tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61410718070941135572012-01-28T15:26:34.253+08:00LEAVES OF GRACEGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.comBlogger5241100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-71656774263369182182012-01-26T13:45:00.040+08:002012-01-28T15:26:34.290+08:00How to Celebrate Chinese New YearTony and JC looked forward to and got ready for a Chinese lauriat. Meaning, light lunch and no snacks. But when we got to the venue, their hope was quashed.
It was an elegant European-inspired boutique hotel, with no touch of Chinese whatsoever. The huge dining table, however, had New Year symbols like pineapples, oranges, and bamboo, so maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance of getting a Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-74330992539789806372012-01-22T06:19:00.013+08:002012-01-24T16:16:51.874+08:00Heaven is for Real“Heaven is a place. It is not a state of mind,” our pastor stressed in his sermon. “The Bible says so.”
To Bible-believing Christians, there is no question that heaven is indeed a place. No matter what others say about heaven—bliss in one's heart or peace in one's mind, yada, yada—I know that those who have entrusted their lives to Jesus will go to that beautiful, breathtaking place someday.
Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-74521242448158374702012-01-18T07:06:00.007+08:002012-01-19T09:27:35.462+08:00Grace in a BottleBelieve it or not. Without electricity, a soda plastic bottle can light up a house like a real light bulb!
Oh???
Just pick up a 1.5 liter plastic clear soda bottle, fill it with distilled water and a small amount of bleach (to prevent germs or dark contaminants from developing), fit the bottle in a small metal sheet, then put it in a hole on the roof. The bottle will absorb the sunlight Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-36758881842802822122012-01-14T06:51:00.011+08:002012-01-14T07:37:12.301+08:00Earl Grey DayEarl Grey, JC's male guinea pig, just became a father to three adorable pups!
His wife, Chai, has been kept busy breastfeeding them.
We'd been on tenterhooks anticipating Chai's day of delivery. “Anytime now,” JC kept saying. But he was a bit concerned that there might be trouble. Chai got pregnant too young, too soon. “In cases like this, either the mother or the pups don't make it.”
So Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-26253440212967555462012-01-10T06:07:00.013+08:002012-01-10T14:13:57.078+08:00Go Ahead, Drink and Drive
This road sign, posted by my friend Adie on his FB wall, made me ponder and wonder about how the human mind works.
We know what we need NOT do, but we do it anyway. We know the consequences of what we do wrong, but we do it anyway.
We all have this sign installed along the road of our conscience, but we ignore it sometimes, or completely.
Me to me: Go ahead—
Worry, and you'll get sick and Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-70767798799328201082012-01-06T09:21:00.013+08:002012-01-06T15:24:21.203+08:00Circle of Love
My family and I are somewhere in this circle of 140 people made up of siblings and cousins; aunts and uncles; lolos and lolas; and in-laws.
Many will say this is a friendship circle, as it is better known in camps and jamborees, but I prefer to call it circle of love, especially because our reunion theme was, Love Actually.
This is reprised every year in the clan to which I belongGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-38678085297110741442012-01-02T06:58:00.010+08:002012-01-02T08:40:14.491+08:00Uncommon Common YearHappy New Year! To mark the beginning of 2012, I am putting up a new header that mimics fireworks.
My old one comes down with the old year.
This year is another common year. Meaning, it is an ordinary year of 365 days, not a leap year. But I feel it will be an uncommon year, and an extraordinary one.
So many things are happening simultaneously all over the world: disasters, government Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-11530120762053277932011-12-29T06:45:00.007+08:002011-12-29T06:56:10.453+08:00Wait Till the Darkness Is OverYear 2011 is almost done; let us end it with hope.
The kind of hope that when we look up, even in darkness, we see a castle in the clouds.
The kind of hope that despite all the disasters and death around us, the darkness will be over.
The kind of hope that is so eloquently woven in a Christmas song that children today may not know, Whispering Hope. In my youth, it was one of the most sung Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-83801834609519619782011-12-25T13:27:00.018+08:002011-12-25T17:35:26.352+08:00Gifts of Grace and HopeChristmas 2011
Have you ever heard a conversation as strange as this before?
Husband (to wife): I still haven't bought you a gift.
Wife: I still haven't bought you a gift either.
Silence.
Husband: What if—
Wife (finishing her husband's sentence):—you don't give me any, then I need not give you one.
Husband (smiling): Deal.
Wife: Deal.
That conversation isn't strange, it's true. Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-57036066795395489722011-12-24T08:50:00.018+08:002011-12-26T07:19:31.184+08:00Mary Christmas, Merry Christmas!Two dear friends led me to think deeply about Mary this Christmas.
First, Yay. She cried, “Yay!” when she found a book with an accompanying music CD at the second-hand bookstore where we had been browsing (heavy-duty reading, actually) books after books for almost an hour. Glancing at the cover, I immediately hummed, “Mary Did You Know?”
The tune and lyrics of this song, written by Mark Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-68560415369092986792011-12-22T06:43:00.017+08:002011-12-23T08:04:18.667+08:00Student WoesSchools are on Christmas break, so teachers/professors have time to huddle. Guess what they talk about?
You can name that tune in one note: student woes.
The consensus is, a teacher needs patience unlimited. Let me share some of the tales I either experienced myself or heard from my peers. I am surprised at how similar these stories are, with slight variations.
ooo
A student rushes to the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-543554937670837182011-12-18T05:54:00.013+08:002011-12-20T06:19:44.725+08:00"Philippine Collegian" NostalgiaA childhood family friend, Vic, who has remained a good friend through the years, emailed me this caricature by Ely Santiago (well-respected caricaturist, painter, and social commentator until his demise in 1993).
It made me grin for very long minutes and remember those wonder years when I was in college, a staff member of Philippine Collegian, the official student publication of the University Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-59298807725760618642011-12-14T05:25:00.009+08:002011-12-18T06:56:46.743+08:00Joy to the WorldJoy to the World is NOT a Christmas carol.
