Kumakabog itong dibdib,
Pinagpapawisan ng malamig,
Direksiyon mo’y sinusulyapan,
Kahit pa nakaw na tingin lang.
Masaklap itong kalagayan,
Ako kaya’y mapagbigyan,
Sana ikaw ay mas malapit,
Nang ‘di na masyadong mahirapan.
Pasimple para ‘di mahuli,
Saloobi’y ‘di dapat ipakita,
Bakit kasi hindi nag-aral,
Ngayon sa test nangongopya.
**********
(*Sorry to disappoint you if you thought this poem is about love.)
(**Handog sa lahat ng mga estudyanteng natutuksong mangopya. Hoy, bawal ‘yan!)
I was pulling out of our driveway last weekend and I had this certain feeling of heaviness in my heart. I was going to work and would be in the hospital, mainly manning the ICU, for 36 long hours straight.
First of all, it was the weekend before Christmas, so I was a little sad that I would miss out on many happenings. My kids were supposed to play music in the church’s Christmas program. But more so, I had this feeling of dread to whatever challenges I would face. The ICU is crazily busy this time of year, you know. What kind of chaos was waiting for me, God only knows.
Of course that dreadful feeling I had was nothing compared to some other people leaving for work. Like the OFW or overseas workers who are leaving their home and family for a year or longer to go to a foreign country. They would be fighting extreme loniness and homesickness. Though I had a taste of that feeling when I left my home in the Philippines more than two decades ago with an unforseen future at that time.
For some, it is even worse. I would not even try to imagine the feelings of soldiers leaving their home to be deployed somewhere in the world where there is war and unrest, and their return is not guaranteed at all. Talk about feeling of dread and angst, that definitely is.
Anyway, as I drove away from our home, the first song that played on my radio (my car radio is sync on my phone’s playlist) was “Someone is Praying for You.” All of a sudden I felt some kind of reassurance, and the foreboding feeling I had melted away.
The chorus of that song goes like this:
Someone is praying for you, someone is praying for you.
So when it seems you’re all alone, and your heart will break in two.
Remember someone is praying for you.
Do you have someone praying for you?
Maybe you owe someone money, and they are praying that you remember to pay your debt. Or maybe you have offended someone and they are praying that you choke on your food so you would think of them. But I am not talking of those kind of people wishing for you.
What I mean are people who really care for your well-being and have you in their thoughts and prayers no matter what.
I know most parents, if not all, especially mothers, are always praying for the good of their children. It does not matter how old you are or how far you wandered away from home, your parents are still praying for you.
My parents are both gone now. My father died 3 decades ago and my mother died 4 years ago. Yet, I know that there is still someone praying for me all the time.
It is a comforting feeling that someone always have me on their mind. Whether I am home or not at home. Whether I am strolling in a park or walking through the forest of difficulties. Whether I am sure of my path or I can barely find my way.
And that someone has also been by my side for the past 24 years. Happy Anniversary my dear, and thank you for walking this life with me.
(*photo taken last year)
Sad stories are life’s reality. Several weeks ago I heard one sad story. It was told by a young man, but he did not even relayed it to me. I just overheard it.
We were in a youth camporee, and I went there as a supervising adult (see previous post). There were more than 300 boys and girls from several youth clubs that came to that camping.
evening worship at the camp
One morning in the boy’s public bathroom, I was in one of the toilet stalls minding my own business. There was no phone signal in the camp, so I cannot surf the web on my smart phone to keep me entertained. I was just watching a small spider spinning his web at one corner of the stall.
(Sorry, this is my second post in a row that discuss something about restrooms. It is not my intention to turn this blog into a toilet talk, but just bear with me, for there’s a good point I want to make here, I promise.)
Then I heard people came to the restroom. I believe there were at least two boys who came in. While brushing their teeth and perhaps washing their faces at the lavatories, they started a conversation.
After some small talk and introducing themselves to each other, like their name and what youth club or place they came from, one boy opened up with a very personal information. I was not being nosy nor eavesdropping, but as the wash basins were just a few feet from the toilet stall I was in, I heard all their conversation.
