Missing Minna: Giggles and Trust

We lost my dearest cousin, Minna, a year ago. Her death caused great grief among her siblings and their families. I have no words to express how I myself felt then, and how I feel now. 

She was not only a cousin, she was my BFF. 

We grew up and went to school together in the hometown of our mothers, who were sisters and each other’s BFF, as well. They gifted us with twin watches on our grade school graduation day. In those years, “inseparable” was how we were described. 

We went our separate ways after college. She immigrated to the US, but when I was there briefly for my master’s degree, I took a 26-hour Greyhound bus ride from Chicago to meet her in New York one summer. 

There were many intervening years when we didn’t see each other, but whenever we did, the years slipped away. I can’t remember a day without giggling when I was with her. We’d find humor in almost everything. 

Each time she came home for official busines, it was an unwritten rule that she’d stay in our place, with me and my family. I’d take a leave from work, cancel all appointments, and postpone my book deadlines, so we could go shopping (she was an incorrigible shopper!) have a massage, go to the spa, visit a dermatologist, swing by the coffee shop, and watch movies. We’d hire a van so we could travel to our little town and visit loved ones and the graves of our parents. 

“I have to open some bank accounts,” she declared in one of those visits. To my utter shock and surprise, she put them in both our names, and left the passbooks with me.

“What?! You trust me with your money?!” 

“I trust you with my life!” she said, and we giggled. 

Minna had formidable credentials under her belt—a postgraduate degree from a big university, where she lectured; EVP in a huge NYC bank; plus, plus, plus. But when we were together, we regressed to those innocent days when we had nothing.    

In 2016, Tony and I flew to California to visit son #2 and his family. Without my asking him, JB booked our flight to New York to visit Minna. What a precious gift! She took us around and we recorded our excitement in photos. 

Little did I know that this would be my last time to be with her.  

Staring at the above photo today, I could hear her voice, “I trust you with my life!” 

That life ended last year—but only on Earth. I will meet her again in the home of the God we trust. There we will giggle the hours away and enjoy our unending life, teeming with unending grace.  

Couch Potato? Not!

"Couch potato” joined our idioms list in the 70s, when a man named Tom Iacino from California, USA, nonchalantly mentioned the phrase to his friend, Bob Armstrong, a cartoonist.   

Bob asked if he could use the phrase to describe his two inert and lazy cartoon characters who idled their time away watching TV. So there. 

That idiom was one of my greatest fears.  

I had just arrived from the US, where I finished degrees in communications and performing arts, to be Tony’s bride. After we settled into a cozy apartment unit, I was raring to put to use my degrees: communicate and perform! 

But Tony (this I did not expect) said, “No wife of mine is going to work.” He uttered words I don’t remember, but sounded like, “You be the homemaker and I be the bread winner.” 

A tyro wife does as told, so I was resolute in perfecting our home.

Ooops.

One day was unbelievably long. Even if I read a book or two, scrubbed the bathroom twice, did general cleaning daily, there was an aching vacuum for idleness. I stared at our new TV, and it stared back at me. “Oh, no, you don’t!” I warned both the idiot box and me. 

Ergo, I had no favorite TV show. My boob tube time was as long as the 6 o’clock news. A few shorts months later, however, before I could learn to cook, Tony saw through my feigned-martyrish look, relented, and allowed me to take on a corporate job . . . but I digress. 

ooo

The pandemic came, carting along more time than we will ever need, and upending even my toughest resolve. Well, I have not morphed into a full-time couch potato (thank heavens, I am surrounded with books and the will to write more). But. 

After supper, every night (every single night!), Tony, son #3, and I head to the master’s bedroom to watch, laugh, and enjoy several episodes of “Everybody Loves Raymond” before we call it a day. (Years back, during a rare simultaneous break, this was our favorite family fare, which everyone enjoyed. But that was short and sweet. Our busy routines resumed.)   

Busyness took on a new meaning and a new place while under quarantine: WFH (work from home). So wow, we're back to this fave—with a vengeance. Four to five spidodes per night! I have succumbed to being a part-time bed potato. 