That got you, didn't it? It shocked me, too.
Among the many Christmas carols we sing this merry season, Joy to the World stands out as a favorite, or the most popular of them all.
In many places, in fact, this is sung with everyone being asked to rise, ending the event on a high, joyful note.
Growing up, I have always thought that it was Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-80231320276787648322011-12-10T07:04:00.009+08:002011-12-10T08:44:16.075+08:00My Author StoryHow did I become an author? What or how much of me did it take to get there?
These were the questions I needed to answer in my talk at the Project Author Seminar of Salt and Light Ventures at the AIM conference hall.
Answering those two questions in book talks and casual encounters with readers has been no big deal. All I have time to say is an abridged version of how indeed did I end up Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-38596739670435009622011-12-06T05:22:00.017+08:002011-12-06T17:11:54.963+08:00Iloilo Hello (Part 2)Blitzkrieg isn't a very wholesome term, but that's the word that pops out when I remember my Iloilo trip. It was like storming five places in rapid succession.
Book blitz it was, and I pray that the people whom I reached are a little better because of it. I am definitely better—more encouraged to reach and meet as many readers as I could. Bonding with them, feeling their palms, made me Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-45533332698989700672011-12-02T05:39:00.003+08:002011-12-03T09:22:17.996+08:00Iloilo Hello (Part 1)Iloilo is now a bustling metropolis, which was a pleasant surprise for me.
You know when a place has become totally modern and urban—traffic build-up isn't very far behind. I was there four years go and everything was five minutes away. This time around, we got caught in traffic, while rushing to catch an early event.
Well, the traffic wasn't that bad really, not the kind we get in Manila on Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-10646988940725173202011-11-28T06:31:00.003+08:002011-11-28T06:35:47.063+08:00Incomplete RainbowSeeing this photo, uploaded by a friend on Facebook, a thought hit me in my gut. This arc is not incomplete. It is I who do not see the whole splendor of it.
A rainbow is a perfect arc, with all the colors one can ever imagine. But sometimes we can't see all of it because clouds that crowd our lives block our vision.
I liken the arc to the truth, which we fail to see because we are short onGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-5907360936562595792011-11-23T21:27:00.006+08:002011-11-26T16:52:06.757+08:00Five Years and CountingThis site is turning five tomorrow, but I am blogging about it now because I need to catch some sleep for my early flight to Iloilo for book talks.
That's how long I have kept this blogsite.
In the beginning I thought I'd quit early in the game, but the thrill of writing one's thoughts on blogosphere, getting feedback from readers, and seeing the hit meter grow every hour kicked in. And now Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-87662113397839936002011-11-19T15:25:00.004+08:002011-11-19T15:53:49.026+08:00Spell SphygmomanometerMy computer can't spell the word. It has the jagged red line right under it!
Well, sphygmomanometer isn't a very popular word. If you're unfamiliar with it, then you either hate using seven-syllable words or too young to have high blood pressure.
This word is a contraption that measures one's blood pressure. I never paid much attention to it myself, not until I was recently told by my Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-42857170652850016102011-11-15T18:39:00.007+08:002011-11-16T05:52:07.473+08:00Discomfort Zone“You were made for the discomfort zone. It engages you, keeps you sharp, and makes you grow,” thus said Curt Rosengren in his article in Motto Media.
He was of course referring to young, upwardly mobile career people, not to a Methuselah like me.
As a career person, I had no comfort zone. Advertising kept me on my toes and the new day was just as uncomfortable as the old one. “You are Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-16834839864687797742011-11-11T22:31:00.012+08:002011-11-13T14:41:12.056+08:00111,111Since this is the 11th day of the 11th month of the year 2011, I am reminded of a friend's text message a month ago. She gave me many facts about this date, which I vaguely remember.
The only one I could recall is, if you add your age today to the year you were born, you get 2011.
But of course. Try doing that every year, and the sum is that same year.
She ended her message with, "Pass Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-51992229126297564992011-11-10T14:39:00.018+08:002011-12-15T05:49:10.740+08:00Two Sets of LaughterDateline: HongKong
In a multi-racial conference, such as the Publishing Forum 2011 of Media Associates International (MAI), which I am attending, there are always two sets of laughter.
The first set comes from one part of the room immediately after a speaker has made a funny remark. The second set comes from the rest of the room only after the interpreter has translated what he said.
“The Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-16076203514324098412011-11-07T16:19:00.018+08:002011-11-10T21:35:54.605+08:00Economics of the PoorAm now in HongKong where I will facilitate a workshop for editors and writers in the Publishing Forum 2011 of Media Associates International (MAI), an organization that "helps local Christians create life-giving literature in the world’s hard places."
Participants are from Myanmar, China, HongKong, Thailand, Cambodia, Mongolia, Indonesia, Australia, Malaysia, India, UK, and the Philippines.
Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-79364038119550274522011-11-04T21:41:00.006+08:002011-11-05T20:05:04.840+08:00Splurging on "Like"If the “like” on FB had a price tag, I'd be spending a lot of money daily on the one page that keeps me riveted (“addicted,” my friend Boyp calls this new phenomenon) and sufficiently awed: “Come Visit My Philippines” (CVMP)
There are just too many breathtaking photos of our country that lure your fingers into clicking “like” practically every second.
What started "Come Visit My Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-38484274999575751442011-11-01T08:09:00.024+08:002011-11-03T14:48:47.939+08:00A Father RemembersToday, as a tradition in our country, most Filipinos will trek to the cemetery to visit the graves of their loved ones. Many of them may already be there since the break of dawn.
I will not be one of them.
The reasons are neither the traffic nor the hassle to stay under the heat of the sun in a memorial park packed with the whole of humanity.
When my newly born son, Adriano, was buried byGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-57727802646710712852011-10-29T06:58:00.009+08:002011-10-31T09:07:03.763+08:00A Short Life Well LivedWhy would God allow a 15-year-old boy to die?
