Blame Parents, Not Teachers!

This was the title of an article written by Ed Christian, an English and Biblical literature professor for twenty years at the Kutztown University of Pennsylvania, USA.

This was written in response to an issue in the US so to whether schools should be blamed for their students’ failure to learn. Mr. Christian believes that the problems in education are the parents’ fault, that “more money, smaller classes, and national testing may help a little, but they won’t solve the problems. Only parents can solve them.”

He gave ten suggestions as to what parents could do. I do not necessarily agree with all of his ideas, but they are worth sharing with you because some of his observations are very relevant to us.

First, he believes that we should get rid of the TV, or at least, limit its use. An hour or two a week is already considered plenty. Children should be encouraged to watch nature or history programs and carefully chosen videos.

I agree. My own daughter watches National Geographic and Animal Planet programs but I also allow her to watch Disney Channel and selected programs in Cartoon Network on weekends.

She also gets to watch on weekdays as a sort of reward. If she finishes her assignments and studies early, the time prior to her 9pm bedtime becomes her “free time”, during which she could do whatever she pleases.

She’s still a child. She should still be allowed to enjoy the things that most children would enjoy doing. To deprive her of these joys would be like chopping off a big chunk of her childhood.

Second, Mr. Christian urged parents to get rid of video games as the excitement exhausts children and make them think that everything else is boring.

But then, wouldn’t all work and no play make Juan a dull boy as well? Wouldn’t it make better sense if, again, we just limit this type of activity during weekends?

Third, “limit computer use to educational games, writing and learning to type, and even then, not more than an hour a day. Chat rooms and Web surfing, as generally used, have little to do with learning.”

Fourth, “forget about competitive sports. Playing sports consumes study time and can leave students too exhausted or excited to study. Running or walking a few miles or shooting hops for half an hour are fine, but the competition of team sports is wasted time and effort.”

This one’s absolutely bulls--t! If this guy could have his way, all children would turn into sedentary overweight bookworms who’d be scared shitless at the slightest suggestion of sun or sweat!

Child development should be wholistic and should include a variety of activities such as sports. Focus should not be confined to academics alone.

Fifth, “buy books; visit libraries; have books in the house.”

Sixth, “read to your children for at least half an hour every day. If you choose books that are interesting but a little above your children’s level, their interest will lift them higher.

I agree. Reading time can also double as bonding time between parent and child.

Seventh, “keep your students home after supper. Little useful learning takes place in malls, restaurants, or cars.”

Eighth, “early to bed. Students who have read for three hours after supper often grow sleepy. If they’re asleep by 9:00 or 10:00, they’ll be alert in school and learn more.”

Ninth, “limit phone calls to five minutes each. Hours of telephone gossip are not educational.”

Tenth, “if you have a sense of wonder that makes you continually fascinated by the world, share it with your children.”

We parents play a very crucial role in the education of our children. As Mr. Christian observed, we can help them develop a love for learning if we make learning interesting for them. How? For one, provide them with a rich learning environment in the home. When it’s “no TV” for the child, it should be “No TV” for everyone else. We cannot expect the child to be able to focus if the TV is blaring nearby.

As a final note, Mr. Christian stated: “True, implementing these suggestions will change the lifestyle of parents as well, but isn’t the success of our children worth the effort?”

Amen to that!

Counting my Centavos

I recently opened Abby’s coin banks and took away her collection of P.05’s, P.10’s and P.25’s after hearing the news that so much of these coins have been “saved”, there isn’t much left circulating around.

Now, before anyone starts thinking how patriotic I am by wanting to spare the government from spending P.80 centavos for each P.05 centavo coin made, and nominates me for membership in the gallery of nationalistic martyrs … well, that’s only my second consideration. My foremost concern actually is the preservation of my own equanimity. You see, one of the things that are guaranteed to raise my hackles is getting shortchanged, and I’ve been getting a lot of that long before that news came out.

Cang’s is particularly notorious for this practice some time ago. I’ve had enough of my change lacking as much as P.15 centavos each time I’d buy from them, I finally demanded an explanation. You see, my thinking goes along these lines: Since I’m paying the exact price being demanded for the merchandise I’m purchasing, I expect to receive the exact change due to me! Is that too much to expect?

About two or three years ago, when I demanded for that explanation, the cashier at Cang’s answered dismissively that they didn’t have the coins. The lady did not even bother to glance up as she spoke to me. With my blood pressure shooting up to record heights, I said, “So … you don’t have P.05 centavo coins? I can help you with that!”

I marched to Veteran’s Bank and had a P20.00 bill converted to P.05 centavo coins. (Looking back, I should have made it P100 or better still P500, but on second thoughts, that would be too heavy, or most likely, I didn’t have that much money at that time. Knowing me, I would have gone for the P500 if I had that amount right there and then!)

Needless to say, I went back, got something and paid with my plastic-full of P.05 coins with a parting shot: “There! Now you can give the right change to all the customers!”

That incident also got me started at counting my change to make sure that I’m given the right amount. I always call cashiers’ attention to any mistake, whether it is to my advantage or the stores’. I once gave back P50.00 excess change. The cashier practically grabbed it from me without a word. I sighed wondering where good manners have gone.

Two months ago, I almost lost P1.00 in a single day: shortchanged by P.25 at Lee and by P.75 at Fortune Mart. No big deal to most, but it mattered to me.

I’ve heard comments like “singko ra bitaw”, the point being, “why bother?” What is it with these kinds of people anyway? Is it a matter of pride? That being seen making tilok (scrapping the bottom of the barrel) of the lowly singko s'tabos might risk being thought of as destitute?

Or do we simply have too much we can’t be bothered with singko anymore, or diez or biente singko for that matter? Don’t we all know that there can’t be a million without even one centavo?

If you’re a student living in anticipation of your next allowance, try this: see if inadvertently finding a single piso won’t send you singing praises when you’re down to your last singko pisos, with next allowance not due for two more days.

With conditions as they are now, I am sure that the public would understand if stores are unable to give exact change. However, I demand that storeowners should train their cashiers to take the time to explain their lack of coins and to ask if it was all right with the customer concerned.

Indeed, there are those who’d ask if you had P.35 or P2.85 and so on (so it is easier for them to give a round change), but we still see plenty who’d just casually hand over change that’s a few centavos short, fully expecting the customer to accept meekly like the proverbial lamb.

This should change. Consumers, we should be more vigilant and assertive of our rights.

Storeowners, teach your employees Good Manners and Right Conduct. That’s basic.

She makes my heart happy!

That's Powpee ... Abby's baby. She refers to herself as Powpee's Mommy. Of course, that makes me the Lola (grandma)!!!

We got this mixed Pomeranian for Abby two and a half years ago when she saw a falling star and started wishing for a puppy.

At five years old then, we wanted her to go on believing that the world still held wonders such as falling stars and tooth fairies.

She named her puppy herself, Pow-Pee ... because she was always pooing and peeing ... see?

Next to Abby (or is it Abby next to her?), Powpee is the most adored member of the household! Even my husband cannot resist her charms.

Too bad she eats mostly inun-unan, that's fish cooked in vinegar, salt, and garlic. That made her breath deadly!!! But we love her nonetheless! We just don't encourage her to open her cute little mouth when she lies down like that on our laps :)

My Southdale Separation Blues

In Southdale, children are loved. We parents did not have to worry about sweaty backs or messed up hairs - their teachers would take care of those concerns for us. And they do not leave the school until all the children have been picked up! I wholeheartedly miss all that!



I equally miss the friendship and camaraderie that formed among us parents and between us and school personnel. I miss seeing my friends Teacher Maru and Tita Chedette everyday!






So why did we transfer Abby to another school?

As with any other organization or thing or endeavor or in everything else in life, we experience dissatisfaction and we complain - we had these in Southdale, too - but these, by themselves, would not have caused us to decide to transfer elsewhere.

Rather, let me state the most important ones, ones that have become our foremost reasons for making our painful move.

- Firstly, we wanted Abby brought up with Catholic principles and values under the guidance of the nuns;

- secondly, we wanted her educated under the discipline and structure that Catholic schools provide;

- and finally, we want to toughen her up by allowing her to continue growing in an environment where she is not so pampered or cuddled; where she has to learn to swim or sink - in other words, get her used to living in the real world, where one does not always find warmth and care; where more often than not, there is indifference and one has to fend off for one's self alone - no more loving angels to watch over one's back; and where one has to move, not at one's own pace, but at the pace that the majority is moving, or be left behind!

