happy to post here this vid i got from YouTube again. it's from the animation Aladdin. this was shown in the early 90's and i really, really liked this song. i think i watched this movie thrice in one week. and on three different cinemas. like... really! it's true.
discovered vastly different horizons since then and explored worlds so different from the one i knew. learned to appreciate various perspectives, multi-cultural environments, and God's immense love through a number of diverse yet unique individuals.
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memory. Show all posts
November 13, 2012
Back to my Childhood Days
did you have a favorite book when you were a child? i remember when i was young, my parents bought a readers' digest collection entitled World's Best Fairy Tales. i really loved that book. see here below.
it's super thick. it had all these amazing stories (very grimm brothers and hans christian andersenish) that i really loved, like The Little Mermaid, The Bremen Town Musician, Doctor Know-it-All, The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Rapunzel, The Adventures of Sinbad, among others. most of the stories were several pages (about 10-20 pages) except for the Sinbad adventures which was really, really long. and there were illustrations so that kids like me could somehow picture the characters in the stories (hahaha, i love the picture for The Emperor's New Clothes). well, we had no disney films back then, or dreamworks, so you see, our appreciation of the fairy tales and magical stories depends on how well we let our imagination run wild.
so i was able to read the original versions of famous children's stories pretty early and therefore i was quite confused and disappointed when the walt disney and other films' versions didn't quite add up.... i mean, see: the little mermaid ending was different, i didn't read about aliens in chicken little's town, rapunzel's hair was not really tangled, the snow queen original version was simpler, jack went up the beanstalk to get the goose that lays the golden eggs in a castle manned by an ogre (like shrek! but i haven't read about shrek yet). and it was only later (much, much later in old age) that i was able to accept that that's the way things are. stories change in the re-telling. and commercial value soars if you give people happy endings. i only hope kids learn the moral lessons that they're supposed to get with the original stories.
December 13, 2010
On Eagle's Wings
Going through the collection of articles that i have kept with me throught the years, once again i came across this one favorite of mine. allow me to share it with you. i think this has been circulated in the email.
Wings of an Eagle
Did you know that an eagle knows when a storm is approaching long before it breaks? The eagle will fly to some high spot and wait for the winds to come. When the storm hits, it sets its wings so that the wind will pick it up and lift it above the storm. While the storm rages below, the eagle is soaring above it.
The eagle does not escape the storm. It simply uses the storm to lift it
higher. It rises on the winds that bring the storm. When the storms of life
come upon us - and all of us will experience them - we can rise above them by setting our minds and our belief toward God. The storms do not have to over come us. We can allow God's power to lift us above them. God enables us to ride the winds of the storm that bring sickness, tragedy, failure and disappointment in our lives. We can soar above the storm. Remember, it is not the burdens of life that weigh us down, it is how we handle them.
The Bible says, "Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles." Isaiah 40:31
Oh dear Lord, be the wind beneath my wings and allow me to soar high.
October 30, 2009
Closing Cycles
This is a nice read. lifted it from an email i got from a friend. posting it here so i can share with those who have the time.
Closing Cycles
by Paulo Coelho
One always has to know when a stage comes to an end. If we insist on staying longer than the necessary time, we lose the happiness and the meaning of the other stages we have to go through. Closing cycles, shutting doors, ending chapters - whatever name we give it, what matters is to leave in the past the moments of life that have finished.
Did you lose your job? Has a loving relationship come to an end? Did you leave your parents' house? Gone to live abroad? Has a long-lasting friendship ended all of a sudden? You can spend a long time wondering why this has happened. You can tell yourself you won't take another step until you find out why certain things that were so important and so solid in your life have turned into dust, just like that. But such an attitude will be awfully stressing for everyone involved: your parents, your husband or wife, your friends, your children, your sister, everyone will be finishing chapters, turning over new leaves, getting on with life, and they will all feel bad seeing you at a standstill.
None of us can be in the present and the past at the same time, not even when we try to understand the things that happen to us. What has passed will not return: we cannot forever be children, late adolescents, sons that feel guilt or rancor towards our parents, lovers who day and night relive an affair with someone who has gone away and has not the least intention of coming back. Things pass, and the best we can do is to let them really go away.
That is why it is so important (however painful it may be!) to destroy souvenirs, move, give lots of things away to orphanages, sell or donate the books you have at home. Everything in this visible world is a manifestation of the invisible world, of what is going on in our hearts - and getting rid of certain memories also means making some room for other memories to take their place. Let things go. Release them. Detach yourself from them. Nobody plays this life with marked cards, so sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Do not expect anything in return, do not expect your efforts to be appreciated, your genius to be discovered, your love to be understood. Stop turning on your emotional television to watch the same program over and over again, the one that shows how much you suffered from a certain loss: that is only poisoning you, nothing else.
