An Anonymous Thanksgiving

 By Gener

The boy picked up a pebble and threw it far into the water
And waited for the ripple to appear,
In his young mind the circles seem like a fairway's dizzying ride
On a fourth of July or Canada Day.

Then he stood up and sailed through the wood's thorny trees

Stopped by and picked a twig
Examined it and made a walking cane
Or is it a stick to ward off the snakes

In his jolly he forgot about the errand to make
While his mother waited at the shack they shared
Pounding the flour and kneading for a bread
The supp'er they'd partake
As in the Lord's last ever day.

"My father'd be gone," the boy uttered beneath breath
And so soon in my youth he'd never be understood,
For the things I heard 'bout him
He was a fine lad gone mad.

In all his twelve years the boy leaped for faith
For a father he'd hardly known,
Inside a cell the old man lived
And will die alone in self.

As the Mother saw the son she smiled and wiped a tear
Her bread was fast rising and the corn soup a'boil,
Her turkey smells a jewel, her potatoes just as well,
The son and father would have laughed
As they all shared Thanksgiving before.

Not a joke.

Pinoys are the kings and queens of drama.  Madaling mag-emote. (They easily show their feelings).

And when is the best time we, Pinoys, do the emoting?

Let's eliminate the feelings while watching soap operas, and go down to the basics.

When it comes to singing, Pinoys would grab the microphone at karaoke parties, and sing to their lungs' delight.  Bigay todo at full expression, ika nga.  (Full of gusto and feelings).

When it comes to expressing their love, Pinoys would emote top of the line.  Whoever started the harana, (moonlight serenade) anyway?  If yesterday, our grandfathers strummed their guitars to our grandmathers' hearts, today's Pinoy Casanova or Bella would exchange playlists with the object of their desire.

The palengkera-style (below the belt) of quarelling with the loved one, with the neighbour, with the in laws or rotten friends and pasaway na mga tao , is another venue for Pinoy emoting. Colorful oral and body languages are utilized in such scenarios.  May sabunutan, may finger pointing, may murahan, may umbagan.  

With the increasing popularity of social networking and digital communication (wireless, cell phones, etc), Pinoys have been a solid bloc in venting their anger, appreciation, angst, adoration, acrimony and adulation. Be it in politics, showbiz, rumor mongering, and other issues, Pinoys would not forget to add the trademark Pinoy humour or joke - another form of Pinoy emoting.  Magaling magpatawa at madali ring mapikon. 
 ################################################
Sample below of Pinoy humour.  

ERAP JOKES
(Para sa mga Pinoys)
Classmate 1: What is 5 plus 4?

Erap: Eh di 9!

Classmate 2: What is 4 plus 5?

Erap: Gagaguhin mo pa ako eh binaligtad mo lang... eh di 6! #################################################

And when Pinoys get married, the emoting can burst at the seams. Parents of both bride and groom would both cry out of joy or gloom, and the wedded couples would even resort to gimmicks to celebrate their unions, such as elaborate themes, and out-of-church practises.


But one area where Pinoys are unbeatable is in time of sickness and death. We express our sorrow, pain and loss by visiting the sick, lending support to his/her family, attending the wake and funeral. Even in Mang Dolphy's wake, one could see the "emoting" even of celebrities and ordinary people.

In the average Pinoy household, relatives come together or even have reunions when a family member dies. In some wakes, family members settle their scores with one another, at times becoming destructive, while others make the wake a staging area to upstage friends and family. May naghahalukay ng lumang isyu sa familia, may nagmamayabang. There are even people who'd scream, "sasama na ako sa'yo sa hukay."  But deep in the heart, Pinoys are really cry babies, mababaw ang luha.














The most disheartening kind of emoting is when family members forget their manners, duties, responsibilities and simple ethics. Couples leave one another, children disrespect and disown their parents, and members forget the good deeds and only remember the bad ones.

In Memoriam - RITA DESIDERIO- seated in white blazer

                                                                  Of Bustos, Bulacan
                                                                  May 1928 - Oct. 7, 2012
                                                   MAY SHE REST IN PERPETUAL PEACE.

They say that Pinoys are prayerful. And this is where emoting is best.  Pinoys sing during the mass and service, and observe many practises and rituals.  In the Philippine Catholic tradition, there is the pabasa ng pasyon, the Santa Cruzan, the countless novenas, devotion or the panata, among many other practises.

Of Daffodils.

By Gener

Were there daffodils

When you waved goodbye at the rusted gate,

And hopped inside the car in the starry-less night

Like a thief you disappeared faceless.

