# 60 of white robes and toy scopes

it starts in kindergarten.  meet the people in the community, the teacher says. choose one and dress up like one, she tells the 4-year olds.  no doubt, these young minds bear an early recollection of that one person they want to dress up like....a spark that leaves a mark in their young minds.  he may be that policeman who makes the cars stop when they want to cross the street or that fireman in the big red truck with the big loud sound or that person in a white robe who would leave them screaming in pain come time for the countless monthly visits. 

 the 4-year old stands in front of the class. 

white polo shirt with rolled up sleeves many sizes big makes up for a doctor's white robe. white shoes and toy stethoscope complete the look.

high school graduation meant making decisions. defining the path one would pursue in college was a challenge.  after much thought, one finds herself setting her sights on medical school, a monumental life-changing decision. the requisite pre-med course saw one buried in tons of notes.  pulling all-nighters became the new norm and marathon referred not to 26.2 miles on pavement but to study sessions that lasted till the roosters crowed in the dawn of another day.

in the not too distant carefree high school days, the library was the

 least visited place. countless hours have now been spent here; a nook has been claimed as one's own retreat, a haven for one in midterm
 panic mode....coffee a constant buddy.

with a semester till the official conclusion of the pre-med course, one decides to go for the exam that would grant admission to medical school.  the choices are simplified, really - take the exam....or not. why one would subject one's self to another decade of the same grueling stuff is baffling, perhaps insane.  those who choose to forge ahead on this path know no hesitation for there is that fire that burns deeply into one's psyche.  the dream is constant; the chase for that dream is resolute. driven by passion fueled with compassion, one is toughened by ambition of the selfless kind.  one goes at it not with mediocrity but with excellence. sacrifice is a staple in medical school, rude awakenings aplenty.  there is no turning back. 

it starts in kindergarten. 

 years down the road, that white robe will take on the right fit and that stethoscope will become a toy no more.  the fire that once kindled
 the dream will burn even more deeply.

our original baby is going to medical school and our hearts swell with pride! this bundle of a firstborn, this treasure of a first grandkid will be the clan's first doctor in the making......isn't that most awesome?

# 56 of pearls and middle age woes

silver.  pearl.  coral.  ruby.  sapphire.  gold.  this is how dear old mater distinguishes jubilarians. silver is twenty-five. thirty is pearl. coral is thirty-five. and so on. counted in terms of years after graduation from high school. 

silver.  check.  pearl.  check.  coral.  three years away from now. that is where we are.  do the math.  it takes just but a few seconds to know that we have had forty-odd years of life.  to be more exact, we are in the vicinity of middle age.  no one acts like it, much less look like it. we have will and grace. not the comedy show of not too long ago. the will to defy the ravages of time. the grace to face it with stubbornness, if not mirth.

batchmates get together for pocket reunions in between grand alumnae homecomings.  reasons vary.  someone comes home from foreign shores. birthdays.  milestones.  christmas.  all the happy reasons.  inevitably, the sad ones, too. these reunions seesaw in attendance from full-force to smaller intimate gatherings. any which way,  a grand time is enjoyed by all. a well-deserved break from the realities of middle age to relive the carefree high schools days.

the last get-together was of the small, intimate kind. by the time tea was served, everyone was ready for after-dinner talk.  updates on children, domestic affairs, vacations, disclosure of medical woes.  retirement got mentioned a lot, too.  

the flames of this fiery choco mousse is a cue to the evening's steamy revelations. the censored version without the raunchy details was enough to keep everyone riveted to their seats. 

yes, that is hot chocolate and no, we are not showing our age by ordering that instead of the more adventurous options on the menu.  we are, after all, working professionals with eight-to-five jobs out on a weekday.

let the hands do the talking.  any get-together is not complete without the spotlight on someone's love story. could be the unfolding of a brand-new romance or a rehash of last year's fairty tale.  chapter 1 of the story was ho-hum. lacking in tickle-to-the-bone factor. not a surprise as it happened some 25 years ago. 

