a raconteur’s attempt

Dear Johann,

Good morning! Done now with your work? You should have gone to sleep.

Its 12:13 midnight, kids are asleep. I just woke up. We were all down on the couch a while ago, I even had a long nap earlier. Now can’t join them and here I am writing you.

So ‘kulit’ but, happy anniversary again. Looking forward for the coming hundred years. I still want another wedding though, hope to have it on our 50th anniv. But, our pictures on that day will not suit friendsters anymore, it will scare people. Old, gray and kulubot .

My writings might be boring you all these years but I’ll keep on writing you anyway. Like what F. Cimatu said on why he writes, "its my form of seducing".

Do you remember when we first met. You were looking at me  with your ’suplado’ effect and I was with my black gray checkered polo, gray pants and black boots. My get-up for the love of horse back riding that brought us together. Manong Matias’ pride of introducing us gives him the feeling of, "I’m the best Pony Boy".

I can’t forget the Midland Courier you brought on our first group date where there’s this article about you winning a tournament of Karate held in Bontoc. You came like you just picked up the paper somewhere else when your real intention was to impress me.

Then our first real date, just us. No more ’sabit’ friends. I changed my clothes a million times.  I have to look my best, my chance or no more second one. Then there you were with  your jeans and white shirt. You smelled yummy, I remember its CK ONE. You were holding a bunch of flowers and we took it to Manang Eva’s Canteen. Ate Chona was

jealous, the flowers were from Mums And Roses. We attended our first mass at SLP then went to Wright Park. The first time we showed the boys we’re dating. Then Aladin said (with that face he is known of), "Ahah, tawag-tawag a. Ah-a!".

I knew I’ll spent the rest of my life with you when I went to fetch you at the Airport in Davao City. We were both crying when we saw each other. You sold your only treasure - your horse’s number in Pacdal for your fare . You  followed to win me back. That impressed my Auntie Gloria and convinced me, "Hwag mo nang pakawalan!". Then you went back home to Baguio and after a week, it was my turn to follow you. Daddy knew he’ll give away her first daughter  upon seeing me in my pajamas one morning when he thought I was still in Davao. I didn’t wake them up when I came home late that night.

Oh well, lots of first. Now,  there’s our 2 precious boys,  tucked in bed giving me my time to write. There’s more to remember, lovely memories and its all in my heart. These are my collections on why I love and will love you still. I thank you for giving it to me.

See you when I wake up with that kiss and that morning breath.

I love you Papa!

Your Wife,

Lovelyn

This recent Virginia Tech Shooting that’s stirring every aware mind is another sad story . So many people died and I can feel how painful it is to grieve more so that its a sudden and a tragic loss.

 

 

As I go on, I hope not to sound judgemental and presumptuous on Cho Seung-Hui’s reasons. What he did was deplorably unforgivable. His mental state was first put to blame but as a perceiver, I pity him. He was an angry lost unguided soul. Just hearing her grand mother say, “that idiot” reflects what kind of family support he has. Another is the school playwright  he wrote:  “I like to kill you”, referring to his step father indicates abuse.

 

 

I just hate how the media vultures make a feast out of it. The assassin’s hate message is also disturbing for it might trigger copycats and idolatry.  Human nature also being shown like putting blame on who ever and what ever they could come up with - The school, police, gun seller etc…

Last week here in Italy, a Filipino teenage boy threw himself off the window and died. In his suicide note, he was bullied and mocked as gay at school. Her mother’s cry on TV was a sound of crashed dream. What a pity over a good son and an A student whose hopes of not having a job as ‘katulong’(maid) was sent to grave because he was different.

A neighbor Filipino 16 year old boy asked me, “Tita, magkano po kaya tuition ng college sa atin(Pinas)? Tita, huwag mong sasabihin kay Mommy, di nila maiintindihan”(Aunt, How much is the tuition fee in the Philippine? Don’t tell mom, she won’t understand)  I asked him why and he told me he is fed up with racism at school. Often bullied  as “immigrant” and worst, calling him son of a whore. The irony is his parents want to keep the family together but its killing their son inside. School for him here is hell while for his parents - it was hope.

 

 

A sad fact here, seldom do Filipino youngsters get through college. Menial jobs are easy out there with a salary not far from the blue collared work. They’d rather be dishwashers than to be singled out as obvious minorities. 

 

 

The prior mentioned tragedy may be far from what I stated about the racism. Its not even incomparable but I just would like to point out that if a young mind is not that strong to fight, add a home with out love and support plus a lonely childhood, then a Cho Seung-Hui is really different

There was this mountain next to our house when I was a kid, where I just lie down there lazily, watching the blue sky and the different images I try to figure out-out of the clouds. From that mountain you could also see the road, the old mines, the school and our house. Best sight would be the ranging mountains and the horizon that would later be rich in magical colors when the sun sets. Its leveled now from road widening and houses were built up.

Last Monday, on one of my supposed long walks at the beach. I cheated on my workout and lied down on the rocks. I just retired there like I was that kid again on that mountain. As I close my eyes and listen to the sound of waves dashing the rocks, it really felt good and refreshing. It made me recount how lucky I am to find that joy from simply being lazy. Oooppss again, not lazy – lazy, I meant this beautiful life I am blessed of. Its worth the calories I did not burn.

When my son sees his cartoon shows, I usually join him on the couch and I sleep while he watches. It was Saturday so his regular shows weren’t on and an old movie was shown instead. It was the Karate Kid (part I) of Ralph Macchio. Oohh men, that was like the coolest movie back in my elementary days. Watching it now, it looks funny, silly and sooo 80’s. I can’t stop giggling and my mouth was glued unable to put down that smile.

My son keeps on asking me what’s funny and I told him I just remembered some things and he looked at me like “are you crazy?”…After watching that movie 23 years ago, I made my self believe I was a black belter hahaha…I used do that magic power kick while belching out my Yaaaaahhh! I also did my wax in-wax out hehehe. You see, until now I’m laughing. And yeah, for me, Ralph Macchio was the most handsome adorable male specie back then. I had a poster of him on the wall next to Menudo in our room I share with my sisters before.

I was so excited to tell my husband about this forgotten Karate thing in me when he came home from work. He didn’t join my cheerful state because he was tired and who wouldn’t be annoyed with a wife who is so ecstatic over an old crush. I asked him if he ever did that kick and yaahh-yaahh and I got the same look I had from my son earlier that day. He said, “Never!” and I asked, “Really?” with my CIS interrogation.  Then he was copying Daniel’s lame moves and said, “Yuckkk!”. Daanngg! Means I was really silly mad back then. .