Nay, not a word

To give notice to people you dared insult,

With brazen tongue and deep-cut wounds 

You parted ways like the Dead Sea curling in two sides.

In your hasten trek to the devil's abode

The Good rested its case.

And the Bad sat inside your pit

Gnawing, smelling, consuming your innards.

The baby photos, the grown-up ones no longer adorn the walls.

The old room lost its satanic smell,

The soft eyes turned impishly devil,

The mind broke bounds and more.

The chubby cheeks of yester 'old, the short legs all,

The fresh umbilical still hang at the front,

The sadder face soon turned into glow,

The God had blessed you with a bow.

Look not, any further The Lord had said

To Adam, to Eve and the the serpent, too,

The Garden of Eden abounds with food

Yet the fleshy fruit is forbidden you. 

Like the curs'ed duo whose path'strewn with thorns

Them daffodils and bouganvilles may no longer bloom in your door,

The Sun God could trail and fail in your side

Forever for' get the darkroom where you're now.

Grilling.

Last week, the clan celebrated a big birthday party for members whose natal days fall in May.  There were five celebrants in all, excepting the two sisters who are in the United States, and also born in the month of May.

The clan planned an out of town gathering (overnight swimming) but schedules conflicted; others could only attend Saturday, others, only Sunday.

So I stepped up to the plate. I volunteered our house for a barbecue and the clubhouse pool for a swim.

Setting one's house for family events is both a no-big deal and a big deal. With an absence of domestic help it calls upon owners' muscles and energy to set up the venue, which requires cleaning and pruning. The laundry woman came to the rescue and helped. 

The day was gorgeous for a barbecue, and a dip at the pool. Luckily, the fore casted thunder shower came in the evening as the fun was wrapping.  

It was a happy and novel way to see family again.

Who says going to Laguna or Batangas is the only way to beat the summer heat and have fun?

Summers of Youth.

We grew up in Sta. Ana, Manila and in Mabini, Mandaluyong. The two locales were separated by the Lambingan Bridge, at the crossroad of Old Panaderos.

The Old Lambingan Bridge had two staircases, one leading down to the Barangay Blue Water, and the other one, leading down to A. Martinez and on to J. P. Rizal in Mandaluyong.

                                                    Photo of the new Lambingan Bridge.

The Old Lambingan that I remember was clean, so was the water undeneath,  that of the Pasig River. There were water lilies then, and "cascos," small, industrial boats that ferry cargo to Philippine Match and Atlantic Gulf and Pacific, both located in the interiors of Punta.

Just across from our old house, we could see the vegetable farm on the other side of the river, owned by a Chinese. Further to the left, we could view the high concrete wall of what we were told was the residene of the Thai consul.

Punta was a quaint part of Santa Ana, Manila. It is sandwiched by two river, Pasig River and San Juan River.  If you take a jeepney ride to the midsection called Kalahi, you could actually board a banca and crossover to Pandacan. That's what we did going to a faith healer, which my Aunt insisted on doing whenever I exhibited any ailment that would probably needed seeing a doctor, or if there was nothing wrong with me, she'd say I needed a check up to straighten up my "tantrums."

                                                                                             Banca Tawiran /Station of Today.

Sick or not, I remember these banca rides to Pandacan as amusing.  First, the bancas then, were clean and relatively safe.  It's much like boarding those tourist boats in Boracay or Catanduanes.  Second, the water was clean and you could only smell saltiness.  Third, the "bangkeros," were all friendly.

Riding the banca, I always touched the water; I'd dip my hand and let it go against the current.  Once we reached the other shore, me and my sis Jo, would walk side by side our Aunt, or sometimes, our Mother or another sister, and pick up "sigays," and "kabibe."  We'd keep these shells in our pockets, while the elders carried bottles of water and coconut oil, items which were blessed by the faith healer, and served as medicines.

The faith healer's house was adorned with wooden bancas; the faith healer used to be a fisherman, that's why he chose that part of Pandacan near the river, and when he moved house, he chose to go to Angono, near the Montalban river.

May was always the month for going to Antipolo.  If we went with my aunt and uncle, we'd take a bus to Antipolo, or if it was my father we'd be going with, the family would cram in his green Pontiac.  After hearing mass at the famed Our Lady of Buenviaje shrine, we'd trek to Hinulugang Taktak for a picnic lunch, and sometimes go to the nearby Villa Lolita for a swim at the pool.