This was the question in our mind when Ronell, my grandnephew, died of Leukemia after only a month from diagnosis of the dreaded disease.
A whole family, a whole clan, a whole country, a whole world prayed, “Lord, please heal Ronell.”
The news of Ronell's sickness went viral after it was announced by an uncle on Facebook, Twitter, and e-mailGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-53342953852565923192011-10-25T20:11:00.005+08:002011-10-26T05:56:25.232+08:00Death of Latte . . . and GadhafiOur own rodent, Latte—one of JC's two guinea pigs—died about the same time Gadhafi did.
Brown like coffee with milk, and just as delightful, Latte suddenly refused her staple grass and after a couple of hours, she stopped breathing.
JC put her in a box and our househelper dug her grave, again—like all our other pets—beside all the flowers in our garden. Today we (I say, we, because Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-8884243499876084662011-10-22T19:13:00.004+08:002011-10-23T19:49:41.025+08:00Gadhafi Did Not Die Like a Dog"He died like a dog,” many newspapers wrote on how the former strongman—one of the most vilified leaders in recent history—died.
I say he didn't die like a dog; our dogs die better.
About half a dozen of our dogs over the years were buried deep in our garden under tall trees and beside flowering hedges. Our Vet put them to sleep, and we stayed silent as we awaited their last breath. Then we Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-73027506390368636682011-10-19T05:31:00.013+08:002011-10-22T17:29:33.952+08:00Solo Flight Launched“This is the most difficult book I have ever had to write,” I said in my short remarks at the launch of Solo Flight.
And the reason is, it was no solo flight for me, as it usually is when I write, till the manuscript reaches the editor(s).
For Solo Flight, I had a co-author.
It seemed like an accident at first, but reflecting on the events where Solo Flight began, I believe an unseen Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-49833146110206518582011-10-15T06:17:00.005+08:002011-10-16T20:24:03.816+08:00Angry BirdsThe first time I heard these two words was about a week before Adrian arrived from the US. My friend G and I were shopping and she yelped when she found the perfect pair of ear phones for a little nephew. She uttered three unfamiliar syllables I couldn't catch.
“Antsy Birds?” I asked.
“Angry Birds!” she replied.
“Hardy words?” I asked again.
“Angry birds!” she replied, louder this Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-81705699698848855822011-10-10T20:02:00.014+08:002011-10-11T06:05:35.684+08:00Palanca Awards 2011This year's September 1 is a season of smiles, I thought, noticing for the first time that everyone I met inside the ballroom of Manila Peninsula Hotel had a grin glued on his face.
Well, the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards Night is a happy occasion. The winners are given their certificates/medals on stage.
Now on its 61st year, the Palanca Awards remains, as written on its website, “The Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-2349548450918866122011-10-07T06:01:00.012+08:002011-10-08T08:11:58.926+08:00Steve Jobs and Manong ArsenioWhile the world is grieving the passing of Steve Jobs, I am privately mourning the death of someone nobody knew but his family and friends.
I called him Manong (Ilocano honorific for an older male) Arsenio—he who married my childhood friend and worked with his hands all his life on an insignificant farm, hidden in the middle of nowhere.
Steve never heard of Arsenio, neither did Manong Arsenio Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-52422741115183668652011-10-04T05:42:00.030+08:002011-10-06T18:48:07.914+08:00Simple FolksJB called from the US a week before his and his family's short three-week trip to the Philippines.
"Mom, what would you want me to buy you from here?"
He gave me the perfect opening to ask for the moon.
Without missing a beat, I said, "Philip Yancey's latest book, What Good is God?" (I have all of this author's books, each one of them signed by Yancey himself.)
Pause. "That's it?!" he Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-71077981815885047712011-09-30T08:29:00.037+08:002011-09-30T11:26:38.692+08:00Great Grace (Part 3)This post completes my trilogy on the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF).
From the opening day to closing time, I tried to be there. Lynnie, my friend from OMFLit Cebu said at the last hour, “You're the last author standing.”
I didn't plan on going there daily, but friends had called that they were coming to see me. And so I tarried at the OMF booth as much as I could—running to the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-87887178506185358322011-09-27T16:17:00.011+08:002011-09-27T16:35:59.891+08:00More Great GraceIt takes more than one blog post to write all about the grace that inundated the Book Fair. So here's another one.
Day 3: OMFLit booth
Day 4: DZAS booth
A lady with three sets of Gifts of Grace (books 1, 2, and 3) said, "You don't have to write any message on these books. I just need your signature."
"Early Christmas shopping!" I exclaimed.
"No-occasion shopping!" she replied. "I have Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-81617934885486478752011-09-24T07:20:00.047+08:002011-09-27T09:28:54.271+08:00Great Grace at the Book FairA brimming stream of grace . . .
This was the experience of the Early Church. "And with great power the apostles gave witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus. And great grace was upon them all." (Acts 4:33)
I might have experienced the same at, of all places, the noisy Manila International Book Fair. As people swarmed and buzzed like bees inside the OMFLit booth, I signed copies of my Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-40779672278199376302011-09-20T06:12:00.008+08:002011-09-20T10:33:48.157+08:00Cushioned FallIs there a place in this life where nothing hurts? Even if you stumble or slip, you won't feel any pain?
There is. I was there with Adrian.
It's one of those play centers, where, for a sum, children could exert all their energy jumping, screaming, skipping, tumbling, falling and nothing will ever make you sad. Everything has been padded to cushion every fall.
What a wonderful world itGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-10865965853231629832011-09-16T00:17:00.007+08:002011-09-16T08:46:35.341+08:00Beside Still WatersWhat can the first three verses of the Shepherd Psalm mean but this?
This is being made to lie down in green pastures.
This is being led beside the still waters.
This is when the soul is being restored.
