Tuesday, October 23, 2007

scorpio

well, i survived homecoming...
it went as expected. the winners were in the traditional order. i'm still finishing grades so here's just a little taste of somethin somethin...

i'll probably be back to writing after my grandmother's memorial this weekend... so until then... read this MSN article and tell me if you agree...

Fun facts about Scorpio (the first half of my astrological destiny)

Beneath a controlled, cool exterior beats the heart of the deeply intense Scorpion. Passionate, penetrating, and determined, this sign will probe until they reach the truth. The Scorpion may not speak volumes or show their emotions readily, yet rest assured there's an enormous amount of activity happening beneath the surface. Excellent leaders, the Scorpion is always aware. When it comes to resourcefulness, this sign comes out ahead.

Friends and Family
Sincerity and truth are strong components of the Scorpion's friends. It can take some time before really close bonds are formed, but once done, the Scorpion will remain dedicated and loyal. Witty and intellectual, they prefer companions who are humorous and easygoing. Full of surprises, this sign will give you the shirt off their backs if that's what you need; yet, once they are crossed, there's no turning back. They feel deeply, and once hurt, it can be impossible to turn things around. Commitment to family is strong and consistent with the Scorpion. They are exceptionally helpful in managing affairs, and they are excellent advocates when one is needed.

Career and Money
"I desire" is the key phrase for the Scorpion. They are fantastic at managing, solving, or creating. Once the Scorpion sets their sights on a goal, there's no deterring this sign. Tasks that require a scientific, penetrating approach are always best done by the Scorpion, as they will delve deeply into the materials they have. Their ability to focus, coupled with determination, makes for strong management skills. They're not ones to worry about making friends on the job scene; rather, they prefer to see the task accomplished well.

Pursuing such careers as a scientist, doctor, investigator, navigator, detective, researcher, police officer, business manager, and psychologist all suit the mighty Scorpion. Respect is an essential aspect of working for this sign. They need to respect their coworkers, while also feeling a sense of being respected by others.

Disciplined enough to stick to a budget and unafraid of working as hard and as long as it takes puts the Scorpion in a good financial position. Many are fortunate and inherit money. Whatever the case - and regardless of the balance - they are great managers of their dollars and are not apt to overspend at all. Money means security and a sense of control, which is important to the Scorpion. Therefore, they're going to hang onto the majority of the cash, making decisions carefully before turning any of it over.

Love and Sex
This is the strongest of the sexualities in the zodiac. Incredibly passionate, the Scorpion takes intimacy seriously. Partners need to be intelligent and honest. Much of the foreplay for this sign happens long before the bedroom through conversation and observation. Once in love, they are devoted and loyal to the death. But relationships can take some time. The Scorpion needs to build trust and respect for a potential mate slowly and thoroughly.

SCORPIO TIDBITS

Scorpio Birthdays
October 23 - November 21

Health
Each sign has a part of the anatomy attached to it, making this the area of the body that is most sensitive to stimulation. The anatomical areas for Scorpio are the genitals, bladder, rectum, and the reproductive organs.

Ruling Planet
The ruling planet for Scorpio is Pluto. Traditionally, this planet rules that which is hidden from view. It also represents conception, birth and death, slow growth, generation, regeneration, unpopular causes, anonymity, phobias, and the exposition of secrets.

Colors
The colors of choice for Scorpio are dark red to maroon.

Gemstone
Scorpio's star stone is the opal.

Lucky Numbers
Scorpio's lucky numbers are 2, 7, and 9.

Compatibility
Scorpions are most compatible with Pisces and Cancer.

Opposite Sign
The opposite sign of Scorpio is Taurus.

The Perfect Gift
The best gifts for a Scorpio are sentimental choices, clothing (especially something sexy), and non-fiction books.

Likes
Truth, facts, flirtation, long-time friends

Dislikes
The superficial, flattery, shallow people, being taken advantage of

House
Natural sign of the Eighth House. This house focuses on sex, taxes, death and rebirth, a partner's resources, inheritance, and regeneration.

Famous Scorpios
Carl Sagan, Jodie Foster, Indira Gandhi, Prince Charles and Grace Kelly

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Fragile

Sorry I haven't kept things as up-to-date, especially the completion of the Philippines saga. This is homecoming week at our school and if you know my job, I'm completely insane. I don't even think I was that coherant at Tuesday's faculty meeting. Oh well. Just let the delirium take over.


This past weekend I was reminded just how fragile so much of the world around us is. Whether it’s actual concrete subjects, innocence, or the psyche.

Saturday began with me finally getting to sleep in. I attended a former student’s 18th birthday barbeque, yet the gift I wanted to get had yet to be published; however, she said she wanted to read the book that I gave her. When she placed her gift bag down, I didn’t tell her there was a fragile 100 islands seashell from the Philippines in it and it nearly could have been smashed. Thankfully it was a nice personal touch.

