Two Twin Stories

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I find it difficult to recognize people’s faces these days with only their eyes exposed. Even when they speak, their muffled voices sound like a medieval language. I wish there’s a new Google app that translates muffled voices into clear voices. I can’t even recognize my twin brother, Fred. Without seeing his entire face, I can’t tell whether it’s him or me looking in a mirror. Yep, just one of the double disadvantages of having a twin in a pandemic.

Even before this masked pandemic, we’ve had our share of adventures of being mistaken for the other.

One time, I was in a hotel project in Makati, a burly American guy called out Fred’s name, briskly walking toward my direction. I knew right away that this was one of Fred’s.

Even before he opened his big mouth, I blurted out,

“Sorry, I’m not Fred.”

“Don’t f** with me. Of course, you are Fred!”

“No, I’m not. I’m his twin brother. Watch your language.”

“Fred never told me he had a twin.”

“Maybe you haven’t asked.”

“C’mon, show me an ID.”

Exasperated, I pulled one for him.

“OMG, you’re not him. F***!”

And then, without me asking, he told me a story of him bumping into Fred in Singapore, blah, blah, blah.

___________

There was also a time when, out of Alice in Wonderland, a woman I’ve never before seen in my entire happy life startled me with a hug  - along a public walkway somewhere. She was Fred’s officemate, of course.

When she found out I wasn’t him, she jumped into an open manhole. Of course, I was kidding about the open manhole. It was actually closed. Nonetheless, it was a spectacle seeing her face collapse in embarrassment. Good thing she didn’t carry a knife or a rope that time. But I carried a smile on my face until the next weekend thinking about it.

___________

Fred has his own stories to tell, but this is not his blog post.

___________

Back to the main point.

Don’t you wish this pandemic is over already? The lipstick industry is losing heavily.

Cheers to the new normal.

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The Day I Dreaded Most as a Child Came

That day came without notice. In fact, it hadn’t even started yet as I was still in bed when the call from Gigi, my sister-in-law, came telling me she’s gone. My dear Inang, 100kms away from us, succumbed to heart failure due to asthma, 19 years ago today.

I don’t remember anymore how I responded. Half awake, it jolted all my senses. A few minutes later, we were all up, calling everyone. In a few more, we were on the road to Bataan. My mind wandered. What happens now? I was numb.

My mother lived with asthma all her life. I’ve seen her suffer, grasp for air during attacks. It was painful even for a little child like me then to see her in such pain. She endured with all her might -for us, until she couldn’t anymore. That pain died with her, of course, but a new one replaced it. The pain of not being able to see or touch her again -still resides in me. 

I can live with this pain if it’s the only thing that reminds me of you, Inang. A lovely soul left this world for a place you never have to endure any.

I’ve never heard you tell me I was a good son. I didn’t ask you to do so because you showed it much. It doesn’t matter now. I can just look up in the sky, and even in this world’s madding noise, I’d hear you say in my deepest core, “I love you, my boy. You’re a good son.”

This I believe because I have kept you there, closest to my heart, where no noise could ever drown out.

I love you, too, Inang. Cheers!

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The Best Weekend of my Life

The thing is, it hasn’t happened yet. I mean, I am looking at the time in hopefully not-so-far future when anyone would ask me over coffee what I did during the best weekend of my life, I’d have something to say. 

Golf with my buddies on a cool cloudy windless Saturday morning came in very close second. But if I can still break par anytime soon, weekend or not, it will be my best weekend ever!

For now, this is what I am looking forward to:

The Activity

5k run. For a 62-year old bald chap like me, there is no other activity that gives me the drug-free, stoned-high feeling I get after playing three straight sets of singles tennis when my bones were in their twenties. It’s been ages since I played. Just thinking about it makes my lower back throb in pain already. I haven’t lost my love for the sports, though. I still follow most of the major ATP and grand-slam events.