This is being gifted with one marvelous hour of rest.
This is quiet grace in loud abundance.
Thank you, Lord, for a day such as this.
(Taken one early Saturday morning at a Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-46561759354153059192011-09-12T07:29:00.021+08:002011-10-18T19:25:50.362+08:00Compartment BagsFinding a needle in a haystack is easier than shopping for the bag (purse) I like.
This nugget of wisdom came to me on the 2nd hour inside the 5th store and I haven't found the bag. (I need a bag like I need a hole in the head! But the search continues.)
I actually found it in the fund-raising auction of our clan reunion. Unfortunately, when I reached my price ceiling, I stopped bidding. Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-53488753108979564952011-09-08T22:43:00.008+08:002011-09-09T06:06:22.253+08:00Little Ones Need Words“Cambodia is beautiful!” my son JR gushed after a four-day tour of the country's sights.
I was in Phnom Penh in 2007 and stayed double the time JR was there, yet I hardly saw anything except the sights along the main road and an orphanage hall where I conducted a workshop on writing for children.
But I agree with JR, “Cambodia is beautiful!”
I saw the nation in the heart of its people who, Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-20743343714312351022011-09-06T10:09:00.022+08:002011-09-06T17:38:36.958+08:00Captain America is Here!Adrian came home to a rousing welcome by two sets of families (his dad's and mom's), with a midnight snack and a Captain America cake.
Unlike last year (exactly 16 months ago) when he wasn't in perfect mood to meet strange faces, he didn't disappoint this year. Despite lack of sleep and fatigue from an 18-hour or so flight, he gave out two cards he made himself—one for each family—tight hugs andGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-67741618088694050802011-09-03T07:19:00.021+08:002011-10-20T15:41:38.761+08:00Bad news and Good NewsLife is a quick succession of bad news and good news.
It doesn't take brain surgery to figure this out. One simply has to wake up in the morning and a surprise can either startle you or make your sparkle.
This week, I sparkled just thinking of the much-postponed meeting with an old friend whom I see only on Facebook. We made time for coffee. During our non-stop chat, she startled me with the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-32203463375136049262011-08-30T06:25:00.008+08:002011-09-20T20:14:51.907+08:00Double Delight, Year TwoIt's been a year since our little seven-year-old twins stepped inside a school for the first time in their lives. Then they had zero knowledge about the ABCs, colors, numbers, and shapes.
What a difference a year makes!
Now eight years old, here they are—about two inches taller, a few pounds heavier, and many notches smarter.
They now know their alphabets, arithmetic, all shades of the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-59780550049158836922011-08-26T07:41:00.023+08:002011-09-20T20:13:09.285+08:00Captain America is Coming!This superhero—together with Green Lantern, Spiderman, Iron man, and Batman—is coming to Las Pinas on the 30th of August!
Our whole household, composed of four adults, are more than excited—we are in a tizzy; if we don't take time to breathe we'd burst.
All five heroes come in one neat little package called Adrian—my four-year-old grandson. He moves from one super hero to another in a span Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-24060948277671635242011-08-22T07:53:00.012+08:002011-09-20T20:16:39.433+08:00Fear of Growing Old
In a coffee shop sometime ago, I overheard two teenagers chatting:
Girl 1: “My mom is sooo old, she'll never understand what I am going through.”
Girl 2: “If you think your mom's old, mine's worse—she just turned 47! Ugh, I can never talk to her about anything!”
It took colossal effort to keep myself from yelling, Hey, 47 is sooo young, you hear!
Another time, three-year-old Adrian Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-17353761268757015562011-08-18T08:55:00.017+08:002011-09-23T15:45:00.747+08:00Too Much, Too LittleMy friend ML (whom I love dearly) and I enjoy the same things—especially the arts, crafts, music, and exotic places. We both gush and drool over art books and travel brochures in unison. We could talk for hours about the many wonderful places and beautiful things we've seen.
“You and I have the same taste,” I tell her, “the only difference is, you have the money and I have the looks.” She Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-2009668160083134772011-08-14T06:21:00.009+08:002011-09-20T20:10:59.285+08:00Two Missing SemicolonsOne print ad that I helped write was published this morning. To my horror, it has two missing semi-colons! In their places, I had erroneously typed commas. Shoulda, woulda, coulda!
You are probably laughing at how anyone could be so distraught over two missing inky-dinky semicolons!
Well, I also laughed when . . .
my friend G, an art director, was furious when her artwork came out on a Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-49103735568607450792011-08-10T06:02:00.015+08:002011-09-23T15:40:28.033+08:00Brainstorming Again!One of the things that charmed me most (and which I now miss) while in advertising was brainstorming.
Looking for a big idea, two to six people clump together—usually in a small corner or the corridor—to pick each other's brain. The rules: “No censorship. Say what's in your mind, no matter how stupid.”
It usually begins slow, then, like building blocks, a blah thought is tossed around like aGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-62773286338530321622011-08-06T06:54:00.012+08:002011-09-23T15:42:08.453+08:00Paid HacksAmong friends and students, I remain the only one with a Jurassic mobile phone. It's four years old, and I have no plans of buying a new one.
Aside from being frugal, of course, I keep my phone because I use it for only two reasons: calling and text messaging. My prepaid card of P500 lasts me three months. I receive very few text messages, I have a separate digi-cam, and I avoid calling Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-10038275122634499702011-08-02T05:53:00.018+08:002011-09-20T20:08:37.441+08:00One-way Ticket to the UnknownOver an early lunch, I said good-bye to a client of many years, one who has become a dear friend in the process.
Rosy and her husband, plus four children, will soon fly to Canada and will reside there permanently.
There is always FB, of course, and the email to keep in close touch, but the thought of not working with her ever again makes eyes well up.
“Do you have relatives there?” I Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-36458609788472564122011-07-29T06:20:00.005+08:002011-09-23T15:33:54.408+08:00TinnitusThat sounds like a horrible word. It even rhymes with the equally horrid tetanus.