Then the day took an unusual twist for me. My brother called me and asked me to pick up a baby shower gift from Lullaby Lane. Coincidentally, the place was in San Bruno and the party was in San Bruno Park, so I’m thinking this is fortuitous and I should do it for my brother, although I didn’t realize that Lullaby Lane was the name of the store and not the street it was on. Obviously, I don’t shop for baby items very much, especially since this store seems to be one of THE places to go for your newborn needs.

Luckily I found parking in front of the store. I peer inside and realize I have no idea what to buy, and even if I did, which item would warrant being better than any other choice I could make. Again, I didn’t have to worry much since the parents-to-be filled out a baby registry. I printed out the 6 pages and just stared at the items. I had to real concept of any of the items on there except clothing; I had no clue even where to find them in the store. Most of the items were way above or below the budget I was given. Did I want to combine a bunch of small things or spend more and get something nice (but how would I even know if it was worth the money being spent)?

I thought about how my best friend will be giving birth in less than two months. What little I do know happens to be from one of my friend’s xanga blogs. I stood there staring around having no idea where to begin and felt so frickin’ ignorant. I have no idea what to do if I ever were to become a father—though I’m in no danger/luck of being one anytime soon (despite my mother’s vision of a dozen). Sure, I could figure out the basics, but the technology of all the baby items to keep the child free of disease or harm and the extraordinary differences between cribs and strollers just overwhelmed me. I looked so lost meandering through the three different rooms among all the expectant mothers being led by their bellies and wide-eyed husbands. I walked out of there with the gift in hand knowing that there’s a whole world that I have never truly encountered wondering if I’ll ever have the opportunity.

During the drive home I saw one of the worst car accidents I had ever seen in person. A stretch of freeway was jammed and I was wondering if it was an accident or something else. After some time spent trying to get into the left lane of four available lanes, several emergency vehicles created a barrier from a particular section of freeway. As I finally drove by, I saw a car damaged in a way I never quite imagined possible. The silver car reminded me of an aluminum juicy fruit wrapper with the piece of gum placed inside and crumpled up loosely to be thrown into a garbage can. The back half and top of the car were missing and the front was frayed. I have no idea what happened to the driver. The accident had probably been there awhile for the ambulance had likely taken off already and I have no idea whether or not other cars were involved. And as a veteran of numerous car accidents (I’ve flipped over in a car twice, nearly dying once), I sighed a breath of relief thanking god that I’ve never been in one that serious. The picture you see to your left is of the major car accident I was in. I was sitting shotguy and in a Honda del Sol my head was already pressing against the ceiling. Thankfully, I never lost consciousness. This took place in September of 1995 and almost prevented me from graduating that semester from SFSU.




Most of Sunday was spent grading papers, but being the softball whore that I am again, the team captain called me and asked me to make the 8pm game and be the starting pitcher. This after the fact that I pitched last Tuesday and Wednesday, the former being a playoff game and the latter determining whether or not the team made the playoffs. My heels have been inflamed badly since Tuesday and I just have to suck it up to stand in the classroom. So pitching Sunday definitely was not a smart idea, but that’s not what I’m known for, so I played. On the other team, I faced a former student of mine, who happened to be a blanket winner and all-star high school baseball catcher. Another big hitter on their team lined one directly back up the middle targeting my chest/abdomen. By some miracle of instinctual reflexes (for I knew as soon as I pitched it that it would be coming right back at me and I eyed all the way) in less than a second, the ball shot into the webbing and palm of my glove and bruised my hand. One of my brother’s fears is that I won’t be able to protect myself in time from those heat seeking liners. This was by far the hardest shot that came back at me and I realized how tenuous my grip on life can be. All it takes is a nanosecond delay and I’m on the way to the hospital again.

When I came out of the game we had a 10-6 lead and we needed to win this game to have a chance at the playoffs. The tendonitis in my heels and arthritis in my ankles aggravated me and that would be okay, since my brother would come in to close it out—the same formula we used to come in first place a few seasons ago (which also happened to be the same time when I took a shot in the leg/varicose veins two batters into the championship game). Unfortunately, the other team had a miracle run the next two innings and score some 19+ runs on us. It killed us all on the team. What might have been a celebration to go to the playoffs turned into one of the most depressing surreal losses we ever faced during the regular season (we shall not talk about the playoff losses—which were all kind of peculiar for their own reasons).

Afterwards, the team went to BJ’s to celebrate two of our friends’ birthdays (their actual shared birthday was Monday). We did a good job of turing in 320 receipt points for the Tanforan school competition. By the way, El Camino High School is in 5th place. We are dropping out of the money. You all need to shop there and turn in your receipts in the lockers or bring them to me. Half of our Sunday team also plays in a San Mateo co-ed league. Except the winter season is on Monday and Wednesday nights. And for some odd reason, again being the softball whore that I am, I agreed to play at least half the season. I didn’t want my last taste of softball for the year to be losing 3 significant games. I needed to play again soon so that I can taste victory again. I have no idea whether or not my body can even handle playing twice a week that close to each other. It was damn difficult playing back-to-back nights last week. I tell myself I need the exercise, but sadly, I know I play in order to not always feel alone. I love competing and hanging out with the friends, but softball is that much needed excuse to get me to leave work and try to regain some semblance of myself so as not to be consumed by my career.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

a moment to remember

I want to write a lot, but I'm paranoid. My brother lies in wait ready to rip my chest in half after he renewed the brotherly battles of yore. He poked me and I chopped him. Only fair, right? However, he wants revenge. Macho already said that I need to enjoy this moment because these will be the last days of my life... If you have ever heard or seen the infamous chop battles, you know of what I speak... It didn't help that Johnny is declaring that I have dethroned the master of chop. All that means is that he'll want it back and have to get me hard to do it. Does this really have to be difficult? Can't this just end? He got me and now I got him. I didn't know you could feel a chop through the chest and in your spine.

