this is terrible, i haven't done a blog for nearly two months. it means i didn't have time left to write down my thoughts. i must have been crazy busy the past weeks.
i saw iris at the ejap party last night and she said she made a comment on my latest blog, and that was like oct. 22. i haven't logged in since then.
i was surprised to know she recommended me to coco. i thought i didn't have it but somebody else saw it.
my last blog was a scoop story and since then i have made a lot of other scoops, both from the bsp and dof.
but many times also, i was left eating the dust of other stringers - i was what you may call "natulog sa pansitan."
some other stories i shot quite late. it made me uneasy but kler told me that is normal in the job, sometimes you get the news first sometimes you play second fiddle but the principle is that you should be on top of the situation most of the time.
this is a tough job, but it helps that i enjoy doing it.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
Scoop!
i had a field day today, made a wave at the market for comments i picked up from central bank governor tetangco. it's about the possibility of a cut in the policy rates.
as usual, i didn't know the impact of what i did until it circulated in the market.
the guys at bloomberg did a terrific job, creating a headline-grabbing story out of the statements i fished out.
no other wire agency picked it up. i think the bloomberg manila staff was ecstatic because reuters, their main competitor, was left out in the game.
the wire reached singapore, where i guess the regional bureau centers are holding office, and only bloomberg carried those all-too important statements (because the market is looking for a definite sign for a policy action from the central bank).
i got a patting on the back from coco and company. tony jordan, the bureau chief, said what i did was "awesome."
to think that they had hesitations in getting me as stringer. just as i suspected, me a neophyte in the field would have to earn my stripes.
i'm surprised i did such a thing myself. i'm so happy, i made a good follow up to a scoop i made the other week.
but as i often say, i'm just as good as my last story.
as usual, i didn't know the impact of what i did until it circulated in the market.
the guys at bloomberg did a terrific job, creating a headline-grabbing story out of the statements i fished out.
no other wire agency picked it up. i think the bloomberg manila staff was ecstatic because reuters, their main competitor, was left out in the game.
the wire reached singapore, where i guess the regional bureau centers are holding office, and only bloomberg carried those all-too important statements (because the market is looking for a definite sign for a policy action from the central bank).
i got a patting on the back from coco and company. tony jordan, the bureau chief, said what i did was "awesome."
to think that they had hesitations in getting me as stringer. just as i suspected, me a neophyte in the field would have to earn my stripes.
i'm surprised i did such a thing myself. i'm so happy, i made a good follow up to a scoop i made the other week.
but as i often say, i'm just as good as my last story.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Ecc. 12:1-7
Why, oh, why does man live as if there's no tomorrow or an end to this life?:
Remember your Creator in the the days of your youth, before the evil days come
And the years approach of which you will say, I have no pleasure in them;
Before the sun is darkened, and the light, and the moon, and the stars,
While the clouds return after the rain;
When the guardians of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent,
And the grinders are idle because they are few, and they who look through the windows grow blind;
When the doors to the street are shut, and the sound of the mill is low;
When one waits for the chirp of a bird, but all the daughters of song are suppressed;
And one fears heights, and perils in the street;
When the almond tree blooms, and the locust grow sluggish and the caper berry is without effect,
Because man goes to his lasting home, and mourners go about the streets;
Before the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is broken,
And the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the broken pulley falls into the well,
And the dust returns to the earth as it once was, and the life breath returns to God who gave it.
Remember your Creator in the the days of your youth, before the evil days come
And the years approach of which you will say, I have no pleasure in them;
Before the sun is darkened, and the light, and the moon, and the stars,
While the clouds return after the rain;
When the guardians of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent,
And the grinders are idle because they are few, and they who look through the windows grow blind;
When the doors to the street are shut, and the sound of the mill is low;
When one waits for the chirp of a bird, but all the daughters of song are suppressed;
And one fears heights, and perils in the street;
When the almond tree blooms, and the locust grow sluggish and the caper berry is without effect,
Because man goes to his lasting home, and mourners go about the streets;
Before the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is broken,
And the pitcher is shattered at the spring, and the broken pulley falls into the well,
And the dust returns to the earth as it once was, and the life breath returns to God who gave it.
Monday, October 02, 2006
Feeling yellow
I watched with the millions for the outcome of the highly charged championship game between Ateneo and UST yesterday. I’m not an alumnus of either school and neither am I a basketball fan.
But championship games are such major spectacles that they could draw anyone from any indifference.
Plus, in the UAAP, before they turn into men of the pro league to play for money, the boys play for school and pride. This is the real game, much like the way Manny Pacquiao did boxing before he turned it into an enterprise.
There were about 10 of us in the room watching the live coverage of the match. Most were rooting for the Tigers, including myself.
I don’t know why. Maybe because I studied for a year in UST but didn’t finish the course. Maybe because I hear mass often from the Dominican Fathers.
But I also knew a bit of Ateneo. I studied Philosophy for a semester at the Loyola campus and the Jesuit Fathers left an impression on me, having been under their care for six months.
It if was a game between the Eagles and the Archers, I would go for the former, hands down. But this was a game between the Eagles and the Tigers and I would have donned a yellow shirt.
I joked the crowd before the TV set that the reason UST won was they had more prayer warriors than Ateneo. Why, besides the Dominican Fathers, there are countless congregations of nuns carrying the banner of St. Dominic.
By contrast, I don’t think St. Ignatius had a distaff side to count on.
But going back, I guess it’s St. Thomas who draws the line. The high school I attended was a Sto. Tomas and my hometown itself was founded by the Dominicans.
Closer to heart, I think I can identify more with the UST community than that of Ateneo. So that gives me the feeling that I belong even when I'm neither here nor there.
But championship games are such major spectacles that they could draw anyone from any indifference.
Plus, in the UAAP, before they turn into men of the pro league to play for money, the boys play for school and pride. This is the real game, much like the way Manny Pacquiao did boxing before he turned it into an enterprise.
There were about 10 of us in the room watching the live coverage of the match. Most were rooting for the Tigers, including myself.
I don’t know why. Maybe because I studied for a year in UST but didn’t finish the course. Maybe because I hear mass often from the Dominican Fathers.
But I also knew a bit of Ateneo. I studied Philosophy for a semester at the Loyola campus and the Jesuit Fathers left an impression on me, having been under their care for six months.
It if was a game between the Eagles and the Archers, I would go for the former, hands down. But this was a game between the Eagles and the Tigers and I would have donned a yellow shirt.
I joked the crowd before the TV set that the reason UST won was they had more prayer warriors than Ateneo. Why, besides the Dominican Fathers, there are countless congregations of nuns carrying the banner of St. Dominic.
By contrast, I don’t think St. Ignatius had a distaff side to count on.
But going back, I guess it’s St. Thomas who draws the line. The high school I attended was a Sto. Tomas and my hometown itself was founded by the Dominicans.