“I never knew who my father is, for I never met him,” one boy confessed.
He added that he met his real mother when he was eleven years old, but her mother never told him who his real dad is. Then he said that his mother told him that she gave him away for adoption for he was a “blue baby” when he was born. “I was blue as a Smurf,” he quipped. Her mother thought that she cannot take care of him due to his condition, so she gave him away.
As a medical doctor, I know that “blue babies” have an anomaly in their heart or in their circulation causing poorly oxygenated blood to course into their arteries giving the bluish discoloration of their skin. Unless a life saving procedure or surgery is done immediately, they will not survive. Most likely this boy underwent such surgery.
I know this boy is a survivor. Yet he might had the corrective surgery to close a hole in his heart, but the void and longing in his heart for love, especially from a father he never knew, was never filled.
Like a priest inside a confession box, except that I was in a toilet stall, I heard all this heart-breaking confession of a young man without him seeing me. Most likely he didn’t even know I was there listening to his story. He is not aware that the walls, even the very private toilet walls, have ears.
I would like to break out from the stall I was in and give this young man a big hug, but given the situation and place, that may be deemed inappropriate. Perhaps even scandalous.
The thing is I know his first name, his age, where he is from, and what club he is a member of, but I never saw his face. By the time I was done with my business, and came out of the stall, the two boys were gone.
My heart was broken just listening to that sad story. I can just imagine what heartache that boy was feeling. I just hope he finds the love he was looking for even if he has no father. Though one thing for sure, “our Father who art in heaven,” loves him and I pray that he realized that.
This made me thinking, that fathers who aren’t in heaven, me included, have such a great responsibility. We may never change the world singlehandedly, but we are given this distinctive duty and privilege to make a positive impact in the precious lives of our children. And perhaps if all fathers will do that, then the world will change.
For you fathers who may be reading this, or for you young men or even boys who will be fathers some day, I hope we all rise up to this challenge.
Have a happy and meaningful Father’s Day.
Few days ago I drove to my outreach clinic which is an hour and a half away. As I mentioned in the past, the drive there is mostly serene and relaxing, going through picturesque rural Iowa landscapes. Unlike the frustrating drive through EDSA being stuck in traffic for an hour and half. It was a beautiful spring day too, with colorful blossoms on the trees lining the highway.
This journey provides me an opportunity to ruminate, I mean to think deeply, not chew the cud like cows here in Iowa. And a chance for some “sound tripping” too. The music album I picked that day for the drive was an album I have not listened to for quite a while. I just added it recently to my iPhone’s music library. It was Jim Chappell’s “Saturday’s Rhapsody.”
While I was cruising down the road and listening to the music, it took me back 25 years ago. To be exact, it was a Saturday night in January of 1993.
I was a fresh graduate from medical school, and I just passed the Philippine Medical Boards. Some of my friends had been harassing (kantiyaw) me for days to take them out to eat as a celebration for my recent board passing. So I told them, perhaps the coming weekend after a church function, we can go out if we wish. A wishy-washy plan.
There was this girl, a friend of a friend, who recently became part of my circle of friends, that I knew it was her birthday that weekend so I brought a gift just in case she’ll show up and join the party.
The gift was a music cassette tape. Remember them? Compact discs were not in vogue yet or they were more expensive than the cassette tape that time. It was Jim Chappell’s album “Saturday Rhapsody.”
Jim Chappell is an American jazz pianist. I’m not really a jazz type-of-guy. I am more of Pinoy folk, rock and country type-of-guy, with favorites like Freddie Aguilar, Asin and Eraserheads. But when I’m studying, I avoid those songs, as I would break out in a song which will be disruptive. So I gravitate to instrumental music or music without words. That’s how I end up listening to jazz music, especially when I was reviewing for my boards.
As I was listening to a smooth jazz radio station in Manila, I heard the music of Jim Chappell, and I got hooked. I bought my first album of his, “Living the Northern Summer.” I love his music so much that I shared this to my friends, as I gave them Chappell’s album as a gift. And that brought me to that particular night in January 1993.