Tinnitus IS horrible. It comes from the Latin word that means “ringing.”
Nothing horrible about ringing, really. Not when it comes from bells or the telephone.
But when it happens 24/7 within the human ear, mine particularly—its' @#$%!
After reading my friend Yay's blog about her migraine woes, I wrote Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-65155641437875416302011-07-25T08:34:00.026+08:002011-09-23T15:37:05.156+08:00Travel to the Perfect CountryI made it to the cover of TraveLife Magazine, July 20 special edition! How many copies in circulation? One.
It didn't go on magazine stands—it came straight to me via email from an artist friend, Ryan.
Why would anyone go through the trouble of making me a beautiful TraveLife cover on my birthday? I ask myself that question whenever I receive a gift painstakingly done. And then I look at Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-4830378867633827792011-07-21T09:34:00.011+08:002011-07-22T06:46:22.544+08:00Amok Runs AmokI am running amok with superlatives; I am raving over the indie movie, Amok.
Now showing at the 7Cinemalaya 2011, Amok was one of three full-length movies we (JC and three friends) watched last Saturday. By far, it was the fairest of them all.
Going to Cinemalaya has been a yearly birthday grace for me through my boys. In all those years, there have been films that really stand out —films Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-51511799248377784542011-07-18T07:51:00.008+08:002011-07-19T16:46:08.321+08:00We Are All InterconnectedCarl Sagan, et. al., and most writers of extra-terrestrial intelligence, have written about our interconnectedness, how the cosmos is within all of us. The atoms and all the tiny elements of the universe are somehow borne from stars to people, from asteroids to clouds, and from us to us.
I wouldn't go as far, or as deep, as that. When I speak of interconnection, I simply want to write about Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-68967365960303663412011-07-14T06:46:00.007+08:002011-07-21T19:46:03.756+08:00No Fishy TaleAfter my three sons' seventh or eight birthday parties, the rituals of our small family have always been spartan, if not austere.
This no-frills tone must have been set at our wedding moons ago. I wore a pant suit (the trend in those days) and something on my head, which was too puny to be called a bridal veil. I held a yellow rose instead of a bouquet. Although Tony and both our dads wore Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-64414462014000327602011-07-10T20:51:00.014+08:002011-07-25T15:28:19.050+08:00The Trouble with Video CallsVideo calls are uninspiring.
Please don't think I am whining. We have enough whiners (and bellyachers) in this country.
When I speak of video calls, I am simply thinking of its ancient counterpart, audio call: the good-old telephone, which I feel is a tad more inspiring than seeing an image that is a poor copy, a warped poor copy, of the living, breathing original.
Last night, JR rangGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-92029897947476123942011-07-09T06:47:00.019+08:002011-07-09T12:50:40.209+08:00An Early SurpriseIt's a Saturday, the only day of the week when I allow myself to loll in bed and contemplate nothing. There are no scheduled appointments, and I had done my umpteenth (and hopefully last) revision on my forthcoming book's manuscript before I hit the sack last night.
An hour of idleness is all I could take, though, so I rise to visit the World Wide Web.
Surprise! I come upon the number Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-25107275604291599042011-07-05T05:59:00.008+08:002011-07-11T20:10:27.996+08:00One Man's MeatIs Another Man's Poison
This idiom has not surfaced in my consciousness for years, till yesterday.
My friend G and I were having lunch in a Japanese restaurant after a client call. I looked through the glass panel and saw rain pelting the road. Ahh . . . I never felt so divine!
I've always loved rain—as an innocent child and now as a wise (okay, atrophied) woman. “Oh, I wish it would keep Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-43459611760496664432011-07-01T09:52:00.020+08:002011-07-21T09:54:19.475+08:00A Kiddie Pact
At right, in this photo taken a month ago, is my Manang Nieves.
She's three years my senior and she's been my friend since forever. After my graduation from grade school, however, we hardly ever saw each other—she stayed put as a housewife in the town where we grew up, and I wandered to various places.
But when I go home to Umingan, we see each other in church. She has remained an activeGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-7477597509036041492011-06-27T07:56:00.017+08:002011-07-02T14:33:16.916+08:00First Day JittersThis school year has begun.
On my way to class, I double-checked my big tote bag to make sure I had everything—flash drive, check; syllabus, check; work scheme, check; two sandwiches, check; sachet of three-in-one coffee, check; red pen, check; confidence, well . . .
Jitters always accompany me on my first day anywhere. I've been teaching for ages, but first days always spook me—new students Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-45059957286389588112011-06-23T08:20:00.006+08:002011-06-27T08:21:52.759+08:00Budik and Ygo (and Me)Budik is a new father. And Ygo is his son.
On Father's Day in church last Sunday, Budik made a testimony so moving it left almost everybody thinking, “I wish my father would speak that way about me.”
He spoke of gratitude to God for this gift of life.
He spoke of his joy and excitement when Ygo was born.
He spoke of a new resolve to work harder.
He spoke of giving up the spontaneous “Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-30666876953672904022011-06-19T06:30:00.003+08:002011-06-19T06:33:55.619+08:00Real VacationVacation is a word I rarely use. It's because I never allowed myself to have one—I mean, a real one.
Except for the occasional weekend or holiday dinner-out/coffee or an overnight stay at Canyon Woods in Tagaytay with my family, I couldn't recall a time when I had an honest-to-goodness vacation, when I wasn't on the computer catching up on self-imposed deadlines or all over the house rustlingGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-85020030589551718842011-06-15T05:45:00.006+08:002011-06-21T18:40:27.008+08:00Doing RightDisappointment, or even frustration, comes when you try to do something for others with the best of intentions, and you get criticized—or castigated—for doing it.
In a nutshell, that's the story of our lives.
There are always pros and antis to anything anyone does.