Closer to heart, I think I can identify more with the UST community than that of Ateneo. So that gives me the feeling that I belong even when I'm neither here nor there.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
market moving
there are stories that shake the markets and cause a ripple of reaction among market players - these are called market-moving stories.
since working in the banking and finance beat about two years ago, it's been a dire wish to be able to come up with a market-shaking story.
i remember i did one about a year ago, of the government selling euro bonds. it turned out to be a dud, but it moved bond prices nonetheless.
but yesterday, i think i did one and hit it right on the head. it was a slow day for us in the beat, no new news were coming. it happened that i thought of asking central bank governor tetangco of how soon he thinks the philippines may get a rating upgrade.
the good governor responded it may happen in 6 months. i shared the information with bloomberg.
i did the story for my newspaper today and had no idea of its impact until i surfed the net and saw that reuters picked up the story.
later, karen, a comrade in the beat who's with reuters, called me up to inquire if the story in the paper was mine. i said yes but that it didn't have a byline.
then she burst into a commendation for a good job done. a what? i was clueless and was not really interested to heap praises on myself.
the reuters story was updated and said that share prices closed higher because of the central bank chief's comments.
in my phone conversation with kler (of bloomberg)later, she said reuters tried to catch up with the story (i pretended i haven't seen it).
so, what that makes of me? i guess nothing, just the feeling that i have broken through a fervent wish. i'm happy, yes i am, that's why this blog note.
but i know that as with every other journalist, i'm as good as my last story.
the good governor has certainly done me a favor and this shall not go unnoticed.
since working in the banking and finance beat about two years ago, it's been a dire wish to be able to come up with a market-shaking story.
i remember i did one about a year ago, of the government selling euro bonds. it turned out to be a dud, but it moved bond prices nonetheless.
but yesterday, i think i did one and hit it right on the head. it was a slow day for us in the beat, no new news were coming. it happened that i thought of asking central bank governor tetangco of how soon he thinks the philippines may get a rating upgrade.
the good governor responded it may happen in 6 months. i shared the information with bloomberg.
i did the story for my newspaper today and had no idea of its impact until i surfed the net and saw that reuters picked up the story.
later, karen, a comrade in the beat who's with reuters, called me up to inquire if the story in the paper was mine. i said yes but that it didn't have a byline.
then she burst into a commendation for a good job done. a what? i was clueless and was not really interested to heap praises on myself.
the reuters story was updated and said that share prices closed higher because of the central bank chief's comments.
in my phone conversation with kler (of bloomberg)later, she said reuters tried to catch up with the story (i pretended i haven't seen it).
so, what that makes of me? i guess nothing, just the feeling that i have broken through a fervent wish. i'm happy, yes i am, that's why this blog note.
but i know that as with every other journalist, i'm as good as my last story.
the good governor has certainly done me a favor and this shall not go unnoticed.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
A brush with mortality
You’ll never know when you’re about to go. But you can tell if your time is up.
That was certainly my case during a big flood in espana. I was coming home from pasay when rushing waters greeted the tamaraw fx I was riding in.
The poor driver swerved his vehicle here and there until we were in a sidestreet that was only half-flooded than espana. Then we came to a deep corner. I had to get out of the vehicle and try my luck walking through the waterlogged street or I had to wait till the waters subside.
Before my eyes was a sea of dirty water that got me really scared. If there’s a hole somewhere I’d drown without anyone seeing me. Or if a live wire fell off from an electric post I’d be toasted like a cat.
I changed direction and emerged in espana. Behold, water was building up so high that only 18-wheeler trucks could get through. The water was something like that you see in a forest flowing from the mountains, except that this was all of filth.
I joined the other hapless commuters to wade in the dark waters. After a forceful 100 steps or so I was across espana. But then, water was everywhere. I turned left to an obscure street then turned right on to another street leading to where I live.
Now, I noticed that mayor atienza had installed new electric posts with their lights shining brightly to guide passersby. I was almost thankful for this deed when five feet to an electric post infront of me I felt shockwaves throughout my body. I felt like my hairs stood up. Good golly, the waters are alive!
In my panic, I jumped on to the base of the post and wrapped my hands around the metal post but that just shocked me more. I was holding on to the very source of the shock!
I jumped out and landed on an embankment near a pldt switch. It was a dark corner. Somebody from across the street yelled at me but I couldn’t hear him. I shouted back to say the post was electrocuting me. He just looked at me.
I stood there waiting for my salvation and still shaking, I realized I was at the throes of death. I looked down on the muddle and falling flat on that dirty water was not my idea of exiting from this world. But at least, I assured myself, somebody was there to explain how I went.
The thought of death did not ruffle me, maybe because I was in good spirits that night. But somehow, it occurred to me that I wasn’t going yet. There’s no such experience of my past flashing in my mind or a vision of a dead relative calling me out.
Then again, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea to leave now. Should I go should I not? In a moment a teenager wandered infront of me and felt the shocked I felt then jumped as well to where I was.
That gave me an idea, beyond five feet the electric post was harmless. I somersaulted to my left with my two feet splashed on the water then dashed to my safety. I was out of danger.
I reached home wet and still shaking but otherwise I was thankful I was alive. Mayor atienza’s electric posts almost did me in. For a moment, I thought that was it but my feelings belied that fear.
That was certainly my case during a big flood in espana. I was coming home from pasay when rushing waters greeted the tamaraw fx I was riding in.
The poor driver swerved his vehicle here and there until we were in a sidestreet that was only half-flooded than espana. Then we came to a deep corner. I had to get out of the vehicle and try my luck walking through the waterlogged street or I had to wait till the waters subside.
Before my eyes was a sea of dirty water that got me really scared. If there’s a hole somewhere I’d drown without anyone seeing me. Or if a live wire fell off from an electric post I’d be toasted like a cat.
I changed direction and emerged in espana. Behold, water was building up so high that only 18-wheeler trucks could get through. The water was something like that you see in a forest flowing from the mountains, except that this was all of filth.
I joined the other hapless commuters to wade in the dark waters. After a forceful 100 steps or so I was across espana. But then, water was everywhere. I turned left to an obscure street then turned right on to another street leading to where I live.
Now, I noticed that mayor atienza had installed new electric posts with their lights shining brightly to guide passersby. I was almost thankful for this deed when five feet to an electric post infront of me I felt shockwaves throughout my body. I felt like my hairs stood up. Good golly, the waters are alive!
In my panic, I jumped on to the base of the post and wrapped my hands around the metal post but that just shocked me more. I was holding on to the very source of the shock!
I jumped out and landed on an embankment near a pldt switch. It was a dark corner. Somebody from across the street yelled at me but I couldn’t hear him. I shouted back to say the post was electrocuting me. He just looked at me.
I stood there waiting for my salvation and still shaking, I realized I was at the throes of death. I looked down on the muddle and falling flat on that dirty water was not my idea of exiting from this world. But at least, I assured myself, somebody was there to explain how I went.
The thought of death did not ruffle me, maybe because I was in good spirits that night. But somehow, it occurred to me that I wasn’t going yet. There’s no such experience of my past flashing in my mind or a vision of a dead relative calling me out.