I bought the album “Saturday Rhapsody” as a possible gift. That is if this particular girl would show up that night. If not, I can keep it for myself, for I still don’t have that album anyway.
But the girl showed up.
Darn, I would like to keep that cassette tape for me! Yet it was also a good thing, since it was her birthday, thus it was her blowout too. So she shared on the bill for the restaurant meal for our group, saving me some money.
After seeing the album, this girl thought that the music was kind of “bastos” (lewd), as the picture on the cover of the album was some sort of a naked woman (see photo below). She also thought I was “presko” (fresh or impudent)! But afterwards, when she listened to the album, she found that it was decent music and she liked it. It changed her impression of me too.
We became good friends since then. We even went together to the concert of Jim Chappell when he came to Manila and performed at the Philippines International Convention Center in the summer of 1993.
In the end, the album that I gave away, became mine eventually and I didn’t have to get one for my own, as she and I shared it together. We have been sharing more than just music together for the past 25 years.
*******
Here’s a sample of one of the songs in that album “Saturday Rhapsody.” This song is “A Weekend to Remember.” It really was.
(*photo from the web, video from YouTube)
Ilang araw na lang ay lalabas na ang bagong pelikula ng mga paborito nating superheroes, ang “Avengers: Infinity War.” Ito ay isa sa pinakamalaking production ng Marvel Studios at pagsasama-sama ng pinakamaraming superheroes. Ang movie genre tungkol sa mga superheroes, ay isa sa mga pelikulang kinagigiliwan ng madla at malakas tumabo sa takilya.
Pero ibang superheroes ang gusto kong talakayin ngayon. Ito ay ang mga Abangers. Mga taong nag-aabang.
Hindi ko tinutukoy ‘yung mga tambay sa kanto. Oo nga’t nag-aabang din sila, pero hindi ko lang alam kung ano nga ba ang inaabangan nila. Siguro, Pasko?
Hindi ko rin tinutukoy ang mga pasaherong tinitiis ang pagod, gutom, init, at pakikipag-siksikan habang nag-aabang ng masasakyan. Tunay naman na umaabot ng siyam-siyam makarating lamang sa paroroonan. Sa ibang pagkakataon ko na lang tatalakayin ‘yon.
Ang aking tinutukoy ay ang mga nag-aabang sa pag-ibig na hindi nila maangkin. Sa simpleng salita, ‘yung mga nagmamahal ng taong may girlfriend o boyfriend na. O mas masaklap pa, nagmamahal ng may asawa na. Sila ay nag-aabang na magkahiwalayan ang sinisinta nila, para sila naman ang makaentra.
Maraming mga kanta akong kinagisnan noon na nagsasaysay ng ganitong sintimyento. Ito ang isa: Hanggang Sa Dulo ng Walang Hanggan.
Ang orihinal na umawit nito ay si Basil Valdez, at ni-remake naman nila Gary Valenciano at Sarah Geronimo.
At kung sadyang s’ya na ang ‘yong mahal,
Asahan mong ako’y di hahadlang,
Habang ikaw ay maligaya ako’y maghihintay,
Maging hanggang sa dulo ng walang hanggan.
Ayan ang tunay na Abanger! “Abanger: Infinity Wait.”
Heto pa ang isa, awit naman ni Martin Nievera, “Ikaw ang Lahat sa Akin.” May cover din nito si Regine Velasquez.
At kung hindi ngayon ang panahon,
Upang ikaw ay mahalin,
Bukas na walang hanggan,
Doo’y maghihintay pa rin.
Meron pang isang kanta, ang awit ni Andy. Andy ba kamo? “Andy ‘to ako, umiibig sa ‘yo.” Huh?
Ah, eh si Ogie Alcasid pala ang kumanta nito. At my version din si Leah Salonga.
Nandito ako umiibig sa iyo,
Kahit na nagdurugo ang puso,
Kung sakaling iwanan ka niya,
Huwag kang mag-alala,
May nagmamahal sa iyo,
Nandito ako.