Anyways... to my knowledge... this is the only real video to capture mine and Josephine's full entrance walk at Lance's and Mary Anne's wedding. It was captured digitally by my best friend May, in whose wedding I was bestowed the honor of being the maid-of-honor. So here's the evidence of that infamous day:


Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Interlude #3: Why I am the way I am--reasons #43 & #44

It's 4:42 am. I still can't sleep.

I'm laying in bed annoyed that the softball season is over. I miss the team already. What am I supposed to do on Tuesday nights? Thank goodness for House.

I'm laying in bed still and a memory flickers about something my mom said while i was in the philippines. She tells me the reason I might be so morbid (she tells me this quite a lot) might be her fault... She proceeds to recall watching The Exorcist when it first came out in theaters... a few weeks later i was born... 20 days after my original due date... i guess i was too scared to come out... and to this day i rarely watch horror films...

My mother also said she knew I'd be a teacher, because I was a priest in one of my past lives and thought I was going to be one in my present life. According to her, I'm not too far off the original vision she had of me. But she refuses to yield on her premonition that I will have 12 children. I mean, seriously, I don't even have one yet.... and I am supposed to recreate Cheaper By The Dozen... if you've ever talked to my mom or siblings, you'll know this is a recurring joke in the family, especially since so much of the talk by my aunts and uncles after the funeral centered on asking me when I will make my father a grandfather (though he's the eldest son, two of his younger brothers are already grandfathers). I just respond with "As soon as I find a woman who will say yes to me." And they just say it's a good thing that men can have children even when they are really old. My guess... Lance or Sheena will make my father happy before I do. Dwight already introduces himself as Lance's brother-in-law, though he only does that when he's drunk and not around Sheena. But hey, Dwight is hanging out with Lance... getting in good with the family while his honey was in the Philippines... taking my ticket for the last Giants Friday night home game... but i'm not bitter... i'm really not... it was definitely a much better thing that I was on the other side of the globe.

OK, time for me to try and sleep again... I have just enough time to get 2 hours of sleep.

Interlude #2: Guilty and Not-so guilty Pleasures


Ok, I'm telling you that on this Wednesday... you will not get the Philippines, Part 3

My constant obsession with death continues with my newest Guilty Pleasure, and hopefully, the only new TV show of the season that interests me--Pushing Daisies. I think I relate to having the one you love just out of touch.

Oh yeah, I hope to actually get a large chunk of grading done. But having a lot to grade does provide the right inspiration to write blogs in my effort to perfert procrastination.

Speaking of being lazy, and due to the fanatic reaction of the previous picture with my dad, here's the solo shot--it's kinda funny if you can make out what the magazine cover says.

Also, many of you have spoken to me about the video of the band and my aunt shirley in the throes of musical ecstasy... and yes, the juxtaposition of a mini-rock concert in my parents' yard next to my grandmother's coffin is quite peculiar and probably belongs on a TV show like Boston Legal... because there's a lawsuit waiting in there if this were happening in the United States... oddly... last night's episode caught my attention as I was flipping channels avoiding pain, since the case being tried involved the magnificence and nobility vs. the cruelty of cockfighting. Although, I must admit... when I attended my first one, I found it to lack the majesty portrayed in John Laroquette's closing arguments.


Again, due to popular demand, now thanks to her solo dance exhibition, in addition to her one night stint at Lance's wedding reception, here's a picture of my auntie Shirley and Sheena. I just love how she left me comments on the Philippine blogs as anonymous and still declares her identity... if you've heard her speak, you can recognize her words no matter from whence they come...

Damn! This is the worst jet lag I've ever experienced. Why can't I just fall asleep? Nyquil is doing nothing for me. It might be time for the sleeping pills... How the heck am I supposed to operate normally when Homecoming begins next Monday.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

Interlude: the final softball blog of the season

One of the reasons I couldn't wait to come back from the Philippines was to rejoin my staff softball team--TEAM WHAT?


Tonight, in just our second season, we made it to our first playoff game. We were huge underdogs, due in large part to never having beaten the team we had to play... and usually being beaten badly. But TEAM WHAT? could not be deterred. We went out there and battled and the score remained close for the first four innings... going from 4-2 after 2 innings; 6-2 after 4 innings... and this was while I was trying to shake off the rust from not having pitched in a few weeks.