Then again, I thought it wasn’t a bad idea to leave now. Should I go should I not? In a moment a teenager wandered infront of me and felt the shocked I felt then jumped as well to where I was.
That gave me an idea, beyond five feet the electric post was harmless. I somersaulted to my left with my two feet splashed on the water then dashed to my safety. I was out of danger.
I reached home wet and still shaking but otherwise I was thankful I was alive. Mayor atienza’s electric posts almost did me in. For a moment, I thought that was it but my feelings belied that fear.
Sunday, September 17, 2006
lito and cris
lito and cris are a married couple. I met them because i interviewed them for a book project, which tells of the transformation of people from being children of the world to children of God.
Their story, though, was never a transformation but more of an inspiration for people who think they’re getting the raw end of the deal in this life.
Lito and cris are not your usual couple. Lito is blind from birth while cris is lame. Lito sees through the eyes of cris while she walks with his legs and feet.
If you have by chance seen an odd-looking couple swaying here and there to their direction, it must have been them.
Lito holds her wife by the waist as he walks while cris tells him which way to go.
Oh, what a weight he carries around! I told lito when we settled down for interview at a fastfood corner that it must be the reason he’s lean as reed. Lito could only laugh.
I bought them a meal with a cup of coke. I made sure they had big meals so I let go of the drinks. I told them “hati na lang kayo” to which lito said in the direction of his wife, “o, wag mo akong dayain,” knowing fully well that with both eyes closed, he wouldn’t know what would the partition be.
But of course, he said that in jest. Lito, who’s below 25 years while Cris is near 30, is playful. I thought he's just a kid.
This could pretty much mask his desperation as a man without eyes. But no, there wasn’t a need to hide something. While aware of his state, I didn’t see any trace of him being bitter. Probably because he hadn’t had an idea of the light. But then again you can see so much even with your eyes closed.
Cris is the thinking one. She would shift from spiritual to philosophical to plain realistic in the course of the interview. She has big aspirations for people like them. But at the end of the day, she knows she would go far only with the help of other people.
I sent them home after a couple of hours and while waiting in Edsa for a ride home to Calumpit, Cris was slumped on the pavement. The rest of the population swirled by while she was closest to earth. I said to myself, how humbling could this be!
Yet like lito, cris wasn’t sorry for this state.
Lito and cris show how it is truly to be a child of God.
Their story, though, was never a transformation but more of an inspiration for people who think they’re getting the raw end of the deal in this life.
Lito and cris are not your usual couple. Lito is blind from birth while cris is lame. Lito sees through the eyes of cris while she walks with his legs and feet.
If you have by chance seen an odd-looking couple swaying here and there to their direction, it must have been them.
Lito holds her wife by the waist as he walks while cris tells him which way to go.
Oh, what a weight he carries around! I told lito when we settled down for interview at a fastfood corner that it must be the reason he’s lean as reed. Lito could only laugh.
I bought them a meal with a cup of coke. I made sure they had big meals so I let go of the drinks. I told them “hati na lang kayo” to which lito said in the direction of his wife, “o, wag mo akong dayain,” knowing fully well that with both eyes closed, he wouldn’t know what would the partition be.
But of course, he said that in jest. Lito, who’s below 25 years while Cris is near 30, is playful. I thought he's just a kid.
This could pretty much mask his desperation as a man without eyes. But no, there wasn’t a need to hide something. While aware of his state, I didn’t see any trace of him being bitter. Probably because he hadn’t had an idea of the light. But then again you can see so much even with your eyes closed.
Cris is the thinking one. She would shift from spiritual to philosophical to plain realistic in the course of the interview. She has big aspirations for people like them. But at the end of the day, she knows she would go far only with the help of other people.
I sent them home after a couple of hours and while waiting in Edsa for a ride home to Calumpit, Cris was slumped on the pavement. The rest of the population swirled by while she was closest to earth. I said to myself, how humbling could this be!
Yet like lito, cris wasn’t sorry for this state.
Lito and cris show how it is truly to be a child of God.
when there's value in giving
i never realized there's a value to the coins one gives as alms to beggars until last night. i was stepping outside a mall in manila which i visited to shop for a couple of shirts when an elderly woman called me out and asked for alms. i reached into my pocket, found a peso and three 25-centavo coins, went to her direction and put the treasure on her palms.
hardly had i made a 90-degree turn than she asked me what did i give her. she made a remark to the effect that the coins were not even enough to buy her a cup of coffee. i was out of my wits.
she reached for my hand and returned the coins, accompanied by yet another remark that i was spoiling her hand with such a stingy donation. i was dumbfounded.
i grew up thinking that beggars can't be choosers but this woman, who was probably five years older than my mother, did not fit the description.
her words hurt me but honestly i didn't know how to react, i just let her slip out of my sight. turning to myself, i felt terribly sorry. when i recovered, i comforted myself saying i'm not rich to
give everything away.
what hurt me really was the fact that the few coins were precious to me. i came to that mall because it was on sale and i could buy more items with only so much cash. i never meant to be stingy, i'ts all i had. i have a couple of one-hundred peso bills in my wallet, but there's another day to think of.
i was asking myself - would she react differently if i gave her a bigger bill? her attitude to my small donation was a giveaway.
hardly had i made a 90-degree turn than she asked me what did i give her. she made a remark to the effect that the coins were not even enough to buy her a cup of coffee. i was out of my wits.
she reached for my hand and returned the coins, accompanied by yet another remark that i was spoiling her hand with such a stingy donation. i was dumbfounded.
i grew up thinking that beggars can't be choosers but this woman, who was probably five years older than my mother, did not fit the description.
her words hurt me but honestly i didn't know how to react, i just let her slip out of my sight. turning to myself, i felt terribly sorry. when i recovered, i comforted myself saying i'm not rich to
give everything away.
what hurt me really was the fact that the few coins were precious to me. i came to that mall because it was on sale and i could buy more items with only so much cash. i never meant to be stingy, i'ts all i had. i have a couple of one-hundred peso bills in my wallet, but there's another day to think of.
i was asking myself - would she react differently if i gave her a bigger bill? her attitude to my small donation was a giveaway.
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
a servant's prayer
here's a beautiful prayer composed by the founder and adviser of our community. it comes from the heart and strikes at the heart. indeed, without God, Jesus and the Spirit, a servant is without reason, without purpose and without direction. only God can make a servant. no servant can start his work and give it closure without God.
Servants Prayer
I am nothing Lord, You are everything,
Come…
-Think in me
-Breathe in me
-Flow through my blood
-Look with my eyes
-Speak through my voice
-Move in my actions
-Work through my labor
-Beat in my heart
Be with me Jesus, in all things at all times
-In my heart
-In my service
-In my suffering
-In my laughter
-In my family
-In my decisions, and
-In all my directions
Come Holy Spirit, infuse in me the fire of your love and fill me with your holiness.
Amen.
