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<strong>Reasons for Breathing</strong>
<strong>Janet B. Villa</strong>
I learn much from other mothers. I learn love and unselfishness from my sister, Naomi. I learn about creativity from Rhea. I learn about wellness from Richelle. I learn about defying the odds from Rachel Santos.
I visited Rachel in 2006 to interview her for <em>Working Mom</em>. She talked almost non-stop, with a mouth primed for laughing and eyes built for smiling. She had just finished her licensure exams for teaching, her dream job since she was a little girl. “I am just so excited to start teaching,” she said. “But who would hire me?” She pointed to her arm, “They’d look at this and think I tried to commit suicide.”
Her right forearm was pocked with needle marks, bruises, veins, and a noticeable bump on her wrist that vibrated when you laid a finger on it. It resembled a battlefield, for that was what it was, with scars of Rachel’s crusade for her life and that of her son’s.
Rachel’s world didn’t come crashing down on the day in June 2006 when she was told she had only a few months before her kidneys would completely fail her. It had crashed much earlier than that, when a developmental pediatrician confirmed in 2001 what Rachel had previously Googled for online: her middle son, Dale, then only two years old, has Asperger’s Syndrome (part of the autistic spectrum disorder). Her husband refused to accept the diagnosis. But the mother inside Rachel kicked in—she not only accepted it: she committed to it, and soldiered on. “My son’s autism is not a problem,” she insisted. “All other issues in my life, yes, but not Dale. He is not a problem.”
To understand how to help Dale, Rachel began her Master’s in Special Education at UP Diliman. She crammed in 12 units each semester while working a full-time job. (Regrettably, Rachel was forced to stop her schooling when Dale started having seizure disorders.) Patiently she guided Dale in the usual children’s activities without treating him differently from her other children, triumphant when he got admitted to and flourished in a regular school in Pasay. Dale has since grown to be precocious and good-looking, with a deep love for and a startling knowledge of astronomy, and an almost perfect grasp of English and mathematics. He was intuitive beyond his years. When he was about six, he ran crying to Rachel, “Mommy, you have to help me. I’m not patient enough. My brain is different.” After having surreptitiously read Rachel’s books on ADHD, he announced to her that he probably had ADHD. Of course not, Rachel countered. “How could I tell him that he has autism, another kind of developmental disorder?” she said.
Rachel has written about their journey with Asperger’s Syndrome. The resulting blog—http://possibilities1217.blogspot.com—has proved therapeutic and encouraging, not only for Rachel, but also for the increasing number of readers who have children or relatives with similar concerns. That was how a miracle worked in Rachel’s life: beautiful things could come out of tragedies. “Dale’s condition also helped my husband become closer to my son. I am grateful for that,” she said.
Unlike other parents with autism in their families, Rachel was not crippled by the fear of having another child. Her youngest, Anton, was her <em>hulog ng langit </em>(gift from heaven) and Dale’s youngest therapist. When Dale was two and a half years old, he remained silent, communicating only in monosyllables and with tugs at his mother’s skirt. But when Anton started speaking in whole sentences very early in life, Kuya Dale perked up and started to speak. The two boys became best buddies. Anton, without knowing it, helped anchor Dale to normal activities.
Rachel was strong because, she said, she couldn’t afford not to be. Her husband, while lavishing love on Dale, remained cocooned in denial regarding his autism, so it was she who became the primary emotional caregiver especially when her relationship with her husband had suffered the usual issues of a marriage jumpstarted too early in their college years. Some of her friends and relatives had urged her to quit her marriage. Think of your life, they implored. “That’s precisely it,” Rachel said. “My children are my life. I cannot afford them to be unhappy. So I will work on my marriage.” Though Rachel had felt like giving up many times, and once did give up, she clawed her way back and fought for her family’s right to remain one, and eventually enjoyed a marriage finally pruned of marital discord. “My marriage is OK now, probably also because of my sickness. I am thankful for that,” she said. It was the same sickness to which she credited the growing closeness she later enjoyed with her parents and brothers.
Gratitude is hardly an emotion one has when one is diagnosed with Diffuse Sclerosing Glumerulonephritis. Rachel did plunge into depression when told she had only a miniscule 7% use of her kidneys. When she most needed money for medicine, she had to resign from work—a blow to their budget—when she was treated with steroids. Her weight ballooned, and she gained body hair in the strangest places. But when she saw how her illness affected her family, especially her mother who had grown increasingly stressed and frustrated, she decided it would not do for her to remain devastated. “I chose not to dwell on thinking what went wrong and finding the answers to <em>Why me?</em>” she said. “I told myself to breathe. After that I made a list in my mind and called it <em>My Reasons For Breathing</em>. On top of that list are my kids. They should have been enough, but every day I see God's wonders, and the list goes on.”