In running, there’s no mental studying an opponent’s move and there is less risk of breaking an ankle. No one controls your movement -you’re on your own. Only your body will tell you to go, slow down or stop. 

The Place and the Weather 

It’s got to be a place where I need to drive 20-30mins, preferably away from the city, from the usual traffic, smog and tall buildings. To a place where with plentiful trees, heavy breathing is an easy thing, and where I could let go, no need to rush and just be.

No rain, no hot sun, no strong winds. Just a gentle breeze that would carry my thoughts away. 

The Playlist

A must for running -for me, at least. The beat helps in keeping my pace while the lyrics help to keep my mind off the distance I am running and give me the boost I need to go on and on.

It should include songs like:

• Top of the World by the Carpenters
• Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on my Head by B.J. Thomas
• This Day Belongs to Me by Seals & Crofts
• Up on the Roof by James Taylor

Running or driving or eating or working or simply loosening up, these feel-good songs make me, you guessed it right, feel good! There’s more to append to this list, but I value your reading time.

Connectivity

Off the grid, really. No ringing, no alert sounds, no notifications. I allow myself to be free from all that. My watch connected to my ear bones (it’s what I call my wireless bone conduction headset). This is all the connection I need. Phone stays in the car. I can’t be bothered. Perfect weekend, remember?

The Drive Back

I will stop at a hole-in-a-wall bakery that serves honest-to-goodness donuts topped with nothing fancy but just sugar. Fresh off the oven. That, and the coffee by my barista son kept hot in my thermos flask. Seated with my still wet running shorts on, I will watch people buying pan-de-sal or walking past the bakery -ordinary people living their ordinary lives. I will silently bless each of them. Though unseen, I may probably be the only one to bless them that day.

On the final drive back home, I’ll look at my reflection in my rearview mirror, smile and tell myself, “That was a mighty fine run.”

___________

It will happen before long. When it does, I’ll go back to this post, tweak a few lines, update the tense and post it again.

Until then, cheers!

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Music & Coffee. And Me.

“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything.” Says my good ol’ friend Plato. 

This morning, as my playlist spins, I sing along with Paul and our mop-top friends belting “Hey Jude” while sipping this cup. 

If you’re anything like me, you’re an old, old soul. I listen to music the same way I eat my meals or watch movies -with variety. My Spotify playlist is a mixture of inspirational (gospel), pop, a bit of jazz, slow, fast, rock, paper and scissors. But I always go back to a few favorites, the cassette tape music of the 70s and 80s.

This music and coffee -great combo in the morning. I am not sure if it’s the caffeine or the melody or both, but with every cup, I am reminded of places I’ve been to, people I’ve been with and stories I’ve heard. If I had been there during WWII, my family would have had way too many stories about me having coffee with sir Winston repeated every day. 

___________

Espresso or drip, black or latte, blend or otherwise -it’s never too old to sip, reminisce, rock and roll.

Come Jude, join me, take a sad song and make it better. Cheers!  

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On My Wake

You might be thinking, what wake? This isn’t what you do after sleeping or of coming around after losing your common sense. I don’t do wakeboarding so don’t expect a sporty post here. This one refers to the gathering of friends and relatives after someone’s death, which in this story, is mine. 

Not for me, but perhaps for many, there is something about the idea of death that triggers the most negative emotions. Maybe because all they’ve seen in wakes and funerals were black clothes, crying and sad faces -some real, some not-so. Also, the combined scents of lilies, daisies, roses, orchids and other flowers usually found in funeral chapels horrify them. Mine is going to be delightfully different. This is how I want my wake to go down.

The Place. 

Not a chapel or a church. I don’t think this type of wake is allowed. It should be one where festive gatherings like weddings or birthdays are held. An events place not so expensive, not so cheap. Tables and chairs instead of pews. 

A photo of me is not mandatory, but would be nice. It would be great if it were a picture of me after I made my first hole-in-one in golf. As of this writing, it has yet to happen, but with my swings getting better every day, I am optimistic.