Alas, they had a huge rally against us in the 5th (it might have been the 4th) and scored 7 runs. Suddenly, they had 13 and we had to scrap back. We refused to go down and were able to come back... initiated by the first of Shane's two triples (who knows, they might have been home runs if his shorts would only stay around his waist). I think our ensuing laughter relaxed us enough and we started to bang the ball. In an earlier inning I came up with two out and hit a low pitch right at an infielder to kill a potential rally. There would be no repeat of that incident. This time I got a base hit with the bases loaded scoring two runs... somehow I got the ball to go beyond the second baseman (I swear I never hit the ball to the right of second base, maybe I'll start being able to learn to hit opposite field by the time the spring seasons starts).


The final score was 16-8. We were not mercy ruled this time and that felt tremendous. I truly believed we had a shot at beating them until they knocked a couple of home runs beyond our outfielders' reach. I need to remember not to make too many fat pitches to them next time.



But, most importantly, I love the camraderie our team possessed. We had fun, laughed at each other, and enjoyed our bonding outside of work. Softball has been one of the only bright spots of a very difficult year for me, so I am so thankful that most of us were able to hang out at Red Robin after the game and enjoy each other's company for a bit longer before we all had to say goodbye for the season. Unfortunately, not everyone made the picture we took after the game because they had to leave right away and Tony had a meeting for work. But here are the grinning faces I've grown to love...

I can't wait for the spring season... plus it'll be a new year and a chance at a fresh start...
Many of us improved so much since our first spring game. We went from a 1-7 record and last place in the spring to a 5-3 record and third place in our second go-around. As long as we continue to play together, we definitely can achieve the playoffs again. Thanks to all the fans who showed up to the game, even though some of you students had to be enticed with just a few extra credit points. To the family and friends and co-workers in the stands, thanks so much for supporting us through the early bumps of the spring season and the incremental steps of improvement that has assuaged the first season bruise, for many of you were the healing salve for those bruised egos, pulled hamstrings/quads, and bearers of whatever medication we needed to be able to get back onto the field again. To my teammates... so that bowling league or broom ball sounds fun... I can't wait to fall on the ice and look like an elephant seal that got its ass kicked. It has been an honor to play with you all... and maybe some of you might want to consider subbing on some of the other softball teams on which I myself sub.

I hope you enjoyed the interlude. I'm sure you needed a break from all this funeral talk. I'll be depressed soon enough and still in the throes of jet lag to finish off the Philippines blog... probably by weekend's end.

Monday, October 08, 2007

The Philippines, Part 2--the day before the funeral



Here's one of the first pictures Sheena and I took when we first arrived... I thought I should open with a funny picture since the rest of this blog won't be...


If you haven't read Part 1, I suggest you do so. Even if you got the emails, the last day of Part 1 was never emailed out to anyone except my brother since I was in a hurry to leave the internet cafe. The funeral and days afterward will be forthcoming. This entry is 6 pages single-spaced and took me all weekend to write. It was definitely the strangest day out of all my time there.

Here is Sheena meeting Alma and her sister Agnes.


Tuesday—the day before the funeral

So after a peaceful night without bands and their teenage groupies hanging out in the bahay kubo in our yard taking pictures of the guys on their cell phones, I didn’t get to sleep in—which is actually hard to do with nature’s natural alarm clock the rooster and my Uncle Carlos’ mini-dog kennel barking. And I wasn’t supposed to sleep in today for on one of the previous nights, I met a few of the Calasiao elementary school district’s principals (they are friends of my father-better know as Sir Napo, the philanthropist-a whole separate story unto itself). Well, these principals are very good-natured and I appreciated their willingness to talk to me without trying to marry me off to someone, although they all did say they had a few single teachers at their schools they would be happy to introduce me to if I wanted. Lo and behold, as we talked about educational philosophy and compared conditions (schools are horribly funded and they often need to rely on balikbayans or other well-off local Filipinos who are altruistic in nature-although I strongly suspect that some of these philanthropist donate money to see their names on buildings or painted on walls… and I know this is the custom for thanking these donors but I can’t help feel that it’s all about ego… again I say this because it seemed every painted wall or erected shade for the courtyard possessed a name and that’s not necessary… I even discovered from the principals that my father helped provide for a couple classrooms at a couple schools and nowhere did I find his name at those schools on those buildings). So now I’m feeling attuned to these other educators and I think they see me as a possible future option. They begin to tell me how private schools (they are public school teachers) are a progressive business opportunity in the Philippines, especially after you’ve established it after several years of quality training. And because I refused the idea of being a teacher there in Calasiao considering how one month of my paychecks here is equivalent to one those principal’s annual salary, they opted for something they have been dreaming about themselves but lack the capital… the opportunity to start their own school. I suddenly no longer felt like a person starring in the Filipino version of The Bachelor-but instead, a lotto ticket with the winning numbers-and if they could just hold on to me and cash in. As much as it is flattering to be considered an eligible bachelor, there’s just no love there and that would take time (maybe a future summer) to foster into something even remotely close to a relationship. However, the idea of creating my own school does appeal to me. So now I have a new 10 year plan to raise money and partners in this venture. The principals already have ideas as to which sites might work, though they are all out of the town of Calasiao. Hmmm…. It’s something that I will let fester in me for the next year and I’ll see… would I? Could I? Leave El Camino to create my own school… and if you think I’m a workaholic now, imagine me if it’s my own place… maybe that’s the way I’ll have my own children, since the traditional way of doing so is without prospect and a continuing theme in my life (at least traditional in the manner of being in love and feeling love in return by a woman agreeing to do so; I say this so some of you don’t mention the fact I could have easily been married off in the past two weeks and immediately started my own family).



