I can so barely walk...

for having played badminton with the kids.


As there was a brownout in most of Dumaguete yesterday morning, we couldn't tinker with our electronic toys so the kids and I, with their friends (ages 13-22), trooped to The Court in HyperMart just down the street where we live. Incidentally, there was a big crowd, make that a huge crowd, outside HyperMart because it was audition day for Pinoy Big Brother and Pinoy Dream Academy, popular shows in Philippine television today.


Back to our game:


Carlo (13) : Ma, hinay kaayo ka mo serve! (Ma, your serve is too weak!)


Me: ::makes a face:: (silently: So what? Doesn't it count that I cheer the loudest?!)


Mike (22): Good game, good game!


Me: Yey! (in my mind: Fabulous aerobic exercise and now I can rest!)


Lalaine (Mike's girlfriend): Change court!


Me: What?! Again?! Kah Kah Kah.


And so we played for more than an hour afterwhich I had to leave (thankfully) when my MultiMedia ka-berks called me away as we had to set up/edit/do final artwork/rehearse for a seamless flow in church at five pm.


I think we all had a great fun time playing badminton. But maybe next time, I'll go with my age group. I'm sure some of them will have asthma or arthritis or something...

.

hmm...

so strange saturday

sudden afternoon
darkness and downpour
thunder and lightning galore

and at
home today

no electricity (noreco)
no landline (cruztelco)
no broadband (smart)
no cellphone signal (globe)

i therefore conclude

it's a conspiracy!

hmph.









.

Favorite story

.

A CONTINUITY OF PARKS

by Julio Cortazar


He had begun to read the novel a few days before. He had put it aside because of some urgent business conferences, opened it again on his way back to the estate by train; he permitted himself a slowly growing interest in the plot, in the characterizations. That afternoon, after writing a letter giving his power of attorney and discussing a matter of joint ownership with the manager of his estate, he returned to the book in the tranquility of his study which looked out upon the park with its oaks. Sprawled in his favorite armchair, its back toward the door--even the possibility of an intrusion would have irritated him, had he thought of it--he let his left hand caress repeatedly the green velvet upholstery and set to reading the final chapters. He remembered effortlessly the names and his mental image of the characters; the novel spread its glamour over him almost at once. He tasted the almost perverse pleasure of disengaging himself line by line from the things around him, and at the same time feeling his head rest comfortably on the green velvet of the chair with its high back, sensing that the cigarettes rested within reach of his hand, that beyond the great windows the air of afternoon danced under the oak trees in the park. Word by word, licked up the sordid dilemma of the hero and heroine, letting himself be absorbed to the point where the images settled down and took on color and movement, he was witness to the final encounter in the mountain cabin. The woman arrived first, apprehensive; now the lover came in, his face cut by the backlash of a branch. Admirably, she stanched the blood with her kisses, but he rebuffed her caresses, he had not come to perform again the ceremonies of a secret passion, protected by a world of dry leaves and furtive paths through the forest. The dagger warmed itself against his chest, and underneath liberty pounded, hidden close. A lustful, panting dialogue raced down the pages like a rivulet of snakes, and one felt it had all been decided from eternity. Even to those caresses which writhed about the lover's body, as though wishing to keep him there, to dissuade him from it; they sketched abominably the fame of that other body it was necessary to destroy. Nothing had been forgotten: alibis, unforeseen hazards, possible mistakes. From this hour on, each instant had its use minutely assigned. The cold-blooded, twice-gone-over reexamination of the details was barely broken off so that a hand could caress a cheek. It was beginning to get dark.


Not looking at each other now, rigidly fixed upon the task which awaited them, they separated at the cabin door. She was to follow the trail that led north. On the path leading in the opposite direction, he turned for a moment to watch her running, her hair loosened and flying. He ran in turn, crouching among the trees and hedges until, in the yellowish fog of dusk, he could distinguish the avenue of trees which led up to the house. The dogs were not supposed to bark, and they did not bark. The estate manager would not be there at this hour, and he was not there. He went up the three porch steps and entered. The woman's words reached him over a thudding of blood in his ears: first a blue chamber, then a hall, then a carpeted stairway. At the top, two doors. No one in the first room, no one in the second. The door of the salon, and then, the knife in his hand, the light from the great windows, the high back of an armchair covered in green velvet, the head of the man in the chair reading a novel.

