(Glory Be…)
Servants Prayer
I am nothing Lord, You are everything,
Come…
-Think in me
-Breathe in me
-Flow through my blood
-Look with my eyes
-Speak through my voice
-Move in my actions
-Work through my labor
-Beat in my heart
Be with me Jesus, in all things at all times
-In my heart
-In my service
-In my suffering
-In my laughter
-In my family
-In my decisions, and
-In all my directions
Come Holy Spirit, infuse in me the fire of your love and fill me with your holiness.
Amen.
(Glory Be…)
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Amazing Superman
I know God killed Superman but I can't help it. I dig for this fantasy hero.
Over the weekend, I spent more than two hours watching an old Superman movie - Superman 1 - to compare it with Superman Returns which I watched recently.
I know this is silly because besides Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck, I don't idolize characters whose only concept of life is the silver screen.
My companion in the house lent me his VCD of old Superman movies and having finished movie 1, that left me with three other installments - all starring the unfortunate Christopher Reeves - to gorge on over the next weekends.
I was laughing when I was watching the movie because Lois Lane was really a funny character, you know the woman who spelled brassiere with a 'Z' and didn't know if bloodletting had two or three 'Ts.'
Well, how about Lex Luthor? From the start, all he wanted was land. I think Superman irked him because the fellow has no idea how valuable land is among earthlings.
Curiously, Superman Returns was faithful to the original storyline and maintained the characterization and each one's peculiar lines.
So what brings me to writing about the ultimate god of the skies? Well, I want to be Superman myself and that I want to conquer the skies.
I should say that had I not been a writer, I would have been an astrologer. I want to be in the skies because I want to see the universe that is out there in all its infinite glory.
As a child, on clear nights, I would often look up the moon to see any sign of life in that celestial planet. I would only see patches of grey, which I think now must be a patch of land.
That fascination hasn't changed, I still look up the moon when the skies are bright.
Of course, I want to see what else is there in that big universe.
Unless I'm dead I would have no way of seeing what's up there in the heavens. So, I can only dream of flying.
So, that's why I like Superman. Even if I know he's just a figment of imagination and that God didn't actually like having someone with divine powers to fool humans out of seeing reality.
I know God killed Superman but I can't help it. I dig for this fantasy hero.
Over the weekend, I spent more than two hours watching an old Superman movie - Superman 1 - to compare it with Superman Returns which I watched recently.
I know this is silly because besides Bugs Bunny and Donald Duck, I don't idolize characters whose only concept of life is the silver screen.
My companion in the house lent me his VCD of old Superman movies and having finished movie 1, that left me with three other installments - all starring the unfortunate Christopher Reeves - to gorge on over the next weekends.
I was laughing when I was watching the movie because Lois Lane was really a funny character, you know the woman who spelled brassiere with a 'Z' and didn't know if bloodletting had two or three 'Ts.'
Well, how about Lex Luthor? From the start, all he wanted was land. I think Superman irked him because the fellow has no idea how valuable land is among earthlings.
Curiously, Superman Returns was faithful to the original storyline and maintained the characterization and each one's peculiar lines.
So what brings me to writing about the ultimate god of the skies? Well, I want to be Superman myself and that I want to conquer the skies.
I should say that had I not been a writer, I would have been an astrologer. I want to be in the skies because I want to see the universe that is out there in all its infinite glory.
As a child, on clear nights, I would often look up the moon to see any sign of life in that celestial planet. I would only see patches of grey, which I think now must be a patch of land.
That fascination hasn't changed, I still look up the moon when the skies are bright.
Of course, I want to see what else is there in that big universe.
Unless I'm dead I would have no way of seeing what's up there in the heavens. So, I can only dream of flying.
So, that's why I like Superman. Even if I know he's just a figment of imagination and that God didn't actually like having someone with divine powers to fool humans out of seeing reality.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
sweet rest, tita lets
we were just talking about tita letty, our beloved pr coordinator at the department of finance, at the BSP press room late yesterday as we were wrapping up our stories for the day.
there was news that she passed out last week, for unknown reasons, and was rushed to the hospital. yesterday, we were told she was taken to the ICU because she had difficulty breathing.
we were asking questions what could have downed her. the phone rang and the caller broke an unexpected news - tita lets was dead.
it hit us like a thud, for a moment we stood still trying to comprehend the swiftness of the events. we had no time to digest - the truth hit us, we've lost a precious friend.
tita lets was helpful as she was friendly. she tried to accommodate us all reporters, with all our eccentricities.
she was a gentle soul from whose lips you'll never hear a word of complaint. she may be unmarried but you don't see bitterness in her as with other women who grew old alone.
we used to play badminton together. i would join her saturday club to play badminton. why, it was a big bunch of players composed of young and old, male and female. they were electric in the courts.
tita lets and i would often team up - some games we won some we lost, mostly on my account. yet she never complained.
she was agile in the courts yet she was not brash. she would glide here and there and threw back the shuttlecock out of reach of the opponent. she's that good and i loved her because she did not sneer at my game.
but how could we lose someone like her so soon? the doctors at the UDMC said she died of pancreatic cancer. if she was sick, she did not tell us and we were none the wiser able to see she was in a precarious state.
for all we care, she was hale and hearty, even too fit for her age.
our last dinner was about last month with other reporter-friends at an eatery along macapagal avenue. tita lets was worried what could be hitting her badminton mates, at least two had died and some were getting sick.
little did she know she was next. shades of "final destination."
tita lets' death again awakened me to the reality of death. truly as the bible says, life is like a grass in the field, here now but gone tomorrow and its place knows it no more.
but i shall always remember the good soul in tita lets. i'll play my badminton games for her.
sleep tight tita lets, you'll be sorely missed but you will live on in our hearts.
there was news that she passed out last week, for unknown reasons, and was rushed to the hospital. yesterday, we were told she was taken to the ICU because she had difficulty breathing.
we were asking questions what could have downed her. the phone rang and the caller broke an unexpected news - tita lets was dead.
it hit us like a thud, for a moment we stood still trying to comprehend the swiftness of the events. we had no time to digest - the truth hit us, we've lost a precious friend.
tita lets was helpful as she was friendly. she tried to accommodate us all reporters, with all our eccentricities.
she was a gentle soul from whose lips you'll never hear a word of complaint. she may be unmarried but you don't see bitterness in her as with other women who grew old alone.
we used to play badminton together. i would join her saturday club to play badminton. why, it was a big bunch of players composed of young and old, male and female. they were electric in the courts.
tita lets and i would often team up - some games we won some we lost, mostly on my account. yet she never complained.
she was agile in the courts yet she was not brash. she would glide here and there and threw back the shuttlecock out of reach of the opponent. she's that good and i loved her because she did not sneer at my game.
but how could we lose someone like her so soon? the doctors at the UDMC said she died of pancreatic cancer. if she was sick, she did not tell us and we were none the wiser able to see she was in a precarious state.
for all we care, she was hale and hearty, even too fit for her age.