Nothing is more dangerous than not accepting love relationships that are broken off, work that is promised but there is no starting date, decisions that are always put off waiting for the "ideal moment." Before a new chapter is begun, the old one has to be finished: tell yourself that what has passed will never come back. Remember that there was a time when you could live without that thing or that person - nothing is irreplaceable, a habit is not a need. This may sound so obvious, it may even be difficult, but it is very important.
Closing cycles. Not because of pride, incapacity or arrogance, but simply because that no longer fits your life. Shut the door, change the record, clean the house, shake off the dust. Stop being who you were, and change into who you are.
November 23, 2008
Staying Connected
Whoever said “Long distance relationships don’t work” is oh so wrong. Well, I mean this for the ‘friends and family keep in touch’ kind.
Our world has been practically divided into longitudinal zones of time. Thus standard time differences are observed per zone and this varies by geographical location. Space ..they’re only dimensional boundaries to be traversed between two person-points. Such barriers are getting quite infinitesimally smaller what with the advent of technology. As participant Benjie Garcia of Wanbol Web Media mentioned in a seminar I once attended on Making Money on ebay, “Internet has made the world smaller.” It’s so easy to keep in touch.. if you have the time, and the heart, and the inclination. But really, space and time can’t separate kindred souls. Not when they’ve shared so many memorable moments together: funny ones, tearful ones, wrathful ones, peaceful ones – oh so many colorful pictures in my memory book. Yesterday a good friend of mine,J, and I relived them again.
Warm, multi-colored memories... there’s plenty more hidden intact in the crevices of my mind. Ready to be served hot over a pleasant talk and a tugging walk down memory lane. I’ll play host next time. I think perhaps some cinnamony treats or butterscotch or plain pound cake…and hot chocolate.. wow! Coffee, anyone?
May 18, 2007
HaloHalo Thoughts
I got to work yesterday just in time to see my colleagues going out for lunch. So I placed my things in the lab and headed towards the canteen, too.
We were having a relatively light moment when suddenly 5 orders of halohalo were set before us. Halohalo is a favorite of mine, a Filipino dessert made up of an interesting mix of sweetened ingredients like ube halaya, leche flan, sago, sweetened banana, kamote, monggo, kaong, nata de coco, milk and more. It is gastronomically tantalising during the hot months of summer. There were 5 who ordered beforehand. Seeing that I'd be left without one, I also signaled for an order of the same. That left Malou halohalo-less so she ordered one, too. Somebody exclaimed, "Yehey, Halohalo Festival ito." What's there for us to celebrate? That got each one of us into wondering what could it be. There must be a reason. Then suddenly I remembered something. I softly whispered to my seatmate, "I know. I remember today is someone's birthday."
"Huh? Who?", asked my sis Meanne. To which I answered, "Si XXXX."
"Aaah! Sigh. okay, I'll celebrate with you."
Donna, who was seated beside Meanne asked "Who?" Then everyone wanted to be in on it. We got into one of those charades type of guessing game. Boy, it was fun! Finally, everyone got it. His name starts with the letter of my favorite number. Hehe...
They say time heals all wounds. I say, love and acceptance healed mine. With the passage of time, yes, but most especially due to God's all-loving grace.
October 10, 2006
Home for the Fiesta
As I have mentioned in my previous posts, I went home to Iligan for the weekend. It’s been 21 years since I last spent fiesta there. That was way back in Grade 6 then. Both my kuya and I went on to study in Manila for secondary schooling on a science scholarship. Afterwards, studies and work have kept us from visiting on a fiesta. We did not have the resources to travel around in mid-year back then. So, it was with much good fortune that AirPhil offered a peso promo fare. What usually costs around 6,500 pesos round trip was pegged at 1,900 already. Of course, I immediately seized on the opportunity, now who wouldn’t?
Despite typhoon Milenyo’s lashing the previous day, I woke up very early on Friday to get to the airport on time, anticipating that some traffic might somehow build up somewhere along the way. Surprisingly, only a handful of vehicles took to the road at this time. Thus, I was at the centennial airport by six o’clock.
After the ceremonious ID checking, x-raying and removing of shoes, at last I was inside. I turned to ask assistance about the check-in counter of my destination and I was directed to the monitor. There was no CGY in that long list so I somehow assumed checking-in has not started yet. I walked around for about 30 minutes then finally settled on a nearby seat. By seven o-clock, there was still no sign of any check-in counter being opened for the Cagayan de Oro flight. The monitor also still has not indicated CGY yet.