.

High School Reunion, 2

(Borrowed somebody's poem...)



Every thirty years, as summertime nears,
An announcement arrives in the mail,
"A reunion is planned; it'll be really grand;
Make plans to attend without fail."


I'll never forget the first time we met;
We tried so hard to impress.
We drove fancy cars, smoked big cigars,
And wore our most elegant dress.


It was quite an affair; the whole class was there.
It was held at a fancy hotel.
We wined, and we dined, and we acted refined,
And everyone thought it was swell.


The men all conversed about who had been first
To achieve great fortune and fame.
Meanwhile, their spouses described their fine houses
And how beautiful their children became.


The homecoming queen, who once had been lean,
Now weighed in at one-ninety-six.
The jocks who were there had all lost their hair,
And the cheerleaders could no longer do kicks.


No one had heard about the class nerd
Who'd guided a spacecraft to the moon;
Or poor little Jane, who's always been plain;
She married a shipping tycoon.


The boy we'd decreed "most apt to succeed"
Was serving ten years in the pen,
While the one voted "least" now was a priest;
Just shows you can be wrong now and then.


They awarded a prize to one of the guys
Who seemed to have aged the least.
Another was given to the grad who had driven
The farthest to attend the feast.


They took a class picture, a curious mixture
Of beehives, crew cuts and wide ties.
Tall, short, or skinny, the style was the mini;
You never saw so many thighs.


At our next get-together, no one cared whether
They impressed their classmates or not,
The mood was informal, a whole lot more normal;
By this time we'd all gone to pot


It was held out-of-doors, at the lake shores;
We ate hamburgers, coleslaw, and beans.
Then most of us lay around in the shade,
In our comfortable T-shirts and jeans.


By the fortieth year, it was abundantly clear,
We were definitely over the hill.
Those who weren't dead had to crawl out of bed,
And be home in time for their pill.


And now I can't wait; they've set the date;
Our fiftieth is coming, I'm told.
It should be a ball, they've rented a hall
At the Shady Rest Home for the old.


Repairs have been made on my hearing aid;
My pacemaker's been turned up on high.
My wheelchair is oiled,
and my teeth have been boiled;
And I've bought a new wig and glass eye.


I'm feeling quite hearty, and I'm ready to party;
I'm gonna dance 'til dawn's early light.
It'll be lots of fun; I just hope that there's one
Other person who can make it that night.



.

SUHS Batch '78

Abraham's Christmas tree

.

.

We had a dinner meeting at Abe's house tonight to sort of crystalize

the plans for our 30th reunion next year. To wit:

.

.

August 23 Saturday

.

Family Day

Dauin Beach House

Daytime or overnight

(those who want to stay overnight may do so

as there's plenty of room at the rest house)

Assembly place: 9 am Sted's SU

.

.

August 24 Sunday

.

Community Service

(Feeding the street children)

Pastoral Center, Cathedral Grounds

Lunch time (11 am to 1 pm)

.

Formal Dinner

Don Atilano

7 pm

.

.

August 25 Monday

.

Family Outing (again)

Antulang Beach Resort

Overnight

.

.

August 26 Tuesday

.

SUHS Homecoming

Afternoon

.

Ballroom/Disco Dancing

Honeycomb (exclusive)

Evening

.

.

August 27 Wednesday

.

SU Parade

City

Afternoon

.

HaloHalo Time

Chowking or Bethel

Right after the parade

.

Dinner and Karaoke

Somebody's house (maybe Rommel's or Chona's)

Or Debonaire's beach house

(we can ride on his speed boat, too)

Evening

(oh, but no speed boating at night)

.

.

August 28 Thursday

.

Medical Mission

No venue yet

Afternoon

.

University Grand Reunion

SU Quadrangle

Evening

.

.

Notes:

.

.

1. Formal dinner:

.

girls - long gown division.