This sitcom about an ordinary family with an extraordinary cast was a hit on American TV and it is again a hit for me! Aside from eliciting loud guffaws, the show's characters are certainly familiar:  overbearing mom-in-law, ornery dad-in law; laconic husband with a blob of an envious brother; narrow-eyed wife, and adorable kids. Stellar!

“Everybody Loves Raymond” was hailed by critics as well—62 nominations and 15 Emmys! 

To date, we have watched all episodes (including bloopers, deleted scenes, anniversary events, media interviews, all edits to promote the show) and now re-watching some, but the pandemic hurdles on, going beyond one year now. 

So this part-time bed potato badly needs another TV show for her after-supper idle hours. 

Among Tony’s still unopened DVD collection is the complete series of another multi-awarded and much-hailed old sitcom, “Frasier.”  

Yes! 

The Rituals of Our Lives

 After I had posted my blog on Mother’s Day, I received another gift. This one comes every year like clockwork: a dozen lovely flowers!  

Tony takes my photo to serve as our receipt for this bundle of beauties.   

This year, however, this gift—from son #2, his wife, and son in the US—is extra special. Amidst the  chaotic pandemic, this annual ritual makes everything seem normal. It affirms the relationships we value; they do not change with any crisis. 

I borrowed my blog title from Robert Fulghum’s book From Beginning to End because this annual gift does not only mark time; it creates time. Rituals particularly interest me because one college course that I taught, Consumer Behaviour, proved that most purchasing activities are for rituals. 

If I added the numbers of all our holiday observances (Easter, Christmas, Independence Day, etc.), family gatherings (births, anniversaries, graduations, weddings, reunions, etc.), and all the commemorative dates (World Health Day, Down Syndrome Day, etc.), the sum would be more than half a year! Think of all the goods bought on those days. 

Undoubtedly, rituals are essential, whether for pleasure, for dealing with pain, for peace during uncertainty, or for building stronger faith in God’s grace. 

Rituals become even more significant because of their artefacts: toga for graduation; bouquet for weddings; champagne for victory; fireworks on New ear’s eve, etc.  

For me, artefacts are a dozen flowers on Mother’s Day!  

Robert Fulghum deepened the meaning of rituals when he wrote, “Rituals do not always involve words, occasions, officials, or an audience. Rituals are often silent, solitary, and self-contained. The most powerful . . . are reflective—when you look back on your life again and again, paying attention to the rivers you have crossed and the gates you have opened and walked on through, the thresholds you have passed over . . .” 

Writing this post has been one such ritual. 

When a Challenger Backs Out

“Modern Lapu-Lapu,” Harry Roque gushed, referring to his boss. 

In Philippine history books, Lapu-Lapu is the first Filipino hero. He bravely fought and thwarted Ferdinand Magellan when he tried to conquer the island of Mactan, of which Lapu-Lapu was the datu (head). This courageous hero is an epitome of patriotism, unwilling to cede the country to foreign rule. 

“Like Lapu-Lapu,” Roque rhapsodized, “President Duterte has an independent foreign policy.” What the Spox omitted was that the president has been tiptoeing around China, the aggressive claimant to the West Philippine Sea (WPS). 

In fact, Duterte admitted in one speech that he is ‘inutile, cannot do anything against China’s aggression at the WPS.”  

Then, in a state of pique, the president also said in his curse-laden weekly Talk to the People, “[translation mine] This Carpio, he keeps writing decision for his brain only . . . He is stupid . . . Supreme Court justice. We are both lawyers. Do you want to debate this?” 

(Antonio Carpio, 71, a former Associate Justice and acting Chief Justice of the Supreme Court four times, works "to protect and preserve Philippine territorial and maritime sovereignty specifically in the WPS.” In 2015, he presented our historical and legal case on the dispute before think tanks and universities in 30 cities covering 17 countries. Two years later, he published an eBook titled "The South China Sea Dispute: Philippine Sovereign Rights and Jurisdiction in the West Philippine Sea." ) 

Immediately, Justice Carpio accepted President Duterte’s challenge for a debate on the WPS. The Philippine Bar Association volunteered to host the event for free. 