I then decided to approach the Supervisor counter and inquired on my flight, to which I got the brief response of “Counter 33 po”. What the ____?! There was already a long queu there. I was certain no announcement had been made, else, I’d have heard it. So, this was how it worked at Centennial Airport. Do not ever rely on the monitor or the PA system, I tell you. Ask.
By this time, there were two lines formed at Counters 33 and 34. About 5 minutes on the line, I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I turned around and discovered an old friend, Gugong, from College. He too was going to Cagayan de Oro. He was supposed to take the Thursday flight. But due to the typhoon, flights have been cancelled so he had to re-book for Friday. We talked for aw while then had to part when the line started moving. Our line at Counter 33 had to merge with Counter 34, so you can imagine what a pretty long line that was.
We had a 30-minute delay. Other than that, the flight went on without a hitch. I was met at the airport by my Mom and Dad. We immediately rushed back home as there will be several relatives coming. When we arrived, everyone had already had lunch. After talking to the guests, I proceeded to have my lunch. My Aunty Marites just waited for me to gulp down some chow and off we went to my Lolo Bebing’s. He just had a gallbladder operation the day before and was still weak. But nevertheless, was able to get up and talk to guests.
It was a good time to get together with relatives from my mother’s side. The oldies talked of years past. And I had but few snippets to join in on the reminiscing. At about which time, the boyfriend of my younger cousin, Janice, arrived and came to sit at our table. Everyone was teasing them that they have to wait up for the long line of still single Yañez gals, before they can tie the knot. Bah! I said, that might never be… There’s about 3 of us older than Janice there. Aunty Marites is ahead of the line, then Ate Ching-Ching, and then there’s me- bwahaha… It must be true, how my niece is calling me old maid. I swore, I’m gonna give her a different impression of what an old maid is like. And what a challenge that’s gonna be. Oh well, it’s just maybe a matter of shifting paradigms.
There was more singing and karaoke that night. I was left the last one standing.. or rather singing… With most of the neighbors already deep in slumber, off I went to dreamland, too.
Despite typhoon Milenyo’s lashing the previous day, I woke up very early on Friday to get to the airport on time, anticipating that some traffic might somehow build up somewhere along the way. Surprisingly, only a handful of vehicles took to the road at this time. Thus, I was at the centennial airport by six o’clock.
After the ceremonious ID checking, x-raying and removing of shoes, at last I was inside. I turned to ask assistance about the check-in counter of my destination and I was directed to the monitor. There was no CGY in that long list so I somehow assumed checking-in has not started yet. I walked around for about 30 minutes then finally settled on a nearby seat. By seven o-clock, there was still no sign of any check-in counter being opened for the Cagayan de Oro flight. The monitor also still has not indicated CGY yet.
I then decided to approach the Supervisor counter and inquired on my flight, to which I got the brief response of “Counter 33 po”. What the ____?! There was already a long queu there. I was certain no announcement had been made, else, I’d have heard it. So, this was how it worked at Centennial Airport. Do not ever rely on the monitor or the PA system, I tell you. Ask.
By this time, there were two lines formed at Counters 33 and 34. About 5 minutes on the line, I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I turned around and discovered an old friend, Gugong, from College. He too was going to Cagayan de Oro. He was supposed to take the Thursday flight. But due to the typhoon, flights have been cancelled so he had to re-book for Friday. We talked for aw while then had to part when the line started moving. Our line at Counter 33 had to merge with Counter 34, so you can imagine what a pretty long line that was.
We had a 30-minute delay. Other than that, the flight went on without a hitch. I was met at the airport by my Mom and Dad. We immediately rushed back home as there will be several relatives coming. When we arrived, everyone had already had lunch. After talking to the guests, I proceeded to have my lunch. My Aunty Marites just waited for me to gulp down some chow and off we went to my Lolo Bebing’s. He just had a gallbladder operation the day before and was still weak. But nevertheless, was able to get up and talk to guests.
It was a good time to get together with relatives from my mother’s side. The oldies talked of years past. And I had but few snippets to join in on the reminiscing. At about which time, the boyfriend of my younger cousin, Janice, arrived and came to sit at our table. Everyone was teasing them that they have to wait up for the long line of still single Yañez gals, before they can tie the knot. Bah! I said, that might never be… There’s about 3 of us older than Janice there. Aunty Marites is ahead of the line, then Ate Ching-Ching, and then there’s me- bwahaha… It must be true, how my niece is calling me old maid. I swore, I’m gonna give her a different impression of what an old maid is like. And what a challenge that’s gonna be. Oh well, it’s just maybe a matter of shifting paradigms.
There was more singing and karaoke that night. I was left the last one standing.. or rather singing… With most of the neighbors already deep in slumber, off I went to dreamland, too.