.

mga boys - do not complain. you have to wear a barong or a suit, long sleeved polo at the least. no short sleeved polo shirts allowed. dili mo match sa among long gown, noh. and we'll ask the waiters what they'll be wearing that night so you won't wear the same. and no, you may not wear long skirts, too. ;-)

.

2. What happened to the Sand Bar and Dolphin Watching Plan?! Sadya kaayo to, I don't know if we can singit it. Maybe Friday, August 29? Kaya pa sa atong powers or too much na?

.

3. For the community service, we will not go to the Talay Rehabilitation Center with a cauldron of soy bean soup on Abe's white car seat again... too many poignant memories... aheeheehee

.

4. We haven't included a tribute to teachers night as there are only very few of them left... and most of them sleep too early :-(

.

5. We did not include the sunrise jogging by the boulevard and the budbud and chokolate breakfast at the painitan sa tiangge because hey, in all our previous reunions, most nights we went home morning already. ^_^

.

7. We will have a business meeting sometime somewhere, probably during the formal dinner when we are all well behaved :-)

.

9. T-shirt designs please, kadtong mga artists diha... not black shirt na daw coz it's too warm for the parade. And we had that during our 25th na (where we were adjudged best in t-shirt design by the way!). And not red daw coz that's even warmer.

.
6. So much to do, so little time...

other options:

Lake Balanan
Balinsasayaw Twin Lakes
Forest Camp
Sea Forest
Chocolate Hills in Bohol
Spelunking in Mabinay
Casaroro Falls

.

7. And on Friday, this Friday, December 7... Eric Beltran, visiting from Chicago, is inviting our batch to dinner at the Royal Suites Inn, home of the sinful, choles-ful, sizzling bulalo.

.

.

Room for more...

...heroes.

Kevin Tordecilla is the son of Boyet and Gina Tordecilla. Pastor Boyet is a missionary of the Bread of Life Ministries Outreach in France today.

And here’s another young person the Philippines can be proud of: Mikaela Fudolig.




She started college at 11 years old and at 16 she graduated summa cum laude from the University of the Philippines last March 2007.


The following is an excerpt from her valedictory address:


Today, the nation needs brave, defiant pioneers to reverse our nation’s slide to despair. Today, we must call upon the spirit that beats the tracks. Today, we must present an alternative way of doing things.

Do NOT just take courage, for courage is not enough. Instead, be BRAVE! It will take bravery to go against popular wisdom, against the clichéd expectations of family and friends. It will take bravery to gamble your future by staying in the country and try to make a prosperous life here.

Do NOT just be strong in your convictions, for strength is not enough. Instead, DEFY the pressure to lead a comfortable, but middling life. Let us lead this country from the despair of mediocrity. Let us not seek to do well, but strive to EXCEL in everything that we do. This, so others will see us as a nation of brains of the highest quality, not just of brawn that could be had for cheap.

Take NOT the road less traveled. Rather, MAKE new roads, BLAZE new trails, FIND new routes to your dreams. Unlike the track-beaters in campus who see where they’re going, we may not know how far we can go. But if we are brave, defiant searchers of excellence, we will go far. Explore possibilities, that others may get a similar chance. I have tried it myself. And I’m speaking to you now.

But talk is cheap, they say. And so I put my money where my mouth is. Today, I place myself in the service of the University, if it will have me. I would like to teach, to share knowledge, and perhaps to be an example to new UP students in thinking and striving beyond the limits of the possible. This may only be a small disturbance in the grass. But I hope you’ll come with me, and trample a new path.


More about Mikaela:

College at 11

Pagtatapos 2005

Speeches








.

Heroes

In the Old Testament there was the Jewish exile.

In the nineteenth century there was the Chinese dispersion.

In our time, there is the Filipino diaspora.

Will you be the new Rizal?