our last dinner was about last month with other reporter-friends at an eatery along macapagal avenue. tita lets was worried what could be hitting her badminton mates, at least two had died and some were getting sick.
little did she know she was next. shades of "final destination."
tita lets' death again awakened me to the reality of death. truly as the bible says, life is like a grass in the field, here now but gone tomorrow and its place knows it no more.
but i shall always remember the good soul in tita lets. i'll play my badminton games for her.
sleep tight tita lets, you'll be sorely missed but you will live on in our hearts.
we choose to be chosen
some of the workers in our community were complaining to me last night that community work is proving to be a burden.
most of us in the community are single, unattached young professionals. because we have time for community work, we were given assignments - either to head a chapter or a ministry.
now our community is getting bigger. with it, the tasks to be done and the responsibilities we have to shoulder.
i had tried serving as assistant head of a chapter myself and i would say the tasks are not peanuts. i was assigned last month to head a forthcoming chapter. since may, i was technically on vacation as we're still looking for a parish to host that new chapter.
so i was not really pressured as those other workers who never had a hiatus from the community work.
but i recall having those misgivings when i was deep in the ministry. indeed, why should young people like us carry a yoke when we could have an easy life?
we could just go to the movies after office hours and enjoy our lives and our freedom, and not rush to the prayer meetings, fellowship, ministry meetings, the stuff of community life.
we could just care about our own affairs and not minister to the spiritual needs of other people, who are total strangers to us.
my tired fellow vineyard workers said they get a respite once in a while from community work, but only to be transfered to a bigger assignment. their lives are not theirs anymore.
our lives are not ours anymore. we looked into each other eyes and we fell silent for awhile. when i spoke up, i said that's true, in our case.
i have a choice to back out and return to my old life. but that's not me anymore.
in assignments like these it's God who calls the shots. It's Him who chooses, but then i would say it happens when we choose to be chosen.
it's like the Lord throws a dice and asks who wants points. we raise our hands to say aye! and the dice falls infront of us.
most of us in the community are single, unattached young professionals. because we have time for community work, we were given assignments - either to head a chapter or a ministry.
now our community is getting bigger. with it, the tasks to be done and the responsibilities we have to shoulder.
i had tried serving as assistant head of a chapter myself and i would say the tasks are not peanuts. i was assigned last month to head a forthcoming chapter. since may, i was technically on vacation as we're still looking for a parish to host that new chapter.
so i was not really pressured as those other workers who never had a hiatus from the community work.
but i recall having those misgivings when i was deep in the ministry. indeed, why should young people like us carry a yoke when we could have an easy life?
we could just go to the movies after office hours and enjoy our lives and our freedom, and not rush to the prayer meetings, fellowship, ministry meetings, the stuff of community life.
we could just care about our own affairs and not minister to the spiritual needs of other people, who are total strangers to us.
my tired fellow vineyard workers said they get a respite once in a while from community work, but only to be transfered to a bigger assignment. their lives are not theirs anymore.
our lives are not ours anymore. we looked into each other eyes and we fell silent for awhile. when i spoke up, i said that's true, in our case.
i have a choice to back out and return to my old life. but that's not me anymore.
in assignments like these it's God who calls the shots. It's Him who chooses, but then i would say it happens when we choose to be chosen.
it's like the Lord throws a dice and asks who wants points. we raise our hands to say aye! and the dice falls infront of us.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Meeting Lazarus
on my way to the laundry house this morning, i passed by a woman seated by the roadside. she seemed in anguish. beside her was a soiled sack, which she must have been using to pick up garbage she could sell.
at a sari-sari store nearby, a young girl was looking at that woman with curious eyes.
i was such in a hurry that i didn't stop to check on the woman -maybe i could ask around and do her a favor.
as i handed my bag of dirty clothes to the laundrywoman, it occured to me it was not my first time to see that poor woman.
one night some months back, i recall giving her a piece of bread i bought from the bakery store where i found her wailing. she was carrying that same gray sack.
i don't know why i gave her a bread - for all i know she could be in grief over something else. but my hunch - that she was hungry - proved right when upon getting my little gift, the woman said 'thank you' as if she'd been waiting for that all along.
her reaction surprised me. that night i was rushing to get home to have dinner myself.
as i stepped out of the laundry house, i said to myself maybe i should go back and help her out. but first, i have to have breakfast - it was quarter to 10 and i eat my breakfast until 10 only.
i crossed the street towards the carinderia where i have become a 'suki,' for indeed the food served there by the bicolana cook is as good as the one served at home.
halfway through my eating, i asked myself what i could give the woman - i looked at the roadside and she was still there.
okay, i have a P50 spare, i could give her that. i could invite her to the carinderia and order her food. wait, i could bring her to my house, i have three fresh apples there.
I was about to pay my bill and had already figured what to do when, turning around, she was all but gone!
the poor woman, she could have eaten the scraps that fell from my table. i had P50, i had three apples - that made me the rich man. she only had a dirty sack. her anguished reached out to the heavens.
in heaven, there is a great divide that separates the saved and the condemned.
must i look for that woman before she gets her heaven with God?
at a sari-sari store nearby, a young girl was looking at that woman with curious eyes.
i was such in a hurry that i didn't stop to check on the woman -maybe i could ask around and do her a favor.
as i handed my bag of dirty clothes to the laundrywoman, it occured to me it was not my first time to see that poor woman.
one night some months back, i recall giving her a piece of bread i bought from the bakery store where i found her wailing. she was carrying that same gray sack.
i don't know why i gave her a bread - for all i know she could be in grief over something else. but my hunch - that she was hungry - proved right when upon getting my little gift, the woman said 'thank you' as if she'd been waiting for that all along.
her reaction surprised me. that night i was rushing to get home to have dinner myself.
as i stepped out of the laundry house, i said to myself maybe i should go back and help her out. but first, i have to have breakfast - it was quarter to 10 and i eat my breakfast until 10 only.
i crossed the street towards the carinderia where i have become a 'suki,' for indeed the food served there by the bicolana cook is as good as the one served at home.
halfway through my eating, i asked myself what i could give the woman - i looked at the roadside and she was still there.
okay, i have a P50 spare, i could give her that. i could invite her to the carinderia and order her food. wait, i could bring her to my house, i have three fresh apples there.
I was about to pay my bill and had already figured what to do when, turning around, she was all but gone!
the poor woman, she could have eaten the scraps that fell from my table. i had P50, i had three apples - that made me the rich man. she only had a dirty sack. her anguished reached out to the heavens.
in heaven, there is a great divide that separates the saved and the condemned.
must i look for that woman before she gets her heaven with God?
