A walk back to 1973 and I was 16 years old again

Back in 1973, I was exiled (or should I say banished, if that is a better term) by my father to far away San Miguel, Bulacan in a parish school called St. Paul's College. It was just a year after Marcos had declared Martial Law. How I wish the reason for my exile was because I was hiding from the military because of my political views. However, it was not that romantic. I was far from being political at the time. I was just 16 years old going 17 and I think I was too young to join either the Samahang Demokratiko ng Kabataan or SDK or the more renegade Kabataang Makabayan (KM). Let us just say that I have not been a good boy. It was the 70's and we, meaning my friends and I, were experimenting with a lot of things and discovering the world on our own.

Last Wednesday, I was one of the school's representatives to go on an ocular visit of San Miguel for the school's prospective alternative learning (ALE otherwise known as a field trip) to the Madlum Caves, Biak-na-Bato and nearby Balingcupang, a series of caves which was used by Aguinaldo and his katipuneros as hideouts during the war. As fate would have it, I successfully convinced my companions to make a detour to go visit what was my hometown for a year. When we reached the place, I could not believe it but the place barely changed. Of course, the old St. Paul school was no longer there as it has moved to a bigger lot along the highway, which was really the plan even while I was there back in 73. And yet, the municipal hall, the old house built in 1931 which was bought by the Paulinian nuns to be the rooms for some of its college classes, the restaurant-cum-dormitory where I stayed during the second half of my schooling there are still recognizable. Suddenly, I remember the prominent surnames like Buencamino, Pengson, Libunao, Tecson, Reyes, Sevilla, my favorite teachers, Mr. Rolando Waminal (English) and Mr. Perez, (Chemistry), with whom I shared several bottles of beer until about 9 or 10 pm practically everyday in the restaurant where I stayed. I also remembered my classmate that I had a teen-aged crush on, a pretty lass from nearby San Ildefonso. It was just like yesterday and I was 16 years old again.



The picture above was the immediate vicinity of the then St. Paul's College which we used as our playing area. I remember hanging out on an old grotto together with my classmates during recess and lunchtime.

The picture below shows the facade of the building. When asked what it was now, I was told that they were transforming it into a memorial chapel.



I remember being in the honor's class, (there were only two) Junior Jade, and our classroom was the first room immediately after the gate. When inside the classroom, I would peek out the window to check out who was outside and when outside, I could peek in and see if classes have already started.







I was with two of my cousins, Ferdie and Ramon, who came to study here. They were former seminarians who got out and found refuge in San Miguel. Ferdie, the older one, was my age but he was already a Senior. I would have been a Senior, too but unfortunately, I had to repeat the year. I was a bad student, remember? The younger one, Ramon, was my classmate. Ferdie commuted everyday from Baliwag to San Miguel while Ramon and I opted to live in a dorm inside an old house which turned out, after googling it,used to be owned by the Santiago's. I had lots and lots of stories to tell about this house which, from day 1, the natives told us, was haunted. I remember people staring at us after knowing that we lived there.

Ramon and I had two more guys living in the house. I could not remember their names but the older one was a very intelligent guy who just arrived from the Visayas and the other, a Freshman which, for some unknown reason, my mind tells me his name is Alex Montinola. So until someone reminds me who the guy is, he will be Alex to me.

The house was huge with its flooring made of thick slabs of narra wood that no matter how hard you jumped, it would not tremble. The rooms were transformed into classrooms by day until around 7 pm. After classes and when every student had gone home, it became eerie, especially when all lights are turned off. It would be pitch black that one would think he had his eyes closed for he could not even see his palm even if it was right in front of his face. There was an adjacent building where two caretakers lived. We would cross the rooms and join them for a drink of our favorite brew, a long neck and a pulutan of ginataang rimas.







The layout of the house, as I recall it, was that there was a big staircase which leads to the comfort room to the right. Turn left and there would be a dining room but we rarely ate there for none of us cooked. Press on farther and the next would be our sleeping room. There were four beds (cots, I think). If you notice, there are balusters next to a tree. What we did was cut two of these balusters, put them back, and come night time, crawl out using the balusters and hang on and get down to the adjoining tree, go out of the gate and travel all the way to Baliwag to watch a movie.