In a nutshell, we believe that Abby will be more likely to develop strength of character in a tougher environment, where there is competition and where she gets to meet and learn to deal with people and fellow children from all walks of life;

- and in a place where things are not being taken cared of for her any longer, we hope that she will learn to get by under her own efforts and initiative;

- in a place where one has to assert one's self to get noticed or heard, we hope that she will develop competiveness and assertiveness, a toughness in spirit, and a steely determination to get whatever she is aiming for - for in the harsh world that awaits her when she grows up, one gets ahead only with these qualities.

After all, we parents have been through all those as we were growing up, and those were what made us who and what we are now. If we have risen from humble beginnings, we did so because we had the drive and the character to do so. We particularly did not want Abby to grow up soft and without any motivation whatsoever to reach up for something better, specifically because everything has been laid out for her.


Of course, we want these tempered with the right values that we, her parents, and with the help of her school, hope would be instilled in her - love and compassion for others.

I know that that's a tall order - but hey! if we have to dream for our children, we might as well aim for the best!

But I still do miss, sincerely and with all my heart, the loving and caring my baby would have received in Southdale.

In her old school, Abby developed into a beautiful, smart, confident, and caring individual. Academically, she can hold her ground with the best there is! Under Southdale's tutelage, English became her first language and Abby can't be cowered into silence when faced by foreigners! She will take them on as easily as she would any other person she would meet, Filipino or not!

I will always be grateful for that and I will acknowledge that everywhere and at all times!

Small Town Blues

A view of our beautiful Rizal Boulevard

Perdices Street - the center of commerce - home to SuperLee Plaza, Cang's Department Store, Nijosa, Mart One, Unitop, and Tops and Bottoms! Practically all the "major" stores in Dumaguete. Together, they provide us Dumagueteños with our basic day-to-day needs.

I fell in love with Dumaguete from the first moment I stepped into her shores. There and then, I promised myself that I would make her my home. True enough, here I am!

I love living under this small town atmosphere. Dumaguete offers just enough of our needs, especially good schools for our children to thrive in. We have restaurants, sufficiently equipped hospitals, cable TV, internet access, lots of mountains and beaches, and of course, stores that have a little of almost everything … and that was what gave me the rankles recently … that “little of everything” part.

I was never very particular with the things that I buy for my family, so I never minded having limited choices available to me, compared for instance, to what Cebu, Bacolod or Manila have to offer. But entire Dumaguete running out of girls’ undershirts under size 30??? I almost cried out of frustration as I hopped from one store or another. I even tried the ones off the beaten track to no avail.

But how did I get into this predicament in the first place? My fault, actually, but excusable due to ignorance, I hope. Let me backtrack a bit.

We transferred my daughter to Catherina Cittadini (St. Louis) School because her father and I wanted Catholic education for her. I got my introduction to Real World 101 when school opened last June 4. I was overwhelmed seeing for the first time that heaving mass of children hurrying around in all directions.

(Of course, I see that sight every time I’d pass by Silliman Elem or any other elementary school for that matter, but the difference lies between just looking as against actually seeing something because you are already living it, having become a part of that world.)

My culture shock could possibly be explained by the fact that Abby spent four years in a school with only fifty or so students. I got my first ever case of separation jitters (not Abby, but ME!), when I found myself hesitant about leaving my baby all alone among strangers in that big world. Unlike Southdale where the teachers knew each child and would greet them each day with smiles and huge hugs (Oh! how I miss that!!! Whenever I'd think of big hugs, I'd see Teacher Shwa with her arms around frighten little children!), this new world we have ventured in lacked the warmth and familiarity that we have become accustomed to.

But I’m digressing here. Let’s forget my separation blues and get back to my small town blues. It started when I caught sight of those enormous box bags that more than half of the student population lug behind them. They simply were too heavy and too bulky to eyes that were used to seeing only Teddy, a towel, and a water tumbler inside Abby’s tiny schoolbag. (In Southdale, books and notebooks did not have to be brought home.)

I immediately told my husband that Cittadini children looked like they were going abroad with all those "luggages" they were heaving around!! I dismissed it as a fad or trend that the children were seriously into. Little did I know that those huge bags were a necessity, with all the books and notebooks that have to be brought to and from school each day.

I got tired of seeing Abby off to school with two bags (not to mention hurrying back to the house when one bag got left behind) so off I went to the SuperLee, and Mart One, and guess what? Nada. No more box bags for girls! There was one left at Cang’s though, but at P2,000.00 (US$36.00, more or less), it was obscenely expensive!

I could not afford it right there and then. When I finally went back, it was gone. I hunched my shoulders and wearily trotted off to Nijosa, not really expecting much, but … Alleluia! … they still had 3 box bags left! I should have taken time to reflect: how come they’re still there when others sold like hot pancakes in the other stores? Yeah! You guessed it right! Those Illustrazio bags were even more obscenely priced than that one in Cang’s!

That was when I first realized that blissful Dumaguete is not that heavenly after all when one needs something it cannot provide. How I wished I were in Cebu or Manila. That wish stayed on when life found me hunting for the next item in the list … that cursed undershirt that I did not know was part of the new school’s required get up. I started with oh-so-high standards; aiming for cotton soft sandos I wanted Abby to have. Finding none of them, my standards went down a notch and I decided to settle for Guitar brands instead … and lower and lower they went … until I was down to praying, "Lord, please help me find size 28 sandos … maski unsa na lang Lord basta gamay!"

Then there’s the case of the girls’ panty shorts. Would you believe we could buy panty shorts for little girls only at SuperLee? And that only Barbizon carries that product line? Of course, they’ve run out of stock … again!

Next in my list were Burlington girl socks similar to the one Tita Nini Cabrera bought for her daughter Cody. They were soft and dainty and the garter does not leave marks around the ankles like the alligator brand socks that I got for Abby. I started hunting for those and found them sold only at SuperLee! This time, I got lucky. I snatched up the last 6 pairs.

When Tita Nini went back to SuperLee to buy more of the same socks … oh well … I wanted to say to her, "Sorry! But what did you expect? You are in Dumaguete! No shoppers’ heaven here."

Filipinos: A Look into Ourselves

A VERY INTERESTING PERSPECTIVE: In one of the luncheons he hosted recently for clients of the Rizal Commercial Banking Corp., Ambassador Alfonso T. Yuchengco asked the writer Francisco Sionil Jose to share some of his observations of the current scene. This is the paper Mr. Jose read on that occasion.

What did South Korea look like after the Korean War in 1953? Battered, poor - but look at Korea now. In the Fifties, the traffic in Taipei was composed of bicycles and Army trucks, the streets flanked by tile-roofed low buildings. Jakarta was a giant village and Kuala Lumpur a small village surrounded by jungle and rubber plantations. Bangkok was criss-crossed with canals, the tallest structure was the Wat Arun, the Temple of the Sun, and it dominated the city's skyline. Rice fields all the way from Don Muang airport - then a huddle of galvanized iron-roofed bodegas, to the Victory monument.

Visit these cities today and weep - for they are more beautiful, cleaner and prosperous than Manila. In the Fifties and Sixties we were the most envied country in Southeast Asia. Remember further that when Indonesia got its independence in 1949, it had only 114 university graduates compared to the hundreds of Ph.D.'s which were already in our universities. Why then were we left behind? The economic explanation is simple. We did not produce cheaper and better products.

The basic question really is: why we did not modernize fast enough and thereby doomed our people to poverty? This is the harsh truth about us today. Just consider these: some 15 years ago a survey showed that half of all grade school pupils dropped out after grade 5 because they had no money to continue schooling. Thousands of young adults today are therefore unable to find jobs. Our natural resources have been ravaged and they are not renewable.

Our tremendous population increase eats up all of our economic gains. There is hunger in this country now; our poorest eat only once a day.

But this physical poverty is really not as serious as the greater poverty that afflicts us and this is the poverty of the spirit. Why then are we poor? More than ten years ago, James Fallows, editor of the Atlantic Monthly came to the Philippines and wrote about our damaged culture which, he asserted, impeded our development. Many disagreed with him but I do find a great deal of truth in his analysis.

This is not to say that I blame our social and moral malaise on colonialism alone. But we did inherit from Spain a social system and an elite that, on purpose, exploited the masses. Then, too, in the Iberian peninsula, to work with one's hands is frowned upon and we inherited that vice as well. Colonialism by foreigners may no longer be what it was, but we are now a colony of our own elite.