Sunday, May 21, 2006
scavenger
we have a project in our community where we collect pet bottles and sell them to scrap dealers - those familiar containers of coke, c2, mineral water or even cooking oil whose bottoms are raised up. after the contents are consumed, the bottles are normally thrown everywhere - in the backyard, on the streets, even on bodies of water like creeks, rivers and the seas.
they sell like P15-P18 per kilo. the caps sell for more because they are made of hard plastic.
what i know is that these plastics are shipped to china and recycled into buttons, other plastic products, such stuff.
anyway, what we have to do is to bring them up during our monthly fellowship and lump them with other plastic scraps collected by everybody else. we sort of create a mound when these plastics are brought together. the last time, if my memory serves me right, we collected something like P1-2k worth.
all the money that we will produce from the scraps will be used to fund the activities of our community, so that we don't have to ask donations every time.
at the press room at the central bank, i have asked the boy friday to keep in a corner in the room all the bottles of coke, c2 and mineral water that we consume.
that was about a month ago. last friday, the collection was enough to fill in 2 large boxes. my next concern was to bring them to the fellowship meeting.
first of all, i have to flatten the plastic to save space, as well as clear them of the wrappings.
Now the process of flattening them up is an act in itself. i used a thick yellow pages directory to jump on the plastics. i was doing that for the 8th of the about 20 large coke bottles i had targeted that night, when Papi, a fellow journalist who was in the room with me watching TV, noticed the crackling sound.
"What are you doing?" he asked. I said nothing, just getting rid of the thrash. but i tell you, the sound produced by my jumping on the bottles with the huge pldt directory on it was enough to cause a slight vibration on the entire 4th floor of the building.
after 12 more jumps, some profuse sweating, and with Papi twitching his head from the TV to my jumping act and perhaps occasionally jerking in amusement or irritation, i finished the odd job.
then i searched the cupboard for a huge plastic bag to put in all those scraps.
as i was leaving the room, I bade Papi goodbye saying, "sorry for the noise, you see i have to do this because i'm a scavenger."
a scavenger. as i boarded the jeepney for the ride home with the little weight of flattened pet bottles in my hand, i felt a tinge of joy.
i will be bringing the Lord a mound of trash, but it feels like i'm giving Him something very precious.
they sell like P15-P18 per kilo. the caps sell for more because they are made of hard plastic.
what i know is that these plastics are shipped to china and recycled into buttons, other plastic products, such stuff.
anyway, what we have to do is to bring them up during our monthly fellowship and lump them with other plastic scraps collected by everybody else. we sort of create a mound when these plastics are brought together. the last time, if my memory serves me right, we collected something like P1-2k worth.
all the money that we will produce from the scraps will be used to fund the activities of our community, so that we don't have to ask donations every time.
at the press room at the central bank, i have asked the boy friday to keep in a corner in the room all the bottles of coke, c2 and mineral water that we consume.
that was about a month ago. last friday, the collection was enough to fill in 2 large boxes. my next concern was to bring them to the fellowship meeting.
first of all, i have to flatten the plastic to save space, as well as clear them of the wrappings.
Now the process of flattening them up is an act in itself. i used a thick yellow pages directory to jump on the plastics. i was doing that for the 8th of the about 20 large coke bottles i had targeted that night, when Papi, a fellow journalist who was in the room with me watching TV, noticed the crackling sound.
"What are you doing?" he asked. I said nothing, just getting rid of the thrash. but i tell you, the sound produced by my jumping on the bottles with the huge pldt directory on it was enough to cause a slight vibration on the entire 4th floor of the building.
after 12 more jumps, some profuse sweating, and with Papi twitching his head from the TV to my jumping act and perhaps occasionally jerking in amusement or irritation, i finished the odd job.
then i searched the cupboard for a huge plastic bag to put in all those scraps.
as i was leaving the room, I bade Papi goodbye saying, "sorry for the noise, you see i have to do this because i'm a scavenger."
a scavenger. as i boarded the jeepney for the ride home with the little weight of flattened pet bottles in my hand, i felt a tinge of joy.
i will be bringing the Lord a mound of trash, but it feels like i'm giving Him something very precious.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
the instructor is driving me crazy
i started to learn how to drive today. really it was my first time to sit in the driver's seat and how comfortable it was! i learned how to step on the clutch, the breaks and the gas - basically the three controls you will need to get the car running. plus the gear, which i had the most difficulty to maneuver.
it was all one hour for the first lesson, though i was able to run the car about 5 miles around espana. it was okay and i think for a starter i did well.
what pestered me was the instructor who kept telling me i was too stiff and nervous. the poor guy, what did he expect? for me to have that instant confidence to move on the road after a few minutes of training.
i had a hard time really with shifting gears. my worst error was to push it down and up without pushing on the clutch. the spoiler in the passenger seat would scream in annoyance, shaking his head even or grinding in disgust. i may have harmed his car, but then again that should be expected. after all, that's what it's supposed to be - if the gear gets dislocated, then they should repair it. that's where the driving fee should go, the instructor was of no help at all.
i was not nervous, stiff maybe but not at all jittery, even with wayward drivers on my sides.
it was tough mixing the controls together or doing the pushing and the shifting all at the same time. it was crazy i got disoriented most of the time, and this guy beside me was just proving himself to be a baggage.
i would love to have another fellow teach me in my next lesson.
it was all one hour for the first lesson, though i was able to run the car about 5 miles around espana. it was okay and i think for a starter i did well.
what pestered me was the instructor who kept telling me i was too stiff and nervous. the poor guy, what did he expect? for me to have that instant confidence to move on the road after a few minutes of training.
i had a hard time really with shifting gears. my worst error was to push it down and up without pushing on the clutch. the spoiler in the passenger seat would scream in annoyance, shaking his head even or grinding in disgust. i may have harmed his car, but then again that should be expected. after all, that's what it's supposed to be - if the gear gets dislocated, then they should repair it. that's where the driving fee should go, the instructor was of no help at all.
i was not nervous, stiff maybe but not at all jittery, even with wayward drivers on my sides.
it was tough mixing the controls together or doing the pushing and the shifting all at the same time. it was crazy i got disoriented most of the time, and this guy beside me was just proving himself to be a baggage.
i would love to have another fellow teach me in my next lesson.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
an opus for a friend
A friend, or friends for they are a husband and wife, asked me to write a narrative about her recent marriage, which i had the privilege to attend - actually the newly tied husband made the request first!
It was held in Bacolod City in March. I was not simply a spectator, i was part of the entourage as host for the reception held in L'Fisher Hotel. Guess what, i haven't done any of that in the past, but I guess I have to give it a try. After all, it's a request from a friend.
What do you say when you're invited to a wedding? In a faraway location, that is Bacolod City yet? Why, you say yes right away!
I've been to Bacolod, the city of smiles, only once and that was like eons ago. In that fleeting visit, for it was just a two-hour ferry stopover from Cagayan de Oro en route to Manila, the place impressed me so much that I told myself I should be back for a longer stay.
Now has come the opportunity. Honey and Waldee are two special people I hold in my heart. For some reasons, I was drawn to Honey, only to find out that we're connected by a common friend, which we didn't know until that moment of asking.
Waldee is one fellow that strikes me as a sincere person. He knows his way with his keyboard - I had the feeling if he didn't hook up with Honey, he would be married with this instrument.