I once had an extra TV set which I hardly used. One day, a relatively new member of our staff mentioned that she'd been saving Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-5030452983583546522011-06-11T19:14:00.003+08:002011-06-18T20:08:37.742+08:00The Forgiving FatherOne of my favorite parables of Jesus is “The Prodigal Son,” which many call instead, “The Forgiving Father.” This story shows the depth of forgiveness fathers have in their reservoir of love for their children.
Many stories have been spawned from this parable, including one that I wrote, Look for the Star. It is a tale about a couple in a remote barrio who make parol (Christmas lanterns) Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-13861065577643657112011-06-09T06:32:00.007+08:002011-07-21T10:49:49.247+08:00Now Na!These days we use a Taglish phrase to stress urgency, Now na! Translation: right this minute!
This is the phrase I use when people who desire to become published writers ask me, “When is the best time to start writing?”
“Now na!”
Let me explain.
If you have a gift of writing and want to write, you shouldn't say, “I will wait till I am older, or less busy, or after I have given birth, or .Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-28075991691923355672011-06-05T16:57:00.011+08:002011-06-18T20:07:51.242+08:00Mothers of MosesThe story of Moses' two mothers intrigued me when I first heard it in Sunday school. May I re-tell it?
When Moses was born, the Pharaoh ordered that all newborn Hebrew boys should die. But Moses’ mother, Jochebed, disobeyed the king. Despite the danger of being caught by Pharaoh's soldiers, who searched everywhere, she hid Moses for three months.
Then she made a basket of bulrushes and Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-17408487724991141842011-06-01T08:27:00.011+08:002011-07-21T10:48:39.346+08:00Missing Birthday BoyHe's missing this year and we're missing him.
Adrian turned four last May 5, and for the first time, he did not fly home to the Philippines to celebrate his birthday with us. For the past three years, his parents usually scheduled their yearly vacation to coincide with Adrian's birthday, so we had been blessed to have him on his first, second, and third birthdays.
This year's different. Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-35895896221195544492011-05-28T11:32:00.011+08:002011-06-18T20:11:01.747+08:00Home Again for Auntie PatWhen I came to Umingan, my dear little hometown, on Easter for my mother's 8th death anniversary, I thought that would be it. I had not planned on coming back anytime soon.
But just one month later, here I am again.
This time, for another very important event—to welcome back the remains of mom's best friend and younger sister, my Auntie Pat.
Four year's ago, Auntie Pat (who had Alzheimer's)Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-53222166983515751972011-05-24T07:44:00.017+08:002011-05-24T12:39:39.233+08:00Outrageous YellowWaiting in line for a doctor, which takes forever, is reading time, writing time, or when the clinic is in a mall, window-shopping time.
So I walk about, looking at display windows, with no interest whatsoever in buying anything. Then from a few meters away, it catches my eye. Amidst the shelves and shelves of rubber shoes, it beckons me, “Come closer.”
And so I do. Very quickly.
It is Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-11537421555133303312011-05-20T06:43:00.006+08:002011-05-24T06:34:15.790+08:00When Is Mother's Day?Two of my most respected writers, Chitang Nakpil ("Mother's Day is for sissies.") and Rina Jimenez-David ("Unless my children make an effort, Mother’s Day passes like any other weekend."), do not go gaga over Mother's Day as many people do.
Reading their articles on it, I heave a sigh of relief. I am in good company.
I have lived with males all my married life and so I march to a different Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-11291047202665043082011-05-16T06:12:00.017+08:002011-12-27T11:13:16.524+08:00Shelf LifeThis morning I threw away a can of pineapple juice and a bottle of Ventolin Expectorant. They're both way past their shelf life or "Best before" date.
Shelf life . . . I've been deeply thinking about it the last few days as I begin to write my next book on, guess what, retirement.
The topic is not something I thought of (although I should have). When I asked Yna, Publications Director of Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-13069365855043107482011-05-14T07:13:00.008+08:002011-05-14T17:21:01.911+08:00A Letter to My Cyber Friends and GuestsThis site's server took down all posts of all bloggers from May 11 for maintenance work.
My last blog, "Angie's Silence and the RH Bill" (below) was off the page for one and a half days. Now it's back, but I lost all your comments!
Sob, sob. I know technology has its pitfalls, but grace abounds and enables us to re-bound.
Thank you for visiting again, despite the hiccup.
Blessings,
GraceGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-58475822535710431002011-05-12T07:36:00.000+08:002011-05-14T04:24:01.434+08:00Angie's Silence and the RH BillAngie, portly at 36, lives in the slums, and is a workaholic. She is in perpetual motion, sometimes forgetting to breathe, but never forgetting to smile.
What a joy to have her at home! She comes in before breakfast and leaves after supper, three times a week, to help Ate Vi with the household chores.
"Angie, come sit down for some chat," I called out one day to give her a break from the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-89780546562212728882011-05-08T11:02:00.013+08:002011-05-09T08:19:31.766+08:00Medals of Motherhood“Where are you going?” he asks.
“To Makati,” I reply.
“Where in Makati?” he pushes.
“Greenbelt.”
"What will you do there?” he probes.
“Have lunch with my old friends from my old office,” I say.
“What time are you coming home?”
“Before five PM,” I estimate.
“Okay, please make sure you're home by five.”
That isn't my husband conducting an inquest. It's any of my two sons (a third one is Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-80283521764644548712011-05-04T06:28:00.012+08:002011-05-07T10:46:23.437+08:00In Love with DavidIn my youth I was in love with David, the young, handsome shepherd who slew Goliath, the much-feared giant warrior. Michelangelo’s sculpture was how I saw his face.
Well, the description of David in 1 Samuel 16:12 (KJV) is thus: “. . . Now he was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful countenance, and goodly to look to. And the LORD said, Arise, anoint him: for this is he.”
A most unlikely Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-80034183672592957962011-04-30T06:56:00.014+08:002011-05-17T06:02:06.029+08:00A House Is Not a HomeA house is just a shell, I know. A structure isn't a home.
