression. I forego the exercise.

Books, conversations, outside stimulation, they all cannot do anything to drive Mr. Alzheimer away. I sometimes wished there is a toothbrush that could brush away the plaques that by then has coated her memories.

   - I remember -

“Oh, this is a beautiful place, how come you did not bring me here before?”

“Mommy, we came here last Christmas. We bought your pretty white doily here, the one on your side table now, remember?” We answered, trying in vain to refresh her memory.

“We did?” then she would be silent. Mommy is frustrated, she is between knowing and not knowing, powerless, locked up behind the bars that Mr. Alzheimer constructed in her brain.

Later on she would ask the same question again, and then ... again, and then ... again. And we would answer her with the same answer again and ...again and ... again.

Frustrating, yes, but we are witness to her painstaking effort not to forget. She would often memorize the names of her siblings, hoping against hope that she would not forget.

Mr. Alzheimer, however, is a much stronger opponent; there is no stopping his onslaught on Mommy’s brain.

   - In the Beginning -

The brothers, they go first.

“Feling is my sister and so is Osang, but my brothers ... what are the names of my brothers again? I forgot their names.”

Later on the sisters too, have to go.

“What is the name of my sister again?”

Then all the relatives disappeared.

“It is lonely not to have relatives ... do you have relatives?” she one day asked Ben.

“Mommy, I am your son and you have other children besides me, you should not be lonely; besides, you have plenty of relatives in Caloocan,” Ben replied.

"I have?" and a smile would form on her lips.

It is painful to see her grasp on reality slowly slipping away. It is like seeing someone falling off the cliff, desperately hanging on to a small vine of reality .



   - Losing the Battle -

We did everything to shoo Mr. Alzheimer away but he would not let go; he won the battle.

Yes. Mr. Alzheimer won but only on Mommy's brain, not on the memories of her children and those whose live's she had somehow touched.

   - Mommy's Children -

Edna married Dom Hular of Bicol and has three kids (Michelle, Marie, and Michael ) and 5 grandchildren ( Annie, Gayle, Paul, Nicko, and Andrea )

Ben married Neng Mano (this author) of Davao City and has 3kids (Dondon, Sheila, and Reanne ), and 3 grandchildren (Moshi, shotika, and Gail).

Eddie married Baby de Vera of Bulacan and has 3 kids too (Yen-yen, Ron-ron, and Jing-jing), and 4 grandchildren (Joelle, Alex, Che-che, and Louise ).

Linda married Ted Ouano of Mandaue and has 3 kids also ( Lollipop, Alfie, and Jonkie), and 8
grandchildren (Mikey, Mico, Micca, ...,).

Winnie married Mar Buendia of Manila and has a son Justin and daughter Janet.

Agnes is married to Emmanuel de Guzman of Quezon city and has a son, Najel.

Jannel

For pictures of the smaller branches of the tree ( Mommy's grandchildren and great grandchildren) pls go to www. ( still in process )

From the author;

Mr. Alzheimer has not found me yet but he may just be lurking round the corner. I want to preserve all that I remember before he comes knocking on my door.

I would like my grandchildren to meet their forebears, the people that though they can never meet, are part of their being. I want them to know their roots, their history.

But I am getting old. I may not be around anymore or my memory may not be around anymore when my grandchildren are ready to listen to my stories.

I will tell them the story of their grandmother now, while I still can.

THE WAITING

2010-05-06T17:00:00.000-07:00

The party has just began.
In one corner, two men were heard talking.
Their conversation goes like this;

"Sometimes helping somebody is not wise."

"How is that so?"

"Well, I once gave a 500 thou loan to a friend, now we are friends no more. No matter how many times I asked him to pay, he won’t budge."

"Let me see, did you ask him to sign a loan contract?"

"Yes, but it is not notarized, we being friends, uhm...before."

"Do you have witnesses to the transaction?"

"Yes, a mutual friend."

"Sue him then."

"I don’t know, seems like a hassle."

"Reason why crooks abound, they always get away free."

"You are right, I must do my duty, but then...I do not know how to go about it, I Know no lawyer."

"Your luck, I am a lawyer."

"Oh you think I can get my money back?"

"You have a strong case; you have a signed contract and a witness."