Ilan lang ‘yan sa mga theme songs ng mga Abangers. Sila ay mga superhero, di ba? Hero, bayani, as in martyr! Pwedeng-pwede na silang barilin sa Luneta.
Maaring iyong tatanungin, masama bang maging Abanger?
Unang-una, mahirap maging Abanger. Lagi ka na lang nagtatago sa dilim, naghihintay sa pagkakataon na lumabas sa liwanag. Laging patago ang iyong diskarte, at baka ka mahuli ng tunay na nagmamay-ari. Sabi nga ng lumang kanta ng Apo Hiking Society:
Mahirap talagang magmahal ng syota ng iba,
Hindi mo mabisita kahit okey sa kanya,
Mahirap oh mahirap talaga,
Maghanap ka na lang kaya ng iba…..I-dial mo ang number sa telepono,
Huwag mong ibibigay ang tunay na pangalan mo,
Pag nakausap mo siya sasabihin sa’yo,
Tumawag ka mamaya nanditong syota ko.
Pero marahil ikakatwiran natin, kung tunay ang pagmamahal natin, ito’y ipaglalaban natin kahit pa may bakod na. Bahala na kung magkabistuhan pa. At handa tayong maghintay, kahit pa sa dulo ng walang hanggan, ika nga ng kanta.
Pero dahil kaya sa pagiging Abanger ay maaring ipinipinid natin ang ating paningin at sinasarado natin ang pinto sa ibang mga pagkakataon. Sabi nga ng isang quote:
When one door closes, another opens; but we often look so long and so regretfully upon the closed door that we do not see the one which has opened for us. – Alexander Graham Bell
Minsan hindi pinto, kun’di bintana ang pinagbubuksan. Kaya’t tumalon ka na sa bintana. Jump out and move on.
Marami ang nabubulag at marami rin ang nagbubulag-bulagan dahil sa pag-ibig.
Isa pang dahilan, ilagay natin ang ating sarili sa sapatos ng boyfriend o girlfriend ng ating inaabangan. Hindi ko ibig sabihin na nakawin mo ‘yung sapatos ng boyfriend o girlfriend, pero siguro naiintindihan mo ang ibig kong sabihin. Hindi ba nakakabwisit kung may umaasungot o umaaswang sa iyong syota? Sabi nga ng Gintong Utos: Huwag mong gawin sa iba, ang ayaw mong gawin sa iyo ng iba.
Ang huling dahilan na naiisip ko kung bakit hindi magandang maging Abanger ay ito, hindi mabuti ang “One-Way Street” sa larangan ng pag-ibig. Hindi ito malusog na relasyon. O hindi ito maituturing na tunay na relasyon.
Unrequited love is the infinite curse of a lonely heart. ― Christina Westover
Tulad ng mga naririnig mong payo ng iyong mga kaibigan, ‘Ang mga martyr, binabaril!’ Alam kong may halaga ka, kaya’t pahalagahan mo rin sana at mahalin ang iyong sarili. Natitiyak kong may tao ring magpapahalaga sa iyo.
Masakit man isipin at mas masakit pang aminin, na ako ay naging isang Abanger din noon. Oo, nag-aabang ako sa pagdaan ng magtataho sa aming kalye noon.
Pero seryoso, naging tunay akong Abanger, nanligaw at nag-abang sa babaeng may boyfriend na. Ito ay nang ako’y nasa unibersidad pa. Akala ko nga kami na. Dalawang taon din akong nagpakagago! Pero salamat at naumpog ako at namulat sa katotohanang wala akong mahihitad at hanggang sa pagiging Abanger lang pala ako.
Hindi ako nagkikimkim ng galit. Hindi ako nanghihinayang. Hindi rin ako mapait sa mga pangyayari.