AFter a month, my cousin left the dorm leaving the three of us. Soon after, my other classmate dropped-out because of his raging hormones told him he wanted to marry a girl from college in the same school but the relationship was thwarted by the girl's family. A few days thereafter, Alex moved to the restaurant where we ate. I was all alone. Sometimes, I would ask some classmates to stay and sleep with me but most often, I was alone. What I would do was cover underneath my blanket and think, if there would be a ghost or whatever, he/she can take me anywhere he/she wants but I am not taking off my blanket!







St. Paul and San Miguel will always be in my mind until memory fails me. It was a milestone not only because this was where I learned how to be on my own and live independently but most of all, I should say that during this time of my life when I was slumped to the ground, this was where I stood up! It was smooth sailing from then on. San Miguel, Bulacan, you will always be in my heart.

Listening to the counsel of the years

One of the perks of being old is the more you get older, the wiser you get. In the eyes of some other people, that is. Well, as I have said in my previous posts, my co-workers are getting younger and younger. Some of them were even my students in high school. Now, we are equals but they still accord me some respect.

As young ones tend to be engaged in matters of the heart, sometimes, I get to be asked questions pertaining to this worthy endeavor. Some are cutesy stories, some are down to earth. I begin to be an expert of some sort although, of course, I am not really as qualified for I do not have that much experience. I have had three girlfriends before I got married and two of those only lasted for a month. My first relationship was when I was thrown by my parents to San Miguel, Bulacan. I was a drop out then and had to repeat my third year of high school. (I was a good student but only when I do study my lessons and I hardly did that). It was during the 70s and it was really hard to be a teen ager in those days. Let us just say it was the age of rebellion and leave it at that. My second was in college. No courting, just got her to go with me to the movie theater and one thing led to another and we were steady after that. I did not expect that relationship to last and it didn't. The third one was the hardest. It hit me hard when she broke off with me. She was very beautiful and very intelligent (of course she was. She broke off with me). Back then, I was never a serious guy. Just drinking and partying all day long.

However, I am not shy with women. As a matter of fact, I am more comfortable with women than with men. I can laugh and be myself even with complete strangers. I have always been around them since my early childhood. Most of my playmates were girls. I still have that trait even to this day. Most of my closest friends are women teachers. I trust them and they, me. Of course, I get the rocks when I kind of shock them a bit. If you know me, you know what I am talking about.

So, it did not come as a surprise when yesterday, a co-teacher of mine confessed that she is having a hard time with her boyfriend. I will not go into the details but narrate the jist of our discussion. After giving a disclaimer that my assessment is purely based on what she has told me and that it could be wrong for I do not know the other person in the story, in summary, this was what I told her:

1. She loves her boyfriend more than he does her. I know the romantics would say that love knows no boundaries. You give yourself completely without any qualms or expecting anything in return. However, that is only true when the other person loves you just as much. We only live on this earth once. Why suffer? Unrequited love is the most painful of all. It takes two to tango. Love is something one does with a partner. Narcissism is the most pitiful state one can be in.

2. When you love something, you let him/her go i have been a staunch believer of this since I have read it someplace I do not recall. You know how it goes. If it comes back, it is truly yours. Well, until this morning while doing the puzzle in Star. You know that cryptic message you decode by substituting the letters to their assigned numbers? I had to stay at the shop for more than 8 hours today because of a car tune-up that has gone sour because I have asked the mechanic what was causing that squeaking noise underneath. It turned out to be a huge job that cost me more than 26K and a 12 hour stay there. What was I to do? I have read the paper from cover to cover, finished the crossword and the unscrambled letters. Surprisingly, the message was the same but with a twist. Some anonymous person wrote, "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back, it does not mean a thing for it just may leave again." How pathetic can that writer be? Anyway, I still say, if you love someone but your love is not reciprocated, better let it go and stop the suffering. It only hurts for sometime but in the end, you learn to heal the wound in your heart. Move on!

3. Nobody deserves a beating in the name of love Unless you are a masochist, there is no point in having your heart trampled upon by anybody. We all deserve to love and be loved. The key is finding the right person for you. As de Quiros would say, "there's the rub". How does one know? You don't. You just keep on praying you'll find that someone. It can be a hit or miss but by jove, you have to find him/her before you get committed. Marriage is lifetime commitment so you better make good judgments in matters of the heart. When I learn of newly formed couples, I always ask, "Have you guys fought already?" The reason being it is no problem when everything's alright. However, things can get ugly sometimes and surely, you will fight. You will have to learn how to do that. You have to know what the other person is capable of doing. How does the other person argue his/her point, does he use gestures or does he/she become very violent?