Adrenaline hit me and I posted on social media that I will cancel all appointments to watch this high-powered event!  

Suddenly I was deluged with messages and memes from well-meaning friends. Each note was incredulous:   

“Grace! You believe this president?!” 

“Are you naive? This won’t happen.” 

“Don’t you know yet that this president has no word of honor?!” 

“He lies! What he says today is different from what he’ll say tomorrow.” 

My reply: “Hope springs eternal.”  

My hope was dashed. True enough, two days later, the challenger backed out, and pushed Roque as proxy—but not on the WPS.  Roque said, "The president would not stoop down to the level of a regular lawyer."

But, but, I thought. It was the president who dared Carpio to debate! He is the challenger!   

Below is just one of many news reports on the president's backing out: 

It got a whopping 128 thousand laughing reactions, 21K comments, and 52K shares! Incredible. All the comments echoed my friends’ stinging messages to me. 

Why did I not see this coming? 

One part of me did, but the bigger chunk of me, as a writer on grace, had hoped that my country's president is the modern-day Lapu-Lapu, a man of honor, a defender of his people, and will shun cursing to follow the basic rules of debate. 

Sob. 

Lapu-Lapu LaughFest

Tony loves history and so do our sons. I don’t. But grace equips me to understand its significance in the context of Philippine independence from foreign rule. This post, then, tackles history—with hilarity.  

European history books celebrate the expedition of Ferdinand Magellan (a Portugese explorer) as the first Spanish voyage—with 270 men on five ships—to circumnavigate the Earth.

Filipino history books, on the other hand, celebrate the victory of Lapu-Lapu, hailed as our first Filipino hero, in ending Magellan’s life and his expedition on its third year. 

Background: Magellan reached our country in March 1521 and used both diplomacy and force to convert local leaders to Catholicism and submit to the authority of the Spanish king.

Rajah Humabon of Cebu and other local rulers formed an alliance with Magellan. To widen his territory, Magellan wanted to conquer the island of Mactan as well. But Lapu-Lapu, the island’s datu (head), refused to negotiate.

Magellan and his men joined forces with Humabon and attacked Mactan at dawn. Lapu-Lapu and his indigenous warriors met them on the beach. The fierce battle, which lasted within an hour, saw Magellan and most of his men killed. Only one ship and 18 survivors limped back to Seville. 

That was on April 27, 1521, 500 years ago. 

Every year, we commemorate this important day—The Battle of Mactan—when Filipinos resisted a foreign colonizer. In particular, we remember how Lapu-Lapu roused his band of warriors to trounce the Spanish threat to their independence. 

Early this year, the Bangko Sentral ng Pilipinas (Central Bank of the Philippines)  unveiled the commemorative banknote and medal of Lapu-Lapu’s heroism. 

The 500th anniversary of the Battle of Mactan—organised by the National Quincentennial Committee—paid tribute to Lapu-Lapu’s unique bravery and leadership with a series of celebratory activities.   

Lapu-Lapu left quite a legacy. The Declaration of Philippine Independence refers to him, and at the center of the island of Mactan today is a statue of this great combatant who fought for our autonomy.  

Those are the historical facts.    

Then came the speech of Harry Roque, spokesperson of our president. He declared: “President Duterte is my modern-day Lapu-Lapu.”

Huh? 

Friends and foe often hear Duterte openly profess his love for China—and therefore tip-toes around its president, Xi Jinping. “We are a province of China,” he said in one speech, and allows Chinese ships freely fish (loot?) and roam the West Philippine Sea (a part of our exclusive economic zone).  

The collective response was 34,000+ Haha emojis! I have never seen an FB post with just one type of reaction clicked by everyone who read the post. 

Without meaning to disrespect Lapu-Lapu, I clicked the laughing emoji, too. 

Photo credits: Inquirer.net and Rappler

Mouse, Mousse, and Moolah on Mom’s Day

A week before Mother’s Day, two of my three sons each decided to give me a gift. 