Noong makailang taon lang ang nakalipas, ay dumalo ako sa aming Graduation Silver Anniversary ng aming unibersidad sa Pilipinas. Dito ay muli kong nakita ang aking dating inaabangan. Oo nga’t may kaunting kislot sa dibdib nang akin siyang makita matapos ang dalawampu’t limang taon. Pero akin ding napagtanto na pundi na at wala nang liyab ang aking damdamin para sa kanya.
Hanggang sa ngiti na lang kami at pagbati ng “Kamusta ka.” Dahil para sa akin, natagpuan ko na ang aking “forever.” At hindi lang ako isang Abanger.
Not too long ago while walking at the mall, I was captivated by the music being played. You might ask, on what occasion does mall music captivating? Many times the music is just blaring and quite annoying.
Not in this store. Actually I was in a large department store that you would consider old-school, a holdover from the classic era, if you will. Though it is in the mall, this particular store has a quiet and serene environment. The music is calming and not loud. Most of the time it is provided by a grand piano in the center of the store, near the escalators. And they employ a live pianist to play the piano.
So when I heard the certain song being played, I was drawn to the place where the piano was, to see the musician who was providing the music. Though I was not familiar with the tune, somehow it stroke a nostalgic chord.
When I came down the escalators, I was surprised when I saw the pianist.
He was a bit older than what I was expecting. He was perhaps in his late 70’s or even 80’s. His mobility was not very good anymore, as substantiated by the presence of a walker beside the piano. Yet the dexterity of his fingers were still impeccable. And the emotion in his playing was still very much palpable.
I was enthralled that I had to sit down on one of the sofas near the piano so I can watch him a little longer. He has no notes or music piece that he was reading. He was playing by memory with his eyes closed. Perhaps he has played this song so many times, that he’s performing it all by finger or muscle memory. Yet I can feel the deep sentiments on those fingers as it runs through the piano keys.
Maybe he was reminiscing the good ole days. Maybe he was reliving bygone happy moments. Or maybe he was lamenting a lost Valentine’s.
What was the song? I didn’t know, so I asked him after he finished playing.
He answered, “Once Upon A Time.”
Such an appropriate piece.
(*photo taken with an iPhone)
********
“Once Upon a Time” is a song composed by Charles Strouse, with lyrics by Lee Adams, from the 1962 musical All American. It has been sung by Bobby Darin, Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Tony Bennett and Bob Dylan among others.
Here’s a version by Alex Bird (taken from YouTube):
For all the lovers out there, including those who loved and lost, and who loved once upon a time, may you have a memorable Valentine’s.
Ako ay may tiyuhin na Amerikano. Siya si Uncle Tom.
Tatlong dekada na ang nakalipas nang isa sa aking mga tiyahin ay nagka-penpal ng isang Amerikano. Uso pa noon ang ballpen, magsulat sa papel, at maghulog ng sulat. Matagal-tagal din silang nagkasulatan, at dumating sa yugto na gusto nilang magkita. Wala pang Facebook at FaceTime noon, kaya’t nag-planong lumipad papuntang Pilipinas ang Amerikanong penpal ng aking tiyahin.
Dahil kami ay may bahay naman sa Maynila, at para na rin tuluyang makaliskisan, este makilatis pala ang ibig kong sabihin, ang kanyang penpal, kaya pinakiusap ng aking tita na sa bahay na namin tumuloy ang Amerikano.
Itanggi man natin o hindi, marami pa rin sa atin ang nagnanais na makakilala ng isang banyaga, at mapangasawa ito. Dahil sa isip natin ito ang ating magiging pasaporte para lumisan ng bansa. At kung tayo ay medyo tag-hirap, ito ang ating pagkakataong umunlad at makaahon sa buhay. Darating kaya ang panahon na ang mga Pilipino ay hindi na mangangarap na umalis ng bansa?
Kaya nang dadalaw na ang Amerikano, hindi kami magkandaugaga sa aming paghahanda sa kanyang pagdating. Para kaming naghanda sa isang official state visit, gaya nang dumalaw si President Trump sa Pilipinas. Kulang na lang ay umarkila kami ng banda ng mga musikero at magpa-piyesta sa aming kalye sa pagsalubong sa kanya.