"But how much would it cost to hire you? they said every time your lawyer attends the hearing, your wallet goes with him."

"Ah, they mean the appearance fee, yes, and aside from that, you need to pay an acceptance fee, but we can ask the court to impose actual and moral damages, the crook must refund your litigation expenses."

"So I will get my money back?"

"Of course, the law of the land must prevail."

.........THREE YEARS AFTER

"Attorney, you said we will win and I can get my money back, how come the decision is not in our favour?"

"Yes, I cannot believe it either; there is miscarriage of justice here. Just because your witness refused to testify and the contract was inconsistent with your testimony does not mean he may not pay. A loan is a loan and must be paid back. Don’t worry, we will make an appeal. This time I will make sure the case will land to the sala of an honest and fair judge."

"Ok Attorney, I trust you."

........ANOTHER THREE YEARS LATER

"Attorney, it’s been yrs now since our appeal, how come we do not have a decision yet?"

"Cases like this usually take years to decide. We are now on the 3RD yr so I believe we will be getting the decision anytime soon."

"Ok Attorney, you have my trust."

........ON THE 7TH YEAR

The rites has just ended.
A group of men were heard talking.
Their conversation goes like this;

"We will surely miss our friend."

"Yes, we will. Was it his heart?"

"Yes, his wife said the attack came right after he came home from his attorney’s office, must be the 35 degrees heat."

"Yes, it must be the heat, it's terrible, never had it this high before."

"Wait ...that is his attorney leaving. You have to excuse me guys, I need to talk to him, I have this friend who owes me money and would not pay, maybe he can help me."

And the story begins again...

MY TWO LETTERS

2010-05-06T16:59:00.000-07:00

During the U.S. recession, my niece Lyn wrote me a letter. Lyn is into Real Estate, one of the hardest hit by the recession.

She said, if things don’t change for the better, she might lose her home.

Losing her home is just one of her problems. Lyn felt she is losing control. Her children, now on their teenage years, don’t listen to her anymore.

Overwhelmed by problems, she now thinks of herself as a failure, both as a businessman and as a parent.

I replied with some advice. Thinking that my own children might be having the same problem when we are gone, I wrote them a letter too. Let me share them with you, the two letters.

My letter to Lyn:

Dear Lyn,

I am sad with what is happening to you. You may be in trouble but never rate yourself a failure; you are a success in your own right.

You worry about foreclosure, so be it. You and your family will still live.

The air in which we live is forever free and is not confined to your house. There will always be houses for sale. A time will come when you can buy another one.

You may be having problems with your children, but all of us went thru that, so bear the pain and the worries, it is part and parcel of parenthood.

You think you are a failure as a mother, I think otherwise. You provided for their food, clothing, shelter and, education, in short, their wellbeing. You can only provide these much if you love them, so what more can a mother give?

But maybe just maybe, that in your quest for financial stability you forgot the importance of togetherness, of sharing, of laughter

We often laugh with our kids when they were small: do you still laugh with your children now? Sometimes, when children starts to "grow up",the laughter starts to fade.

Share with your children your laughter and your tears.

When you come home from a client’s tripping, do you share with them the joy of closing a deal or the pain of losing the sale?

How about your exasperation with the idiosyncrasies of your clients?, the booboos that you committed?, and the funny things that happened during the sale? Even just for laughs, share it with them.

If you share your life with your kids, they will share their lives with you too.

And remember, life is a series of hurdles; you have to jump over them. But each jump you make will be your triumph.

But before you jump, kneel down and thank God for all the blessings that you have; they are aplenty.

Auntie Neng,

My letter to my children:

Dear Child,

I am sharing with you the letter I sent your cousin Lyn.

I hope my advice to her now would still apply if and when your kids are all grown up, and you will find yourself in the same predicament as Lyn is now. Dad and I might not be around by then.

Always remember, Life is a series of obstacles, everyone has to run and jump the hurdles. Along the way some would trip and fall. If you do, no matter how painful it is: you have to get up, run again, and do your share to the evolution of life.

Oh, and don’t forget, extend a helping hand to those who trip and fall. It doesn’t matter if you don’t get to the finish line first: there is no finish line. Life’s relay has no ending. What matters most is, you finish your run.

