With the Light, we see beautiful;
With the Light, we see ugly, too;
With the Light, we find wisdom
to know what to embrace and what to reject.
May the Light that shines from a Babe’s heart in the manger
Shine on us and through us
All the days of our lives.
Merry Christmas!
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Dear son,
In the beginning, Adam met Eve. Then A met B, then C met D… then Y met Z.
After the Great Flood, Mariano met Trinidad (Espinosa) and Juan met Romana (Rivera); and, Federico met Francisca (David) and Cipriano met Antonia (Kalingasan). Then Bienvenido met Leonila (Espinosa) and Ruben met Natalia (David).
Then I met the lovely Nerissa.
Then came you.
I thank those who came before us starting from the Garden of Eden sans the snake because without them, there will be none of those who had names I do not know and none of those whose names I still remember.
Without them, there is no us.
Without them, there is no you, Andre Christer -whose name I will never forget.
Without them, we have no barista to make the best pull day after day.
Without them, I wouldn’t have a son who is self-motivated and has a strong determination to excel at everything he gets his hands on.
From the beginning until the end, I thank God for you, son.
Happy birthday! I love you.
I need my coffee now.
Cheers!
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If I were to time travel, 63 years ago today is the time I would go back to. My birth day.
If allowed, I’d bring my iPhone or my Nikon cam with me to take pictures of me and my twin brother, Fred, and our dear Inang holding us in her arms. Or maybe a picture of each of us in her loving embrace of her third and fourth babies.
I don’t have a photo of me as a baby, let alone with my mother. Although I was told that I was, there is nothing to remind me of how cute and cuddly I looked when I was born. Or the year after that. Or the next year. The earliest existing picture of us was on our 7th birthday -the one traditionally celebrated big time in this country. Big time for us then was having a birthday cake and candles to blow out. There were no second or third takes for pictures -the photographer would have taken an extra limb from my father if there had been any.
So yes, I’d steal some shots with my dear Inang. And maybe of my siblings, too. And of my dear Tatang. I was told my lolo was there also. So, yeah, I’d snap-snap away for more. I am taking this chance of making good memories of the past so I will make it count. And then travel back with all these pics on my phone or camera.
Back to the present, I will check my phone photos, and scan those pics taken 63 years ago. Or a few minutes ago. Take your pick. Then, no matter how bad this day may turn out, when the reality of living in this world creeps back like hot lava -I will feel better, it will surely put a smile on my face, and it will be a happy birthday for me. And I can honestly say with 100% certainty, that I remember the day I was born like it happened just a few minutes ago. Ain’t that amazing?
With or without the memories of the time, I still raise this cup to that day when Fred and I were born, 45 minutes apart -arguably two of the best things that happened to the world on that most beautiful Sunday morning:
when everything was still black and white;
when connected had a different meaning;
when selfie and photobombing weren’t even words yet;
Sixty-three long years ago. God is good all the time.
Happy birthday, Fred! I hope you hit an eagle in the next round we play. Me, I’d settle for a par game.
Cheers!
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I’m currently on a special personal mission in Japan to discover the secret to why the Japanese people are so disciplined.
Shitsuke (しつけ) or Kiritsu（きりつ）-no matter how you say or write it, this Japanese trait is so admirable, to wit:
Enough of these verbal illustrations. Time to reveal the secret. Prepare your palate. You can’t be too ready for this.
The secret to the revered Japanese discipline is this: Onigiri (おにぎり)!
Yup. That tender, triangular toothsome comfort food made from white sticky rice wrapped in dried seaweed. Delicious any time of the day. And night. And any time in between. You’ll find them in convenience stores and supermarkets. Discounted after 8pm, too. Yay!
Why, you asked?
It takes a lot of patience and discipline and good manners to eat Onigiri. There are specific instructions in order to unwrap one. Doing so is the perfect exercise for this discipline. Failing to follow them makes for a messy meal and augurs a life of discordance and misery. Though you just need to eat more to be happy.
I finally found the answer to world peace. If only the rest of this cruel world would learn. But until then, I sip this lovely cup. With Onigiri.
Kanpai (カンパイ！)
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Yesterday at the AFC Golf Club.
Going into the 17th tee box, we noticed two groups of caddies and coaches huddle around it. Aware of the sports etiquette, they silently watched as the three of us approached. Andre went first. He pushed his tee down and started his motions. His drive flew high but went a bit to the right. No reaction from the gallery.
Next up was my brother, Fred. He hit the 200 yard marker middle fairway with a perfect straight drive. The audience knew it was an incredible shot. They all applauded showing much appreciation.
Last on the tee box was me. Probably noticing my tension, Fred murmured, “Easy swing.” I took my time. This was my realistic shot at the podium, I thought. I swung easy. No gigil. The ball flew where I wanted it to go but sliced a bit and appeared to have landed at least thirty yards behind Fred’s. I waited for a reaction from the audience. None. I turned towards them, gestured with my hands to mean “Why?” and exclaimed, “No applause?”
I got a standing ovation, twice as loud as that for Fred’s. I bowed in gratitude and agreement. Everyone has a good laugh.
Have you ever experienced the intense emotions of seeing an audience react with complete silence and awe when a rock star or someone famous walks into the room? I felt nowhere near that feeling. But I was nevertheless thrilled. Like a rhinestone cowboy, I knew I was exactly where the lights were shining on me and took advantage of it.
So cheers to yesterday.
________________________________________
And speaking of light, there is one light that never faded on me -the light of my dear Inang. Today, she would have turned 96 years old. Very old. It would have been a heartbreak for me to see her unable to blow out the big candle on her birthday cake prepared by her grandchildren. Or see her struggle to lift herself up from where she sat. She’d smile, yes, and would try to raise her hands as if to dance to the beat of the birthday song. But I’d rather not.
The last time I saw her alive, she was so alive. I’d like that memory to remain instead.
Her memory. Her light. They help me keep up.
Happy birthday, Inang. Thank you for my life and your ever-shining light.
So cheers, too, to you and to today!
I
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