4. When couples fight and it gets nasty, never involve your relatives This is especially true when married. You wouldn't want to involve, say, your father with your marital problems. You entered into that situation as an adult, deal with it. The problem lies when the relatives become so pissed that they gang up with your spouse. Worst case scenario is it can lead to death. You can just imagine a father wielding a bolo at his daughter's husband because the latter beat her up. Maybe this is because I just watched the Godfather I again the other night. I can still see how mad Santino was upon learning that her brother-in-law beat his sister. Anyway, I think it is more prudent to either go to your friends or better yet, your in-laws first. Should there be no other alternative but to separate, work it out with them first. That is just my opinion, of course.

5. No matter how painful love can be, do not be afraid to love As corny as it may seem, the saying "it is better to have loved and lost than never having to have loved at all" still holds true. Being in love is the sweetest thing that ever happened to me. It will to anyone and we all deserve to be happy.

The essence oif youth.

On Saturday, the school will graduate its Grade 7 and Senior students. Once again, familiar faces I have seen practically everyday will no longer be there. Well, at least for the Senior high school students. We have had some good and rough times, these seniors. I just returned to teaching after a two year stint as a Level Coordinator (a prefect of discipline if you will) and they were freshmen. You know, the awkward stage where they had just jumped out of being a child. They were very young they merely knocking on the doors of their teen years.

I remember the day when I was a high school student. I loved it too much that I took it for five years! Let's not get into the details, though. I think I have said enough. Suffice it to say that the 70's was such an interesting time to be a teen-ager that it was a bit too hard to get out of it. We have just seen the openness and the carefree ways of the hippies, their slogan of "make love, not war", their logo and sign of peace, their music, Woodstock, long hair, jeans, etc. Somehow, their rebellious nature robbed on us Filipinos bringing us into another phase of our history, the much talked about First quarter storm.

But it was not all patriotism. While it is true that there might have been hundreds of students that paid with their lives in the streets of Mendiola fighting against the tyrant, there were those who were just simply joining the bandwagon thinking it was hip (Well, they wouldn't be called hippies for nothing, haha). As a matter of fact, it was just all fad in some sort of way. The original hippies did not take a bath, were true to their motto. We were not like that at all. I shared with my sister's shampoo for one thing. And our Catholic upbringing still prevailed when it came to sex although there were a few who were liberated already at that time.

Nevertheless, I believe that era started the gap between the generations to escalate to high proportions. Children could no longer understand their parents and parents had lost their patience over their children. The men had stopped wearing pomade (you know, that sticky, thick goo you rub on your hair to make it stiff and stay in place the way you want it to) and had their hair longer and longer much to the dismay of their fathers. Fashion began to deteriorate as the "burgis", the elitists, were frowned upon. Of course, the thing that gave our parents nightmares is the fact that it was in this era when the young was introduced to the use of drugs. I remember the time when parents vehemently prohibited accepting anything from strangers, especially candies, for they might be laced with drugs (oftentimes opium) to make an addict out of you and make you their slave. I begin to wonder if these stories were true or they were just rumors spread to stop drug abuse. Anyway, when Martial Law was declared, we all rushed to the barbershop and mended our ways. Well, sort of.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings. The one thing I like about teaching is that it is not your everyday routine job. You deal with different personalities and each one brings something new to you. You get excited every opening of classes as you do not know what is in store for you and you give off a sigh of relief every summer as you put to a close another chapter of the book of life, only to open another one the next schoolyear. You teach but at the same time, learn from your students as well. You make several mistakes along the way but you learn from them. Your students' youth brings you more vitality than you will ever know. I cannot imagine myself being tied to a desk pushing papers or doing accounting work. I have to meet people, talk to them, argue, comment and ask questions. I have to play with them, jam and sing along with them. I know it is my time to pack my things when I can no longer keep up. But right now, I am still at the top of my game.

On getting old

Getting old never dawned on me until about a year ago. I thought I was still a teenager even if I already have four teen-agers of my own. My body just refuse to believe that the pain on my waist at night, the number of pills I have to take for diabetes, white hair on my balding head, or even the lines on my forehead tell me that I am old. Why should I? I still have friends much younger than I am and I can still do what they can do. I can still relate to their stories and they can with mine. I can still stay with them until the wee hours of the morning, exchanging useless banter over beer or any other beverage there was. Yes, they don't call me by my first name like they do with their peers but that was okay. They call me tito and I didn't mind. I liked the monicker anyway having nieces and nephews who are fond of me anyway. Besides, a lot of people call me that way when I started this blog. Never did it dawn on me that I was old.