                                     Our Lady of Good Voyage Chuch in Antipolo and its famous suman below.

Back home, we'd open our loot from Antipolo - suman sa ibos, kalamay, kasoy, and those wooden karetelas and palayok for sis Jo.

One time, our father took us to Tagaytay but the only memory I had of this was a photo showing the four-year old me on top of the hood of the Pontiac. Another time, he took us all to Baguio without checking on the condition of his Opel, and apart from the fun, we had to occasionally dismount and push the car on the hilly roads of Baguio.

May was also the time we went to the town fiesta in our hometown of Nueva Ecija.  It was also the month we spent most on joining neighborhood "lutrinas."

Holy Week and Easter were always summer months, so we'd be spent time reading the "pasyon," and more time in Nueva Ecija.

Summertime was also the time when we got to play "bingo" after lunch and got away with the required "siesta," drank "melon juice," by the bucket, ate watermelon until "sawa, enjoyed ripe mangoes as if there was no tomorrow, munched on "singkamas" dipped in bagoong and patis, ate siniguelas until our lips hurt, and slept late at night because there were no homework to do.
                                                                                                                         Above, Tagaytay

Some of the movies which played during my summer youth which I remember watching were Viva Las Vegas, Kissing Cousins, The Pink Panther, James Coburn movies with my aunt and uncle, and the Mga Batang movie-series, with my sis Jo and cousin Cel. I was the cry baby they used so my parents could allow them to go to Quiapo even if it was New Year's Day.

                                 Rosemary Sonora and Dindo Fernando were a popular Filipino love team in the mid-60's.

                                                                           Viva Las Vegas starred Elvis Presley and Ann Margaret

If we, siblings would be complete and gather for a reunion, we'd always be reminiscing on the good 'ol days of growing up and wonder how ten family members could fit in a green Pontiac, or a blue Opel Kadet, or a Jeep.

ET, phone home.

Sis from Seattle makes it a point to call immediately whenever she and hubby arrive at whatever destination they're headed to. Calls are made to relatives they've just left behind.

I remember an instance when I visited my sister in Ohio, and when I left and reached Toronto, I immediately went to sleep, being tired from the 6 - 7 hours' long drive. Then the phone rang, and sis was both mad and worried that I didn't bother to call her to advise her that I reached home safely.

Keeping people you love in the dark as to your condition and whereabouts is the most cruel and insensitive thing to do.

Another sis told me that there was this time when her family flew to Puerto Galera, and left behind my mother at home with the maid because she'd rather watch TV than suffer from motion sickness. So my sister, her kids and hubby enjoyed their vacation and forgot or didn't bother to call home. Mother worried to death, and began calling her other children and grandchildren. My sister's excuse - the cellphones didn't have enough battery charge, so they didn't phone home, and after all they knew themselves that they were okay.

Since that time that my elder sister castigated me back in Toronto, I have made it a habit to call anytime I fly away from home or leave a sibling's house I'd just visited. It made perfect sense - this security and familial set up.

We grown ups and most especially kids today, despite the preponderance of crimes around us, sometimes forget this basic rule of sanity. That is, to phone home and let family know where we are, where we're headed to, what our condition is.

To the person being worried about, s/he may not care about phoning home, either because s/he doesn't realize the commotion s/he's caused, or s/he doesn't understand the fuss since s/he's safe where s/he is after all. S/he could even blurt out, " I don't get it."

Family members could sometimes be indifferent and uncaring without even knowing it. Or sometimes, simply acting out of passion and carelessness, without intending to cause undue stress and vexation.

ET, the well-beloved extraterrestrial phoned home when he got left by his party and co-aliens. He worried enough that his loved ones and friends were worried and looking for him.

ET acted, after all, like human. Sharing the basic human instinct of concern and love for the loved ones.

But sometimes we, real humans, dwell to much on our emotions, or forget others' emotions.

Human beings do it all the time. That's human error.

I did.

The Shadow of Sherlock Holmes.

There's a new cinematic installment of the Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson partnership titled " A Game of Shadows," which is showing in Manila theatres these days.

Sherlock Holmes is a consulting detective of highest reasoning, able to draw big conclusions from the smallest of observations, and Dr. Watson is his autobiographer and constant companion.

Few days ago, some of Sherlock Holmes' shadow rubbed on me as I embarked on an important case: the missing soul mate.

It was four days of careful observation, information gathering, analysis, conclusions and decisive action. Luckily for all us, all efforts brought forth a happy ending.

Missing case - solved.

Bonus: kinship and friendship, true colors.