Lumuwas pa ng Maynila ang aming lola mula sa probinsiya at nagdala ito ng mga buhay na manok, para raw ipanghanda sa Amerikano naming bisita. Siyempre, mas masarap pa rin daw ang lasa ng native at free-range na manok. Organic pa at siguradong hindi sinaksakan ng growth hormone at antibiotic.
Isa naman sa aking tiyuhin ang sumundo mula sa airport. Hindi na ako sumama dahil puno na ang sasakyan at baka wala pang maupuan ang aming bisita. Pagkasundo sa airport, ay sa bahay na namin sa Sampaloc Manila tumuloy ang Amerikano.
Sa aking silid pinatulog ang bisita. Malaking tao pala itong Amerikano. Hindi ko alam kung paano siya nagkasya o kung naging kumportable siya sa aking munting katre. Aaminin ko medyo masikip ang aking silid, pang-Petite (Palito?) size lang ito at hindi pang-Jumbo size. Hindi ko rin alam kung naglagkit sa init ang aming bisita, dahil wala naman kaming air conditioner. Pero may bintana naman at bentilador ang aking kuwarto.
Kahit payak ang aming bahay at masikip ang aking kuwarto, ay siguro naman ay lumutang pa rin ang aming pagiging hospitable sa aming panauhin. Kung tutuusin hindi lang ang Amerikanong penpal ng tiyahin ko ang banyagang natulog sa aking munting silid. Minsan ay nagkabisita kami ng galing Papua New Guinea na tumuloy din sa aking kuwarto. Marami ring kaming mga bisitang lokal ang nanuluyan dito. Kaya puti, itim, o kayumanggi – walang kinikilingan ang aking silid.
Balikan natin ang mga manok na dala ng aking lola. Isa dito ay puting tandang, pero hindi ito pang-sabong. Dahil hindi lahat ng manok ay ihahain kaagad, kaya’t ang iba ay hinayaan munang buhay. Kasama dito ang tandang na itinali sa veranda ng aming bahay.
Unang gabi ng aming bisita, maaring pagod na pagod sa biyahe ang Amerikano, at may jet-lag pa, kaya hahayaan lang sana namin siyang matulog kahit tanghaliin pa siya ng gising. Subalit may ibang balak ang puting tandang.
Bago pa magbukang liwayway o maaninag ang liwanag ng umaga, at bago pa magsipag-byahe ang mga traysikel ay simula nang tumilaok ang puting tandang. Walang patid at masigabo sa pagtilaok ang pesteng manok. Pumwesto pa ito malapit sa bintana ng aking kuwarto.
Hindi nagtagal ay nagising ang aming bisitang Amerikano. Galit at mainit ang ulo nito. Masama ang pagkakagising. Sino nga bang hindi mauunsiyame kung mabulabog ka sa iyong mahimbing na pagkakatulog.
Paglabas niya sa kuwarto, ay ako ang kanyang nasalubong. Sabi niya sa akin: “Where is that #&*@^! rooster, I’ll wring it’s neck!”
Sa halip na sa ilang araw pa sana kakatayin ang pobreng tandang, noong araw rin na iyon, naging tangahalian na namin ito. Nahimasmasan naman ang init ng ulo at natuwa pa ang aming panauhing pandangal, nang matikman niya ang masarap na luto na inihain namin sa kanya. Tinolang manok!
Nang malaon na ay nagkaigihan naman ang aking tita at ang kanyang penpal. Sila ay nagkataluyang magpakasal, at siya ay naging aking Uncle Tom. Hindi na nagtagal pa ay nakalipad na rin ang aking tita papuntang Amerika.
Maaring sabihin na dahil kay Uncle Tom, ay naging masuwerte ang aking tiyahin dahil siya’y nakarating ng Estados Unidos. Kahit man ako ay nabiyayaan din, dahil ang tiyahin kong ito ang isa sa tumulong sa akin sa pinansiyal nang ako’y nag-a-apply na papuntang Amerika para sa aking Medical Residency Training. Dahil sa ako’y natanggap sa isang academic hospital para mag-training, ito naman ang naging daan para ako’y makapangibang-bayan.