Love,
Mom

THE BEAUTY OF THE CURTAIN

2010-05-06T16:58:00.000-07:00

Wait !
Before you read,
Poems they said must have
Proper meters and rhymes
This that I called my poem has none

I just wanted you to know
That once upon my lowest time
The following was
What went on my mind

...............The Night I Saw Our Curtain.............

...............Last night
...............I was alone in my room
...............Staring at the window curtain
...............Dancing with the gentle wind

...............The design were flowers and greens
...............The flowers, big and red
...............The leaves, vibrant and green
...............The beauty of the curtain

...............Then I said to myself;

...............Surely, I am not a flower in this world
...............But am I a leaf? Or am I
...............Just one of the tiny specks
...............That were scattered on it?

...............What use are the tiny specks
...............When the leaves that are green
...............And the flowers that are red
...............Suffice to bring beauty to the curtain?

...............Someone up there answered;

...............You could be the flower or the leaf
...............Or just one of the tiny specks
...............That were scattered on it
...............For me it does not matter

...............Just as the flowers and the greens
...............The tiny specks are in my curtain
...............They are all my joy
...............The beauty of my curtain

...............And I said, "Thank you my LORD"

PARENTS ARE not 'SUPERMAN'

2010-05-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

My friend and I always talk about ageing, the fun and the pain of it. When I wrote ‘Life is a relay’, I immediately sent him a copy.

He wrote me back and below are excerpts from his reply;

" My dear Neneng,

Your essay is timely because I've precisely been discussing the subject with my children, although in a different context.

We've become one big happy happy family and very supportive of each other especially in sustaining the medicines and care for their mother. The trouble is that in the process I could not see any sign on the part of my children that they could see themselves taking care of their parents eventually. I get the feeling they think Dad is a superman incessantly doing all the things he has been doing for years...........

'For wife and me, this is about the end of the "relay”. We can't run anymore. The baton is on the table now. The children have to take over so that we can enjoy the rest of our lives. "

Sounds familiar?

Almost all children see their parents as Superman. Superman does not need help even if he is 80.

Most parents wanted their children to “feel” their needs. Unless your child is psychic or have telepathic abilities, they will never see Superman using a cane or a wheel chair. Superman needs to tell.

But Oh ....I can relate with you. Sometimes, telling is hard to do. We Seniors got pride too, you know.

I wrote him back;

"You have prepared your children to carry on the run, by all means, now that you cannot run anymore, pass the baton and sit in the bleacher: watch your generation run."

"Don't worry, it will be a nice life, sitting in the bleacher, cheering and clapping for your runners, and best of all? eating popcorns and drinking soda that your runners paid for."

"Enjoy your reward. As you always said ... Its Harvest time."

THE SECRET - a true story

2010-05-06T16:00:00.000-07:00

We were at the lobby of a hotel, waiting for our driver when my friend Babes suddenly said;

“I cannot attend next month’s meeting. We will have a family reunion.”

“A family reunion at this time of the year? Why not on Christmas?” I asked.

“My mother is very sick, we are afraid she may not last long, we want everyone of the family, down to the great grandchildren to see her and give their final respect. Christmas might be too late,” she answered.

“How is your father taking it? They have been together for so many years, you know,” I asked.

“He is prepared. I am glad I made the move for them couple to patch up their hurts.”

“What do you mean you made the move?”

“Well, when we were growing up, I never find anything unusual on the relationship of my Mom and Dad. I thought it was just their character. But when I got married and we had these reunions, I noticed that every time we group together, my mother would not be around. She would always be somewhere in the house. Later on, it became apparent to me that my mother would not want to group with us: only if my father is around. Then it came into my mind that I knew very little about my parents.”

“And so one day, when we were alone in the house, I asked my mother to tell me about her childhood, about her parents and how she met my Dad. I also asked her the reason why she would not want to join us if my father is in the group.”

I got curious.

“Did she tell you?” I asked.

“Yes, for a while I thought she would not, but she did.”

------------The Mother’s story--------------------

I was born in a very remote place, on a rocky Island that is 2 days travel from the mainland. Except for occasional explorer’s, we were alone on that island; Just my father, my mother and me.

We always have food. My father knew the island. He can catch fish and he knew where plants would grow.