That talent has been put to good, and still is, in our charismatic community.
Escaping work on a Friday, I hopped on the plane with three other companions and flew to Bacolod. The 5 a.m. flight gave us much time to lounge around before Saturday, the wedding day.
In just an hour, we were there at the city airport. Miles, our host, came and fetched us and off we went to painting the city red.
Bacolod is a fine city with wide roads and big hotels. We stayed though with Miles' place somewhere in the outskirts of the city proper.
Late Friday until early Saturday, more of us came, members of the community that is. It was a lot fun, there we were, away from stressing Manila. The weekend promised to give us thrills.
The wedding was held in a white-painted church, whose ambience strikes me as resembling Mary the Queen Parish near Xavier School in Greenhills.
It could be because nearby was a school whose clientele are like those at Xavier.
It is a beautiful church that is inside flooded by lights coming from the high and wide windows that have triangular designs.
The entourage came, the procession was towed in order and in no time at all, the bride was marching her way to the altar. At the altar, the groom was in cloud nine waiting for his lady.
I was at the loft with the choir members and from where we stood, the sight below was the loveliest one could see in a Saturday noon.
As the rituals unfolded, the choir let out its melodious voice of liturgical songs interspersed with songs of endearment and affectation.
It was hard to believe it was the same group that sings for our weekly prayer meetings!
Downstairs, Honey and Waldee were professing their eternal vows to each other. It was a sight you want to hold forever!
Before the rites were over, the presiding priest - why, he was Honey's college classmate! - handed the couple a specially crafted gift which I found out later were the framed letters that he asked the couple to write each other before the wedding.
Naturally, every one looked marvelous with their best Sunday dress. I myself was wearing a rented barong, which fitted me to a T, though the heat made the wear uncomfortable.
After the photo opportunities, it was at last time to go to reception - the grand L'Fisher Hotel on the city's main avenue, Lacson St. Memen and I skipped the photo session because we had to 'acclimatize' with the convention hall where the program for the reception will be held.
Tell you what, I was nursing a sore throat that day and choking in cough so I was a bit nervous.
From the outside, the hotel doesn't strike you as one perfect for a wedding reception. But go inside and see what it offers - it's a grand ballroom not unlike the ones you see in Metro Manila.
I knew right then the Department of Tourism has a reason for classifying the hotel as five-star.
The hall was awash with the colors of golden wood. At the main stage, well, the design was just as exquisite with Honey and Waldee's name emblazoned in the backdrop.
Memen and I settled at the right base of the stage and in no time the guests filed in - they had to come first, the couple and their entourage would make a cinematic entrance later.
Soon, the entourage came in and Honey and Waldee were now making the dramatic entrance - to the tune of "Moon River."
Near the left side of the stage was another stage, which served as the podium for singers and musicians playing for the couple that dreamy afternoon.
It was time for everyone to take a seat. I emboldened myself and came out with a rather deep baritone voice, which later thinned out to its natural pitch as my nervousness faded, to start the program along with Memen.
When in Rome do what the Romans do. So Memen and I, with obvious effort, blurted out to the audience "maayo nga gab-i" and some other obscure Hiligaynon words we memorized earlier.
The audience could only laugh.
The reception was all new. Honey and Waldee so designed it that it won't be like the ones we saw before. The program was different. Before each introduction was made, a guest would render a song. Madel, also from our community, was the main performer, along with Jet who front acts for Waldee's band Luna. JJ, a youngster neighbor of Waldee, played the violin.
Because of the long list of songs, I had the feeling we were attending a concert that was incidentally the venue for a wedding reception and not the other way around.
But it was worth it, hearing Madel belt out, no not liturgical songs, but novelty songs like Alicia Keys' "If I Ain't Got You" with clarity and skill.
Kingsley, Honey's college friend, was the other major performer in the hall. Call it coincidence but his plane was flying in to Manila on Honey's wedding day (he works as flight attendant) so he should be there at the ceremonies.
The centerpiece of the musical drama was Waldee getting up the 'concert' podium to render a song for his love. It was supposed to be a surprise number for her, but we were more surprised to see that it didn't surprise her at all!
Waldee did "A Song for You" originally performed by the great Ray Charles. Of course, Waldee was a no Ray Charles but he was doing the keyboard as he was singing. Move over, Don Moen!
Soon, there was an audio-video presentation, an opus that the couple themselves painstakingly put together, chronicling their early days as a couple in love.
The pictures said it all - two people full of happiness and contentment as they are embraced in each other's love.
I'll let you in on a little secret - we did some pictorials for this presentation, in the green and refreshing gardens of UP Diliman.
Honey and Waldee looked as fresh as the dew, despite having to make model-mannerisms to make it look like the photos were done by a pro.
And the music, or the scoring, if i get it right. Waldee knew how to select the right songs. They were breezy, preppy, soulful or wistful, depending on the mood of the subjects in the photos.
What I like in weddings is that family and friends get to have a chance to greet the newlyweds and throw in some precious advice. Friends and classmates were given their time, Waldee's mom had her moment as well.
We caught Honey's dad shedding a tear, or was he only misty eyed?, as he felt Honey's embrace in their moment together.
Honey's dad had a stroke a few months back but he's still able - perhaps he'd never thought he'd see her sweet Honey on her wedding day.
What daddy would never desire that?
After the songs and the ceremonies, everyone was treated to a sumptuous early dinner. It was free for all at the buffet table as everyone took their fill.
As customary in weddings, there will be the bouquet throwing and the garter wearing - the works looked forward to by the single and uncommitted attendees.
Honey had a better idea. Why not invite instead the couples in the crowd to work their way on the dancefloor and make a swing or two?
Not a bad idea, if you've seen how was it has been among us singles in the community.
We actually dread those rituals like they were a plague. They don't excite us anymore. Maybe because especially for the single girls, they've cupped quite a number of bouquets already but still their grooms remain elusive.
So there were Honey and Waldee with the couples, inclduding Lito and Grace, and Allan and Memen from the community, dancing to some new wave stuff.
They could have danced all night if there were no other things to do. We could have joined them and called the dancefloor our own as well if we didn't have a night to celebrate this beautiful affair.
We were all in the mood, we shared the couple's feeling of bliss. It was a ceremony we didn't want to end. It has to end, the newlyweds will have a wonderful new life together as husband and wife.
The dancings closed the ceremonies. For us visitors though, the party was just beginning but that's another story.
It was held in Bacolod City in March. I was not simply a spectator, i was part of the entourage as host for the reception held in L'Fisher Hotel. Guess what, i haven't done any of that in the past, but I guess I have to give it a try. After all, it's a request from a friend.
What do you say when you're invited to a wedding? In a faraway location, that is Bacolod City yet? Why, you say yes right away!
I've been to Bacolod, the city of smiles, only once and that was like eons ago. In that fleeting visit, for it was just a two-hour ferry stopover from Cagayan de Oro en route to Manila, the place impressed me so much that I told myself I should be back for a longer stay.