But time does not stop for anyone. No matter how slow the hour hand crawls on the clock, it reaches the time for us to go home from work. This is just like our lives but on a grander scale. I realized I do not live in a warp zone where I can stop aging while everybody continue to do so and play catch up. I cannot be happy man without having a true friend. There has to be someone I can talk to without any qualms, share my thoughts, tell naughty stories to and basically, hang out with. In my line of work, especially with the economy on the downtrend, teachers, like nurses, are lured by green bucks. The turn over of workers have been steadily getting higher and higher. As it did with my friends. Some of them have migrated abroad, some had married and resigned. Eventually, all my friends have moved on and I was left behind.

My co-workers keep on getting younger and younger. The gap has never been this far apart. I could not believe that some of them were just born when I started working. To make matters worse, I was again asked to handle an administrative position. That was the icing on the cake. Now, everybody calls me Sir. Friends are hard to come by when there is this huge gap between you and the next person. While the difference in age is already a huge boulder to climb, the position added a wall. Suddenly, the songs I use to sing are ancient. The jokes I used to tell no longer get the same response. Well, there are times when I couldn't get their humor either. The invitations to a lunch out, or hang out at the mall has been practically nil. I am now at the threshold of calling it quits with the institution that nurtured me, simply because I have to accept the fact that I will soon become irrelevant. The tell tale signs are there.

But then, why should I feel this way? I feel this is a very defeatist attitude on my part. MAybe it is because I had been resisting the movement of my clock. Why don't I just let it move and go with its flow and see where it takes me? Maybe if I did that, I would learn to accept that things have changed and I have to adjust just one more time. Maybe, just maybe, I will learn to age with grace. If I learn to do that, then maybe retirement will not be the end but the start of a new era in my life. When that happens, let's see who has gone old!

Malapot na Tubig

I read a very chilling news story this morning about a young 32 year old mother who forced her children, aged 4, 3 and 2, to drink a bottle of liquid toilet bowl cleaner and having herself drink the same out of desperation due to extreme poverty, midnight of Monday in Magdalena, Laguna. This made me shiver in fright because I know that there are people in dire straits everywhere in the country and that this story can be repeated over and over again. A person with an empty stomach cannot think logically. The pangs of hunger coupled with sleepless nights is a deadly combination which can lead to depression with catastrophic effects.

What is frightening is that in a land where there are people who live in extreme poverty like ours, crime and other related activities can and will take place. The young mother, depressed and hungry could have opted to steal, join a bunch of thugs and sow terror, or resort to drug peddling like the others who have broken the law just to gain leverage in life. However, she did not choose to. Instead, she decided to end it all, depriving her kids of a life, which she was certain would have been lived in misery anyway. Whose heart would not bleed for a parent, who out of desperation, will decide to kill the little angels whom she has carried for nine months, fed, bathed and cared for lovingly in her arms? Who would not be sympathetic to a life full of misery that one would force her children to death and commit suicide herself?

In another story a justice of the appellate court has been dismissed by the Supreme Court due to grave misconduct while some of his peers were either suspended or reprimanded as a result of the battle for management control of Meralco by the Lopezes and the GSIS. Allegedly, there is a Php10M - Php50M bribe being discussed. This is nothing compared to the ZTE broadband deal which seems to have died a natural death. And to think how magnanimous in proportion the powers that be are quarelling over in that event in our history. Then I get to thinking, yes, there are people who have been numb to the sorry plight of our countrymen. They have been numbed by greed and power. We must remember that a great deal of our misfortune is brought about by corruption, an ill which our leaders seem to have perfected. A malaise which they have been afflicted with making them lose their conscience much so for the lone witness of the ZTE deal Lozada advise them to "moderate the greed."