Her children knew that Rachel was sick, even on days that she didn’t look it. (Her normal weight returned, and she lost the inordinate body hair.) They were witness to the injections she had to do on herself and the changes the illness ravaged on her body. They saw the bump on her wrist—a vistula, a forced interconnection of a vein and an artery, prepared by doctors for possible dialysis. “But they don’t think it’s anything serious,” Rachel said. “Even I don’t want to think of it as something serious.”
Rachel’s attitude was not so much escapist as it was, borrowing the words of Sir William Osler, looking at the clear facts of today and not into the dim murkiness of the future. What she can do today she will, especially when she lives on borrowed time: strengthen her faith, join healing services, enjoy the help of friends who conduct raffle fundraisers for her kidney transplant—a staggering P1.3 million that had been way out of her grasp—raise her kids, and read books.
One book that had helped her is Dr. Bernie Siegel’s <em>Love, Medicine and Miracles: Lessons Learned about Self-Healing from a Surgeon's Experience with Exceptional Patients</em>. Unconditional love heals, it says, and Rachel agreed, though hers was not so much receiving unconditional love as it was giving it, particularly for her children, for whom she chose to live.
Rachel has proven that a hero is not necessarily one who dies nobly, but one who <em>lives</em> nobly.
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Saturday, October 13, 2012
Life is Beautiful
By Marivir Montebon
Editor's Note: This article is a reprint from the Migrant Heritage Chronicle, a Washington, DC-based institution for immigrants in the US. The author reprints this in OSM! in time for the celebration of Pink October, the breast cancer awareness month. This is to the memory of Beth and Marlene, who became larger than life after their battle with breast cancer.
We are spiritual beings having a human experience.
-Pierre Tielhard de Chardin
New York -- Sometimes, it takes a debilitating disease to appreciate the real meaning of life. Women who have been afflicted with terminal breast cancer (the second most common cause of death among Filipino women) share that never before have they come to terms with themselves than the time when they were struggling to survive their own pain.
“Life is too short to wallow in anger or stress. It is best to always spend time with your loved ones,” says Beth Wong in a long distance call from Florida. She is waiting for her time at the hospice bed.
I could not help but be tearful as I talked to her one Sunday afternoon. I had been postponing my interview with her, despite the prodding of her good friend Zurita, fearful that I may cause her stress.
Finally we talked, and it was amazing to hear a woman on the other line who sounded strong and inspiring.
Elizabeth Wong, 49, is a physical therapist and has lived in the US since the early 1990s. In 2002 she noticed a lump in her breast and did not pay attention to it. A year later she was diagnosed with advanced stage of breast cancer.
She said she was in a state of denial, and later realized it was wrong.
“We should have never be in a state of denial for too long,” she said, “because the early stage of cancer could have well been cured.”
In December of 2011, Beth’s breast cancer had spread fastidiously into her spine and bones, crippling her chest down to her legs. The doctors said they could not do much to help her.
She has resigned herself to the truth that death is at hand. I asked if it was frightening to know that you are dying.
No, it is not, she said. “I don’t fear death. It is something I look forward to in order to meet my Creator. I am not praying to be healed. Life is beautiful after cancer, for you will be with God.”
Wishes
Beth, a native of Cebu, said there was nothing to regret in her life, except that she wished she could have more time helping others in their spiritual pursuit.
“People should not feel hopeless. Hope is in God. I wish I could share the profound joy to others when you have known God, you trust him, and you become worry-free and not focus so much on accumulating wealth or other earthly things.
This is not our house, we are journeying towards God, and if we understand that, we will not fear anything.”
Beth is to be survived by her and her partner of 15 years and her parents, who will soon embark on a long trip from Cebu to Florida in early February. Uncannily, Beth does the comforting for everyone from her hospice bed.
All her funeral arrangements have already been prepared, with the slightest of drama, that her parents will bring back her ashes to Cebu.
“It will be okay. We will see each other soon anyway,” she would say.
When not sedated with heavy doses of pain reliever, Beth entertains a steady stream of friends at the hospice who come to her and party.
When she lived way past her supposed deadline of two weeks, her friends from Florida and her college classmates, who are working in various states flew in to celebrate life with her. Some of her lifelong friends include Vivian from Poconos in Pennsylvania, Jingjing from New Jersey, Wennie from Michigan, and Zurita from West Virginia.