Now has come the opportunity. Honey and Waldee are two special people I hold in my heart. For some reasons, I was drawn to Honey, only to find out that we're connected by a common friend, which we didn't know until that moment of asking.
Waldee is one fellow that strikes me as a sincere person. He knows his way with his keyboard - I had the feeling if he didn't hook up with Honey, he would be married with this instrument.
That talent has been put to good, and still is, in our charismatic community.
Escaping work on a Friday, I hopped on the plane with three other companions and flew to Bacolod. The 5 a.m. flight gave us much time to lounge around before Saturday, the wedding day.
In just an hour, we were there at the city airport. Miles, our host, came and fetched us and off we went to painting the city red.
Bacolod is a fine city with wide roads and big hotels. We stayed though with Miles' place somewhere in the outskirts of the city proper.
Late Friday until early Saturday, more of us came, members of the community that is. It was a lot fun, there we were, away from stressing Manila. The weekend promised to give us thrills.
The wedding was held in a white-painted church, whose ambience strikes me as resembling Mary the Queen Parish near Xavier School in Greenhills.
It could be because nearby was a school whose clientele are like those at Xavier.
It is a beautiful church that is inside flooded by lights coming from the high and wide windows that have triangular designs.
The entourage came, the procession was towed in order and in no time at all, the bride was marching her way to the altar. At the altar, the groom was in cloud nine waiting for his lady.
I was at the loft with the choir members and from where we stood, the sight below was the loveliest one could see in a Saturday noon.
As the rituals unfolded, the choir let out its melodious voice of liturgical songs interspersed with songs of endearment and affectation.
It was hard to believe it was the same group that sings for our weekly prayer meetings!
Downstairs, Honey and Waldee were professing their eternal vows to each other. It was a sight you want to hold forever!
Before the rites were over, the presiding priest - why, he was Honey's college classmate! - handed the couple a specially crafted gift which I found out later were the framed letters that he asked the couple to write each other before the wedding.
Naturally, every one looked marvelous with their best Sunday dress. I myself was wearing a rented barong, which fitted me to a T, though the heat made the wear uncomfortable.
After the photo opportunities, it was at last time to go to reception - the grand L'Fisher Hotel on the city's main avenue, Lacson St. Memen and I skipped the photo session because we had to 'acclimatize' with the convention hall where the program for the reception will be held.
Tell you what, I was nursing a sore throat that day and choking in cough so I was a bit nervous.
From the outside, the hotel doesn't strike you as one perfect for a wedding reception. But go inside and see what it offers - it's a grand ballroom not unlike the ones you see in Metro Manila.
I knew right then the Department of Tourism has a reason for classifying the hotel as five-star.
The hall was awash with the colors of golden wood. At the main stage, well, the design was just as exquisite with Honey and Waldee's name emblazoned in the backdrop.
Memen and I settled at the right base of the stage and in no time the guests filed in - they had to come first, the couple and their entourage would make a cinematic entrance later.
Soon, the entourage came in and Honey and Waldee were now making the dramatic entrance - to the tune of "Moon River."
Near the left side of the stage was another stage, which served as the podium for singers and musicians playing for the couple that dreamy afternoon.
It was time for everyone to take a seat. I emboldened myself and came out with a rather deep baritone voice, which later thinned out to its natural pitch as my nervousness faded, to start the program along with Memen.
When in Rome do what the Romans do. So Memen and I, with obvious effort, blurted out to the audience "maayo nga gab-i" and some other obscure Hiligaynon words we memorized earlier.
The audience could only laugh.
The reception was all new. Honey and Waldee so designed it that it won't be like the ones we saw before. The program was different. Before each introduction was made, a guest would render a song. Madel, also from our community, was the main performer, along with Jet who front acts for Waldee's band Luna. JJ, a youngster neighbor of Waldee, played the violin.
Because of the long list of songs, I had the feeling we were attending a concert that was incidentally the venue for a wedding reception and not the other way around.
But it was worth it, hearing Madel belt out, no not liturgical songs, but novelty songs like Alicia Keys' "If I Ain't Got You" with clarity and skill.
Kingsley, Honey's college friend, was the other major performer in the hall. Call it coincidence but his plane was flying in to Manila on Honey's wedding day (he works as flight attendant) so he should be there at the ceremonies.
The centerpiece of the musical drama was Waldee getting up the 'concert' podium to render a song for his love. It was supposed to be a surprise number for her, but we were more surprised to see that it didn't surprise her at all!
Waldee did "A Song for You" originally performed by the great Ray Charles. Of course, Waldee was a no Ray Charles but he was doing the keyboard as he was singing. Move over, Don Moen!
Soon, there was an audio-video presentation, an opus that the couple themselves painstakingly put together, chronicling their early days as a couple in love.
The pictures said it all - two people full of happiness and contentment as they are embraced in each other's love.
I'll let you in on a little secret - we did some pictorials for this presentation, in the green and refreshing gardens of UP Diliman.
Honey and Waldee looked as fresh as the dew, despite having to make model-mannerisms to make it look like the photos were done by a pro.
And the music, or the scoring, if i get it right. Waldee knew how to select the right songs. They were breezy, preppy, soulful or wistful, depending on the mood of the subjects in the photos.
What I like in weddings is that family and friends get to have a chance to greet the newlyweds and throw in some precious advice. Friends and classmates were given their time, Waldee's mom had her moment as well.
We caught Honey's dad shedding a tear, or was he only misty eyed?, as he felt Honey's embrace in their moment together.
Honey's dad had a stroke a few months back but he's still able - perhaps he'd never thought he'd see her sweet Honey on her wedding day.
What daddy would never desire that?
After the songs and the ceremonies, everyone was treated to a sumptuous early dinner. It was free for all at the buffet table as everyone took their fill.
As customary in weddings, there will be the bouquet throwing and the garter wearing - the works looked forward to by the single and uncommitted attendees.
Honey had a better idea. Why not invite instead the couples in the crowd to work their way on the dancefloor and make a swing or two?
Not a bad idea, if you've seen how was it has been among us singles in the community.
We actually dread those rituals like they were a plague. They don't excite us anymore. Maybe because especially for the single girls, they've cupped quite a number of bouquets already but still their grooms remain elusive.
So there were Honey and Waldee with the couples, inclduding Lito and Grace, and Allan and Memen from the community, dancing to some new wave stuff.
They could have danced all night if there were no other things to do. We could have joined them and called the dancefloor our own as well if we didn't have a night to celebrate this beautiful affair.
We were all in the mood, we shared the couple's feeling of bliss. It was a ceremony we didn't want to end. It has to end, the newlyweds will have a wonderful new life together as husband and wife.
The dancings closed the ceremonies. For us visitors though, the party was just beginning but that's another story.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
welcome to the blogworld!
just trying it out, never had time really to write down my thoughts - i had my last journal 8 years ago! i think this will be fun, i think this will help me build friendships!
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