Saturday after fiesta is always a good day to go swimming. So off to Timoga we went. Timoga is a mountain spring known for its pristine waters. This cold crystal clear water is freely flowing down the mountain and pools have been built along its many facades so that people can enjoy its coolness. We went to the highest peak (16-ft deep pool). It’s quite a tiring walk up but it sure is worth the effort. The free-flowing waters are very clean. “,)
Sunday came and I had to say bye-bye once again to Saint Michael as I had to fly back to Manila and it’s back to work again on Monday.
Sunday came and I had to say bye-bye once again to Saint Michael as I had to fly back to Manila and it’s back to work again on Monday.
September 22, 2006
Remembering
Today I remember my Lolo Francis and youngest brother Tom-Tom. Today is their birthday.
My family lived with my grandparents until I was eight. So basically we kids spent our formative years with my grandparents, uncle and aunts.
I remember my grandpa vividly. We call him Lolo Francis. He would take us out whenever it was payday. We would either go to the park or go see a movie or eat at our favorite Chinese restaurant where me and my kuya(older brother) would order special halo-halo and monggo siopao while Lolo shares with us his Pancit Canton and Pan (Sliced Bread). He would take us to the Christmas Party at his office and we would enjoy the games and go home regaling everyone about the party and showing off our new toys. He was to me the best electrician I know back then (what can I say, he's my grandpa!). Mommy said she was still young when he opened the first radio shop in Iligan and that was quite a feat back then.
Lolo Francis was so full of good stories. He was funny actually. He never seemed to run out of antics whenever a situation calls for it. When my kuya took a fall from climbing the hollow block wall (which gave while he was on top) in our backyard, my parents scolded him and warned all us kids in the house not to do what he did. He was just super-adventurous. Mommy took kuya to the doctor. When they got home from the clinic, kuya was in a crutch and limping real hard. And to impress upon us the danger of having accidents, lolo walked into the room and did this skit:
Lolo: “Ayo!” (Good day!), “Ayo!”
“Naa si Ivan?” (Is Ivan Home?”)
“Kinsa nga Ivan?” (Ivan who?)
“Si Ivan nga kiang ba…” (Ivan, the cripple)
And he went limping around the house all day, saying, “Do you want to be crippled like this?” We never attempted to climb up high walls or trees without being accompanied by the oldies after that.
But, he was a disciplinarian. My mom used to tell us that, growing up in the farm, Lolo used to wake them kids as early as 4am to get an early start for the day. The eldest daughter, Auntie Madeilyn was assigned to the kitchen and Mommy was assigned to the house cleaning chores, and they would team up to do the laundry afterwards. All the chores have to be done before the sun is too high up in the sky. Lolo would not want to see them idle, and so would continuously give them things to do. He says these were for character building and discipline, something that Mommy also did with us.
My Lolo died at the age of seventy. He got lonely after Lola Susing died. He acquired many illnesses soon after. I was already studying and away in College when he died. I went home for his funeral. And I was not surprised at the number of people who came to pay their respect. He was a good soul. And he will continue to live in our memories. I sure have plenty of tales to tell my kids about my own Lolo Francis.
================================
I was still so little when Tom-Tom was born. I vaguely recall Mommy being rushed to the nearby hospital the night before. Everyone was busy preparing for Lolo’s birthday. When I woke up the next day, Daddy was already home and getting ready to go to work. I later learned that my mom gave birth early that morning.
The day went by in a blur, as everyone seems to have loads of things to do. It was late afternoon when I heard my aunts buzzing downstairs at the kitchen. Curious to see what was causing all the commotion, I peeped down just in time to see my Mom getting up the stairs with my Auntie behind her carrying a little baby. They just rested in the room, while us kids (my two brothers and cousins, too) took turns silently filing in to the room to take a wee look at the newest member of the gang. We were told not to make much sound as it will just wake the baby up. By nightfall, I saw Dad hurrying home to change so he can take us with him to visit my mom. He still did not know mom was already discharged from hospital. So just imagine his surprise when he opened the door and saw them already home.
That night was truly doubly fun for us all. Lolo Francis and Lola Susing were very happy. Daddy and Mommy were also very happy. My aunts and uncles, lolos and lolas, cousins and brothers, and even visitors joined in the merriment and gaiety upon learning of the double birthday celebration. My mom also said they named the baby after Lolo and my Papa Tomas (Daddy’s only brother). He was named Francis Thomas. And everyone began calling him Tom-Tom.
Then a bombshell was dropped on us. The next day, Tom-Tom was rushed to the hospital. Apparently my mom or Lola noticed that he was cyanotic. He was turning blue, and everyone knows it is not a good sign. The doctor explained he had a hole in his heart. He stayed for two days at the hospital and was placed in an incubator. When he came home, we were all very quiet. I remembered being told that we should not stress the baby. So we just peeked in on him and would silently leave the room.