We are poor because we are poor - this is not a tautology. The culture of poverty is self-perpetuating. We are poor because our people are lazy. I pass by a slum area every morning -dozens of adults do nothing but idle, gossip and drink.

We do not save. Look at the Japanese and how they save in spite of the fact that the interest given them by their banks is so little. They work very hard too.

We are great show-offs. Look at our women, how overdressed, over-coiffed they are, and Imelda epitomizes that extravagance. Look at our men, their manicured nails, their personal jewelry, their diamondrings. Yabang - that is what we are, and all that money expended on status symbols, on yabang. How much better if it were channeled into production.

We are poor because our nationalism is inward looking. Under its guise we protect inefficient industries and monopolies.

We did not pursue agrarian reform like Japan and Taiwan. It is not so much the development of the rural sector, making it productive and a good market as well. Agrarian reform releases the energies of the landlords who, before thereform, merely waited for the harvest. They become entrepreneurs, the harbingers of change. Our nationalist icons like Claro M. Recto and Lorenzo Tanada opposed agrarian reform, the single most important factor that would have altered the rural areas and lifted the peasant from poverty. Both of them were merely anti-American.

And finally, we are poor because we have lost our ethical moorings. We condone cronyism and corruption and we don't ostracize or punish the crooks in our midst. Both cronyism and corruption are wasteful but we allow their practice because our loyalty is to family or friend, not to the larger good.

We can tackle our poverty in two very distinct ways. The first choice: a nationalist revolution, a continuationof the revolution in 1896. But even before we can use violence to change inequities in our society, we must first have a profound change in our way of thinking, in our culture. My regret about EDSA is that change would have been possible then with a minimum of bloodshed. In fact, a revolution may not be bloody at all if something like EDSA would present itself again. Or a dictator unlike Marcos.

The second is through education, perhaps a longer and more complex process. The only problem is that it may take so long and by the time conditions have changed, we may be back where we were, caught up with this tremendous population explosion which the Catholic Church exacerbates in its conformity with doctrinal purity.

We are faced with a growing compulsion to violence, but even if the communist won, they will rule as badly because they will be hostage to the same obstructions in our culture, the barkada, the vaulting egos that sundered the revolution in 1896, the Huk revolt in 1949-53.

To repeat neither education nor revolution can succeed if we do not internalize new attitudes, new ways of thinking.

Let us go back to basics and remember those American slogans: A Ford in every garage. A chicken in every pot. Money is like fertilizer: to do any good it must be spread around. Some Filipinos, taunted wherever they are, are shamed to admit they are Filipinos.

I have, myself, been embarrassed to explain for instance why Imelda, her children and the Marcos cronies are back, and in positions of power?

Are there redeeming features in our country that we can be proud of? Of course, lots of them. When people say for instance that our corruptionwill never be banished, just remember that Arsenio Lacson as mayor ofManila and Ramon Magsaysay as President brought a clean government.

We do not have the classical arts that brought Hinduism and Buddhism to continental and archipelagic Southeast Asia, but our artists have now ranged the world, showing what we have done with Western art forms, enriched with our own ethnic traditions. Our professionals, not just our domestics, are all over, showing how an accomplished people we are!

Look at our history. We are the first in Asia to rise against Western colonialism, the first to establish a republic. Recall the Battle of Tirad Pass and glory in the heroism of Gregorio Del Pilar and the 48 Filipinos who died but stopped the Texas Rangers from capturing the President of that First Republic. Its equivalent in ancient history is the Battle of Thermopylae where the Spartans and their king Leonidas, died to a man, defending the pass against the invading Persians.

Rizal - what nation on earth has produced a man like him? At 35, he was a novelist, a poet, an anthropologist, a sculptor, a medical doctor, a teacher and martyr.

We are now 80 million and in another two decades we will pass the 100 million mark. Eighty million - that is a mass market in any language, a mass market that should absorb our increased production in goods and services - a mass market which any entrepreneur can hope to exploit, like the proverbial oil for the lamps of China. Japan was only 70 million when it had confidence enough and the wherewithal to challenge the United States and almost won. It is the same confidence that enabled Japan to flourish from the rubble of defeat in World War II.

I am not looking for a foreign power for us to challenge. But we have a real and insidious enemy that we must vanquish, and this enemy is worse than the intransigence of any foreign power.

We are our OWN ENEMY. And we must have the COURAGE, the WILL, to CHANGE OURSELVES.

The Donkey

One day a farmer's donkey fell down into a well. The animal cried piteously for hours as the farmer tried to figure out what to do.

Finally, he decided the animal was old, and the well needed to be covered up anyway; it just wasn't worth it to retrieve the donkey. He invited all his neighbours to come over and help him. They all grabbed a shovel and began to shovel dirt into the well.

At first, the donkey realized what was happening and cried horribly. Then, to everyone's amazement he quieted down.

A few shovel loads later, the farmer finally looked down the well. He was astonished at what he saw. With each shovel of dirt that hit his back, the donkey was doing something amazing.

He would shake it off and take a step up. As the farmer's neighbours continued to shovel dirt on top of the animal, he would shake it off and take a step up.

Pretty soon, everyone was amazed as the donkey stepped up over the edge of the well and happily trotted off!

MORAL :Life is going to shovel dirt on you, all kinds of dirt. The trick to getting out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up.

Each of our troubles is a steppingstone.

We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping, never giving up! Shake it off and take a step up.

Remember the five simple rules to be happy:

1. Free your heart from hatred - Forgive.
2. Free your mind from worries - Most never happen.
3. Live simply and appreciate what you have.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less


This story was forwarded to me by email. I was so inspired by it I decided to share it with everybody who would stumble into this blog. It tells of turning life's adversaries into one's own advantage, of rising above one's own difficulties ... Be inspired, as I was by the simple but profound lesson that it told.

Remembering David Atwood

He embraced life with all the joy and enthusiasm of a child; in their four short years together, he showered his wife Caye with all the love that will last her a lifetime; he was a fiercely proud father who strove to see only the best in his children; he fell trying to defend his daughter from a brutal attacker and took the blows that would have been for her; he fought valiantly for that life that he loved so much, and he fought long and hard before he lost; he touched the lives of many Filipinos and they were all the better because of him. That is the David Atwood I will always remember.

I met David through this column. It is but fitting that I’d say goodbye to him here.

I never expected having this column would bring me such a sweet reward as having David for a friend. He was truly a sweet Welsh gentleman who came to the Philippines in his twilight years to marry a widow with five children. He took them into his heart, Caye and all, made them his own.

He first emailed me last December after reading an article I wrote with which he identified with. We became cyber friends since then. What would have been our first meeting turned into a comedy of errors when he invited me a day earlier for the Christmas party that his family was having. He lamented saying … “Olga, what can I say? I am 70 years old. Please forgive this old man.”

We regularly chatted online and discussed almost everything under the sun. But mostly, he despaired over us Filipinos. He saw so much promised in us and was bewildered at our stubborn refusal to better ourselves. These sessions were almost always ended when he would write … “I have to go now Olga. Caye just woke up and I have to cook her breakfast. She is so beautiful even early in the morning. I love her so much.”

And that’s the David I will always remember with the most affection … the passionate and devoted husband who still wrote and hid love notes for Caye to find among her things even after four years of marriage.

David is no longer with us. What would have been his last words? I knew him only for a very short while, but I knew him well enough to know that if he could, he would want to say these to all of us, most especially to his beloved Caye –

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free
I’m following the path God laid for me
I took His hand when I heard Him call
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work or play
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found that place at the close of the day.

If my parting has left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss
Ah yes, these things I too will miss.

Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow
My life’s been full, I savored much
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch.

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief
Lift up your heart and share with me
God wanted me now, He set me free.

David Atwood died in Wales. His daughter Jayne will be sending his ashes to Caye. There will be a memorial to celebrate his life. As he requested, his ashes will then be scattered in his favorite places here in Dumaguete.

Goodbye David ...

I’m Free

Don’t grieve for me, for now I’m free
I’m following the path God laid for me
I took His hand when I heard Him call
I turned my back and left it all.

I could not stay another day
To laugh, to love, to work or play
Tasks left undone must stay that way
I found that place at the close of the day.