Noong nakaraang Pasko, maliban sa aking pagtawag sa mga kamag-anak sa Pilipinas, ay tinawagan ko rin ang aking tiyahing ito na naninirahan na sa California. Siya ang pinakamalapit kong kamag-anak dito sa Amerika. Ang California ay mahigit na tatlong oras na biyahe sa eroplano o dalawang araw na drive mula sa amin dito sa Iowa.
Sa pag-uusap namin ng aking tita ay nabanggit niya na medyo lumulubha na raw ang kalagayan ni Uncle Tom at nagiging makakalimutin na rin ito. Sa katunayan, may mga ilang taon nang may sakit si Uncle Tom. Salamat na lang kay tita na tunay na nagmamahal sa kanya, at hindi niya ito pinababayaan. Isa pa, dahil nurse ang aking tiyahin, naaalagaang lubos si Uncle Tom.
Sa aking tingin at palagay, kung naging masuwerte ang aking tiyahin, mas naging masuwerte si Uncle Tom dahil nakilala niya ang aking tita at ang aming pamilya. At hindi lang ito dahil sa nakakain siya ng tinolang manok.
(*photo taken during our last visit to the Philippines)
Last summer, we learned that there would be a great opportunity to see meteors in our area. That is if we would look at the right time and at the right direction. And provided that we would have a clear sky.
The event is the Perseid meteor shower, a stream of debris associated with the Swift-Tuttle comet. This is an annual event, and they said that in a clear night sky you can potentially see 100 falling stars in an hour. A hundred falling stars in an hour? That’s a proposition that was just too hard to resist.
Even though I spent half of my life in Manila (can’t see much stars in a big city), I have seen meteors several times in the past. The first time was when I was in grade school during our school’s camping in Batangas. The last time was not too long ago when I was driving home one night here in Iowa and it streaked down the sky. Perhaps I am lucky to see falling stars a few times, or perhaps I’m just looking at the night sky an awful lot of times.
My wife who have not seen a falling star ever, except maybe Kris Aquino falling off the stage on live TV some decades ago, so she was really determined to see this event.
So one night last August, we went outside to watch for falling stars.
We live in a country side, which was a decision we made years ago, where our dark night sky still shows the stars shining brightly and not blurred by the city lights. However in the past 13 years we have lived out here, the city has been creeping closer and closer to us. The cornfields and open prairies that we used to pass by is steadily being gobbled up by construction of housing developments and commercial establishments. I am not sure if I would like to call that “progress.”
It was close to 11 o’clock at night when we went out, a time that ordinarily I would already be snoring. We stood in our deck and looked out in our backyard sky towards northeast, the direction we read it would be. After close to half an hour outside, we still have not seen any falling stars. Not even a single one! And they promised 100 stars an hour?
We were also getting cold, for even though it was summer, it was seasonably cooler than usual that night. Our necks were getting strained as well from looking up. We should have placed a mat in our lawn and lay there under the stars with our blankets. At least we would be comfortable while we eagerly wait and while we listen to the ‘sweet nothing’ whispers in our ears. I’m referring to the pesky mosquitoes buzzing around our heads.
After a long while, as I was looking at the sky in the direction we thought the meteors would appear, I believed I saw a light streaked in my peripheral field of vision. So I told my wife that perhaps we were looking at the wrong direction. So we trained our gaze to a different direction in the sky.
Sure enough, in less than a minute, we saw a bright star flashed across the sky and disappeared in the dark. Not much later, another one did. And another one.
Isn’t it like many times in life, what we’re searching for has been there all along, we just have not realized it, or we just have not looked the right way. Like your lost keys. Or the love that you’re waiting for. Or the happiness that you’re chasing.
Satisfied, my wife suggested that we can go back inside the house, knowing also that the right direction where we can look was in the full view of our bedroom window. So we pulled out a sleeping mat and placed it near the window, and there we laid for the night instead of our bed, and watch for more shooting stars.