The wise men.

When my mother was alive, she'd hang the family Christmas tree and light the Christmas lights on the day the "simbang gabi," started. Then, she'd bring them down on January 6th, the feast of the Three Kings, or the Wise Men, as we knew it then.









Last New Year's Day, our clan had the traditional New Year's Day celebration at the old house in Fairview; this time, mother was not around to spearhead the traditional family exchange gift or "kris kringle."


But the family grew even larger; there was a new kid on the block - Abeng and Rhoda's Amiel Matheo, and of course, the two year -olds Tyrus and Bojoe, courtesy of nephew Allan and Kristin, and bro Jomel, respectively.









Then there were the rest of the children - the three cute grandnieces Christa, Christle, Juliana, grandnephew Tayshawn, nephew Beniah, and the older ones, Jyro, Sidney and Adam.

Nanay was not around anymore, and last January 1st, 2012 was the first time we celebrated New Year in her home turf without her.

There was no Christmas lantern, nor Christmas tree, nor Christmas light to remind us of her traditional Holiday season. But we were all there, or at least the five of us, her children, who are residents of Manila still.



Ate, from Seattle, made it a point to call in the middle of the celebration to greet us.








Mommy Lydia was there and represented the old, guiding spirit to reminds us - the second, third and fourth generations - of the importance of family, blood, ties, and kinship.

Summer 0f 2011. Going..going..

The summer of 2011 is not yet half done, and I could already feel it's not going to be a a blister nor a baker's oven.

It's mild. Some afternoons, cool breeze is blowing. And mornings are even comfier.

But still, the air con is in full blast some other afternoons. And evenings.

I blame the constant use of air con to the house's artificial enclosure. There are big windows but these are screened to prevent mosquitoes and other insects from entering. And the big room's second window had been transformed into a decorative window, with glass-like tiles.

Last night, we had a small family gathering, and unlike other past events, we didn't use as many electric fans outside, where we did most of the activities. One bro in law commented on how breezy it was in our place.



















I envy people who have swimming pools in their houses. In Canada, I know of someone who transformed her residence into a resort-type cottage because according to her, "it's better than going to public pools or beaches." She was right because every weekend, her family could enjoy uninterrupted r & r without the nasty crowd.

Last Holy week, we trekked to Laguna for a refreshing summer dip. The resort we rented was Mediterranean-inspired with comfortable rooms, a cozy living room with a huge LCD, and a beautiful garden, a spacious dining and recreation area, and clean swimming pools. The bonus: there was a church within walking distance, so on Easter Sunday, we didn't have to miss the Mass.











As usual, we had pot luck. A sister assigned a dish/meal for each family to bring, and we got assigned to do breakfast.

What better way to wake up clammy stomachs after a night of swimming and singing, and parlour games? Longsilog!

Different types of longaniza: garlic, sweet, spicy, small and stout, long and thin. With eggs - either over-easy or omelet, and Davao-type bananas, "saguing na saba, " fried in olive oil and topped with muscovado-sugar. I was planning on doing pancakes for the tykes, but since it was labour-intensive, I gave up on the idea.







The kids had a blast going for the Easter egg hunt.

Putik.

We drove to Nueva Ecija yesterday, a rainy, soaking-wet day, to visit our Aunt and Uncle. Then we proceeded to our farm. 

The approach to our property had been rendered impassable by rain water which turned the soil into mud. So, we drove around to my Uncle's farm from whence we walked through soft soil into our place. We had to criss- cross several times, from soil to grass, to avoid getting stuck into the earth.

But it was futile.  My sneakers plowed in a ton of mud. 

The area, alleluia, will get its irrigation.  The local government is building an irrigation system.  

It was exhilarating to see green and vast open space all around.  It was harvest time.

Stand By Me.

LEFT  - Seymour, the sea lion, one of the stars at Sea World in San Diego, California.

It's now two days after the Philippine elections.  There were problems, but generally speaking, the elections were a success, compared to past elections. 

The images flashed on television showing the long lines of people waiting to vote, people blocking the transfer of PCOs outside the voting place despite the heavy presence of the military, people sweating it out, etc proved that the Pinoys are passionate about suffrage - choosing their leaders.

Pinoys, wherever they are, are power-oriented, not authority-oriented.  

We exercise our right to vote and we closely guard our ballots because we want to choose and elect our leaders.  But then we look at our chosen ones as gods, not as servants, which they really are.

The politicians are the peoples' servants, and they have been mandated not to RULE but to SERVE.