OK, back to the narrative, the one that will continually produce tangents like the above, but that really happened to me so is it really a tangent… I do hear Holden Caulfield’s classmates yelling “Digression!” at me… maybe I should take some time off from teaching juniors… get back into Shakespeare…




Anyways… the second thing that the teachers asked me to do and I actually did was… I spent Tuesday morning at the District Family Day Festival in which all the elementary schools competed in a variety of areas: oration, poster making, skit, acrostice, essays, etc. They thought I would make a wonderful judge. Heck, I am an English teacher—I can grade essays. The thought appealed to me until I realized that the essays would not be in English… they may not even be in Tagalog, but in Pangasinan…. And I discovered, they would not be in English… but they persisted…wait, insisted… that I judge… I said I’d think about it.




Just to increase the awkward tension within me, one of the principals was supposed to pick me up from my house, but his car broke down (mind you, he just bought it used a few weeks ago). My dad’s van was not around because Uncle Ador left to find antibiotics for the bedridden family who were struck by some tropical malady (of course, my dad is to blame for that to because he was sick when we all arrived and he infected everyone else-everyone from immediate family to one of grandma’s nurse’s wife to the man who did all my family’s hair at the salon in the mall). So how was I to get to the festival to attempt to judge things in another language? My dad took his dad’s car and dropped me off at school. It felt so damn strange. I was harkening back through my memory backs wondering if this is what my first days of school felt like. Here, my dad was driving me to a new place that I didn’t know how to get to on my own. He drops me off to fend for myself, and I walk through the gates of the school having no idea where to go. But a kind, elderly teacher saw me lost and pointed me in the right direction and then proceeded to guide me down the middle aisle while someone was speaking and plopped me down at the head table in front (apparently, I was expected to judge). I must admit though, when they took the fan that swept across all the distinguished guests at the head table of some 14 people and pointed it directly at me and allowed it to be stationary—I felt special… and thankful… because that heat was gonna make me sweat through my shirt and I would not look like a distinguished judge or better yet… here’s how I was introduced… “let us recognize our honored guest, he is an English professor from San Francisco, California, United States, anak ni Sir Napo, Derek Padilla.” The son of Napo—the philanthropist. That’s pressure. I also didn’t realize it is the custom that each speaker who went up to the microphone acknowledged everyone seated at the head table. I was introduced a few more times… each time further exaggerating my placement there until finally I also was called a philanthropist in my own right. I didn’t know if that wanted me to be a future donor (probably) or a generous judge (to their school) in the competition.




In the pictures below, the first one is some fruit that was quite refreshing. And I can't remember what it is called, so if you know... leave its name in the comment section. The other picture on the right is of three of the principals I met. Digna is on the left and actually is one of the people who spoke later in the evening during all the eulogies.



One of the odd things I noticed that would never be done in an American public school was in a pamphlet I read that outlined some of the curriculum taught in the elementary schools. The religion class had a whole unit on Mental Adultery. Why it is evil to even think about another person? It actually mentioned in the description how Playboy is evil and why it along with certain movies is a sin against God and your spouse. I tried to imagine how this would go over with any of the groups of students I have ever taught. I know some would agree with it, but I think many of my students would tell me that I was being an idiot. So much of American cultural beliefs seems to counter the idea that mental adultery could even exist… “it’s ok to look, but not touch” concept. I was surprised that the principal who showed it to me didn’t even to take the unit all that seriously. That was definitely an interesting observation…




I ended up watching all the orations. I definitely had a good idea who I thought the best speakers were, but I didn’t feel a competent judge. But who cares? What is the statistic? 70% of communication is nonverbal. Well, I understood that much, but refused to judge, especially because I had no clear idea what the scoring sheet was asking for in its rubric grid.




Here are 5 kids performing in the dance/skit portion of the competition.




Which brings us to the acrostics… This portion of the competition was actually in English. The students had to write the word “family” vertically down the page and begin a short paragraph or a few lines of verse that began with the corresponding letter in the theme word—family. I had to remember as I read them that these were 5th & 6th graders after all, and not to judge them like they were my students. Of the 10 or so that I read, 2 of them seemed to stand out. One of them in particular used a lot of vocabulary words that I don’t even hear coming out of any my students’ mouths. More importantly, the writer used them correctly. I made my recommendations and gave the stack back in my order of preference. Unfortunately, my father and uncle arrived at this time (noon) to pick me up for a family lunch. My Uncle Eddie and Auntie Virgie wanted to take out the family to Dagupena restaurant, my grandfather’s favorite place.