Recalling New Year’s Eve Zurita commented, “we celebrated New Year’s together and had a toast with sprite. We are very happy that she is still around and believe it or not she is the one comforting us when we were crying. How silly is that?”
“Never before has this hospice been in a jovial mood,” quips one attending nurse.
Change in Perspectives
The information drive on breast cancer which has now reached global proportions has significantly changed the perspectives of women, becoming proactive in the face of impending death.
Especially with the yearly celebration of Pink October, the Breast Cancer Awareness month, survivors, advocates, friends and family have congregated to continually battle cancer with strength and hope.
While doing my TV show Babaye in Cebu, I had a an opportunity to meet with women who were breast cancer survivors. I joined a handful of them in a make-over session at Rustan’s in 2006. And the women were raving at their new sophistication.
"I never thought I could be this ravishing”, beamed Elena, now a cancer survivor.
Being positive minded is the most common effect among women that I came in touch with.
The provincial director of the Trade Department in Cebu Nelia Navarro, another cancer survivor, said she has learned to become more relaxed and appreciative of the little details in life after she survived her own.
Evidently, she now chooses brighter colors in her suits and clothes while attending government and corporate functions. "A good day has a lot to do with a sunny disposition, including the choice of color of clothes," she said.
An Inspiring Book
I knew of Marlene Capinpin Stern from her friends and husband Jeff, and the book she wrote, Looking into the Mirror.
She was one woman I missed meeting, passing on in February 2011, at an age where life is supposedly at its fullest as a businesswoman, nurse, and community leader in Connecticut.
Marlene victoriously fought breast cancer in 2001, after going through a bilateral mastectomy. After one full year of recovery, she bounced back to life, with the support of Jeff, her family, and friends.
Her book Looking into the Mirror is the voice of a woman whose faith surpassed all of her life’s challenges, including the most gripping, health. Her mantra has always been an adamant, “I can do this” as she stares at herself in the mirror.
And she did it! Setting up her own real estate business, devotedly giving time to her two children, and leading a Filipino-American organization that made her literally larger than life.
The Breast Cancer Survival Center of Connecticut and the Life Success coaching of her husband proved to be helpful to Marlene, she was back on the road to make life happier for herself and others.
“I have learned that having breast cancer really changes how you look at life and how you treasure life. I now have more goals, more purpose, more I want to accomplish. I have learned to live one day at a time, and I truly enjoy every moment with my family and friends”, she wrote.
But cancers are treacherous and science has yet to deal successfully with their abrupt return, like thieves in the night that eat up the human body.
Marlene was diagnosed to have pancreatic cancer in 2010, which was already in its advance stage. Up and about with the indomitable spirit of hope and hard work, Marlene was already life’s champion.
Right at the last grip of life, she was serene and took things in stride. A few weeks before she slipped away, she was still on top of her responsibility as community leader for the Filipino-American community. She organized and hosted the National Federation of Filipino American Associations Annual Grand Poinsettia Ball in Stamford, Connecticut in December 2010.
Marlene will be remembered for her legacy of leadership with the institutionalization of the Marlene Capinpin Stern Community Service and Leadership Award which will be awarded yearly to an organization that goes above and beyond to help Filipinos here and abroad.
Cancer has not defeated her spirit. She lives on because of her faith and brand of leadership.
Editor's Note: This article is a reprint from the Migrant Heritage Chronicle, a Washington, DC-based institution for immigrants in the US. The author reprints this in OSM! in time for the celebration of Pink October, the breast cancer awareness month. This is to the memory of Beth and Marlene, who became larger than life after their battle with breast cancer.
We are spiritual beings having a human experience.
-Pierre Tielhard de Chardin
New York -- Sometimes, it takes a debilitating disease to appreciate the real meaning of life. Women who have been afflicted with terminal breast cancer (the second most common cause of death among Filipino women) share that never before have they come to terms with themselves than the time when they were struggling to survive their own pain.
“Life is too short to wallow in anger or stress. It is best to always spend time with your loved ones,” says Beth Wong in a long distance call from Florida. She is waiting for her time at the hospice bed.
I could not help but be tearful as I talked to her one Sunday afternoon. I had been postponing my interview with her, despite the prodding of her good friend Zurita, fearful that I may cause her stress.
Finally we talked, and it was amazing to hear a woman on the other line who sounded strong and inspiring.
Elizabeth Wong, 49, is a physical therapist and has lived in the US since the early 1990s. In 2002 she noticed a lump in her breast and did not pay attention to it. A year later she was diagnosed with advanced stage of breast cancer.
She said she was in a state of denial, and later realized it was wrong.
“We should have never be in a state of denial for too long,” she said, “because the early stage of cancer could have well been cured.”