We should demand that they serve for the good of everyone. 

Power-oriented is looking at elected officials as giving them the power to rule, while authority-oriented is looking at elected officials as individuals having been given a temporary task or job to exercise at a given period of time, and respecting this mandate.

This orientation emanates from our paternalistic/materialistic/familial outlook at every aspect of our lives; we judge everything from the perspective of familial power. 

For instance, we call the first born, "Kuya or Ate," and their siblings are expected to accord them the same level of respect given to the parents.  Aunts and uncles, even un-related people to us are being called "Tito or Tita," and neighbours are referred to as "Manong or Manang," in order to promote the idea of respect and harmony but in the process, to unwittingly preserve the concept of power.

In the U.S. and in Canada, this Pinoy power-orientation presents itself in the way local social associations operate.  Because of lack of family, Pinoys abroad bond themselves into social groupings, such as school or fraternal affiliations, municipal or provincial brotherhoods, etc.  Officials are then elected to lead these groupings.

But there are too many instances when losing candidates and their supporters in such elections back out from their original group and form their own so that they can lead the new entity.  

Here in Manila, an embarrassing proof of this Pinoy power-orientation is seen in the level of so-called "village or subdivision Barangays."  Homeowners in private subdivisions bind themselves into homeowners' associations for security and management purposes, but in the process, some individuals' power quest lead to violence, cheating, and even murder. Thus, instead of promoting the original ideals of camaraderie, neighbourliness, and common good, the "neighbourhood barangay" which has no real political basis becomes another menace.

The smallest but the most potent form of political affiliation is the family. Parents are the leaders in such entities, and sons and daughters, especially the minor ones are obligated, both legally and otherwise, to follow them. 

In the case of grown-up children who leave their family abode to marry or to live on their own, the parents' authority over them should ideally, cease to exist. All financial support should also stop. Children who continue to seek financial aid on top of moral and other support (e.g baby sitting services, etc) should be discouraged from such forms of juvenile activities. 

In dealing with children, parents or couples should present a united stand or shared leadership. 

Pinoy parents should take note of their U.S. and Canadian counterparts when dealing with children who burden their parents with too high expectations, high maintenance, immaturity, difficult and bad behaviour, lawlessness and immorality, especially for those over the age of eighteen. TOUGH LOVE. 

Do not cave in to your children's bad morals, bad behaviour, bad temper, bad lifestyle. 

Good luck. 

Not so current events.

During and post- interment family "unwinding."


Wonder of wonders. Whenever I'm in Manila, I suddenly lose interest in international politics.  Like now, Hilary Clinton is visiting Manila, and I just nod in remembrance that I have admired this Lady for a long time. I was rooting for her bid for the US Presidency during the last primary. 

Whatever happens to me in Manila that I lose touch with the outside world is explainable. Overload.

Too many relatives and loved ones who give attention to me and I give attention to.  Much food to ingest.

Too mess a traffic that eats time and robs you of moment to watch newscasts.  Too many Tagalog soaps that tie up the TV and prevent you from switching to CNN or BBC or lest you get choked by the other occupants of the house; or you yourself glance at "Sandino" from time to time. 

Then there's the useless but funny chit chat with siblings reminishing about childhood follies and life in the ancient times.  

And of course, you suddenly become enamored reading and watching about Erap, Gibo, Ate Glo, Chiz, Korina and Mar and Mr. Noynoy.  The sudden nationalismo makes you want to adopt dual citizenship. 

Then you hear music blasting out of the radio tuned in to DZRJ - music from the distant past of your teens and early adulthood - from the 70's and 80's: I Will Survive, Buttercup, You Know, Flying High, There's a Kind of Hush, more songs from the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, RJ and so on.  It's Manila memories all over.

So pardon me if I'm not interested in Wolf of CNN and Charles Gibson of ABC nor of Leno and Letterman

and Everybody Loves Raymond replays, and of Easy Rock radio in TO.

My current events now are not so current anymore.

After All Has Been Said and Done.

Collage taken from Alan Pagkanlungan Ravalo's Album.

We laid to rest our beloved Mother on Wednesday, November 4th. It was raining when we reached the Aglipayan Church in Mandaluyong where she was given a special blessing.

At the funeral home in Sanctuarium, she had a daily evening Catholic Mass officiated by the friendly chaplain, Fr. Richard.

I recorded several of the masses and the viewing but when we got to the cemetery, my video cam just sent me a message "error." So when I finally viewed my recording, there was nothing recorded at the Aglipayan Church and at the cemetery, but everything else was intact.