A frame should hang big and visible with the words:

“I love you guys so much. Don’t be too sad. I had a good run. Enough already. You won’t miss me, though. Just look up into the sky, you’ll see me there.” 

The Service.

Holy mass will be celebrated as it should. I wouldn’t want my new start to bridge my end any other way. But instead of a casket in front, my urn will be placed on a table at a corner of the room that is not too conspicuous as to steal the attention away from the Altar. I prefer cremation since it’s already allowed by the church. I mean, take your fancy between Earth fire that extinguishes and Hell fire eternal. I know, right?

The Food.

Coffee will be served with local kakanin like ube halaya, nilupak, and ginataang bilo-bilo -all my favorites, really. No kare-kare or adobong anything. No garlic or steamed rice. There’s a catch, though: instead of flowers, visitors must pay for the coffee and food. Paypal, ApplePay and GCash only will be accepted. No cash. No credit card swiping. If you bring your own cup, third serving is free.

Andre and Nikkei will cover the coffee service while my grand kids will wait on tables. Tip-giving will be allowed for the generous. For the NOT, face-to-Face, I will ask the Lord for mercy.

Or it can be a self-service thing where you clean after you go.

The Entertainment.

Anyone can go up in front to say a short story about me. No mic-hogging will be permitted -my family must have experienced pain with my passing already. Extended pain will be more difficult to bear. This is for last respects, remember? So yes, respect!

A hired guitarist/singer will provide live music featuring the songs of James Taylor, Don McLean and Bread. Alternate with a crooner singing James Ingram, Al Jarreau and Kenny Loggins. Without a speaker or entertainer on stage, music from the 70s will be piped in. I was contemplating on having a stand-up comedian but it may not be appropriate. Respect.

The Time.

Late afternoon on a weekend is probably the best for this perfect fit for merienda time. I will ask God for a little afternoon drizzle because it’s what made me feel good when I was still alive.

The Guest List.

I will invite anyone who knows me. Family, friends, colleagues, neighbors, and people who knew me through www.coffeecupreflections.com. Even if they are strangers, their presence will not be considered a breach of good manners as long as they pay for the coffee. If you didn’t like me, you can’t be included.

_______________

I know that this would cost a bit more than usual, but no worries, I was heavily insured. Take some from a payout, enough for a two-day wake. Make it three if the public insists. Charge more for the coffee. 

My wife Rissa is against this post saying she should go first. I told her, “Ok, but you’d miss the fun!”

_______________

That should be it. Hey, if you’ve outlived me, I’ll see you there.

When you sip your coffee, please think of me. And say, 

Cheers!

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Pandemic Lockdown Part II

After one week into this pandemic that started nearly what felt like two hundred two years ago, I started decluttering our house to keep me busy. I did so slowly just to keep myself occupied, leaving other areas for the next days. I thought the pandemic will end in a few weeks and it would be nice to have a clean, spacious house when it happened. It was a bit of a challenge to get rid of the stuff in a manner that I can still remember where everything is. All is good, though, with a dozen 80L megaboxes and their contents catalogued in my phone’s Notes app.

I’ve thrown out a ton of old craps from the old house we thought we still had use of, including old clothes and memorabilia that we never used in the first place. Most went to donation. However, lockdowns after lockdowns made us order more stuff online to replace what we threw away. Oh crap!

With covid still raging wilder than ever, clutter caught up to us faster than we got rid of them. It’s back to mess and I am back to decluttering. Good thing, though -the reading glasses I lost the first time I did this re-appeared. It was sitting in a corner behind a box behind another, which I am sure I’ve already searched in many times. Someone’s playing tricks on me!

With my glasses on, I see clearly now having gained a new insight into all this:

Decluttering is a full-time job and it’s not easy. A never-ending game of hide and seek. It gives Work-from-Home a new perspective. I guess we all need to do it at some point in our lives. It’s just more fun and easier when you don’t have a business to run, a family to feed and a pesky 62-year old lower back. Oh, crap again!