There were two more episodes of cyanosis and he would be rushed to the hospital again. I do recall my mom crying all the time. She was very sad. I know my dad was sad, too. But since he was working, I could not see him in his melancholy. Mommy was staying at home and I sensed just how sad she was.
They were told that Tom-Tom will not be able to make it. We were living in a small town down in the south where medical facilities and staff were still not that up-to-date. And all we could do was accept that fate. In readiness for Tom-Tom’s demise, Mommy had him baptized right away. Tom-Tom’s godparents were a priest and a nun who Mommy knows from our school.
Tom-Tom died early morning on September 28, 1979. It was biesperas (eve of the town fiesta). Our patron saint in Iligan City is St. Michael, the Archangel. And because nobody wanted to dwell too long on the pain of his passing, he was buried that very afternoon. The fiesta was not a happy one that year. My Mommy was wallowing in grief and Daddy was very quiet and aloof. And we kids did not know if we could laugh and still have fun.
Every Sunday after mass (we usually attend the 9 o’clock mass), we would go directly to the cemetery and put flowers on Tom-Tom’s tomb. Mommy explained to us that Tom-Tom is already an angel and has gone to join God in heaven. All through my life I have always pictured him as a cherubim, silently watching over us… crying with us when we hurt, laughing with us in our joy, praying for us when we’ve fallen, and cheering for us in our every adventure in life.
It was sometime this year that I was talking to my mom about family stuff and all. Then she suddenly said that she remembered Tom-Tom. She said he was the handsomest of her 3 boys. She saw when he was born that, although he was darker than my two other brothers, he had the most prominent nose and the most gwapo features. I was amazed she remembered. I forwarded an email two months ago of a beautiful and touching story about how a little baby was touched and saved by the Lord. And Daddy emailed back that he suddenly remembered about Tom-Tom and said Tom-Tom would have been 27 years old already this year. Again, I was amazed he remembered.
Tom-Tom had only a week to travel this life but he has blessed us in that short span. Lolo Francis lived to a ripe old age and he has blessed us so much and touched a lot of lives around him. I am still struggling in my own life and I can see that I’ve still got a long way to travel and still have much to learn of life.
"Think of stepping on the shore and finding it heaven, of touching a hand and finding it God's, of breathing new air and finding it celestial, of waking up in glory and finding it home." - Don Wyrtzen
My family lived with my grandparents until I was eight. So basically we kids spent our formative years with my grandparents, uncle and aunts.
I remember my grandpa vividly. We call him Lolo Francis. He would take us out whenever it was payday. We would either go to the park or go see a movie or eat at our favorite Chinese restaurant where me and my kuya(older brother) would order special halo-halo and monggo siopao while Lolo shares with us his Pancit Canton and Pan (Sliced Bread). He would take us to the Christmas Party at his office and we would enjoy the games and go home regaling everyone about the party and showing off our new toys. He was to me the best electrician I know back then (what can I say, he's my grandpa!). Mommy said she was still young when he opened the first radio shop in Iligan and that was quite a feat back then.
Lolo Francis was so full of good stories. He was funny actually. He never seemed to run out of antics whenever a situation calls for it. When my kuya took a fall from climbing the hollow block wall (which gave while he was on top) in our backyard, my parents scolded him and warned all us kids in the house not to do what he did. He was just super-adventurous. Mommy took kuya to the doctor. When they got home from the clinic, kuya was in a crutch and limping real hard. And to impress upon us the danger of having accidents, lolo walked into the room and did this skit:
Lolo: “Ayo!” (Good day!), “Ayo!”
“Naa si Ivan?” (Is Ivan Home?”)
“Kinsa nga Ivan?” (Ivan who?)
“Si Ivan nga kiang ba…” (Ivan, the cripple)
And he went limping around the house all day, saying, “Do you want to be crippled like this?” We never attempted to climb up high walls or trees without being accompanied by the oldies after that.
But, he was a disciplinarian. My mom used to tell us that, growing up in the farm, Lolo used to wake them kids as early as 4am to get an early start for the day. The eldest daughter, Auntie Madeilyn was assigned to the kitchen and Mommy was assigned to the house cleaning chores, and they would team up to do the laundry afterwards. All the chores have to be done before the sun is too high up in the sky. Lolo would not want to see them idle, and so would continuously give them things to do. He says these were for character building and discipline, something that Mommy also did with us.