I suspect my mother was sort of jealous that I was busy camcording when I should have been grieving properly for her.

Of course, I was grieving. And still am. We all are.

I should have left for Canada on the 3rd of November, but Nanay passed away on the 3oth almost after noon. She probably thought that I would not be able to come back to P.I. if she left this world after Oct. 3oth so she chose to depart before I flew home to Toronto.

When my father died in 2000, I just barely arrived from Toronto.

Everything has been said and done. The final rites, the final goodbyes, the final tears.

We tried to take care of Nanay the best way we could. In the end, she chose to leave at noon
and the evening prior to that, my sister Josie said Mother was at her "best behaviour - at peace."

All has been said and done. But the love and memories will linger and stay forever.

The Silence of Saints.

It was eerie-ly quiet, the streets of Quezon City. Elliptical Road was less dizzying. Quezon Avenue was clear and passable. It was All Saints' Day, November 1st.

I have not celebrated All Saints' Day in Manila for so many years, until yesterday. I went to visit my father's grave and those of other relatives days ahead. So yesterday, I stayed where my mother's body is interred.

Death in a family brings relatives and friends together. Cousin Nina and niece Minet, whom I haven't seen in ages came and so did Tia Sol, and cousin Baby.

"Maliit ka pa nuon," is often heard. "Ilan na ang anak mo, ang apo mo?" too.

"Lamay sa patay," or viewing as it is called in North America, is a unique practise we, Pinoys and also the Chinoys, have.

In the funeral house, I see beautiful and colorful Chinese decors in front of the chapel where a Chinoy is interred. There are Christian and Buddhist ceremonies going on almost every night.

I see food trays being brought continuously. Pinoys and Chinoys share the tradition of feeding their loved ones lavishly. In Canada, Pinoys don't lose this tradition.

During the viewing days, Pinoys feed the people who come along, and especially after the funeral.
My sister prepared a collage - pictures of our mother, with us, with her friends, with our father.

She's beautiful as ever. My Mom.

Bye Beloved Mom.

Below, Nanay (Gloria Torres Fajardo Pagkanlungan)

We bid you adieu in the fall month up North,

Amidst the monsoon rain in Manila,

In the deepest warmth of our hearts,

We say bye beloved Nanay

Within the silence of our hearts,

We cry, yes, but rejoice

For the fullness of your life.

We thank you

We love you

We praise you

We'd miss you

We'll see you, always

In the eyes of one another

In the smiles of your apos

In the stillness of your room

In the joys we'd remember of our childhood

And all the years with you.

We bid you goodbye, dear Nanay.

Eternal love and peace

Be unto you.

Bye and Sweet Dreams, Nanay.

Gloria Torres Fajardo Pagkanlungan

Birth: December 12, 1918

Sta. Ana, Manila

Demise: October 30, 2009

Fairview, Quezon City

Husband: deceased

Atty. Felipe Bote Pagkanlungan

Care-given.

I've seen the devotion my sisters have given and are giving to my mother. TLC to the core.

They tend to her 7/24, and they still retain a sense of humour that is infectious.

We grew up as a very close knit extended family. We were surrounded by aunts who ministered to and aided our Mom and us all the way - from birth to maturity. One aunt had no child and the other aunt's child lived with us, so we consider her a sister.

My two aunts died years ago; Diche and Sanse as we called them. My Mom's Ate I never got to see for she passed away when I was a mere baby.

It is great to see children taking care of their parents. It's become a big worry of parents, especially in North America, as to who would take care of them when they're aged and weak and sick, and senile.

In Toronto you see apartments for seniors, retirement homes, or nursing homes - the last "cocoons" for the aging citizens. It's become a big business.

Some individuals prefer to live in their own dwellings up until their last day here on earth. They rely on among other things, live-in caregiver, live out help, occasional help, government aid, philantrophic interventions (meals on wheels) and family care.

It is ordinary to see these people strolling out in the park or even going to the grocery with their canes as companion or riding in a mobile, motorized wheelchair. Some bring their pet dogs with them.

For those who are really sick, the government of Canada's health care system provides care - 7/24. But you hear countless of abuses in these nursing homes - diapers not changed, bed sores neglected, and even physical abuse by caregivers and staff.

My eldest sister often says " the way you take care of your parents is the way your children will take care of you."

While here in Manila, I linger by my mother's house - assisting in whatever way I can. But I cannot compare my contribution to the contribution most of my sisters are giving.

Bless them.