But hey, still, I say cheers!

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The Greatest Performance of my Life

I am empowered by the prayers of other people, and I help empower them through mine.

This is one blog post like no other because it has a call to action at its end. It also carries with it hope that you will respond to the call. 

More than seven years ago, I had this idea of developing an online platform through which people, sharing similitudes like birthdays, professions, hobbies, or interests can be united -one person per country. I just thought it’d be cool to have one friend in every country in the world born on the same day I was born, as an example. Or born twins, on the same day, like we were. Or coffee-lover fans of James Taylor. Or electrical engineers practicing lighting design. The list is infinite.

After paying small-time web developers and programmers (I could not afford expensive ones), they came up with an application that was absolutely worthless. Money down the drain. With little resources I had, the idea remained just a silly dream.

Then an inspiration hit me like a lightning bolt out of the dark skies. Instead of interests or birthdays or professions, why not prayers? And the best prayer that I know where many can participate, and above all, unite in, is the Holy Rosary. It’s been around for centuries, it’s wildly popular all over the world, it’s easy to learn, and there are hundreds of millions of people who already know the prayers by heart. It’s perfect for my purpose. The basic rosary comprises 74 prayers or prayer beads. What if those 74 prayers were prayed by 74 people from 74 countries and each person prayed in his/her own language? 

I prayed harder and dug deeper into my pocket to hire better people. The result: www.rosaryofthenations.org was born! I created this site with a specific goal in mind: to unite people around the world through prayers. Unless I come up with a way to grow trees overnight, I’d like to think this is the most important work I will ever do in my lifetime.

Now the call.

I am looking for Catholics in at least 80 countries to pilot this project. They will be those who will respond if prayer intentions are posted by anyone anywhere. Please join and if you know any faithfuls in other countries, please ask them to take part also. 

Here’s a two-minute video of how it works (and you have two minutes of your time, right? 😉):

And here’s a video of how a completed rosary looks (or sounds) like when 74 people from 74 countries prayed in their own language. Play it while meditating, while driving, while walking or jogging.

See you at Rosary of the Nations. Cheers!

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66 Done, Infinity to Go

Yesterday, January 2, would have been my parents’ 66th wedding anniversary. But why do I say ‘would-have-been’ when it still was their anniversary, even if both have passed on from this life? They would have celebrated may be more appropriate. Or maybe not. All my life, I can only recall one time when we held a party to celebrate -their 40th anniversary. There probably was a little money to spare since all five children had already graduated from college by that time.

There were no pictures of the bride and the groom. The easy conclusion I can make is either the technology had yet to reach their place or the photographer’s calesa broke down on the way to the church. The only other details that we’ve been told about the event that started our family tree were that of the priest, Father Esguerra and of the church, St. John the Baptist in Dinalupihan, Bataan which outlived the priest as it still stands today. No details of how many carabaos and pigs were slaughtered for the reception. No honeymoon pictures, either.

I am jealous of those who have old wedding pictures (or paintings) of parents who have been married for 50-plus years. Even if the pictures weren’t taken at a time when they were especially handsome or glamorous, they had something to brag about to their children and grandchildren of how great-looking they were when the world was still in black and white.

But looking back, it didn’t matter if we had no pictures or paintings of their young lives. It was the times we spent together that did. We remember better the times they touched and cared for us, the times we were scolded and spanked, and the times we laughed and cried over meaningless reasons. Uncomplicated lives we lived then. I remember best the early times we shared meals on leg-less table called dulang. The delicious meals that my Inang served then were those I miss most now.

Today, I’m not sad. I’m just grateful to have had them part of our lives and to have been part of theirs.

With five children, 17 grandchildren and 7 great-grandchildren (and more coming soon), this family tree will keep growing. 

Happy anniversary! Cheers!

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