So why should anyone weep over rotting wood, and leaking roof?
Yeah, why should I?
I went home to the nondescript town where I grew up over the Easter weekend to commemorate my mother's 8th death anniversary with three of my four siblings and their families. I usually don't make time for this occasion because I want to remember Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-79289843208202810782011-04-26T06:50:00.016+08:002011-08-22T06:46:24.616+08:00Let Loose, Let GoTwice a day I visit my FB account and while there, I greet birthday celebrators, click “like” on some messages, and type one-liners on others. In ten minutes, I get to know what's up with the world among my cyber friends.
One wall post particularly hit me hard me one day. It was by motivational speaker and author, Francis Kong: “Missing my baby. My 24-year-old Hannah Kong will be going to Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-44668181903591095612011-04-23T05:52:00.004+08:002011-05-01T06:38:46.403+08:00Most Eloquent MessageOn Easter (last year), my email in-box got clogged with so many messages and commentaries. The most eloquent for me came from the mouth of a special child. Let me summarize it.
Although James was ten years old, he was still in kindergarten. And even in that class, James was not at par with his classmates. His motor skills and speech were way below everybody.
That week, James’ teacher spoke Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-27726647718215027712011-04-20T06:32:00.008+08:002011-04-22T12:51:53.117+08:00From Chili to CoffeeThe upside to living with three men (two sons and a husband) is you don't do groceries, nor drive.
The downside is, you never get to choose where to eat. In group activities, the majority rules.
Hey, I am not complaining. It so happens that all these men love to cook (I don't) and are food connoisseurs (I am not). I claim to be a foodie because I am basically adventurous when it comes to Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-14156335016661681512011-04-16T06:25:00.016+08:002011-04-22T12:53:59.819+08:00Wedding vows and Eternal LoveThrough many years of attending weddings, I have seen how the traditional vows have evolved.
They used to be sacrosanct classics and no wedding would be complete without these words—to have and to to hold; to love and obey; in sickness or in health; for richer or poorer; and till death do us part.
In this multi-polar, nuclear-endangered world today, wedding vows are as varied as websites andGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-78695840557000581952011-04-12T06:02:00.011+08:002011-04-22T12:56:08.188+08:00Teach and Die a LittleI am speaking for myself as a college teacher—a tiny part of me that dwells in a heart that is largely occupied by writing and book talking.
Although I teach only twice a week (total of six hours), this calling, for me, is rejuvenating grace, and I therefore take it seriously—so seriously I die a little when a student fails.
It feels like I have not given my best.
This is a far cry from Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-86766800512992021712011-04-08T08:36:00.012+08:002011-04-22T12:57:40.087+08:00Storming HeavenMy friend Louie texted me this frantic message about her husband, “Hi, all! Please help us storm heaven with prayers. Rey admitted to hospital after five weeks of recurring pain, diff. meds and tests. This is the third hospital we've been to and doctors can't diagnose!”
This text message was oh-so-familiar! I sent a similar one years ago (via landline and email; cellphones were not yet in Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-24875691766506343832011-04-04T07:44:00.005+08:002011-10-08T20:51:44.382+08:00Song of MateoAt the height of the ruckus caused by six-year-old Jan-Jan on Willling Willie, my friend Rose sent me a refreshing note on FB, reminding me of my song in Oh, Mateo! Book 11, “Crying Children.” The reminder came at a perfect time.
Music is not my strongest suit, so I wrote the lyrics with some vague, forgettable tune in my head, hoping someone would compose the song for me.
I asked a Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-85774903256392970382011-03-31T06:23:00.015+08:002011-04-22T13:00:29.259+08:00Must Children Beg?When a six-year-old child is pushed to beg in the streets by his parents, what could he be thinking?
1) I wish I could play with my friends instead.
2) I love doing this; there's nothing I'd rather do!
3) I need to do this so I can earn some money to buy food.
This child couldn't speak for himself, so I wish to speak for him in this forum where I hope I won't remain the sole speaker. Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-24042894577310640562011-03-27T19:22:00.010+08:002011-04-22T13:01:45.992+08:00Long-distance LoveI talked to Adrian on the phone this morning (evening in Michigan, USA) and I was surprised to find his voice “grown-up.” His tiny-tot rasp is gone. What I heard was a clear, crisp voice of a little boy turning four, in four and a half weeks.
My first question was, “What are you doing, Adrian?” I keep forgetting his parents' request for us to speak to him in Filipino.
He replied, “Ano poGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-61114863122480993892011-03-23T06:29:00.009+08:002011-03-24T11:22:49.689+08:00Heaven's CornerSomewhere in Baguio City is Heaven's Corner—a cozy place where one can commune with God or with the people He has assigned to write about Him. With a flip of a page, here and there, you could read all about His grace and His mighty acts in many books.
Heaven's Corner is a Christian bookstore that opened its second branch on Saturday at SM. It was the reason I went up to Baguio where I enjoyedGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-45107680147222251162011-03-21T18:27:00.010+08:002011-03-22T11:37:31.531+08:00Bladder ControlMy trip back to Manila from Baguio began with what seemed like a violent rebellion, similar to what is ongoing in Libya.
When people started filing into the deluxe bus—with comfort room—the stewardess announced, “Sorry, Ma'am, Sir, the comfort room is out of order.
“WHAAAAT?!” “x*&x+*#z!!!” A loud howl from all the passengers.
“Victory Liner will refund P100, Ma'am, Sir . . .”
“x*&x+*#zGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-53467264751024713622011-03-18T06:33:00.003+08:002011-03-18T06:36:35.823+08:00Road Treat to BaguioIn two hours I should be in a bus to Baguio to attend the opening of a new bookstore there.
It's going to be a long five-hour ride; it would take a couple of hours more if I rode an ordinary bus.