When visitors, like the missionaries came, they would leave a sack of rice and we would have rice for months. But Clothes we have none. I never had a dress until I was about 6 yrs old, not until the missionaries came and gave me a dress.

The missionaries’ visits were seldom and far between, but I always jumped with joy whenever I see their motorized boats coming.

In my young age, they are the people.

When I was 15, your father came into my life. He was a soldier and his group was assigned to check the island.

Before they leave the Island, he asked my mother and father if he can bring me home to the mainland and marry me. My mother and father thought about it the whole night and in the morning they gave their blessings.

Your father was a salaried man, for them, that was enough. Their beloved daughter will not grow hungry.

The day I left with your father was the last time I saw my parents. I never saw them again. I never knew it at that time.

I had a hard time adjusting to my new life and many days, I would be very very lonely. How I longed to go back to the Island and see my parents again. Many nights I cried.

On the 2nd year, your eldest brother was born and this occupied me and made me content. Then the next year another baby came and then another the following year.

Little by little I stopped longing for the Island and for my parents.

Then, just as I was beginning to be happy, your father met a woman on one of his assignments and he left us; he did not come home, not even to say goodbye. I felt abandoned and forgotten.

I have 3 kids to feed. I do not know how and where to get food to feed my children. Many days we went hungry. I would often go to the river and cry to God for help, to once again send the missionaries.

And then one day, quite suddenly, I remember my father and his ways; I re-learned how to source for edible plants and to trapped seafoods with stones.

After a year your father came back, he asked for forgiveness and lived with us again. I thought I had forgiven him; but then, as the days went by, I realized, only my heart had forgiven him; my mind would always go back to the thought that he left us.

-------------Babes and me------------------

“So that's it, your mother felt betrayed.”

“Yes. I sympathized with my mom but past is past and it is sooo long ago. Besides, who among us has not committed a mistake?” Babes said.

“You are right. So what did you do after that?”

“I talked to my father.”

------------The Father’s story----------------

Yes, I admit. I went astray. That was very bad of me. It never came into my mind that they will go hungry. I don’t know, I must be out of my mind at that time.

I asked forgiveness from God and from your mom. God must have forgiven me because He gave me back my family, but your mother has not completely forgiven me. My love for her has come back but her love for me is gone.

It’s been years now and I tried to make amends for my mistakes, but she has not forgotten.

It’s ok, I made a very big mistake, she suffered so much, I must suffer a little.

---------Going back to Babes and me-------

“Wow ... What a love story. I don't know if your mother's love for your father is greater because she took him back or your father's because he endured her treatment for such a long time, so what happened next?”

“I talked to my mother again, and asked forgiveness for my father. When I told her what my father told me, I could see a little smile on her face. From then on, I could sense some changed on my mother, not only towards my father, but towards us children too.”

"That's good," I said, "but what made your grandparents stay in the Island, how did they end up in that so far away and barren place in the first place? did you ask?," I said.

Silence, then Babes stood up and fixed her makeup.

“Yes but it is a very long story, we do not have time; the driver could be on his way now,” she said.

"Let's meet and finish the story tonight, dinner's on me, Ok?"

"Ok," she said. "I'll be at the lobby at 7."

From the author;

It's been years now since my friend shared to me her parent's story. But I didn't forget, the story stayed in my mind.

No matter how unbelievable it is, the story is true. The Island, the missionaries, the secret, they are all true.

Someday am going to write the reasons why her grandparents were on that uninhabited island. It is equally unbelievable.

KIDNAPPED- based on a true story

2010-05-06T15:54:00.000-07:00

My story, though fiction, is based partly on a true story that happened many long years ago.

46 years ago, a 15 yr old senior high school student of an exclusive Catholic girls school in Quezon City, Philippines, was kidnapped while she was doing her lessons at home. She came from a very rich family.

It was so sensational that for weeks, the newspapers carried it as their headline news.

The nuns and the students of the College incessantly prayed for her safety everyday and they begged the people to pray for her too. Many responded, I was one, I prayed for her safety too.

I remember thinking how hard and traumatic must it be to be in her shoes. We are almost of the same age, she was 15 and I was 14, I could almost feel her fear.