In December of 2011, Beth’s breast cancer had spread fastidiously into her spine and bones, crippling her chest down to her legs. The doctors said they could not do much to help her.
She has resigned herself to the truth that death is at hand. I asked if it was frightening to know that you are dying.
No, it is not, she said. “I don’t fear death. It is something I look forward to in order to meet my Creator. I am not praying to be healed. Life is beautiful after cancer, for you will be with God.”
Wishes
Beth, a native of Cebu, said there was nothing to regret in her life, except that she wished she could have more time helping others in their spiritual pursuit.
“People should not feel hopeless. Hope is in God. I wish I could share the profound joy to others when you have known God, you trust him, and you become worry-free and not focus so much on accumulating wealth or other earthly things.
This is not our house, we are journeying towards God, and if we understand that, we will not fear anything.”
Beth is to be survived by her and her partner of 15 years and her parents, who will soon embark on a long trip from Cebu to Florida in early February. Uncannily, Beth does the comforting for everyone from her hospice bed.
All her funeral arrangements have already been prepared, with the slightest of drama, that her parents will bring back her ashes to Cebu.
“It will be okay. We will see each other soon anyway,” she would say.
When not sedated with heavy doses of pain reliever, Beth entertains a steady stream of friends at the hospice who come to her and party.
When she lived way past her supposed deadline of two weeks, her friends from Florida and her college classmates, who are working in various states flew in to celebrate life with her. Some of her lifelong friends include Vivian from Poconos in Pennsylvania, Jingjing from New Jersey, Wennie from Michigan, and Zurita from West Virginia.Recalling New Year’s Eve Zurita commented, “we celebrated New Year’s together and had a toast with sprite. We are very happy that she is still around and believe it or not she is the one comforting us when we were crying. How silly is that?”
“Never before has this hospice been in a jovial mood,” quips one attending nurse.
Change in Perspectives
The information drive on breast cancer which has now reached global proportions has significantly changed the perspectives of women, becoming proactive in the face of impending death.
Especially with the yearly celebration of Pink October, the Breast Cancer Awareness month, survivors, advocates, friends and family have congregated to continually battle cancer with strength and hope.
While doing my TV show Babaye in Cebu, I had a an opportunity to meet with women who were breast cancer survivors. I joined a handful of them in a make-over session at Rustan’s in 2006. And the women were raving at their new sophistication.
"I never thought I could be this ravishing”, beamed Elena, now a cancer survivor.
Being positive minded is the most common effect among women that I came in touch with.
The provincial director of the Trade Department in Cebu Nelia Navarro, another cancer survivor, said she has learned to become more relaxed and appreciative of the little details in life after she survived her own.
Evidently, she now chooses brighter colors in her suits and clothes while attending government and corporate functions. "A good day has a lot to do with a sunny disposition, including the choice of color of clothes," she said.
An Inspiring Book
I knew of Marlene Capinpin Stern from her friends and husband Jeff, and the book she wrote, Looking into the Mirror.She was one woman I missed meeting, passing on in February 2011, at an age where life is supposedly at its fullest as a businesswoman, nurse, and community leader in Connecticut.
Marlene victoriously fought breast cancer in 2001, after going through a bilateral mastectomy. After one full year of recovery, she bounced back to life, with the support of Jeff, her family, and friends.
Her book Looking into the Mirror is the voice of a woman whose faith surpassed all of her life’s challenges, including the most gripping, health. Her mantra has always been an adamant, “I can do this” as she stares at herself in the mirror.
And she did it! Setting up her own real estate business, devotedly giving time to her two children, and leading a Filipino-American organization that made her literally larger than life.
The Breast Cancer Survival Center of Connecticut and the Life Success coaching of her husband proved to be helpful to Marlene, she was back on the road to make life happier for herself and others.
“I have learned that having breast cancer really changes how you look at life and how you treasure life. I now have more goals, more purpose, more I want to accomplish. I have learned to live one day at a time, and I truly enjoy every moment with my family and friends”, she wrote.
But cancers are treacherous and science has yet to deal successfully with their abrupt return, like thieves in the night that eat up the human body.
Marlene was diagnosed to have pancreatic cancer in 2010, which was already in its advance stage. Up and about with the indomitable spirit of hope and hard work, Marlene was already life’s champion.
Right at the last grip of life, she was serene and took things in stride. A few weeks before she slipped away, she was still on top of her responsibility as community leader for the Filipino-American community. She organized and hosted the National Federation of Filipino American Associations Annual Grand Poinsettia Ball in Stamford, Connecticut in December 2010.