If my parting has left a void
Then fill it with remembered joy
A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss
Ah yes, these things I too will miss


Be not burdened with times of sorrow
I wish you the sunshine of tomorrow
My life’s been full, I savored much
Good friends, good times, a loved one’s touch

Perhaps my time seemed all too brief
Don’t lengthen it now with undue grief
Lift up your heart and share with me
God wanted me now, He set me free.
-author unknown-

In memory of DAVID ATWOOD, dear friend, gone so soon ...

Plain Housewife No More ...

Yup! That’s me – plain housewife no more! … but only for a few hours last May 25 and 26. It could not last more than that, though. I guess I’m a committed career stay-at-home (unemployed, in other words) mom who occasionally writes to while away the time that I hold in great abundance in my hands.

For a very short but highly enjoyable while, I got to live a life that I never thought I would experience first hand. Nothing spectacular though. But very briefly, I joined the press people as representative of MetroPost. I got to know how it was living the reporter’s life!

I would have been even more thrilled had my editors Alex and Irma Pal provided me with a camera crew … you know … to complete the experience. Seriously though, thanks a lot guys. It was truly enjoyable (never mind the scorching heat), particularly that sumptuous brunch from Mamia courtesy of the City Tourism Office at the Absin residence during the Kabulakan Festival press conference.

These past few days saw me encountering a lot of firsts not only for myself … there’s my editor Irma joining competitive tennis for the first time ever (Alex sounded amazed, proud and disbelieving all rolled into one as he told me this), to one of Irma’s friends joining her, again, for the first time, in her early morning biking sorties and pedaling all the way to Valencia with her! This is no ordinary feat, mind you. For a first-timer, this is an accomplishment one can be truly proud of.

Incidentally, Irma has been urging me to join them. Yeah, I told her I was very interested, as I desperately need to shed 40 lbs! But to be able to do that right away, I will have to borrow Abby’s bike … and from the size of it, I reckon I’ll be hitting my chin with my knee each time I’d pedal. And judging from my physical fitness and stamina (or lack of it) – I know I’d reach no further than Bagacay! And that’s positive thinking already!

Indeed, a lot of firsts … from sweet Carla’s first communion, to watching Abby spar with grit in Master Kim’s taekwondo class with cousins Cody, Raffy and Gabby. And oh yeah! How can I forget … running out of gas in the middle of Legazpi Street! Now that’s a winner! It took true genius on my part to achieve that!


And of course, there was my brief stint as reporter! That was truly a gem! I entered the exhibit area of the Kasalang Filipino 2007 Bridal Fair at Bethel Guest House having absolutely no idea what to do.

Thank goodness there was gracious Mrs. Macrina Fuentes who kindly introduced me around and Ms. Glynda Descuatan who patiently answered my queries. And of course, there was Irma who advised me to simply gather my impressions of the event.

Ummm … so what was this housewife’s take on that bridal fair? Firstly, it made me wish I was back ten years ago, planning my own wedding, and with all those choices available before me (assuming my husband could afford the costs, though).


It was a proud day for all us, as we saw the artistry of our own fellow Dumagueteños laid before us in full splendor, from that profusion of elegantly arranged flowers courtesy of Expressions to the ethnic artistry of that native wedding cake created by Boom Roxas for the occasion.

It was practically a one-stop shop for anyone who’s planning a wedding, from photography and video coverage, to invitations, souvenirs, catering, wedding gowns, make-up, honeymoon packages, floral arrangements, and even a housing package!

The Kasalang Filipino offered the dream wedding every girl sighs over. But the nitty-gritty reality is this: not everyone could afford the wedding promised in that fair. You either have to place in the upper half and even higher in the socio-economic scale to afford all that or you have to be one lucky lass who has snatched up some foreigner with a thick wad of dollars in his pockets just begging to be splurged away on some high-end wedding.

My second day as reporter found me fanning my heart out under the blistering sun in the landmark Absin garden as we, the press (take note of the “we”) waited for the golden boys Fred Payawan, Gerald Anderson, John Wayne Sace, and Joaqui Mendoza to make their appearance. It wasn’t wasted time though. I got the chance to make very interesting chika with Ms. Lani of DYWC. We discovered I bested her over something she thought was already her extreme… ummm, mysterious!

The presscon went the usual way one sees on TV with all the same questions thrown into the cuties. Except for the absence of Ate Ludz, I could have sworn I was watching Eye to Eye circa mid-80’s. Am I that old already? Apparently yes …

I was never struck by that star-worship bug even as a teenager blossoming in Manila. It was an era when That’s Entertainment ruled supreme. I didn’t care a whit then, nor do I do now. Imagine my disbelief when I witnessed, for the first time and in person, teenagers screaming their heads off like crazed banshees as each float bearing the stars approached during the parade. It was simply ludicrous! Oh yes, they’re adorable. In fact, I had a favorite ... cutie-cutie cute-cute Gerald Anderson (by the way, that's also how I call the latest stray pup I adopted) … but top the fire truck siren in the wailing department at the sight of those mestizo lads? Please! But then again, they’re young … and I’m not so young anymore … that should explain it.

I have a picture of Abby covering her ears. It was accompanied by bewilderment as she asked what the big deal was? Why scream daw at the sight of those boys? I hope she’d still be singing the same tune, say, five years from now?

But to be sure, I instructed everybody in the house not to talk to her about artistas and everything that has to do with them. Not that I have anything against these people, but I shiver with horror at the thought of a teenaged Abby turning into one of those mindless starstruck shrieking creatures whose sole aim in life at that point is to catch a glimpse of those pretty boys’ faces, or worse … catch some sort of used towel(?) thrown for the fans to scramble over, a la Elvis Presley (ewwwww!).

I started writing about not being a mere housewife anymore … but ended discussing a mother’s favorite topic … raising her young. Yup, I’ve come full circle and I'm now exactly where I should be.

Back to normal?

There is this one very strange thing about our being an OFW (Overseas Filipino Worker) family. It is this eerie feeling that “normal” family life resumes after Papa has left for another contract abroad.

Does that seem odd to you? It is, even for me who’s been living that life everyday for the past ten years. I don’t want to accept it as “our truth”, but there it is. There is no denying the fact that no matter how loved Papa is, and no matter how much we cherish every moment he spends with us, those times together often pass so swiftly, one is sometimes left wondering whether they had happened at all.

Having him with us is vacation time, a break from routine, time off the “normal”. Routine is Mama and Abby alone doing our usual stuff together … Normal is Mama as both mother and father … Mama being her usual boring self, the
no-fun-at-all-kind-of-boring-mom-who-always-says-NO-NO-NO that Abby always complains about to her dad … normal is Mama making all decisions and having all the burdens of everyday life falling on her shoulders alone.

Vacation time from our usual everyday life is having Papa filling our home with laughter as he takes time off banging his hammer or fixing whatever needs to be fixed around the house to do a quick dance for us, gyrating before us with all the grace of a bamboo pole.

Vacation time means endless squeals of delight coming from Abby and her friends Carla and Jeina as they played hide and seek with Tito Nonoy … or early morning trips to Palinpinon where Abby and Papa liked to make suroy … and coming home with eyes wide with excitement as they told stories of hot springs, foul-smelling steam or gigantic balete trees discovered along the way.

Vacation time is Mama taking the passenger seat and not having to worry about navigating that obstacle course we call the Dumaguete streets … it is a time when Mama figuratively hands over that mantle of responsibility she has so gotten used to wearing to its rightful owner. It is also a time of struggle, when after having gotten used to holding the reins of control for so long, one has to consciously check one’s impulses with the constant reminder: the boss is already home.

But with each departure comes the end of that vacation time. Then it’s back to … yes, our normal lives.

Sadly, this is the tragedy being lived everyday by every OFW family, where more often than not, the normal family is an incomplete family.

WHAT MADE OUR BABIES SICK?

Carla and Abby during their swimming sessions. Carla was also hospitalized.

Sometimes, nothing could be more infuriating than having a hyperactive child during this long hot summer break. When that child would start climbing walls out of boredom, it is not uncommon for harassed parents to wish for school to start sooner. But when that child becomes ill and stays in bed with all that boisterous energy gone, every parent’s dearest wish and longing would be for the return of that hyperactive brat.

That was what happened. For a while, I lost my super active Abby when 40-degree fevers hit accompanied by vomiting and headache. I felt helpless as I watched her curled up hour after hour with high-grade fever that refused to go down despite the paracetamol that I had been giving to her. In these instances, tears crept out of her closed eyes, not because she had been crying, but because her temperature had become so high tears simply started to trickle out.