Lunch was fine. Unfortunately, a few too many family members didn’t make the lunch because they were still convalescing from whatever disease that was trying hard to become our family epidemic. Sadly, my Auntie Shirley was one of those who were sick, and we couldn’t even sing her happy birthday as she regained he strength sleeping for the coming trials of what was to come tomorrow. We returned in time for the 3pm rosary.




More people already began gathering and this time when we returned to the house, there was a new huge canopy placed over a large part of the driveway area, probably about 10’ x 40’. And that was an excellent idea, the storm was gathering strength and we all wondered if it would rain during the walking funeral procession the next morning. Also, the bamboo poles were refortified by being buttressed by added poles and wires. On the previous days & nights, the rain water pooled in the center of the tarps and people often had to push a stick in the center of the swelling to push the liquid back up over the edge to runoff. This would be extremely annoying during the rosary, as the fallen water cascaded in thunder and would reverberate off the concrete into the pants and shoes of some unsuspecting mourner who sat too close to the perimeter because they weren’t a close enough blood relation or one of the elder women who led the prayers to achieve center status under the roof/tarp. Although I must admit, I preferred to stay at the back of the family side of the groups… it didn’t feel right for a grandchild to be closer in proximity to the casket than her children.




About 5pm, the priest came and held a mass for my grandmother. At first, I thought it seemed all out of place to be having a mass there outside, but as it began the prayers, timing, the grail with the host, all blended in to add to the surreality of this moment. The rest of the evening does seem to fall into some haze or waking dream, well, until the music began… but I’m getting ahead of myself. After the mass, my father came to the forefront and actually spoke through a microphone—but father will always avoid speaking before audiences in public so it seemed strange to me to see him up there. But he needed to. He needed to eulogize his mother and he would be first to do so. I had never imagined my father acting the way he did during his heartfelt extemporaneous delivery. As expected, he nearly broke down a couple of times as his tears would temporarily choke off a train of thought, but he fought through it and carried himself with more dignity than I had ever seen surround his aura. He began by comparing himself to how he was similar to his mother—sharing experiences of having a quadruple bypass and diabetes. He recalled everyone’s fears about the doctor saying she didn’t have much longer to live in 1986 (? I’m remembering ‘86, but I think it was shortly after 1987 because the 50th golden wedding anniversary was held in June of 1987. Can some family member post a correction in the comments if needed?) after her surgery and if she wanted to rest peacefully in her home country, he would sign the papers to allow her to fly home and regain the peace of her past. My father continued to speak and I couldn’t believe how composed my father was and how difficult it was to get up there to talk, especially since as a kid he was always known when he ran through town as the son of Restituta. Then my father proceeded to ask others to share their stories… I don’t exactly recall everyone who spoke. I know my Auntie Dolly did and she may have been the only other one of her children who managed enough fortitude to fight through the tears to get up there. She shared a sweet memory of how grandma walk her to school and wait outside the grounds to make sure her daughter was safe. Auntie Dolly’s husband shared words about family. But one of the best speeches to me was when Uncle Steve shared his words. Just for frame of reference, you need to know that my uncle began his speech referring to how he was the first white guy to join the family, and he happened to grow up in Mississippi. As I spoke to him, it seemed the Philippines triggered a lot of childhood memories since the climate and scenery felt so familiar to that time in his life. His story recalled the first time he called my grandma “Nay” and how she just hugged him afterwards. No one was there to see this moment and he’d been holding onto that story all these years and there was a noticeable lump in all my aunts’ and uncles’ throats. Eileen, the eldest grandchild, gathered some inner strength to standup and remark how grandma gave her the most important gift—her mom, my auntie Terry, who sadly passed away over 20 years ago. She didn’t say much, but that choked me up. My father continued to call out his siblings to say something, but no one else managed to make the trek up there. So, my father called me out. And for one of those few times in my life, I was speechless and wanted to resent my father, but I couldn’t… nor would I leave him up there looking helpless to find someone else to talk… somehow, I pushed my way up… realize nothing was blocking me… I just had to push myself… I felt like I would say something stupid and I didn’t know what would translate well to all the people there. All I can really remember is taking the microphone and placing it on the table and saying that I don’t need this thing. Words emanated forth but I’m not really sure what I said. It was something about how sad it is that it took me 7 years to come back to the Philippines when it seemed I was going biannually in the 90’s. I recalled a few words about what she’d say to me as a kid and then I spoke about how it felt to see my family all together for the first time in years.




It some weird way I was trying to talk to the family directly without being obvious, but the family struggles over recent years has torn many of us up over what in the end seems to be frivolous miscommunication. I can only hope that through that night and all the nights of the novena that we can all recompose our family and regain the family bonds that my grandmother fought to keep strong throughout her life. I don’t know if anyone will apologize to each other or if people can forgive and forget and let bygones be bygones, but if we don’t, I do feel that would be a tragic way to carry on the spirit of my grandmother. There has been enough spite and fear and misperceptions to destroy most families. I can only pray we aren’t one of those weak families, but we will make my grandmother’s passing into a positive opportunity to reclaim the love that exists for each other and continue to dream the very best for everyone. Though tensions subsided in my perception as the days melted into one another, my family is not one to confront each other and acknowledge bitterness and offer an olive branch to make amends. I hope you all read this and understand that you need to get through all this. Maybe I have been too quiet during all this… and maybe I’m just a grandchild… maybe I’m just a son wanting the best for his parents like my aunts and uncles wanted the best for my grandmother… but these are all maybes. And though love can hurt, love is what we know and need to allow the wounds of bitterness to heal… no one handled any of this well; everyone has a share of blame; everyone took things too personally instead of believing that each person was only acting out of the love we all share for our grandmother; we need to let go of the misunderstandings and all just hug each other… and I hope we do so at grandma’s 40 day memorial at the end of October.