They said that you should make a wish when you see a shooting star. Of course I did. That wish was already been granted: lying down here beside me.
Happy Anniversary my dear. It has been 23 years of happy moments and fulfilled wishes.
(*photo taken in Mohonk Mountain House, New York)
Perhaps you’ve heard of the advice that goes something like this: Be careful, or you’re gonna lose your head.
For some creatures, apparently this warning should be taken literally.
One morning last week, while I was working at our clinic, I noticed a praying mantis resting on our glass window. Our office room is one huge room that I share with my other partners.
One doctor partner of mine also saw the praying mantis and nonchalantly said that female praying mantis sometimes chomp off the head and eat their male partner after they mate or even while they are mating.
What?!!
I don’t think I heard that fact before. Maybe I was absent that day or missed that lesson during my biology class in high school and college. I know some creatures cannibalize their mates. The most notorious perhaps is the black widow spider, that’s why they are named such.
Other creatures that kill their mate after copulation includes the jumping spider, some scorpions, and some octopus. You probably have heard the song, “Love Hurts” by the rock band Nazareth. But for these creatures, love kills!
Our office secretary also overheard our conversation, and started ‘googleling’ some facts and videos about praying mantis.
I learned that mantids (plural of mantis) have 2 large eyes and 3 smaller ones and have stereo-vision. They can also rotate their head 180 degrees, enabling them to scan their whole surrounding. But maybe that’s the reason they are decapitated by their female mate, so they won’t look around anymore for another mate.
By the way, they are called “praying” mantis, because they have a stance that their front legs are folded like they are praying. The word “mantis” in Greek means prophet or seer. But don’t be fooled with this angelic pose, for they are deadly predators, preying on smaller insects. Bigger mantis can even prey on lizards, frogs, and birds. Yes, they prey even on their mates! They should be called “preying” mantis.
Such an opposite meaning between praying and preying. Do we sometimes give a different impression than who we really are? Do we hide horns underneath the halo? Maybe those mantids are just praying before they prey on their meal.
So back to my story, after hearing more facts from our secretary, courtesy of Dr. Google, we wondered whether the mantis on our window is a male or a female. Doctors can be very inquisitive, you know.
We learned that differentiating a male from a female praying mantis is quite simple. A male mantis has 8 abdominal segments, while the female has only 6.
So we looked closely on the praying mantis on our window whose belly is very visible to us. We determined that it is a male.
praying mantis on our window
After learning all these, we said to the mantis, “Be careful buddy, or you’re gonna lose your head.”
I guess, the warning applies to humans too, especially for the young ones. Many times we lose our head, in a sense that when the ‘love bug’ bit us, we lose our mind and we abandon our thinking brain, as we behave and act against all reasoning.
As Francisco Balagtas, a Filipino poet wrote long time ago in his work Florante at Laura:
O pag-ibig na makapangyarihan, pag pumasok sa puso nino man, hahamakin ang lahat masunod ka lamang.
(Love, all-powerful thou art, when you enter anyone’s heart, all will be abandoned, just to follow thy path.)
To all lovers out there, not just for the mantids, please keep your head.
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(*English interpretation of the excerpt from Florante and Laura is my own translation.)
Parang kumot na sumusuklob sa damong giniginaw,
O balabal na bumabalot sa paligid kong tanaw,
At parang kurtinang tumatabing sa araw na sumisilaw,
Ang mga ulap na humahalik sa lupa at nanliligaw,
Gaya ng pag-ibig na tila hamog sa pusong nauuhaw.
(*photos taken with an iPhone during my morning run)
*******
Post Note: since a reader asked, here’s the English translation for my non-Filipino readers and followers:
Dew
Like a blanket that covers the shivering grass,
Or a heavy cloak that the surrounding it wraps,
Or like a curtain that veils the sun’s glare,
Are the clouds that court and kiss the earth,
Just like love is like the dew to hearts that thirst.