Marlene will be remembered for her legacy of leadership with the institutionalization of the Marlene Capinpin Stern Community Service and Leadership Award which will be awarded yearly to an organization that goes above and beyond to help Filipinos here and abroad.
Cancer has not defeated her spirit. She lives on because of her faith and brand of leadership.
Jeff Stern: Over the Edge For Love, Against Cancer
By Marivir R. Montebon
It was to be Jeff Stern's thrill of a lifetime: to rappel 470 feet of building in Jersey City in memory of his wife Marlene Stern (NaFFAA CT State Chairperson and FilAm Global Community Advocate) who passed away after a 7 ½ month battle with pancreatic cancer (12/13/58 – 02/17/11) and brother-in-law Joe Perez who succumbed to lymphoma on June 1, 2012.
Both deaths had a significant impact on Jeff and left a void in his life as well as that of his two children, Kenneth, who currently plays rugby for the Philippine National Rugby Team (The Volcanoes), and Elizabeth, who is currently in college and former Philippine National Figure Skating Champion. The rappelling fund raiser seemed a meaningful cause and an outlet for the pain of their loss.
Family and friends cheered Jeff from start to finish, and obviously growing wilder when he was about to land and finally landed. Jeff, a businessman and resident of Connecticut, scaled down in about 14minutes, one of the fastest of the participants.
"Where you scared doing that? What were you thinking while you were up there?" I asked. "No. I wasn't scared. I only thought, get down, get down," he laughed. Rappelling is a game of will, just going over the edge, first and foremost, of course. Secondary to it is one's physical ability to stabilize oneself with one hand, and to hold down descender using the other.
Jeff said his arms have hardened while rappelling. Extending his arms up, he smiled and grimaced at the same time, "I need a massage." "Would you do it again next year," I asked again. "Yes!" he said quickly, and his team of cheerers screamed once again. GO JEFF GO!!!
The OVER THE EDGE rappel for cancer was more than a stunt, of course. There were about 120 more who braved the Harborside Financial Center Plaza 5 that sunny September 29 morning by the Hudson River, all in the memory or honor of their loved ones. It raised funds for the research work of the American Cancer Society as it continues to find breakthroughs against the cloak of death by cancer. Participants had to raise at least $1200 to be able to rappel that weekend. Jeff’s team raised over $22,000. Jersey City Mayor, Jerramiah Healy, event and congratulated the organizers for having raised a quarter of a million dollars that weekend.
As far as cancer is concerned, there is so much fighting and persistence needed. More research must be done to effectively curb the ascending mortality it brings worldwide.
Frankly, there is not a rosy picture as far as cure is concerned. Cancer remains the most treacherous of all diseases. For women, breast cancer remains the no. one killer, followed by uterine corpus, and colon and rectum. For men, it is prostate, colon and rectum cancer, and melanoma.
There is an estimated 13.7 million Americans with a history of cancer, the American Cancer Society data showed. Breast cancer continues to be the site where survivorship is highest, at 41%, projected in the span of ten years, from 2012-2022. However, the colon and rectum cancers is projected to have slim survivorship at 8% for the same time period. Hence the need for intensive researches for cure and prevention.
The American Cancer Society has spearheaded fundraisers such as Over the Edge rappelling and Relay for Life marathons to respond to the multi-faceted issues imbedded in cancer prevention and cure as well as patient and caregiver care. More and more people have been inspired and joined the Over the Edge challenge. Diedra, another participant and Jeff’s team captain could not have said it any better. ”I was beside myself in awe. I loved it and I want to do it again!"
With this high energy attitude, the race for cancer cure has definitely reached greater heights.
It was to be Jeff Stern's thrill of a lifetime: to rappel 470 feet of building in Jersey City in memory of his wife Marlene Stern (NaFFAA CT State Chairperson and FilAm Global Community Advocate) who passed away after a 7 ½ month battle with pancreatic cancer (12/13/58 – 02/17/11) and brother-in-law Joe Perez who succumbed to lymphoma on June 1, 2012.Both deaths had a significant impact on Jeff and left a void in his life as well as that of his two children, Kenneth, who currently plays rugby for the Philippine National Rugby Team (The Volcanoes), and Elizabeth, who is currently in college and former Philippine National Figure Skating Champion. The rappelling fund raiser seemed a meaningful cause and an outlet for the pain of their loss.
Family and friends cheered Jeff from start to finish, and obviously growing wilder when he was about to land and finally landed. Jeff, a businessman and resident of Connecticut, scaled down in about 14minutes, one of the fastest of the participants."Where you scared doing that? What were you thinking while you were up there?" I asked. "No. I wasn't scared. I only thought, get down, get down," he laughed. Rappelling is a game of will, just going over the edge, first and foremost, of course. Secondary to it is one's physical ability to stabilize oneself with one hand, and to hold down descender using the other.