 chapter 2 provided the oh-my-God-that-couldn't-be-true-shocker-of- the-night gasp.  the punch would have been enough to knock pacquiao down and out. chapter 3 was a love story so sweet, it would make the  ants troop to our table. 

 synchronized elbows on the table could only mean intense fascination with and absorption of the juicy details of middle age romance. the it-is-written-in-the-stars-i-can-wait-forever-fit-for-telenovela kind of romance.  ah, the joys of middle age!

back in high school, the batch was grouped by sections. four for each level. everything and anything was done by sections. from the first year to the senior year. it followed that friendships were developed by sections. rare was the bond that was formed outside of it.  over the years after graduation, sections dissolved. the whole batch is now just collectively known as HS8O.  

it is hard to notice the clock tick away when one is having fun.  a minute longer at the dessert place and the ladies behind the counter would have shooed us away. good times with old friends while cameras click away to capture those special moments.  isn't that awesome? 

# 54 viva pit senyor!!!

Senyor is Senyor Sto. Niño, patron saint of cebu. 

in a predominantly catholic country such as ours, the patron saint is the most revered figure.  over the weekend, the city of cebu celebrated the feast of the Sto. Niño with the annual observance of the sinulog festival. amidst chants of 'pit senyor' and 'viva senyor', the crowd took to the streets with merrymaking reaching fever pitch. while some may argue that the feast has become a convenient excuse for commercialism, the solemnity of some traditions is not lost on the faithful believers. the procession held on the day before the grand parade is one tradition that continues to uphold the sanctity of the feast. on this day, the image is brought out from the church and carried around major thoroughfares for all to see.

this year's procession route covered 6.8 kilometers. any other time, the kids would have balked at that distance.  they managed to do it without any complaint at all.

perfect weather (clear skies, no blazing sun) prevailed as close to two million people paid homage to the Sto. Niño.  

tradition calls for offering candles for personal intentions.  just outside the Sto. Niño church, large tin cans are lined up for people to lay their candles on.

balloons in fiesta colors (red, white and yellow) are released as the image of the Sto. Niño atop a flower-bedecked float passes by.

one of many Sto. Niño-laden altars along the procession route.  this one had fruit and flower offerings.  other altars had elaborate decorations while some were beautiful in simple trimmings.  the images came in different sizes.

this photo taken by a professional photographer captures the multitude of devotees with hands outstretched in praise and glory (photo by a. suralta).

it is hard for people outside the faith to fully comprehend the profound devotion to the Sto. Niño.  it was already dark when His image passed by where we were. everyone greeted him wholeheartedly heedless of the long wait.

that one day when alienation is unknown; the city is one in its faith.  viva pit senyor!!   isn't that awesome?

# 47 kidtexting, part 2

yes, kids and cellphones go together like bacon and eggs or sugar and spice.

one would wonder how we managed to survive in the pre-cellphone-strictly-landline-only era.  life was simple then. life is simple for kids now, too.  they have cellphones without monthly bills to worry about. 

school-age kids who join fun runs  (with their omnipresent cellphones in hand) seem to forget that the race is for the first to reach the finish line. they think it is the first to send the most number of text messages while on the race course.  so they text and text.  there are far more worthy reasons to text during a race, though.

major races cover longer distances than others. forty-two kilometers is the full distance of a marathon. anything over the full distance is an ultramarathon.  due to the magnitude of the endeavor, be it a 42 or a hundred, runners bring on board a personal support crew (when allowed).  these are people who follow runners on support vehicles handing out sports drinks, food, sponges and more importantly, encouragement.  they come complete with banners and chants, more like pep squads. they may be doing their jobs on the side but in truth, they are the steersmen.  without them, runners may ran out of willpower.

on duty as a support crew,  tete does a good act and is quick to text.

'i gave a random person gatorade and she said thanks :) i am so proud!'

on race day, when the road ahead is long and the sun refuses to be their friend, runners appreciate a random act of goodness.  tete knows this quite well.  

a feel-good text.....  isn't that awesome?