Her eventual rescue after spending almost 3 months in a dugout, was almost entirely fortuitous; the police raided the house of the mastermind of a counterfeit ring and in the process found the girl in the dugout, a dugout that was hidden under a pigpen.

This fortuitous event which I credited to God's intervention put "if's" on my mind. What if the men were killed before they can show where they held the girl, would she be found? and I created a scenario that little by little became a story on my mind.

I never forgot that story of;

---------- The Kidnapped girl -------------

Many years ago, the daughter of a very rich man was kidnapped by a syndicate, a syndicate that is not only engaged on kidnapping for ransom, but in other crimes as well.

While negotiating for the ransom money, the kidnappers hid the girl in their hideout, an underground cave. This underground cave however, does not only serve as a hideaway for their kidnap victims but is also a printing press.

One day, the police raided this hideout because of a tip that a group prints fake dollars here. And so just like in the movies, there was fighting and gunfire. And just like in the movies too, all the members of the kidnap gang lay dead, including the mastermind.

But the girl was never found.

The girl was kept in a wooden cage in a chamber in the remotest part of the cave and entrance to this chamber was blocked with a big stone.

When she heard the fighting and the gunfire, she was so frightened, she just coiled in her cage.

And so the girl stayed in the cage for many more days even if her captors were dead.
Food was no problem, her captors left food good for 30 days on her cage.

One day an earthquake jostled the stone door to her chamber and she saw a little light. The wooden planks of her cage are now rotten and could easily be pushed but still the girl was too frightened to leave her cage and follow the light. She just waited and waited in her cage.

Then one day a rat, lured by the smell of food entered her cage; she was so frightened that she tore out her prison walls and run out. Then she sat down and waited for the rat to leave.

How she wanted for the rat to leave her cage. But the rat would not leave, there was plenty of food.

For many days, she waited and waited. She wanted to return to her cage but she was very afraid of the rat, until one day, hunger within her, she decided to follow the light. The light lead her to the outside world again.

The girl that came out of the cave was thin, filthy, and insane. Gone is the young girl's mind.

And so she wandered and wandered and came to the barrio. She is rich and her parents had offered reward for her whereabouts but no one recognized her. People saw her as a wandering mad woman. Vendors gave her food and restaurants gave her leftovers and beggars let her sleep alongside them.

And so the girl stayed alive for many more years until one day, she died.

The people of the barrio pitied the girl that they gave her a decent burial. They even made her a coffin made of plywood and because no one can afford paint, they pasted her coffin with colored pages of an old magazine.

The magazine carried her pictures and her kidnapping story but nobody noticed it. The dead girl does not have any resemblance to the rich girl in the picture. The girl in the magazine has long glossy black hair, smooth skin and laughing eyes, while the girl they pity and bury has long coarse hair and skin full of blisters and bites and her eyes are that of a mad woman, scared and mistrusting.

And so the girl was buried in an unmarked grave, for no one knows her name.

All they could get from her when she was asked her name was ‘Mommy’.

Nowadays, when people of the barrio talk about the girl, all they ever remember was " the mad woman who likes beautiful red cars ". For whenever she came across a parked red car, she would look inside the window and would never leave the car until the driver shoves her away.

No one ever knew the reason why.

JULIE'S SACRED VOW - a true story

2010-05-06T15:52:00.002-07:00

WHEN THE BELL TOLLS

The day is almost over. I am waiting for a call.

The silence of the afternoon brought me back to long ago's.
When my children were small; When the house was so noisy; when we were always busy in the kitchen; when household chores were aplenty.

How time flies.

Two rings brought me back from my reverie, I ran hurriedly and lifted the phone... true enough it was my son Dondon. I knew that he would call, today is Christmas day, December 25, 2009.

“Mom?”

“Hi Don, Merry Christmas!” I greeted him happily.

“Merry Christmas too mom,” he answered back. There was no joy in his voice, somber in fact. Not his usual jovial tone.

“What is wrong son?” I asked with a little notch in my chest.

Even if your children are married and have families of their own, and even if they live far from you, the presence of the umbilical cord will always be there. Their problem is still your problem, their joy still your joy.

“Mom, Ninong Jess is dead, he died about an hour ago.”

Silence...I could not answer right away. Jess is Pareng Dodong to us, husband of my friend Julie, almost a family.