Jeff said his arms have hardened while rappelling. Extending his arms up, he smiled and grimaced at the same time, "I need a massage." "Would you do it again next year," I asked again. "Yes!" he said quickly, and his team of cheerers screamed once again. GO JEFF GO!!!
The OVER THE EDGE rappel for cancer was more than a stunt, of course. There were about 120 more who braved the Harborside Financial Center Plaza 5 that sunny September 29 morning by the Hudson River, all in the memory or honor of their loved ones. It raised funds for the research work of the American Cancer Society as it continues to find breakthroughs against the cloak of death by cancer. Participants had to raise at least $1200 to be able to rappel that weekend. Jeff’s team raised over $22,000. Jersey City Mayor, Jerramiah Healy, event and congratulated the organizers for having raised a quarter of a million dollars that weekend.As far as cancer is concerned, there is so much fighting and persistence needed. More research must be done to effectively curb the ascending mortality it brings worldwide.
Frankly, there is not a rosy picture as far as cure is concerned. Cancer remains the most treacherous of all diseases. For women, breast cancer remains the no. one killer, followed by uterine corpus, and colon and rectum. For men, it is prostate, colon and rectum cancer, and melanoma.
There is an estimated 13.7 million Americans with a history of cancer, the American Cancer Society data showed. Breast cancer continues to be the site where survivorship is highest, at 41%, projected in the span of ten years, from 2012-2022. However, the colon and rectum cancers is projected to have slim survivorship at 8% for the same time period. Hence the need for intensive researches for cure and prevention.The American Cancer Society has spearheaded fundraisers such as Over the Edge rappelling and Relay for Life marathons to respond to the multi-faceted issues imbedded in cancer prevention and cure as well as patient and caregiver care. More and more people have been inspired and joined the Over the Edge challenge. Diedra, another participant and Jeff’s team captain could not have said it any better. ”I was beside myself in awe. I loved it and I want to do it again!"
With this high energy attitude, the race for cancer cure has definitely reached greater heights.
Martial Law Babe
By Marivir R. Montebon
I had sketchy memories of Martial Law in the Philippines. When Pres. Marcos declared it on September 21, 1972 to usher in a dictatorship that lasted for 20 years, I was in kindergarten, one of those referred to as Martial Law Babe. I faintly remembered there was chaos on the streets that day. I saw people marching and shouting and all my aunts and uncles who were in college and living with us at that time were home early, with curfew set at 6 o'clock in the evening.
They simply told me that the police will put people in jail if they were not home by 6 pm that day. That made me anxious, waiting for my parents to be home before 6 or they would be in jail! I cried during Martial Law for that.
In no time, my parents were home from the college where they work as teachers and we had dinner together. I wasn't afraid anymore. End of memory for Martial Law.
Living in a shielded childhood, I never saw what political repression was, until I entered university and became a journalist. I realized that all hasn't been well in my country and life wasn't entirely a bed of roses. I began to write about it. The rest is history.
Freedom is precious and it has to be protected. No one has the right to control anybody, even if it had a well-meaning intention. Nothing could be worse, of course, if and when that control was meant for selfish ends.
There was no doubt about the greed for power that motivated Pres. Marcos to declare Martial Law. Strengthening him was the might of the military and the bunch of power sharers who had both economic and political stakes.
The repression seemed only controllable in many years. Then burst. Nothing lasts forever.
But the remnants of Martial Law became more chaotic and complex. It wisened up almost all power brokers, and the people were much more deep into fear and poverty. The immediate aftermath of Martial Law was worse.
To this date, there is still political repression in my country, in a much different degree, and poverty continues to dwell in majority of families. The fundamental problems on economic poverty and lack of appropriate education and ethics for development are still there. The continued diaspora of Filipinos to other lands is an outright proof of these long-standing problems.
I believe it doesn't only take a clear visionary leadership to put forward a development agenda for the Philippines, it also takes a mature people to demand for it and work on it.
The Philippines' rebirthing process is painfully slow. But I believe that as I write, many share my thoughts that genuine development is from the bottom up.
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Friday, September 28, 2012
The "I Will Survive" Guy
I called him the "I Will Survive Guy."
He was a short, scrawny man of indeterminate age, with shoulders always hunched over, whether due to poor posture or to the extreme cold, I could never quite tell.