My Lolo died at the age of seventy. He got lonely after Lola Susing died. He acquired many illnesses soon after. I was already studying and away in College when he died. I went home for his funeral. And I was not surprised at the number of people who came to pay their respect. He was a good soul. And he will continue to live in our memories. I sure have plenty of tales to tell my kids about my own Lolo Francis.
================================
I was still so little when Tom-Tom was born. I vaguely recall Mommy being rushed to the nearby hospital the night before. Everyone was busy preparing for Lolo’s birthday. When I woke up the next day, Daddy was already home and getting ready to go to work. I later learned that my mom gave birth early that morning.
The day went by in a blur, as everyone seems to have loads of things to do. It was late afternoon when I heard my aunts buzzing downstairs at the kitchen. Curious to see what was causing all the commotion, I peeped down just in time to see my Mom getting up the stairs with my Auntie behind her carrying a little baby. They just rested in the room, while us kids (my two brothers and cousins, too) took turns silently filing in to the room to take a wee look at the newest member of the gang. We were told not to make much sound as it will just wake the baby up. By nightfall, I saw Dad hurrying home to change so he can take us with him to visit my mom. He still did not know mom was already discharged from hospital. So just imagine his surprise when he opened the door and saw them already home.
That night was truly doubly fun for us all. Lolo Francis and Lola Susing were very happy. Daddy and Mommy were also very happy. My aunts and uncles, lolos and lolas, cousins and brothers, and even visitors joined in the merriment and gaiety upon learning of the double birthday celebration. My mom also said they named the baby after Lolo and my Papa Tomas (Daddy’s only brother). He was named Francis Thomas. And everyone began calling him Tom-Tom.
Then a bombshell was dropped on us. The next day, Tom-Tom was rushed to the hospital. Apparently my mom or Lola noticed that he was cyanotic. He was turning blue, and everyone knows it is not a good sign. The doctor explained he had a hole in his heart. He stayed for two days at the hospital and was placed in an incubator. When he came home, we were all very quiet. I remembered being told that we should not stress the baby. So we just peeked in on him and would silently leave the room.
There were two more episodes of cyanosis and he would be rushed to the hospital again. I do recall my mom crying all the time. She was very sad. I know my dad was sad, too. But since he was working, I could not see him in his melancholy. Mommy was staying at home and I sensed just how sad she was.
They were told that Tom-Tom will not be able to make it. We were living in a small town down in the south where medical facilities and staff were still not that up-to-date. And all we could do was accept that fate. In readiness for Tom-Tom’s demise, Mommy had him baptized right away. Tom-Tom’s godparents were a priest and a nun who Mommy knows from our school.
Tom-Tom died early morning on September 28, 1979. It was biesperas (eve of the town fiesta). Our patron saint in Iligan City is St. Michael, the Archangel. And because nobody wanted to dwell too long on the pain of his passing, he was buried that very afternoon. The fiesta was not a happy one that year. My Mommy was wallowing in grief and Daddy was very quiet and aloof. And we kids did not know if we could laugh and still have fun.
Every Sunday after mass (we usually attend the 9 o’clock mass), we would go directly to the cemetery and put flowers on Tom-Tom’s tomb. Mommy explained to us that Tom-Tom is already an angel and has gone to join God in heaven. All through my life I have always pictured him as a cherubim, silently watching over us… crying with us when we hurt, laughing with us in our joy, praying for us when we’ve fallen, and cheering for us in our every adventure in life.
It was sometime this year that I was talking to my mom about family stuff and all. Then she suddenly said that she remembered Tom-Tom. She said he was the handsomest of her 3 boys. She saw when he was born that, although he was darker than my two other brothers, he had the most prominent nose and the most gwapo features. I was amazed she remembered. I forwarded an email two months ago of a beautiful and touching story about how a little baby was touched and saved by the Lord. And Daddy emailed back that he suddenly remembered about Tom-Tom and said Tom-Tom would have been 27 years old already this year. Again, I was amazed he remembered.
Tom-Tom had only a week to travel this life but he has blessed us in that short span. Lolo Francis lived to a ripe old age and he has blessed us so much and touched a lot of lives around him. I am still struggling in my own life and I can see that I’ve still got a long way to travel and still have much to learn of life.
"Think of stepping on the shore and finding it heaven, of touching a hand and finding it God's, of breathing new air and finding it celestial, of waking up in glory and finding it home." - Don Wyrtzen
September 11, 2006
Revelation
A Story of Friendship
Two women had shared a very special friendship for many decades. They have always taken time to know how the other is doing. They have kept in touch through the years. These days, however, their activities have been limited to meeting a few times a week to play cards.
One day, one of them looked at the other and said, "Now don't get mad at me ... I know we've been friends for a long time ... but I just can't think of your name! I've thought and thought, but I can't remember it. Please tell me what your name is."