Pediatrician Dra. Idelle Yurong advised hospitalization last May 1 (Tuesday) because Abby was already dehydrated. It was on that same day that I learned of two other children at SUMC: Teo Antonio, son of Arnold and Jacqueline Antonio, a fellow MetroPost columnist; and Cheska Salcedo, daughter of my friends Gams and Pammy Salcedo. All three children shared something in common: they all attended the Learn to Swim Program in the Silliman pool.

They also exhibited similar presentations: high fever, vomiting and headache. Abby and Teo had abdominal pain and soft stools.

By Sunday, six more children were hospitalized in SUMC. Two other girls were taken to Holy Child. They were also in the Learn to Swim Program. Again, most of them had high fever, vomiting and soft stools.

From Sunday until today, Wednesday, May 9, 2007, I know of four other children who were admitted at SUMC.

Abby’s CBC showed bacterial infection. She tested negative for typhoid fever and amoebiasis and her blood culture was likewise negative. Her fever persisted despite three days of ampicillin. She had to be given Rocephin, a third generation antibiotic, to which she finally responded.

Her hospitalization lasted for seven days. Up to her last day at SUMC, we never knew what made Abby and all those other children ill.

Now let’s get down to the questions and answers:

(1) Am I zeroing in on the Silliman pool as the source of the infection?

No. I am not pointing any fingers at anything or anybody. Rather, I just want to point out one very obvious fact: that the Silliman pool and its surroundings is the only common denominator among all these sick children.

(2) What do I want to achieve from writing about this?

Although the pool water tested negative for e-coli bacteria and even 0% of all other bacteria, and was declared safe for drinking, still this question must be asked: What made all these children sick? Their number is quite considerable. This occurrence therefore should not be dismissed or brushed aside as a mere coincidence.

We asked Silliman University to get to the bottom of this matter and try to determine, if it could still be determined, the whats, hows, wheres and whens of this very unfortunate occurrence. I want this looked into and I want one particular question to be answered: Why did my baby become sick?

As of this writing, I am happy that Pres. Ben Malayang had already undertaken the necessary steps to address this “incident”. For instance, he had ordered the pool closed pending determination as to whether the water is safe for swimmers or not. He had also convened investigating panels, and from what I heard, had hired the services of an independent group of investigators.

(3) Did I want to create trouble for Silliman or cause panic among the public?

Another NO! I do not want any trouble contrary to what one doctor I had an altercation with kept insisting! I just want Silliman and everyone concerned to do something and to do it fast!

Jackie Antonio and I decided to take matters into our own hands because we were frustrated by the apathy that we saw around us! Our babies (yes!!! babies!!! – and they will always be our babies no matter what their age) became sick and we wanted Silliman to do something and we want to know how and why they became sick!

Did we overact? Was it a matter of too much, too soon? Well, sue us! We are worried mothers and fathers who acted on our instincts to secure the welfare of our young no matter what! If that is a crime, then there isn’t going to be enough jail space for us all!

How about causing panic? What panic??? Only about 160 children were part of the Learn to Swim Program of the PE Dept. That number could hardly cause widespread pandemonium in Dumaguete, could it?

(4) Why did I give my consent to that interview with ABS-CBN? Because there might still be other sick children out there! I want their parents to know that several others have already become ill, and that they should immediately have their children seen by doctors.

Yes indeed, Jackie and I have taken matters in our own hands. We had to. Just because Teo and Abby have fully recovered doesn’t mean that we can forget what had happened to them!

This afternoon, several parents were interviewed by members of the Regional Epidemiology and Surveillance Unit of the Department of Health. They will be taking water samples and will be sending those to the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine in Manila.

I’ll be one happy Mama if a culprit, other than the swimming pool, could be found. My husband and I still harbor hopes that Abby could return next summer for more swimming lessons.

Final question: Why are we doing these? After all, our children have already been discharged from the hospital. They are already well, so why keep stirring up all these?

Simple. We want answers. WHAT MADE OUR BABIES SICK? Until now, there is no conclusive determination as to the kind of bacteria or microorganism that have infected our children.

I am troubled by the thought that unless our doctors knew exactly what microorganisms have infected our children, we could never be assured that the treatment applied to our children had been sufficient. So many what ifs … what if it had not been totally eliminated and is simply lying dormant within the children’s bodies? What if they would become ill years from now because of that dormant bacteria? What if they have become carriers themselves and will infect other children they come in contact with? (The Norovirus is known for this).

Unless the microorganism is identified, we can never be fully certain that its threat was properly and thoroughly addressed through the antibiotics that were applied to our children. Nor would we know if they needed after-hospitalization care or not.

I was almost disappointed when Abby did not have amoebiasis. How I wished that it was only amoeba … then I would know what made her ill. And that would have been the end of the story.

But right now, I need answers to my questions. Only then will my mind be at peace knowing that all the children are really and truly well.

PANAWAGAN: Be a Foster Parent to PAL's Pinoy Medical Mission Beneficiaries in Southern California

Filipinos have a saying "Bawal magkasakit. [We can't afford to get sick.]" A serious illness in the family usually spells doom in the Philippines. There are no medical personnel or facilities at all in about 300 Filipino towns and the rest are mostly ill-equipped and under-staffed.

The elusive dream of having one doctor for every 20,000 Filipinos seems ridiculous by American standards until you realize that there are 88 million FIlipinos living in a country about as large as the state of Kansas, and that 25 million Filipino families get by on $2 or less a day. Not surprisingly, one out of three infants and pre-schoolers is malnourished and many still die of simple respiratory infections or water-borne diseases. Filipinos who make it to the hospitals of major cities like Manila or Cebu must still pay for all their medical supplies and tests. If they are from the remote barrios, living expenses outside the hospital are another obstacle to getting medical care.

This is why the Philippine Airlines(PAL) Foundation has PAL Medical Travel Grants (http://www.philippineairlines.com/; palfoundation@pal.com.ph) to help indigent Pinoys to access quality medical care as charity patients.

Mending Kids International (MKI) (http://www.mendingkids.org/) is one of the charities that helps PAL Medical Travel Grantees. Through MKI, indigent Filipino children (0 to 18 years old) get free care for serious but correctable medical conditions at UCLA, Cedars Sinai, Shriners Burn Institute and the L.A. Children's Hospital. Often, these children go back to the Philippines with healed bodies and brighter futures too. Take the case of little CJ, born with a hole in his heart, and the youngest of five children of a Cebu factory worker making $6 a day. His parents' meager earnings could not keep up with CJ's hospital bills. He was malnourished and had been hospitalized for pneumonia eight times before he was a year old. CJ's eldest brother even had to quit school. Doctors in Cebu said it would cost at least US$25,000 or over a million pesos to fix CJ's heart. Little CJ from Cebu weighed just 10 lbs at age one. He only began walking and talking after he had free open heart surgery atUCLA.

One of the PAL Foundation's benefactors, Dr. Arlene Roque Kamen took a special interest in CJ's case. PAL shipped for free from L.A. to Cebu, Dr.Kamen's donations of special high calorie infant formula and medical supplies, for CJ (as well as for other PAL Foundation beneficiaries). She even paid for CJ's visa and other travel documents. A PAL Medical TravelGrant brought CJ to Southern California so he could have free open heart surgery at UCLA. MKI volunteers helped send back 6 balikbayan boxes of household effects, toys and clothes for CJ's family. They have committed to put electricity in CJ's remote island home when he returns this March. The PAL Foundation and Mending Kids could bring over many more indigent Filipino medical missions children, from infants to 18 y.o. adolescents (mostly for heart surgery like CJ). But before we do this, the children must have hands-on host families in Southern California. MKI hosting is purely voluntary with the child staying an average of one to two months, so many host families do become emotionally attached.

As MKI Director andFounder Cristie Kae Embleton says: "You take a child into your home to mend his heart, but he will break yours when he goes back home to thePhilippines." Still you will have the immeasurable satisfaction of having helped another human being to find healing and a better life. There are great emotional rewards as well as material responsibilities to being an MKI host family. For starters, the adults must get current criminal clearances. The MKI social worker will do a family home study and later on, supervise the child's stay.

Because these are medical missions children, the primary caregiver in the host family must know how to administer First Aid and CPR. The host must also be available to drive the child to doctor's appointments. There is no age limit to being an MKI Host and able seniors or retirees are especially welcome to open their hearts and their homes to our Filipino children in need of special attention.