It was difficult to discern what color he was because of the grime and filth that had blackened his face, hair, hands and tattered clothes. He had a distinctly aggressive odor about him so one could not help but be aware of his presence whenever he was around. And he always had a toothless grin in a gaping hole of a mouth with blackened gums.
I met him in the New York City subway, on the red line where the Number 2 and 3 trains ( the express trains) or the Number 1 and 9 trains ( the local trains, meaning, they stopped at all stations) plied their routes, from uptown Manhattan in Harlem all the way downtown to the World Trade Center towers in the Financial District.
I took the Number 1 or 9 train every morning from my Upper West Side station on 86th street, two blocks away from my little apartment on the West End. I disembarked four stations down at Columbus Circle on 59th street, a block away from Fordham University's Lincoln Center-Manhattan campus, where I was attending graduate classes in business.
It was December 1999, the cusp of a new millenium. One bitterly cold morning, I took the train as usual on my way to school and encountered "I Will Survive" Guy for the first time.
It was the midst of morning rush hour and I was jammed cheek to jowl with other morning commuters. Almost everyone was dressed in suits, clutching their briefcases and copies of the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times. Some people were face-deep into the city's favourite tabloid and everyone's guilty pleasure, the New York Post: catchy headlines, lurid pictures and deliciously naughty gossip about the rich and famous on Page Six.
It was a particularly dreary, gray morning and everyone's winter pallor and sour facial expressions matched my own.
Although I had just moved to the city, I already hated it. It was too cold, too loud, too dirty, too foreign.
I was homesick for my family in Cebu. I missed Hong Kong and my friends terribly. And I was glumly wondering to myself, what on earth had possessed me to choose a New York school when I’d had alternative choices in the more favourable climes of California and Arizona. I was cursing myself for not pursuing grad school opportunities in Barcelona, Spain, a school of which I’d actually visited the summer before.
The subway doors opened. Someone came in and into the car wafted a most peculiar, intensely nose-twitching aroma. The commuters around me bunched even closer together and seemed to be clearing a lot of space for the new arrival.
I glanced up and that's when I saw him. Standing there in the middle of the subway car, with a little circle of space around him. He looked around and everyone, with typical New York attitude, just ignored him.
Everyone in New York ignores each other on the subway and in the streets but everyone seems to ignore the homeless bums wandering around the city with particular intensity.
All of a sudden, and to my great astonishment, he burst out into song and dance.
It was Gloria Gaynor's disco tune "I Will Survive", but done at an extremely rapid pace, the indistinguishable words all running into one another. It was like watching someone dance "The Cabbage Patch" fast-forward to a song being sung fast-forward by someone who was not only toothless but also did not even know the lyrics very well in the first place!
The toothless grin was flashing throughout this entire routine. The whole effect was extremely comical.
I had to look down at my feet and bite my lips because I could feel the beginnings of a smile on my face. And that just would not do. I was in New York. New Yorkers do not smile at each other.
He abruptly finished the song and as someone from the back of the car actually clapped, he bowed to his waist and said something like: "Hank you."
And just as abruptly, toothless grin beaming, he launched into Brian McKnight's ballad: "I Believe I Can Fly."
That's when I lost it, completely. I burst out laughing. He looked and sounded so darn funny! As I laughed, I caught the eye of a guy in a suit and spectacles across from me and he started laughing too. Before I knew it, everyone in the whole car was roaring with laughter. And it wasn't even 9:00 in the morning!
The "I Will Survive" Guy, obviously pleased with himself, preened, got several pats on the back, pocketed some dollar bills and grinned his toothless smile to no end.
It was a classic New York moment.
From time to time, I would see him on the subway. Always got on the 1 or 9 train during morning rush hour. He seemed to favor the Upper West Side.
And it was always the same routine, rendered at the same breakneck fast forward pace. Much like life in the big city.
"I Will Survive", always followed by " I Believe I Can Fly". Songs of hope, of picking up the pieces after loss, heartbreak or suffering. Of following your dreams, no matter what.
Songs capturing perfectly the soul of a city which I had hated in the beginning and later grew to love. Songs reflecting the spirit of its people, who, after experiencing absolute horror on one life-altering, deceptively beautiful morning in September of 2001, eventually started to heal in time and move on.
Songs about survival.
This is the first in a five-part series of personal narrative essays about New York City, dedicated to the victims and survivors of 9/11/2001. This writer can be reached via email at bamboostiletto@gmail.com or via her personal blog – The Bamboo Stiletto, http://bamboostiletto.wordpress.com
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Like Magic
By Janet B. Villa
My mother, a retired public school teacher, thinks of life in simple terms. Feeding and caring for us has been her crusade and her redemption. Many years ago, while I was rushing work while vacationing in Cebu, she watched me feed a page into the fax machine. She was entranced. “The page goes in here, then comes out in Manila?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Mura’g magic,” she said. Like magic.