Her friend glared at her. For at least three minutes she just stared and glared at her. Finally she said, "How soon do you need to know?"
_______________________________________
Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.—Anonymous
I love stories of friendship, especially ones that tell of strong enduring bonds. That’s why I’ve told myself time and again that I’ll never break ties with good friends.
September 07, 2006
Of Scents and Sensibilities
Funny how my sense of smell moves me. Scents always have this uncanny way of stirring up memories in my head. Today I chanced upon a wooden-carved fan that I own and which smelled of sandalwood.
Suddenly, my memories took me back to younger days.
I remember when I was a child, I used to trudge along with my maternal grandmother on her trips across the country. Lola Susing, as we fondly called her, was a viajera, a comprador. She would go to the far end of Zamboanga to buy all kinds of wares that there was to sell: clothes, shampoo, toothpaste (are you familiar with Maxam?), tsinelas, make-up, bed sheets, linen and more. I vaguely recall soaps and scents of rose and sandalwood. Zamboanga, then (and even until now I hear), was the entry port of several goods into the country- some were legit, some just smuggled in.
I guess Maxam has been replaced by some other brands now. And many more items have slowly found their way into the country this way- automobiles, motorbikes or what-have-you's..
My enterprising grandma would then do the rounds of Mindanao and the Visayan shores, peddling her wares and earning a small profit in the offing. As you can see, this aimless wanderer had a fairly early start with the travelling thingy. It's a little disconcerting to realize however that the trade and barter skills didn't quite rub off on me.
With Lola Susing, it was never the money that made her do what she did, I guess. Sure, her earnings helped augment my Lolo Francis' salary to feed a family of five...families.. ( you see, they've got grown-up kids who's got growing kids, too). Uhm, and that would be us. We grandkids would get a new blouse or new shorts or new tsinelas every now and then. But she never got rich. Not the got-millions-in-the-bank kinda rich, I mean. But we sure had a comfortable and sensible life. We grew up being taught the motto of leading a simple yet sensible life.
But in all my trips and adventures accompanying her on her jaunts, I saw her become alive when she was doing her haggling and selling. There was a certain glint in her eyes whenever she made 'the sale'. And I think it was the thrill of interacting with different people, some of them complete strangers, and then being able to convince them to buy that really made her day. She was good with people. She would even give good bargains, too. "A sensible buy, a sensible buy", she would say.
So, in celebration of grandparents day on Sunday, I write in remembrance of my granny.
Lola Susing,
she sure made life a little bit sweeter every time.
Suddenly, my memories took me back to younger days.
I remember when I was a child, I used to trudge along with my maternal grandmother on her trips across the country. Lola Susing, as we fondly called her, was a viajera, a comprador. She would go to the far end of Zamboanga to buy all kinds of wares that there was to sell: clothes, shampoo, toothpaste (are you familiar with Maxam?), tsinelas, make-up, bed sheets, linen and more. I vaguely recall soaps and scents of rose and sandalwood. Zamboanga, then (and even until now I hear), was the entry port of several goods into the country- some were legit, some just smuggled in.
I guess Maxam has been replaced by some other brands now. And many more items have slowly found their way into the country this way- automobiles, motorbikes or what-have-you's..
My enterprising grandma would then do the rounds of Mindanao and the Visayan shores, peddling her wares and earning a small profit in the offing. As you can see, this aimless wanderer had a fairly early start with the travelling thingy. It's a little disconcerting to realize however that the trade and barter skills didn't quite rub off on me.
With Lola Susing, it was never the money that made her do what she did, I guess. Sure, her earnings helped augment my Lolo Francis' salary to feed a family of five...families.. ( you see, they've got grown-up kids who's got growing kids, too). Uhm, and that would be us. We grandkids would get a new blouse or new shorts or new tsinelas every now and then. But she never got rich. Not the got-millions-in-the-bank kinda rich, I mean. But we sure had a comfortable and sensible life. We grew up being taught the motto of leading a simple yet sensible life.
But in all my trips and adventures accompanying her on her jaunts, I saw her become alive when she was doing her haggling and selling. There was a certain glint in her eyes whenever she made 'the sale'. And I think it was the thrill of interacting with different people, some of them complete strangers, and then being able to convince them to buy that really made her day. She was good with people. She would even give good bargains, too. "A sensible buy, a sensible buy", she would say.
So, in celebration of grandparents day on Sunday, I write in remembrance of my granny.
Lola Susing,
she sure made life a little bit sweeter every time.