Thankfully, there is now what they call Victory Liner de-luxe, non-stop, with a comfort room, TV, a stewardess who serves free snacks, and free wi-fi. For a few additional bucks—much cheaper than Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-66328508615942738202011-03-16T06:36:00.007+08:002011-03-16T09:05:49.412+08:00Chivalry is Alive"If Chivalry is dead, women killed it,” said Dave Chappelle, an American comedian, and many others who might have quoted him or had the same idea.
Chivalry as we used to define it in my time is gallantry, courtesy, and readiness to help the weak—noble qualities of the knight in shining armor who saved women in distress.
Then, men opened doors for women, offered their seats and jackets, walkedGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-56229916547910332142011-03-12T10:36:00.017+08:002011-03-12T21:15:27.904+08:00Earthquake and Tsunami:Love Conquers All
I was putting on my party dress when the Japan earthquake crumpled buildings, swept away cars, and swallowed up homes. Hours later, when the party was in full swing, tsunamis rampaged over coastlines and wreaked havoc on anything that was on the way.
And I was oblivious to it all.
Switching my cell phone to mute so I could savor the 25th wedding renewal of vows of two Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-19523786123297823822011-03-08T06:19:00.008+08:002011-03-16T12:23:40.687+08:00Where the Action WasTo reading advocates, one of the most delightful habits anyone could ever have is, reading. That's why I often write about it.
We've read in our history books that Gen. Douglas McArthur (World War II) left the Philippines for the USA, but vowed, "I shall return."
On October 20, 1944, he indeed returned and landed in Palo, Leyte to lead the drive against the Japanese forces.
When I read about Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-79762005289260528802011-03-04T07:05:00.020+08:002011-03-06T18:10:30.905+08:00Slave to StatisticsWhen at last "The Little Prince" lands on planet Earth (Antoine De Saint Exupery's well-loved novel of the same title) in Chapter 16, the author cites many crazy numbers, to dramatize that this place where we live is different from other planets in the universe.
We earthlings like to count, a habit that has become a full-blown science called Statistics.
Statistics are now indispensable in Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-20479507704558366592011-02-28T10:46:00.007+08:002011-02-28T15:13:38.156+08:00The Trouble with GrammarLet me put that title in context: the trouble with teaching English grammar is, I split hairs.
I agonize over the difference between a prepositional phrase and a phrasal preposition; I despair over misplaced correlative conjunction and subordinating conjunction; I fume over the misuse of “whomever” and “whoever;” I cringe when someone says, “for you and I;” I grieve over proper nouns in Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-76408806025919552252011-02-25T07:35:00.021+08:002011-02-25T10:41:41.223+08:00People Power: 25th Year“You were at EDSA I?!” a much younger friend asks me, incredulous.
“Of course!” I reply.
“Do you have any photos?”
“Well. . . ah, ah . . .”
“None. And you said you were there?!” If she's trying to shame me, she's successful.
I was where history unfolded at the most important Philippine event in the last 25 years and I have absolutely no—none, zilch, zero, nil, nada, zippo—photo to show for Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-82092264408315344802011-02-22T05:59:00.010+08:002011-02-22T19:18:07.338+08:00Pride and Prejudice Circa 2011Two hundred years is a long time. That's about nine to ten generations removed. And because change happens every day, what took place two centuries ago may be alien to us today.
This change was never more dramatized for me than when I received a Barnes and Noble Nook from JB, Gianina, and Adrian as a Christmas present. It took time before I even touched it, clueless on how it works.
I Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-34444697925062969882011-02-18T10:19:00.018+08:002011-10-20T07:41:46.743+08:00Coffee Table Book:Lotsa Photos, Li'l Prose
Having just attended the launching of the third coffee table book that I was privileged to write, I think my smiles are a little bigger and my steps, jauntier.
Compared to writing heavy prose, there is an almost exclusive kind of high in doing a hardcover book meant to sit on a coffee table. Such a book can inspire conversations or entertain guests before boredom sets inGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-37586025172707795242011-02-14T07:03:00.019+08:002011-05-17T09:53:33.677+08:00When Did You Feel That God Loves You?
It was the first day of my Life Growth class in church, right after the morning Worship Service. I was facing a new set of “students” who would learn with me “Experiencing the Heart of Jesus,” based on Max Lucado's discussion guide, for the next six months.
Yuppies, aged 21 to 30.
The old set of "students" in the last six months comprised of men and women, with ages ranging from 45 to 65Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-975547502919735342011-02-11T07:03:00.019+08:002011-02-15T20:50:37.286+08:00A Suitcase and Hotel RoomsI've been living in a suitcase and hotel rooms the past three weeks for book talks and other ministries. This time, I am in San Mateo, Rizal for what is called a camp, but which is everything but a camp.
Instead of a tent, I am ushered to a spartan but humongous room with a massive bed, and not much else.
As has been my disposition in my travels these days, after being spoiled in the Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-57234417604150519932011-02-07T06:20:00.010+08:002011-02-07T21:16:21.869+08:00Controversial BridgeNext to the decadent Sto. Nino Shrine and Heritage Museum, Tacloban's San Juanico Bridge has to be the most maligned and vilified (in media) of the Marcos regime's colossal constructions.
When it was inaugurated, many voices howled in protest against its grandeur and cost vis-a-vis its relevance and usefulness to the people. I will not discuss my personal thoughts here since this is not a blogGrace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6141071807094113557.post-17533312069859982932011-02-03T08:44:00.005+08:002011-02-03T09:22:45.872+08:00Friends Are ForeverWhen does friendship end?
Does it end when friends go their separate ways?
Does it end when years come in between?
Does it end when lifestyles and status in life change?
Does it end when friends grow in different directions?
Does it end when friends embark on opposing careers?
No. Not with my friends lumped together into one name—XDYR.
They're hither and yonder (200 or so of Grace D. Chonghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13319447529035932808noreply@blogger.com4