I think of Mama now, about to turn 84 in December, while I write this. I think about how these words have been borne through the years and grown from her insight. I think about how my words will meet you wherever you are and whoever you have carved yourself out to be. I think about how they will meet Anna one day, perhaps when I’m no longer around to share them, perhaps when she’ll need them the most. Like magic.
We tend to lose sight of such magic. We complicate things. We lose our awe. We peg our happiness on the wrong things. In our neediness for something monumental, we overlook the momentous.
A few nights ago, while I was journaling, I thought: Nothing remarkable happened to me today. But that’s the thing: nothing has to. Writing isn’t just about recording the fantastic; it’s recognizing that the very ordinariness of our days are worth writing about, are worth being grateful for. Each day is carved into its own space, separated from the gush of time—each day is sacred and each day’s delights are sanctified. What we do with that grace is our gift, but also our accountability.
Each day Anna’s eyes—trusting, expectant, unpolluted—reintroduce me to life. We feed our parking access card at the automated reader when leaving a mall without thinking about it. Anna, strapped to her car seat, leans forward and asks, “What that?” The boom barrier lifts. Like magic. She marvels at the numbers that flash on the screen. “Five! Zero!” she shouts. She speaks in exclamation points. Her joys are uncomplicated. In her world, things are magnified.
We walk on the pavement, and she points, “Mommy, look!” She tugs at my hand and says again, “Look.” She speaks in italics. In her world, things are highlighted. So I look. And I see how the roots of a tree had broken through the concrete, refusing to accept the limitations of the city. Like magic. In the hills and vales of the roots, Anna finds a playground. She clambers up one root, goes down the other, up and down.
There are wonders even in the shower. She lingers after a bath to watch the water flowing through her fingers. It is the same water that she swims in after she uses it to make a sand castle on the beach. The same water that washes her clothes and cleans dishes. The same water that wiped off the face of the earth in 40 days of rain, but also sustains her, sustains plants, sustains life.
Anna, like any child, has what Henry Miller considers a divine awareness: “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, severely, divinely aware.”
My purpose, like that of any mother, is to guard that awareness and to live it.
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For more details, contact tettobes@yahoo.comPhone No. 1.702.545.5055[/caption]
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Janet Villa practiced Law for nine years before she received a fellowship to the Philippine National Writers' Workshop and to the UP National Workshop. Her first published sotry "Undercurrents" won the NVM Grand Prize in 2003, and her sond "Closopen" won the NVM Grand Prize Special Prize in 2005. She is now finishing her MA in Creative Writing. Her biggest adventure is being best for husband Jojo and daughter Anna, while pursuing her passions in writing and teaching. Janet maintains CreW, the creating writing special interest group of Mensa Philippines after being the Mensa Philippines president in 1998.http://usingaborrowedlanguage.wordpress.com
Thursday, September 27, 2012
OSM! Event: Cultural Confluence VI in NY
[slideshow]
Loida Nicolas Lewis aptly described Celso Pepito's artistry as value-filled as well as modern. "It is distinctly Filipino that imparts values on hard work and family ties. Highly impressive."
The Art Exhibit Cultural Confluence VI was graced by Consul General for New York Mario de Leon Jr., Miss Lewis, Miss Nena Kaufman, and Mr. Clint Ramos. It was the first event sponsored by OSM!, in partnership with the 5th Avenue Lions Club and the ArtPortal Cebu.
The Art Exhibit Cultural Confluence VI was graced by Consul General for New York Mario de Leon Jr., Miss Lewis, Miss Nena Kaufman, and Mr. Clint Ramos. It was the first event sponsored by OSM!, in partnership with the 5th Avenue Lions Club and the ArtPortal Cebu.
Thirty works of art by Cebu-based couple Celso and Fe Pepito are up on exhibit until October 5, 2012 at the Philippine Consulate in Manhattan.
The event was also supported by Xocai Healthy Chocolate.
Celso and Fe will also hold an art workshop on October 2 for interested art enthusiasts during the course of the exhibit, which opens at 9 am till 5 pm.
The sixth of the series of art exhibits, Cultural Confluence has been toured by Cebuano artists in Manila, Paris, Singapore, and New York. It provides art enthusiasts and collectors a glimpse of the life in Asia and the values it holds dear. For several years now, it has become a hub for artists like the Pepitos to forge unity and understanding among the culturally diverse roots of fellow artists.
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