Violin Virtuoso

Where else can one get an awesome enchanted evening for only PhP 150? Only at the Luce Auditorium in Dumaguete City. After twelve years, Master Violinist Jay Cayuca returned to his mother’s birth city to serenade an enthused assembly that filled about ¾ of the 900++ seat concert hall. It was heartening to note that there were very young kids as well as very old folks, including one in a wheelchair, among the audience. As for the rest of the young people, perhaps they were two kilometers away at the Lamberto Macias Sports Complex where pop idols Sarah Geronimo and Mark Bautista were having a concert too (which my brother-in-law, Edgar, tells me was jampacked) at the exact same time.

The kainis thing about Jay Cayuca’s show was that there was no program which we could read. I wanted to know the titles of the songs. I wanted to know the names of the different instruments and something about each member of the band. I was hoping to learn more about the artists through a printed program. But there was none!

None, until after the first song when an usher came in with a few photocopied sheets of what I supposed was the program. But as I said she only had a few copies, maybe thirty copies. After the next song, another usher came in with maybe forty copies this time. And during the next song, another twenty copies. Distributed at random in the darkened theater. What the…!

Anyway I did not want to let such a wee little thing spoil my enjoyment of the experience. Let it be an evening of no words, only music.

Congas

Bass guitar

Jay Cayuca and his band played for one hour forty minutes straight with only brief breaks in between songs to introduce the next piece. His flutist was the lead flutist of the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra. Wow. And his percussionist was a lady whose tireless hands tapped the congo drums in a seemingly effortless manner. She also provided the vocals to the only piece with words in their whole repertoire that night. The bass guitar was as tall as the bassist who wore a tuxedo. (The photo I have here is not exactly the kind of guitar I saw last night, but close.) The keyboardist was a young lady named Ms. Lydia Cutay (got her name from a cd bought at the lobby afterwards). And finally, Jay introduced the lead guitarist, playing a bright red guitar and sporting a multicolored polo shirt, as “the man behind my music”.

And so the evening went, so fast, it seemed. Each number had Jay Cayuca gyrating and dancing and prancing all over the floor. It was not just a performance. The man was baring his soul. He was spraying sweat all over which reminded me of David Pomeranz who said “I’m a waterfall!” during his concert a couple of weeks ago at the non-air conditioned Lamberto Macias Sports Complex. The sound system there was really bad, I think the mixing was not so good, David’s voice being drowned out by the overly-loud band.

As for Jay Cayuca’s music, res ipsa loquitur...

.

Pond Party

Drs. LLO and DVO (Lynn Larena-Olegario & Danny Olegario)

Lynn and the PT Program Staff



Viva la SUHS Batch '72


HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LYNN and CONGRATULATIONS!

Yesterday we partied in the middle of Lynn's fishpond in Agan-an Sibulan to celebrate her *mmph* birthday and her passing the diplomate board exam for Physiatrists recently.

We had choles-rich fare (lechon, dinuguan, chicharon, sisig, humba, shrimps, talaba) balanced with omega-3-rich sinugbang tarugho, panga ng panit and daing na bangus (fresh from the pond of course). There were oodles of noodles and other delicious delights I forgot the names of. The sweets spread was scrumptious and the boys braved the burgeoning bananas. Were they foot-longs or what?!

At the docs table post-prandial talk began by denouncing the despicable derring-do of Senator Trillanes and company at the Manila Peninsula. When will our country ever learn? Enough already. We wanted to move on to more pleasant topics like Bert Montebon's landscaping and road improvement projects but soon discussion gravitated to the delicate scenario of how to tell a patient that he has terminal illness. Last Sunday I heard a complaint from a family that was so devastated when the attending physician of their mother brutally and nonchalantly told them that their mother was dying, that if they did not have their mother operated on immediately she would surely die, and by the way, that they should have enough money because there is a 40% surcharge as it was a holiday. The family was stunned and still reeling from that shocking information when said doctor turned to their mother and said, "Ikaw, are you ready to die? Are you ready to face Jesus when you die?"

The patient eventually succumbed to the illness, the doctor's diagnosis and prognosis were correct. In time, the family was able to accept the things that transpired. But what rankled in their hearts and minds was the manner by which the terrible news was given to them. Or perhaps in their pain of a loved-one's passing they needed someone, something to blame. I do not know if one is ever prepared for that kind of news, in theory perhaps, but reality often deviates from expected outcomes or reactions.