“How’s your Ninang Julie, who is with her?”

“She is ok mom, we are here, am calling from their phone.”

I heave a sigh of relief, grateful and proud of my son and his wife Liza.

“Mom? You still there?”

“Yes, can I talk to your Ninang Julie?”

While waiting for Julie, my thoughts went back to the times when we were still neighbours; when our kids were born; when our kids started school; and when our kids married.

Yes our families grew up together. Julie and I, we went thru many happy times and we went thru sad times too.

I vividly remember this one sad day:

There was a knock on our door. It was Julie. She was crying and between sobs she said, “Mare, can I stay here for a while? I just needed to cry.” We call each other Mare because we are godparents of each other’s child.

“What happened?” I was a little nervous. I never saw Julie crying before, for me, she is as strong as steel.

“It is your Pareng Dodong,” Julie said.

Ah ... I was beginning to get the picture.

“Well then, no one is in the house except me. Cry to your heart’s content, nobody can hear you cry.”

I let her cry and she really cried buckets. I knew when to keep silent. I just waited. I knew she would tell. And after several minutes of crying, she did tell.

“Dodong could be leaving us at this very moment Mare,” she said.

“I don’t understand,” I answered back.

“This afternoon when I came home from work, my maid called my attention to so many crumpled papers in the trash can, she said ‘better read it, seems like your husband has a serious problem, he is not himself the whole day’. And so I took one paper and read it.”

“Oh Mare it hurts,” and then she cried again and then between sobs, continued.

“He wrote to a girl that he loves her; that he will leave us and they could live together."

“Did you confront him?” I asked.

“Yes of course. I told him if he ever opens the gate and made one step out, even just one step, he will lose his family and he cannot come back anymore, not even to get his clothes, so he better pack up his personal things before he goes out. And then I left for here so I could cry, I cannot let him see me cry Mare, I want him to know I am serious and I really mean it.”

And she cried buckets again. I knew Julie meant it. And then she said;

“Mare, am thinking of the children, what will happen to them? They will grow up without a father. I endured so much just so the children won’t grow up in a broken home, but this time, I just can’t swallow this anymore mare, he has to choose, between us his family, and the girl.”

Yes, I am privy to Julie's sacrifices for her children.

One day, many long years ago, she came to my house. She just came from enrolling her eldest child in grade one and she asked me to keep her child's school books for her.

“Just until the school opens, mare,” she said.

“No Problem Mare, but why leave it here and not take it home?” I inquired.

“Because Dodong does not want me to enrol the kid in a private school. He said it cost so much we cannot afford it, that I am acting rich. But Mare, all I want is a better future for my child," she paused then said, "Anyway, I'm sure God will help me.”

Julie is a very religious woman and she said it like she has a direct line to heaven and God had just given her the assurance that He will indeed ... help her with the expenses.

But True enough, God did help her out: not only with the expenses but by guiding the kids too. The children finished their courses and grew up fine.

“Hello?” I was woken up from my reminiscing by Julie’s voice.

“Mare, I am sorry, say goodbye to Pareng Dodong for me.”

“It’s ok Mare. Dodong is not in pain anymore, he died peacefully. The kids were all here and we were holding Dodong's hands up to his last breath. We all were able to say goodbye and bid him von voyage. He will be with his Maker any
moment now.”

Julie’s acceptance of the death of her beloved, somehow ease the sadness I felt.

Months later, I asked Julie on her strength and perseverance and this is what she said;

JULIE

"I got kids and besides, I wanted to fulfill the promise I made before God; to stick to my husband for better or for worse. I really consider my marriage vows before God sacred.”

My friend Julie is a strong willed woman. When temptation threatened to destroy her family, she stood her ground. Like a great warrior, she defended the preservation of her family. She never let her pride took over the battle and she won, temptation was not able to tear her family apart.

Dodong asked for forgiveness and became a lay minister in their church. Somehow his decision to stay has proven to Julie that he loves her more than he love the girl, that it was after all, just a "temptation".