September 06, 2006
Reuniting with Mister God
“What can you say about a twenty-five-year-old girl who died? That she was beautiful and brilliant? That she loved Mozart and Bach, the Beatles, and me?” (Erich Segal’s Love Story)
Why do good stories always stay with us? Most good stories I’ve come across don’t have happy endings but they stay. They stay because they leave imprints in the mind and in the heart. Such is this story which begins: "The diffrense from a person and an angel is easy. Most of an angel is in the inside and most of a person is on the outside."
I still remember the time I first read it. I was in fifth grade and our class was lucky to have an amazing woman as our homeroom adviser: Mrs. MJ – feisty, pretty, astute Maam MJ. She was new to the school. But she captivated us and we took to her like fishes to water. She was one of the ‘radically wonderful’ influences of my young life.
Having noticed that I was a voracious pocketbook reader, Mrs. MJ called me to her one Friday, after homeroom, and handed me a thin little book. It was written by a certain Fynn. She told me it was a book worth reading and that I should read it. I took her word for it. I borrowed it for the weekend and couldn’t put the book down until my mom called me in for lunch and dinner. It was the story of a five-year old girl called Anna and her straight-from-the-heart matter-of-fact view at life, and learning math, science and philosophy with Fynn’s help. It tells of this girl’s simple yet direct answers to mostly adult’s ponderings and ruminations on age-old questions about the universe. Most of all, it tells of Anna’s personal and intimate relationship with Mister God.
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1 NIV) Anna sure had faith. But she never made eight years, she died by an accident. "She died with a grin on her beautiful face. She died saying, 'I bet Mister God lets me into heaven for this', and I bet he did too.” I bet Mister God measured one’s worth into His Kingdom by one’s faith and by no other means.
Why do good stories always stay with us? Most good stories I’ve come across don’t have happy endings but they stay. They stay because they leave imprints in the mind and in the heart. Such is this story which begins: "The diffrense from a person and an angel is easy. Most of an angel is in the inside and most of a person is on the outside."
I still remember the time I first read it. I was in fifth grade and our class was lucky to have an amazing woman as our homeroom adviser: Mrs. MJ – feisty, pretty, astute Maam MJ. She was new to the school. But she captivated us and we took to her like fishes to water. She was one of the ‘radically wonderful’ influences of my young life.
Having noticed that I was a voracious pocketbook reader, Mrs. MJ called me to her one Friday, after homeroom, and handed me a thin little book. It was written by a certain Fynn. She told me it was a book worth reading and that I should read it. I took her word for it. I borrowed it for the weekend and couldn’t put the book down until my mom called me in for lunch and dinner. It was the story of a five-year old girl called Anna and her straight-from-the-heart matter-of-fact view at life, and learning math, science and philosophy with Fynn’s help. It tells of this girl’s simple yet direct answers to mostly adult’s ponderings and ruminations on age-old questions about the universe. Most of all, it tells of Anna’s personal and intimate relationship with Mister God.
“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.” (Hebrews 11:1 NIV) Anna sure had faith. But she never made eight years, she died by an accident. "She died with a grin on her beautiful face. She died saying, 'I bet Mister God lets me into heaven for this', and I bet he did too.” I bet Mister God measured one’s worth into His Kingdom by one’s faith and by no other means.
Twenty-two years since then, I chanced upon Mister God, This Is Anna once again. This time, in the Inspirational Books Section of an almost empty little bookshop where too few customers venture into. I snapped up the book, happily sat down on a little corner and was soon contentedly immersed in the world of Fynn and Anna.
When I look back to my childhood, I can easily say I was far from being like Anna was. Firstly, I was the timid silent type growing up. Plus I did not have any level of confidence to start with. I would not be able to confidently engage in philosophical dialectics with adults the way she did. But then of course, that is not to say that my seemingly quiet and timid projection belie a certain precocity that only my parents could understand back then.
I’d say I had a pretty firm foundation for my faith. I grew up believing in the tenets of Christianity that I imbibed from school, from church and from my family. I’m proud to say I consistently received an award on Best in Christian Living every end of school year all through elementary. I was a member of Student Catholic Action in high school. But College was a different story.
College was a voyage of self-discovery. It was a time of asking questions, trying out different things, and then asking more questions. It was a time of discovering so many things about one’s self. Being on my own, it was a time for making my own decisions, and I admit not all of them were good ones.
My life’s journey has not been smooth sailing. I know I’ve made a lot of mistakes along the way. So many times have I fallen down. But I have learned to pick myself up every time, too. And it was during those times that I have gotten to know Mister God more intimately and on a deeper, more personal level. I continue to make mistakes for I am, after all, still a work in progress. And I look forward to so many more changes and character-molding challenges ahead. I bend willingly in the Artist’s hand so I can fully be as I embark on this journey called life. I am comforted by the fact that I have loving family and friends and Mister God to guide me on my way.
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