If anyone in the family cares to know more about my specific thoughts, just ask me. I know what I’ve said is intentionally lacking specifics, but unfortunately that’s how most of this started, except in this, I’m calling on all of you to be a family again by coming to terms with each specific in which you were involved and understanding everyone’s role in this and just accepting that it is all over… the instigator is gone… we were too trusting but that’s ok because love makes us all vulnerable to pain… now we need to allow love to assuage the betrayals so best to honor the life and spirit of the woman who allowed us all to be created.


* * * * *


Around dinner time, the crowd in the yard expanded exponentially continuing through til midnight. A band ensemble set up to the left of the coffin and began playing for the next hour. I had to admit that this all just felt wrong to me. Though I know it is custom for this to happen during Philippine wakes, the fact so many people were there—many of whom may not really have known my grandmother but wanted the meals provided by our family—made the wake somewhat artificial to me. Unlike many of the other previous nights, I did spend most of this night outside talking to those people I knew from previous visits or those to whom my father introduced me earlier. In particular, I appreciated getting to talk to Alma and Beth again—everyone of my previous pilgrimages to the Philippines I spent time with them. If you’re a longtime reader of the psychoverse, you’re familiar with some of those tales or you can ask Lance what he has in his travel journal he wrote during our 2000 visit. I have a feeling some of those stories will be used to roast me at whatever event that allows him the opportunity. Is it wrong of me to not want to get married ever, for fear of what my brother and Auntie Shirley may share in their own orations? I know I won’t be able to prevent them from talking. Those two are infamous for their kind words of their loved ones. I still can’t believe the crowd was cheering “Shirley! Shirley!” at Lance’s wedding reception in Hawaii. Maybe some of you will get to see what I’m talking about in the long sought after wedding DVD viewing party. Date—to be determined still. Yeah, I know I’m basically calling Lance out now to have a house party… but I really want to watch it so I’ll know what I said… it keeps coming up when I hang around the softball teams Sunday and Wednesday nights (including earlier tonight… lanciness and intensity came up in reference to the evening).



Once the band finished their set. Another service was held by those family members who wanted to recognize their love through their own beliefs. I found this equally as important, although I did do a double-take when I read in the program that they called the services “necrological.” Not a word I’ve ever used or imagined… I wonder what I’ll write in the future armed with a new phrase for death.



After this service I went back into the house for a respite from the night heat and humidity, which honestly could have been a lot worse… I just prefer cold weather… the fog of Daly City resides in my bones. I didn’t realize another band set up. I’m sitting under the air conditioner in the house and suddenly I’m hearing Shakira’s “Wherever, Whenever” song. I poke my head outside because I can hear the audience getting riled up. Some band set up with two female lead singers, but what had everybody’s attention was the boy dressed up as a woman getting her groove on. And she was moving all over the place. But if you hangout in San Francisco, this didn’t seem strange at all, except the fact that I was in Calasiao at my grandmother’s wake. My Auntie Shirley wondering aloud if this is what her mom would have wanted. Another curious observation…



I listened for awhile, but I finally succumbed to sleep around 2am… tomorrow, I know, would take its toll on everyone…





so here's a video from I think saturday night... approximately 2:10 into the video you'll see my auntie shirley's silhouette dance as if she's in a pagan ritual...

also in the background, you should be able to hear the type of band and the screaming women who can't get enough of this up-and-coming band...

you'll also get a look of the surrounding area including the casket to help you visualize the area i'm describing...

so for all of you who wanted an encore of "Shirley!" at the wedding... here it is... sans speech and before illness laid her out for the next 3 days...

Sunday, October 07, 2007

The Philippines, Part 1 (the psychoverse emails)

Here are copies of the 3 emails I sent out about the vacation so far... they are somewhat edited, but most of it is there... the remaining funeral blog is still in progress... 3 pages and counting already

September 21, 2007

hello Everybody!

here's a quick psychoverse update newsletter

Unfortunately, I will make this short and not so typical of my long-winded self...

it's saturday here in the Philippines and what I've thinking about is missing the last Friday night game in 138, especially because I opened up my email and saw a letter from the giants saying that Barry won't be back next season...

The last four days have been up and down. I forget how quickly I can lose all sense of time and place. I left the U.S. Tuesday night and arrived at my parents' home in Calasiao on Thursday 1:30pm. so strange that Wednesday just disappears. 17 straight hours of traveling can really get to someone. The plane ride was the smoothest I ever experienced in my 4 trips here... thankfully... the air-conditioned bus from Manila to Calasiao really helped.