It was also timely that just last Monday, anesthesiologist Dr. Rachel Rosario-Yunque was in town to give a talk on Disclosure, which is how to "break-it-(the terminal/catastrophic illness)-to-me-gently" to the patient. Rachel's talk was described as "very nice, sensitive and informative" being that Rachel comes from both sides of the issue, her being a pain specialist and a lymphoma survivor herself. Dr. Geena Macalua and Drs. Walden and Giging Ursos are planning to hold a whole day seminar for doctors, nurses, aides and other paramedical personnel involved in the multi-disciplinary approach to managing terminal illness. Yes, I think we need that. And I hope it will not be just another seminar in this over-seminarized country.

Ellyn

One of the best things about living in the Philippines is having a helper at home to do the cooking, marketing, laundry, house cleaning, menu planning, gardening, body massage, physical therapy exercises, anything and everything. Ellyn has been with us many years back but there came a time when she wanted to venture into what it is like to live in the "big city" of Manila. And so reluctantly I let her go, wishing her the best. After she left, many other helpers came and went, with the children unanimously lamenting that none came near Ate Ellyn's efficiency, reliability, patience, kindness, sipag, caring. And so it was with much jubilation that we welcomed Ellyn back when she returned to our household six months ago.

Today, my relatives (who have been recipients of Ellyn's special brand of pag-aasikaso as well) and my family are going to have a party to celebrate Ellyn's twenty-second birthday.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ELLYN!

And THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

my classmate

By some quirk of curriculum, my BS Zoology course in UP Diliman did not have a basic language subject that matched the AB Creative Writing Syllabus of Silliman University. So I enrolled in Filipino 11 (Pagbasa at Pagsulat) together with a bunch of Freshmen and on the first week of school we were asked to interview a classmate and introduce him or her to the class. My partner was…


IZA

Parang itinakda ng tadhana
Na kami ay magkatagpo
Isang batang sumusulong
Isang ginang na tila… umuurong.

ISABEAU RITZI I. UMACOB

Mahirap bigkasin
Mas mahirap baybayin
Pinili ito ng kanyang mga magulang
Na sina Lucio at Ritzi Umacob
Dahil sa isang pelikula
Na napanood nila.

I-S-A-B-E-A-U
Isabeau.
Hindi pangkaraniwan, ano?
Ang palayaw niya ay IZA
Ipinanganak siya sa Zamboanga
Si Frances Karl ang kanyang kuya
Karen Lu naman ang ate nya.

Nakatira siya sa Larena Hall
BS Narsing ang kanyang habol
Gusto niyang maging doktor
At si Russel Crowe ang
Paborito nyang aktor.

Mahilig siyang magbasa
Ng fiction at romansa
At sa larangan ng pagsusulat
Ang pangalan nya ay naka-aangat
Sa National Press Conference
Feature Writing Contest
Nagwagi siya
Isa sa mga da best.

May katangian siya ng isang lider
Na hindi basta-basta ang caliber
Sa Regional Science High School
Student Government
Itinanghal siyang president.

Siya si Iza.
Ako si Ate Mel

Magkatulad
Magkaiba

Labing-anim na taong gulang siya
Ako ay may anak na labing-anim
Na taong gulang na

Gusto nyang maging manggagamot
Sa medisina ako’y tiyak na kasanggkot

Ang kaarawan nya ay sa
Ika-labing apat ng Agosto
Sa ika-dalawampu’t apat ng Agosto
Ang ipinanganak naman ay ako

Mahilig siya mag-alaga ng pusa
Sa gulong ko marami ng pusa ang napisa

Magkatulad
Magkaiba

Ako si Ate Mel
At siya si IZA.

Patio in Baguio

Red-tiled patio

at the Manor Hotel Baguio

in serene Camp John Hay where

we had a convention last September.

As for the rest of the City

a multitude of new buildings have sprouted up and

a gajillion bodies heaved en masse down Session Road.

Wonder if the Quonset hut still stands on Bukawkan.

Where a boy was born

but who is now ensconced

in a red-floored lanai

in Hawaii.