ISANG PANG GISING NA TULA

2010-04-18T17:58:00.000-07:00

Part I – Ang Aming Pagdating

........(1)
Buti na lamang kami ay nakumbida
Mayamang anak nitong aking kuya
Palibhasa;y matalino, agad na umasenso
Abogadong de kampanilya na tawag sa kanya

........(2)
Masuerte nga itong aking pamangkin
Mabait,Mestisa at anak ng isang may kaya
Ang napangasawa niya
Sa isang subdivision sa Maynila sila nakatira

........(3)
Sa airport kami ay sinundo
Ng kotseng ‘mercedes’ ang tawag nila
Driver na de uniporme ay nag-iisa
Busy daw ang mga amo niya

........(4)
Habang daan kami ay linga ng Linga
Palibhasa’y ngayon lamang napunta
Di ko akalaing ganito pala
Kayganda ng Maynila

........5)
Sa Subdibisyon kami ay pumasok na
Kay lalake ng mga bahay nila
Ngunit kalyeng dinaanan walang taong nakita
Nakakulong ba sila sa mga palasyo nila?

........(6)
Pagkatapos ng yakapan at ng kumustahan
Kami ay dinala sa kuartong pagpapahingahan
Walang masabe sa ganda at de aircon pa
Isang lingo daw kaming magbubuhay reyna

........(7)
Ako ay nagpapasalamat at itong pamangkin
Kahit iba na ang mundo, ugali ay di nagbago
Sa probinsiya panay pa rin ang padala
Imported na de lata at kung ano ano pa

........(8)
Kinabukasan, manugang ay nakipagkuentuhan
‘Inang, Tiyang, akoy may ipapakita’
Binuksan ang cabinet na punong puno ng damit
‘Lahat ng ito’y dadalhin ninyo’

........(9)
‘Magaganda pa at bago pa ang mga ito’
‘ngunit ayaw ng isuot ng apo ninyo’
Sinilid sa kahon lahat ng pabaon
Meron pang pera, sabon, Lotion at kung ano ano pa

........(10)
Tunay nga kami’y nagging Masaya
Bakasyun namin dito sa Maynila
Sagana sa pagkain, damit, pasyal, at iba-iba pa
Tunay ngang mabait ang mag-asawa

II. Sa Aming Pag-uwi

........(11)
Hatid ng kotse sa pier kami ay papunta na
Paglabas ng subdibisyon, driver ay nagsalita
‘shortcut po itong ating dadaanan
Pagkat traffic ay ating iiwasan’

........(12)
Sa maliit na lansangan kami’y napadaan
Aking nakita, mga batang naghahagikhikan
Nasaan ang mga magulang, saan sila nakatira?
Bakit sila nakayapak at mga nakahubad pa>

........(13)
Umaambon na at kay liliit pa nila
Baka masagasaan, wala bang nag-aalala?
Sa probinsiya, mga batang gala
Inu-usisa at hinahatid sa mga bahay nila

........(14)
Sa squatters area daw sila nakatira
Nagtitinda raw ng kangkong mga magulang nila
Akoy’s napatingin sa kankungan na tinuro niya
At nakita ko sila man na magulang, saplot ay gutay gutay na

........(15)
Papanong makabile ng damit para sa musmos na anak
Kung sila na magulang
Basahan ang panangalang
Sa tindi ng araw at buhos ng ulan?

........(16)
Muling naisip mga damit na dala-dala
Sa cabinet nakatago, matagal napala
Ano’t kailangang sa kamag-anak pa mapunta
Kung itong kapitbahay ay nakahubad na?

........(17)
Kotseng sinasakyan agad pinapara
Sa driver ay nakipagtalo pa
‘Huwag po, huwag po’ ang sabe niya
Kung magbigay kayo ay pa isa-isa’

........(18)
‘Kung dadamihan ninyo ay ipagbibile nila
Sa used clothing store lamang itoy’y mapupunta
At huwag kayong lalapit na walang kasama
Baka kayo maholdap o manakawan pa’

........(19)
Binigyan ng t-shirt, damit at iba pa
Tinangap ng nakangiti
Ngunit halatang nahihiya
Maraming salamat po! ang sabe nila

........(20)

Ang bigat sa puso nitong aking nakita
Bagama’t silang mga squatters ay masasaya
Ngunit alam ko, Pagdating ko ng probinsiya
Masayang Bakasyun lang ang aking maaalala