Son #3 had a mango mousse delivered because it was on special sale that day. He said, “That’s for Mother’s Day.”

My heart danced.  

Son #1 was going to have his computer serviced in the mall, and I requested him to buy me an extra mouse in case mine conked out. He gave me the mouse, and naturally I asked, “How much do I owe you?”

He replied, “None. It’s a Mother’s Day gift.” 

My heart danced again.  

Son #2, who lives abroad, sends me moolah for “expenses” any day of the year. I take that as another Mom’s Day gift—and another chance for my heart to dance whenever I receive it.  

It’s true what people say: boys are not into frills, fuss, and rituals. Neither are they effusive. I live without peripherals; Mother’s Day, for me, is all days of the year. 

Here they are celebrating their own birthdays, that special day when each was delivered, not by a stork, but by the Father of all. 

Ahhh, I am waxing nostalgic. Grace weaves in and around me during this pandemic. 

“Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb is a reward.” (Psalm 127:3 NKJV)  

At 14, No Doters Allowed

Our only grandson, Adrian, turns 14 today. 

At this age, according to psychologists, teenagers may feel embarrassed by their family—especially by those who dote on them in public. And yet, that is exactly what I am doing and risking. Gosh. 

A beloved grandchild turns 14 only once. His growth spurts and suddenly, he towers over the dwarfs in the family (me). 

Let me flex how handsome he looks in his latest photos.  

I am now singing the same tune I blogged about when he was a baby. Link here.  

His first photo was inside his mother's womb. 

Although he lives abroad and would come home for vacation only once a year before the pandemic, those short visits allowed us to dote on him as he was young, unaware, and wink, wink, bribable. I have tons of his photos, which I keep in an album of grace.   

To Adrian, Angkong and Amah (Chinese honorifics for father of your father and mother of your father) wish you a blessed 14th birthday! 

You’re probably cringing while reading this post, but hey, doddering grandparents are allowed some folly, right? 

"Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children." (Proverbs 17:6 NIV) 

Photo credits:  (Adrian's solo shots above) Gianina Chong

Is Peace Possible?

“Elusive” was how Pastor Cole described peace in his virtual message one Sunday. 

Spot on, I thought. 

The whole world has always dreamed of peace, but there will never be a day without war. Man has invented symbols for peace, but none has paved the way for global peace. The world will always be in turmoil, until the Lord comes again. 

More than ever, that’s how it is today. 

Many of my friends, relatives of friends, and loved ones who tested positive for Covid-19 had lost the battle.  Daily, we read online about patients hopping from one hospital to another but couldn't be admitted because of full occupancy. Our frontliners are overworked and tired; many of them had joined the casualty statistics. Facebook now seems like an obituary. 

There aren’t enough vaccines, mass testing is not possible, and the lockdown in whatever level of “Q” is causing the uptick of mental health problems (among all ages). Our government operates on a day-to-day basis, depending on numbers. The economy is on its knees. Many of us have lost our jobs and closed our businesses. Book publishing has collapsed. 

We go to bed at night and wake up to a new day asking ourselves, What now? 

Is peace possible? 

What now? must have been the question in the minds of the disciples when the resurrected Jesus was bidding them goodbye on His way to back to heaven. Here they were with the Man, for whom they abandoned their homes, jobs, and all they had, about to leave them. They felt helpless, hopeless, bothered, bewildered—plus more adjectives describing anxiety, which we are similarly experiencing  today as we trudge through the pandemic. 

Peace is "elusive.” 

But Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27 NIV)  

"These words are both a promise and a command," our pastor added. Jesus bequeathed to them His peace, which is not how the world defines it. He promised them a personalized, inner, spiritual peace. Then he commanded them not to be individually anxious because His peace will never leave them. 

It is in the command that we need enabling grace. 

For and by ourselves, we cannot attain peace unless we seek it. And finding it depends on the depth of our personal relationship with Jesus. If we focus on Him, only Him (instead of where we are today and tomorrow), He will empower us to have peace.    

Yes, peace is "elusive.” It is possible ONLY if we fix our eyes upon the One who bestows it.