We must face it. We are living in a country where majority of the populace is clinging to a knife for dear life. A hungry man will not care whether he goes to hell or not. How much beating can they take? There will come a time when these rich, powerful, unconscionable, sordid men and women will not have a fence too high to protect them, there will not be enough bullets for their guns to kill the multitude of people wanting to merely get a whiff of the comforts they cherish, there will not be enough cordon sanitaire to fend off thieves wanting some cash from their deep pockets and not enough armor to shield them from a hungry mob. Edwin Markham says it best in his Man with the Hoe when in the last stanza he says:

O masters, lords and rulers in all lands,
How will the future reckon with this Man?
How answer his brute question in that hour
When whirlwinds of rebellion shake all shores?
How will it be with kingdoms and with kings--
With those who shaped him to the thing he is--
When this dumb Terror shall rise to judge the world,
After the silence of the centuries?

Sometime in 2005, I wrote a tagalog poem entitled Malapot na Tubig which appeared in the first chapbook produced by Pinoy Poets and in an American ezine produced by Filipino expats called Our Own Voice. Never did I know that I would be reading the same story in real life. I am republishing it here and it goes like this:

Malapot Na Tubig
Ni Rolly delos Santos

Ipikit mo ang iyong mga mata anak.
Humimlay ka sa matigas na sahig.
Pawiin mo ang mga bantulot,
Pabayaan mong liparin
mga agam-agam sa himpapawid.
Kukumutan kita ng telang manipis,
mabigyan man lamang ng konting lunas
pangangatal ng iyong mga ngipin.
Sasabayan ko ng yakap na mahigpit
nang ika'y makatulog nang ubod himbing.
Sana'y iyong patawarin
Amang hungkag at nagdarahop
Pinalaki ang iyong hubad na isipang
Walang natutunan dahil sa karalitaan.
Ininom nating malapot na tubig
tanging lunas upang mapatid ang gutom natin.
Bukas, kung sakali mang ito'y dumating
Sa langit na ang ating gising

© Rolly delos Santos

My married life

Let's talk about marriage. My wife and I have been married twenty-one years now. Well, almost. We will be celebrating the 21st come April 20, which happens to be her nth birthday, too. In twenty years time, we've managed to raise four kids (of course, you know this by now), purchased a small house and lot (still paying for the amortization), an old but dependable Lite-ace, an antiquated computer which takes several hours to get connected to the internet and so on and so forth. Let's just say that we fancy antiques, okay?

What makes for a lasting relationship with your spouse? Try open communication, honesty and compromise. The success of married life depends on these three basic things.

The lines of communication should always be open. Each spouse must be able to say freely what he/she wants to say regardless of what the other might think. There should be no reservations. This is the test that you are comfortable with each other.

Honesty is self-explanatory. How can your spouse trust you if you have too many secrets? I don't. I tell my wife everything. Even those that are incriminating. "We went to this bar where there were dancers in the buff" (This was in Toronto with her cousins, hehe) well, something like that. Get the picture? Not once has my wife become jealous. (Sabi nga ng mga kaibigan ko sa misis ko, "yan ba namang mukhang yan ng asawa mo, pagseselosan mo pa?)

I say compromise because there have been a number of times that you cannot see eye to eye. You discuss everything before coming to a final decision. From what kind of nail to use to the latest re-modeling of the house you plan to undertake. This is especially true when it comes to child-rearing. Each one of you would have your own ideas, based on your experiences, on how to deal with your kids. Naturally, you would only want the best for your children, right? So, given the same motivations, it is in the implementation and the details that becomes a problem most of the time. In the end, what makes keeping a relationship hard are the minutiae. When noone wants to back-down on a decision.

As a teacher, my idea is always to teach my children a lesson, no matter how hard it may be for them. I will not waiver on my decision once I have given it. However, there are times when the wifey would succumb and plead for the children. Now comes a long, arduous battle of wits, argumentation and debate. Sometimes, it becomes a matter of who talks faster and louder... but we don't usually come to this. I usually go out of the house, cool myself down, gather more arguments but also looking at her perspective. YOu see, a good debater must know how to argue not only for his side, but also for the opponent's side. This way, you would know the strenghts and weaknesses of the other's arguments. I tell you, arguing before a judge is a piece of cake compared to arguing with your spouse. First of all, you don't have an objective arbiter. Who do you suppose can mediate between the two of you? Nobody. You have to come up with a compromise. And you know what? Nobody wins in a compromise. You both lose. In fairness to me and my wife, when I return home, we would have both cooled down, forget about it for a while, and come to grips later on and make a final decision. This ploy has made me stay in this relationship, I think this is how it's going to be till the end.

Lastly, it doesn't hurt to say "I love you" once in a while. Just when you feel like saying it, say it. But most of all, MEAN IT!