Fil-Americans who want to help but just don't have the time because they work 9 to 5, can also serve as "RESPITE HOST FAMILIES." They don't host the child full-time but may be called on to pinch hit for a day or a weekend, in case something comes up. They may also want to treat the host family to a Filipino meal, or take the time to make the child pasyal , or donate toys, clothing, or phone cards so the child can call home.Please call or email Mending Kids:

661.288.1957; mendingkids@sbcglobal.net to find out more about reaching out to our littlest kababayan. Mabuhay at maraming salamat po!.

Ma. Carmen "Menchu" Aquino Sarmiento
Executive DirectorPhilippine Airlines (PAL) Foundation
Gate 1, PAL Maintenance Base Complex
Andrews Avenue, Nichols, Pasay City 1309

Phone: (632) 851-2980;
(632) 855-8000 extension 2563
Fax: (632) 852-6096

Global Standards?

I guess by now every fast-food worshipper in Dumaguete and thereabouts has visited McDo at least once. My family and friends are no exception. We braved the long lines on the 2nd day, grumbled pleasantly over the long wait, then triumphantly carried our trays away after what seemed like an eternity.

Staying true to her role as “food introducer”, my friend Chedette urged me to try her daughter Carla’s McChicken, swearing nothing could taste greater than this heavenly concoction of bread, chicken and lettuce … and she was right! I got hooked right away.

Lately, I finally managed to persuade my husband that I desperately needed another McDo fix. My ecstatic grin probably stretched from ear to ear as we approached Dumaguete’s latest landmark. Of course, you guessed it right guys! I ordered the McChicken and dove right into it!

But this column today is not really about McChicken. This is about a sudden thought that came up as I waited for Abby to finish her chicken meal (this was after I gobbled up my burger and was left with nothing else to do except look with longing at the chicken that she was eating ever so slowly!).

I happened to glance at the tray liner across me and got intrigued enough to read the “Neat Facts about McDonald’s”. In part it stated, “Our crew members sanitize every 30 minutes and wash their hands every hour with warm running water using specially formulated anti-microbial soap.” The second paragraph stated, “this ensures you always get clean, safe, and great-tasting food …” Finally, there were statements about operational procedures and quality standards worldwide being aligned and about managers receiving “mandatory global training to ensure global standards are met.”

Ummmm, very comforting! But wait! How about the food as they are served?

OK, before I will proceed with this, let me say these first: I have nothing against McDonald’s. As stated, I’m crazy over their McChicken and their fries, although I must admit that I’ve remained loyal to Jollibee’s Chicken Joy and their array of burgers. I love you guys. My life won’t be complete without you filling me up with gastronomic delights!

But me being me, I just have to ask: Does global standards permit food and money to be handled by the same person?

By the way, I’m not some hygiene freak. I’m just a bewildered little housewife who was brought up knowing that money is dirty!

You know, after going through that much trouble to ensure that the food served is clean and safe, it’s kind of perplexing if you think of how our food is served to us by the very same person who takes our money and hands over our change to us. Wouldn’t that nullify all the trouble taken during the food preparation stage? And it’s not only McDonald’s, mind you. We also see this practice in Jollibee, Dunkin’ Donuts, Bread Worth and many others.

OK, what would be the counter-argument to those? That most items come individually packed? But how about the fries? I’ve been very observant lately. I just came from Jollibee and I noticed how a part of the cashier’s palm came in contact with my fries; that they take every precaution to avoid contact with food? Reason dictates that in a setting where speed is considered a virtue, avoiding contact simply could not be possible; that they use tongs when handling bread or donuts? Those very same hands still have to open the plastic bags or donut boxes don’t they?

This is almost analogous to this ridiculous practice observed by some in the food industry – the use of hairnets. They are supposed to keep the hair from falling into the food, right? How come there are food servers who still sport bangs which hang well outside their nets?

These observations are making me appreciate Chow King and Greenwich even more. Notice how their cashiers take only our orders? Our food is served by a different set of crew. Wouldn’t that be more in keeping with global standards?

By the way, if you’re not a Chow King fan yet, try their Fiesta Halo-Halo. Be sure to give these explicit instructions: 2 scoops of UBE ice cream (no other flavor will do!) and LESS ice. And while you’re at it, ask for Beef Chaofan. By itself, it’s kind of plain, so ask for their Chili Oil. A drop of this killer concoction will heat up your spoonful of chaofan like no other!

Chedette also introduced me to these! And she has converted many others! Chow King should be giving her a plaque of appreciation, or much better, some sort of commission!

Happy eating everyone! Dedicate your first spoonful to me!

Crushes, Then and Now

I had my first crush when I was in Grade 2. His name was Robert. He was the tallest and most handsome boy in the class. He was the smartest too. I’d like to pat myself in the back right now for my impeccable taste in men (hmmm)!

But I could never tell anybody about my secret love … and for the longest time, I feared that I was some kind of freak or something for having those confusing and oh-so-awkward feelings for that boy. I’m sure you know how it was. We’ve all been though it … the fast-beating heart we just knew everybody could hear, those telling blushes, the stammering, the not being able to look our object of affection directly in the eyes … the need to stay as far away as possible lest he’d notice how flustered or breathless we’ve become … And oh! how can we forget … that secret hope we nurtured deep inside that he felt exactly the same way towards us! Do you remember how even that most accidental of glances towards our direction could send us to seventh heaven?

Would it have been easier for me if I were told that my feelings were normal? All those years, guilt accompanied my secret sighs. I could not get over the thought that I should not be feeling those yet … being too young and all. I wonder until now how I got into that mind frame.

On hindsight, I wished that I were told it was ok. But would I say that to my own daughter? Now comes another matter. She already had crushes at 4 years of age. The very first to hold that distinction was Tim of Nickelodeon’s High 5 followed by Sportacus of Lazytown. Those did not raise my red flags yet. But lately though, she “graduated” to a boy in Grade 3, and unlike me who was determined to take my secret to my grave, she had no qualms about showing it to everybody. She even made him sit beside her during mass and declared afterwards that she was not washing her hand because he held it during the singing of The Lord’s Prayer!

She just turned seven! I’m freaking out here!!! Do I hear echoes out there?

How can I tell her that it is normal to like or admire a boy without telling her that it’s ok? Did that sound confused? That’s because I am! I don’t want to cloud Abby’s young mind with outdated prejudices. I want her to develop a healthy attitude towards boy-girl relationships but let her know at the same time that it is still too early for her to be thinking of these matters. (If her father could have his way, she could start thinking of crushes only after he has turned 30!) I wish I could find the proper balance: let her know that it’s normal without sounding too liberated or consenting about it. My fear now is that she might declare having a boyfriend by the time she reaches grade 2! Oh my God! Maboang ko ana!!!

It seems that I’m not alone in this. I’ve spoken with similar-minded parents voicing out these same concerns. My friend Chedette is handling this with 8-year old Carla by simply saying: “You’re not allowed!” Period. And I could see Tita Nini’s hackles rising at the mere thought of 6-year old Cody having crushes already. Mayet and Rudy have it easy. Their daughter Dom would burst into tears when teased about boys.

But can we really stop this from happening? That would be like wanting to stop the tides from turning. Everyday, our children are bombarded with heavy doses of love and romance. As I am writing this, Abby is watching a scene from Happy Feet showing two penguins falling in love. Even Disney Channel, Cartoon Network and Nickelodeon, supposedly child-oriented stations, seem incapable of veering away from this theme.

It is everywhere and our children, smart as they are, could not fail to notice and take in its significance. Can we blame them? Never. What then can we do as parents? As of now, I am doing the ostrich’s act … you know, bury my head in the sand? I’m at a loss about what to do, so I’m doing nothing. I wish I could have Chedette’s certainty as to the course of action she is taking. But I feel that I need to do more than that … only that I do not know what that is yet!

Motherhood … could any job be more difficult?

Free-Falling

“A mother eagle builds a comfortable nest for her young, padding it with feathers from her own breast. But the God-given instinct that builds that secure nest also forces the eaglets out of it before long. Eagles are made to fly, and the mother eagle will not fail to teach them. Only then will they become what they are meant to be.

So one day the mother eagle will disturb the twigs of the nest, making it an uncomfortable place to stay. Then she will pick up a perplexed eaglet, soar into the sky and drop it. This little bird will begin to free-fall. Where is Mama now? She is not far away. Quickly, she will swoop under and catch the fledgling on one strong wing. She will repeat this exercise until each eaglet is capable of flying on its own.”