# 38 take my breath away !!

tom cruise. top gun. fighter jets making high speed passes. remember how you swooned over him?  he took your breath away, didn't he? this song was the movie's love theme.  you played it on auto replay on your cd player for a long time.  of course, this was way before the age of the mp3 players. now they have upped the number and it is mp6.  seems like mp's are hopscotching away. 

how do you take one's breath away?  the tried and tested way is through your own sweet-smelling breath. a blast of freshness.  a clincher, that one is!  a garlicky hint of what you had for lunch earlier is not too pleasant a reminder when you lean over to whisper sweet nothings.  the two cups of coffee you had? that would be enough to give someone a caffeine kick the moment you open your mouth.  one can even easily tell what flavor that bag of chips you had for snacks was.   morning breath is the worst.   a stick of cigarette, too.  oh and beer can be intoxicating to someone who does not drink.  start talking and the whiff is enough.

colgate is the leading toothpaste brand in our part of the world.  when a kid is asked to go to a sari-sari store  (smallest of convenience stores)  to buy toothpaste,  she would most likely ask for colgate.  she actually means any brand of toothpaste. 

you are not frugal by any means. you just know when to give up on your tube of toothpaste before opening a new one. you work hard for your money and throwing away a there-is-one-more-brushing-in-there-if-i-squeeze-real-hard tube is like throwing away your hard-earned money.  so you huff and you puff and you give it your all.  you twist and turn the tube and curl it all the way up.  the tube ends up in a fetal curl.  you give it one final push.

you are rewarded with that last squeeze of paste.  isn't that awesome?

# 35 this mongol's life !

the most famous mongol, genghis khan, rose from slavery to conquer some parts of the world.  the movie, MONGOL, chronicled his conquests.

this mongol that merits a blog entry of its own continues to conquer our part of the world to this day. it has shaped the lives of millions of filipinos, if not all filipinos. this mongol is destined to be the most learned of all as its life is dedicated to the academe. it helps mould the very young of our country and chisels them into literacy. in some instances, they are chiseled the wrong way. not this mongol's fault.

MONGOL is the most popular pencil brand in the philippines. when a kid starts nursery, she is introduced to her first mongol.  everyday she comes home and shows off scribbles and doodles and jellylike forms that her unsteady hands have created. your heart overflows with pride. in its ambiguity, you see precious works of art. you paste them on your wall till there is no space left. over time, the abstracts become clearly defined shapes, numbers and letters. in no time, they evolve into words, phrases and sketches. there will be several more mongols for this little kid before she graduates to the BIC ballpen.  that BIC is another story.

second grader wawa likes to use her pencils till the eraser and lead tips are within an inch of each other.  this is  a clear and convincing sign that she is  a:) copying pages upon pages of notes; ergo, serious with her studies and  b:) learning at a young age the need to maximize the use of things. 

yangi and gugud do the same with their mongols, too.  they are ballpen users now but still have a mongol or two.  one time, yangi's teacher saw her using a short pencil and offered her a longer one.  she politely refused.  

education is not only our best defense for life's journey. education is a journey in itself.  the quest for education starts with a MONGOL.  isn't that awesome?

# 12 saving for rainy days !

they come in different forms. some are tin candy cans, others are wooden boxes. some are store-bought, others are make-shift.  some are eye-catching, others are dull. most are nowhere near the original pig shape.  they serve only one purpose and that is to store the most ignored item of value - coins. piggy bank, coin bank, money box - we all have it. as kids, we would keep our eyes open for coins left on table tops. as adults, we would absent-mindedly toss loose change from our pockets into that box in the corner.  it is a permanent fixture in our lives, a habit that refuses to go over the years. oftentimes, it would take a couple of years before it gets filled up and then it is time to open it up. this momentous occasion is usually witnessed by a bunch of excited kids. 

the stash isn't exactly enough to prepare a feast but the joy of counting it coin by coin is more than its worth in gold (or silver.......or whatever metal alloy was used).

yangi's words:  spongebob taught me the value of the penny. he also taught me the value of the dime and the cent but i just forgot it.

breaking a coin bank, pouring out the coins and letting kids count them. isn't that awesome?