The toughest part was arriving to the house and seeing the memorial and coffin set up for grandma. We were all immediately drawn to the casket and there she was all full of make-up looking happy beneath a glass pane. Very surreal. The stillness and tears lasted a long while as everyone just tried to soak in the magnitude of why we were all here. I arrived with my sister and 10 other relatives. By Friday, all my grandmother's living children arrived and everyone acted the exact same way once they saw grandma.

The rosary began at 3pm. The elder women of the town came to lead it and there was something mysterious in hearing the prayers in the local dialect, Pangasinan. They sounded chant-like and further added to the surreality of the moment. By nightfall, guests came to pay respects. Oddly, at least to me, a band came and set up and played their music. One of the singers happened to be a young woman, who many of the neighborhood guys thoroughly enjoyed. But, I have to adjust to the customs.

I continued to meet people all night. Most of my family went to eat at a restaurant while I stayed behind with Auntie Shirley and played hosts. However, the exhaustion finally overcame me and in the middle of conversation with newly-met relatives, I fell asleep. Keep in mind that I really didn't sleep before coming here because I had to plan out two weeks of lessons and shop for all the things my family needed for the balikbayan boxes.

Friday morning continued to be strange. All mornings seem to be a stark contrast from what the afternoons and evenings will entail. I ended up seeing most of my family at the local spa. Cousins and aunts were getting massages (I got one this morning), while my father and I received a foot spa. The attendant's face looked surprised seeing a size 15 foot. I never imagined setting next to my dad getting a manicure and pedicure. Sheena took a picture for all of you to see.


Yet, 3pm the ritual begins again. Except for this time... my dad was there with all his brothers and sisters. I can't even think the last time we were all together. I stayed awake a little longer. I still have no appetite. I've met principals trying to recruit me to come here or at least consider being one back home. The first question everyone I just meet asks is "Why are you still single?" I feel like everyone is going to bring their single lady friends the next few nights. Scary but funny at the same time.

It's 1pm and I need lunch. I hope all of you are doing fine and I will write again probably after the funeral on Wednesday. Take care and I miss you all!

Derek

September 23, 2007

Once again I've managed to find my way to an internet cafe while my mother & sister are getting their hair done for the funeral.

I have to say that a lot has changed in the past 7 years since I've been here. The once little town I first visited in 1994 is no longer little. The traffic is worse; the shopping and spas are better. Plus, I can go online.

Matters seemed more peaceful at my uncle william's birthday dinner celebration, when the 30 of us all took over a restaurant and ate way too much food. My appetite is starting to return. My sugar level has been low for the most part.

Hey Lance, I attended Alma's two kids birthday celebration at the old Max's restaurant. her kids are cute. Elizabeth's family came to one of the novena nights but she didn't come with them. I wonder what we'll say to each other when we see each other again.

Well, I gotta go to the daily rosary. I will likely be back online after the funeral on wednesday.

I saw the 49ers score. Were they destroyed?

By the way, the rainstorms have made the weather tolerable for me, you know i can't handle heat if you've ever been in my classroom.

Take care!

Derek

September 29, 2007

well everybody! it's sunday morning where i'm at and you should all be getting ready to go out on a saturday night...

the last few days have been calming down since the funeral. most of the family has returned to plan the 40 day memorial at the end of october, while sheena and I are getting some quality time with our parents. sheena hasn't had the best trip here so far; she's getting her hair redone as i type. well, let me back-up to Monday...

Monday night was the first serene night of the novena. Every night previous, a band or two set up in the carport to entertain all the people. Monday differed because the family requested a quiet night of reflections and Christian services as opposed to the traditional customs of partying every night. Another difficulty of my family's experiences involved half of us being deathly ill. Sheena and Christine and Auntie Shirley never ventured out of their bedrooms for fear of passing out. People were going on pharmacy runs hoping there would be enough antibiotics to treat everyone. Most of the pharmacies had a couple of tablets and so people had to buy medicine at several locations. I think my father started the epidemic; the Thursday prior, he fell ill largely due to the fact he hadn't slept in getting all the funeral arrangements prepared. One by one... Mom, Sheena, Auntie Brenda, Aunti Shirley, Christine, Auntie Virgie, all of Uncle Carlos' 3 little ones (and they had it the worst). I've been fighting it and am refusing to give in, but the sickness has won its share of bouts...

A couple of peculiar things happened either Sunday or Monday evening (but I think it was Monday). My sister and mom were sleeping in the outer room with their fevers. My dad was in his bedroom sleeping... until the middle of the night when he heard my grandmother crying in his bathroom... he clearly recognized her tone and voice.... he immediately went to sleep outside... he should have at least said Hi to his mother...

Also, while people were talking around the sitting area in front of the casket, my father and ninong sedring saw a huge black butterfly (about a 5 inch wingspan). According to custom, the butterfly was my grandmother's spirit visiting... My grandfather also had an experience in the middle of the night when he felt grandma shake him several times and put her hands on his chest.