My friend Mayet shared this story with me. She came across this tale of the mother eagle and her eaglets from Our Daily Bread during her time of indecision, when she stood at the crossroads, at a loss and desperately praying for God’s guidance.

Like me, Mayet is one mother who is now struggling with the same questions every mother through the centuries haven gone through at one point or another: when it is time to let go? When is it time to let our babies out of sheltering wings and into the open? When is it time to let them venture into the unknown?

From the very first moment we held their tiny forms into our arms, we mothers have our paths laid out for us. Our every waking moment is dedicated to caring for our children, ensuring that their needs are provided for, seeing to it that at all times, they are sheltered from all danger and harm.

But time must come when we must ask: are we shielding them too much? What if we have become a mother eagle who is too afraid to let her eaglets out of the comfort zone that is their nest? Then, we would fail our duty of teaching them to become what they are meant to be.

Are we ready to let our precious ones do the free-fall? Are we going to be swift enough to catch them? Will our wings be strong enough?

Our children have been too sheltered all throughout their young lives. Are we ready to let them join the real world? Do we have the heart to throw them where they would either have to swim or sink? Will it be for their best interests? How will we know that we have chosen the right path for them? Will there be regrets later on?

So many questions … and we don’t see comforting answers in the horizon.

BEWARE!!!

Have you ever been told that your husband was not with you because he was dating his 21-year old girlfriend?

I have … but it did not cause the furor you would have expected would follow such revelation. Let me backtrack a bit.

Around 10 pm two years ago, a male caller asked for me. After assuring me that he was friend trying to do me a favor, he asked if my husband was home at that time. With my suspicion aroused, I quickly invented a story about my husband Nonoy having a boys’ night out with his friends even as I frantically signaled for the very same husband to come near me and listen in to our conversation.

He identified himself as Mark Villanueva. He sounded hesitant at first, as if wanting me to urge him on. Sensing this, I encouraged him to reveal his purpose (while trying to sound as gullible as possible). He told me a lot of things about us – like my husband’s appearance (Chinese-looking, light-skinned and tall), his profession, and more!

After much beating around the bush, and with voice dripping with sympathy, he mournfully told me that Nonoy was not really with his barkadas at all … he was driving around the boulevard with his girlfriend at that exact moment! (Surely no husband could be that stupid! Unless, of course, he wanted to be found out by his wife!)

He proceeded to tell me that Nonoy met this girlfriend “Karel Lay” in SUMC while my father-in-law was hospitalized there, that she was a nursing student doing her OJT or whatever that is called, around the time they met.

My father-in-law was indeed hospitalized. How did he know about that? I found out that he called our home a day or two before, had a talk with our house helper and was able to wheedle out that information along with all the other family facts that he brandished before me to gain my confidence and assure me that he had inside knowledge on our family.

“Mark Villanueva’s” story might stink to high heavens … any thinking individual would immediately know that … but to any vulnerable wife who does not have much confidence on her husband’s fidelity, that story might just sell.

He was very good with what he did! He sounded young and spoke very good English. And he was very convincing too! He was an expert at coaxing information out by starting a statement then trailing off in the middle, letting you finish it for him, thereby unwittingly giving him usable information against you.

Take this for instance: “Your husband met this girl in the hospital. Wasn't his father hospitalized recently in ..... ?” Any anxious wife whose world has suddenly turned upside down will not think twice at naming the right hospital. But I did … I was dead calm and I deliberately named the wrong one … “SUMC” (my father-in-law was in fact admitted at Holy Child Hospital). I got him right inside my pocket from the very beginning.

We reported this matter to the NBI. Subsequent calls to our line were traced and his residence placed under surveillance. Over the next few days, “Mark Villanueva” and I continued to talk. He offered to help me get proof of my husband’s supposed infidelity by trailing him and videotaping his activities. He asked if I had a video camera. I answered, “Yes, of course!” “The latest?” he asked. “Oh yes!” answered gullible, eager me. I even added, “It’s the small model, digital!” Another outright lie from yours truly.

The next day, he called me with another problem … “We don’t have any transportation … but we can rent from Scuds … can you give us the money for that?”

Finally, we agreed to meet at Hypermart so I could give the money and the video camera to him and his two friends. The NBI agent arranged to be there as well. But that was the last time we spoke. The agent told me that he was spotted while doing surveillance and was probably recognized. I never heard from “Mark Villanueva” again.

Why am I writing about this now? I just want to warn the readers against the Mark Villanuevas in this world. The first line of defense, naturally, is to leave strict instructions to our household helps NEVER ever to give any information about anything to any caller. Period.

Nonoy warned me that “Mark Villanueva” might read this column and might want to get back at us. I told him that I would write this: the NBI knows him and his cohorts. We know him. And we know exactly where he lives. End of the story.

The Gal of that Woman!

I just came from the supermarket in Lee Plaza to pick up a few groceries. The lines were long, today being Saturday, and I only had 6 items in my basket, so I joined the queue in the express lane (maximum of 10 items only!!!! - everyone is supposed to know that!)

I was behind a Spanish mestiza who oozed wealth and privilege. She had all the trappings of affluence displayed all over her person ... and she had with her a basketful of groceries numbering 20-30 items! And she was in the express lane too!

I belatedly recognized her to be the wife of a very prominent politician in the province. I seethed with resentment, to say the least, at the gal of that woman, openly flaunting her status as one so close to power, she can make it known to all the sundry that Lee Plaza and the entire Oriental Negros, for that matter, can shove their rules up their as--s. She is too high and mighty to be ever bothered with such petty concerns as observing common courtesy in grocery stores!

That is why I am so fed up with politics, our politicians and their hangers on. They consider themselves above everything and everyone, and of course, how could I forget, the LAW.

An afterthought: considering it's election season, one would have expected these people to behave themselves, like put their best feet forward, and appear as angelic as possible?

Abby's Ballet Recital

Cody and Abby during technical rehearsals

Abby with school and ballet classmate Nicole

We referred to them as the blue girls and the pink girls. The blue girls are in the more advanced class while Abby and the rest in pink are in beginners. I took this picture at the ballet studio located at the rear of Luce Auditorium in Silliman University.

Killing time by launching another gameboy tournament: Raffy (checking out the girls), Gabby (in blue shirt), Abby, Cody (on yaya's lap) and Mommy Nini outside the ballet studio

The girls with Teacher Chini during technical rehearsals receiving final instructions.

Doing their curtain call

Abby had her 2nd ballet recital last February 26. We parents had the greatest fun dolling up our daughters (and thanks to Teacher Maru, by the way, for doing their make-up especially that fish tail eyeline) and proudly watched from the audience as our beloved girls goofed up onstage in the most adorable ways imaginable!

Of course, the "adorable" part could only come from the perspective of the parents involved! But we wanted to believe that the rest of the audience thought so too! In fact, we told ourselves that their performance will be remembered, not for their blunders, but for how adorable they were while they were committing those mishaps!!! He he he! After all, as little ballerinas, they were not expected to be perfect yet, blah blah blah .....

I know, I know ,,, only another parent whose young daughter has been to a ballet recital would be willing enough to swallow that line.

But they really were adorable in their tutus!!!

But then again, this is Abby's mother writing. Nobody has to believe me!

But, but .....

Post Script: (March 9, 2007)

I started writing the draft of this post a day or two after the recital. I could not post it right away because I found it hard to upload pictures (a single picture would take around 10 minutes to upload with my dial-up connection). I was in a very different mood then, any reader could tell that right away.

Lately though, I learned that behind the fun and excitement that we were having as we prepped our daughters up for their number, a very ugly scene was going on in the dance studio located at the rear of the auditorium.

A very irate mother (so say the least) complained of her daughter's name having been omitted in the list of dancers that was distributed to the audience. She had a very valid reason for complaining, but she went beyond the bounds of acceptable human conduct when she started slapping Teacher Ronnie around, a very gifted dancer and choreographer, who also happened to be Abby's teacher in another dance class, and who was, incidentally, the wrong person to take that matter up, BECAUSE HE DID NOT PREPARE THE PROGRAMME!

The entire incident was related by another Dumaguete blogger, Ian Casocot, in his site The Spy in the Sandwich entitled MONSTERS.

I just have to say something about that incident. I cannot keep quiet on this matter. It has aroused my outrage, not only because I know and respect the decent person who has been so shamelessly humiliated, but because people like the woman mentioned in Ian's blog should not be allowed to get away with her actions without anybody saying a thing or two about it!

As always, we get back to our being Filipinos, so timid ... and yet we complained of being abused here and there ... I wonder whose fault it is too?

THE TEACHER DESERVES AN APOLOGY!

I want to add my thoughts on that incident related to us by my fellow columnist Ian Casocot re: Monster. I know the choreographer personally because my daughter attends his dance class. I have nothing but the highest regard for him, not only because he is an extremely gifted dancer and choreographer, but because he was a kind, cheerful, patient and gentle mentor to little girls who were just learning to find their dancing feet. But most of all, he is a gentleman through and through.

To have his dignity trampled that way, and in full view of his dancers and students, for
negligence he absolutely had nothing to do about, over a small matter that could have been settled in another place and in a more appropriate time, and in a manner that will do justice to our claim as “gentle” people … is simply unforgivable!

HE DESERVES AN APOLOGY!

I hope that he would not decide to leave Dumaguete because of that monstrous incident. Our little girls are thriving under his care and we wish them to continue learning from him.

Remember Teacher, that woman does not represent the face of all the other ballet mothers like me who respect you and appreciate what you do for our precious children.

Finally, I hope that others will join me in saying …

THE TEACHER DESERVES AN APOLOGY!

What will make me leave the Philippines (An Open Letter to all Filipinos)

I did not write this open letter. As with my previous post, I received this forwarded mail from a cousin.

I do not necessarily agree with the writer's sentiments about wanting to leave the Philippines. This country may stink big time but this is my home and I intend to stay here. I may want to travel and visit other countries, but I do not have the remotest desire to settle anywhere else but here in my beautiful Dumaguete City.

But I wholeheartedly agree with his views on Philippine politics and the personalities therein - it's also making me sick! Lately, I have not been tuning into our local TV stations. Seeing all those political ads are nauseating - with those prettied-up wannabes giving out their fanciest fake smiles and trying their damnest to appear pang-masa and appealing, kissing babies and putting their arms around ordinary/everyday-people types like the ones we would see in marketplaces. I wonder where that persona would go the moment they get elected? Back into their dingiest closets of course, to be resurrected only come election time again.

Those idiots who will be voting for those TRAPOS (traditional politicians - in English, TRAPO literally means RAGS), superstars/actors, boxing and basketball heroes, social butterflies ... should stop and think and wonder what these persons could do except look pretty and impressive in their Armani suits in the senate or look idiotic as I would expect Manny Pacquiao would be like in the Congress - I wonder what he would do to get noticed by those snootheads? Box his way around the Congressional Hall? I admire and love Manny Pacquiao.. time and time again, he made us proud to be Filipinos. But he should stay where he is best ... in the boxing arena. He is being used - is he so densed he could not realize that? Politicians know that Manny's popularity with the masses will carry him through any position he would aim for and all of them along with him.

A personal message to Manny: keep making us proud by staying with boxing. We love and admire you. You will be swallowed up whole along with all your hard-earned fortune in the world of politics. Stay where you are. Good intentions to serve the Filipinos alone will not get you through in a world where dog eats dog. Go into that direction and you will lose all the love and respect that we hold for you.

Anyway, you've served us more than enough already. In fact, you did more than any Congressman or Senator has ever done for us - for a brief moment, you made us stand proud as Filipinos. Be remembered as the glorious Manny Pacquaio in the boxing ring, not as Manny Pacquiao, the pathetic figure in congress.

Robert (whose blog is linked here) wrote about his fascination over politics and about Democrats and Republicans and the causes they support ... I do not know anything about American politics but I assume that US politicians' causes are based on personal convictions and/or in support of what their parties stand for.

Filipino politicians are a sad bunch. They will mouth anything and everything, perhaps even male castration (including their own) if it would get them elected, and forget all about it once they are in power.

We all are a sorry lot indeed! I am seriously thinking of not going to the polls in May. What for? Nothing has changed, nothing will ever change. New names, old faces ... same old routine and jostling for one concern alone ... personal interests and nothing else!

Here's the open letter in full ...

Dear Fellow Filipino,

Good day to all of you! Before I begin my letter... just a disclaimer, for people who know me they know that I love the Philippines very much and I am not really one who rants and complaints to high heavens about what is happening to our country and does nothing about it, in fact, I feel that at my relatively young age of 27, I have done much service to the Philippines by setting up Pathways to Higher Education which has sent more than 500 poor but deserving students to college and AHON Foundation which has already built two public elementary school libraries that have benefitted more than 3,500 students. Yet, after seeing how events in our nation have transpired the past few weeks and talking with some friends, I feel the urge to share with you my own thoughts and feelings.

Over the weekend, we saw the completion of two major political alliances for this coming Senate Elections that has just began here in the Philippines . Now we have two political forces with familiar faces nonetheless on opposite sides of the fences. On one end, you have Tito Sotto and Tessie Aquino-Oreta who were two major stalwarts of the opposition and the FPJ Campaign in 2004 hobnobbing with the woman (Pres. GMA) whom they claimed to have cheated FPJ in the last Presidential Elections.On the other side of the fence, you see Manny Villar, the former house speaker who was actually responsible for impeaching Erap now part of the United Opposition who is led by no less than... Erap himself. Now if you don't see anything wrong with this picture then you must be one of the many Filipinos who have accepted this very sad reality that there is indeed no permanent ideals that our government leaders stand up for but rather they just go where there self-interests can best be served. It is this kind of politics why I no longer wonder why good people like Ramon Magsaysay Awardee Mayor Jesse Robredo of Naga City or outstanding Bulacan Governor Josie Dela Cruz will find it hard or worse, never be elected to national positions.

It is with these in mind that I'd like to share with you what are events this coming May elections that will make me consider leaving the Philippines :

1.) If former COMELEC Commissioner Virgilio Garcillano of Hello Garci fame wins in his bid to become Congressman of Bukidnon...seeking to replace a good man no less in incumbent Cong. Neric Acosta... We would really be the laughing stock of the whole world if we allow a man with the reputation of Garci to be one of our so called "Honorable Gentlemen".

2.) If Dancing Queen Tessie Aquino Oreta reclaims her seat at the Senate... I hope that all of us would still remember that dance that she did during the 2001 impeachment hearings after they voted to overrule the decision of then Chief Justice Davide... let us make sure that people like her never make it to the Senate again.

3.) If Richard Gomez becomes a senator... what does he know about making laws? We already have the likes of Bong Revilla and Lito Lapid in the Senate and their performance or lack of it would be reason enough not to elect another actor who has no prior experience in government to the distinguished halls of the Senate.

4.) If Gringo Honasan wins again.... have we not learned our lesson? I cannot believe that just because someone is charismatic then we will just elect him to become one of our senators despite the fact that he has time and again caused so much instability in our country... if we want a military junta similar to that of Thailand ... then lets all vote for this guy....

5.) If Manny Pacquiao becomes Congressman of General Santos City... everybody loves Manny the Boxing Champ but Manny the Lawmaker? Lets be realistic here, Manny is our Hero alright but I think it takes more than just great boxing skills and a desire to serve to be able to make appropriate laws that would help uplift the lives of the many Filipinos who live in Poverty.

6.) If Lito Lapid wins for Mayor of Makati City... I don't like Jojo Binay as well but Lito Lapid as city mayor of the country's finance and business center?!?! And do you really think he is from Makati and has good plans for the city? The Arroyos asking someone like him to run just goes to show you how much love and concern this government has for our country.

7.) If Chavit Singson becomes a Senator, Illegal Gambling = Chavit... enough said.

Now if all of these 7 things happen during this coming elections then don't be surprised if I decide to leave this country that I love dearly. Like I said during the first part of my letter, I feel that I have done much for this country but I think its time that Filipinos become more vigilant and critical in selecting our leaders for the sake of our future and the generations that will go beyond us. So I appeal to every Filipino who asks what can I actually do for my country... Choose and vote for the right people this coming elections, huwag na tayong magpaloko sa mga kandidatong maganda lang ang jingle o gwapo lang sa mga poster. Let us choose leaders who have a good track record for service and who are genuinely committed towards serving our country.

Manindigan naman tayong lahat para sa ating Kinabukasan at para sa Kapakanan ng ating Bayan!

Thank you very much for your time in reading this letter.

Sincerely,

Ang Inyong Alagad
Kapitan Bangas