Happiness in the Hub
If you are a baseball fan, you have surely heard that the Boston Red Sox finally won the World Series after an 86-year wait. And that's not for lack of trying. Some people have actually waited their whole lifetime to see this happen. And last night, at long last, their dream came true.
It's a good time to be in Boston. Everyone's in a celebratory mood although they don't quite know what to do. Red Sox Nation has been so used to 86 years of disappointment that they don't know how to handle their long-awaited triumph. There was an initial spark of revelry right after the game. It lasted until the players flew home in the morning and made an appearance in Fenway Park. After that, it seemed everyone went on 'low-battery'. People have been staying up late to watch the World Series and cheer on the team and now that they've won, there's not much energy left. I have no doubt that people are just trying to catch up on their sleep to prepare for the big celebration on Saturday.
To some, it may just be a sport. To Red Sox fans, it is the realization of a faith they held on to for decades. It is a story that inspires all fans and non-fans alike. It inspires us to never give up our dream or belief, no matter how the odds are seemingly stacked against us. It teaches us to go on, no matter how many times we fail. It just goes to show that we cannot give up, even if we've failed 86 times before. Believing in the impossible made a bunch of self-confessed "idiots" World Series Champions. So never stop believing. Indeed, believing is seeing!
Thursday, October 28, 2004
Monday, October 25, 2004
The Karate Kids
The Fearsome Threesome came fresh from Karate class the night we dropped by to visit. They were in their kimonos and proudly wearing their karate belts. We asked them to show us their moves and they gladly put on a show. Here are some action shots of the three B kids in their martial arts poses...
B-1 Kenobi and B-3 PO
Notice the Power Ranger influence.
B2-D2
Strutting her stuff (Dig the yellow belt?)
Friday, October 22, 2004
Yankees, So Who's Your 'Papi' Now?
In my four years in Boston, the one thing I can say about New Englanders is that they are the ultimate sports fans. It's quite fascinating to me how loyal they are despite circumstances. All the more fascinating since I am not a sports fan. The only sports I ever played were volleyball and badminton, and both aren't big here. But walking by any sports bar during football and baseball season is quite an experience. The euphoria that unleashes everytime the home team scores radiates into the streets and envelopes any passersby. It makes me smile seeing so many people so happy. And to me, the scene is so 'Americana'.
In my first year here, I was asked what I thought about the possibility of the Patriots going to the Superbowl. "Who?" I asked. The reaction was quite amusing. It would be the same kind of look one would receive if they said they were Republican here in Massachusetts. It didn't help that the girl I was talking to was engaged to someone who worked for the New England Patriots.
So just to see what the hoopla was all about, I watched the Superbowl and saw the Pats, then the underdogs, win. I always enjoy it when underdogs win. I think it makes victory sweeter. It was the same reaction I had when I watched the last four games of the American League Championship Series (ALCS) when the Boston Red Sox faced the NY Yankees to see who goes to the World Series.
The Red Sox had lost the first 3 games in the best of 7. Everyone was saying that the Yankees had it in the bag, especially since the Red Sox had not advanced to the World Series since 1986 and never won it since 1918. It was 3-0. When I heard that, I decided to watch Game 4. The underdog seemed to be in deep trouble, and this I certainly didn't want to miss. Not that I wanted to see them lose, but in case they decided to go against insurmountable odds, and triumph over seemingly certain defeat, I wanted to witness it. There's nothing like witnessing a moment like that as it happens. And it did! They won the next four games, in heart-stopping, nail-biting, history-making fashion. One New York newspaper's headline was "Hell Freezes Over". I think they summed that up pretty well. Haha!
The World Series starts tomorrow. The last couple of weeks, I kept saying that the curse of the Bambino will lift on its 100th anniversary. It just seems more romantic that way. But after seeing all the drama that unfolded in the last few days, I say that now is certainly a good time as any.
In my first year here, I was asked what I thought about the possibility of the Patriots going to the Superbowl. "Who?" I asked. The reaction was quite amusing. It would be the same kind of look one would receive if they said they were Republican here in Massachusetts. It didn't help that the girl I was talking to was engaged to someone who worked for the New England Patriots.
So just to see what the hoopla was all about, I watched the Superbowl and saw the Pats, then the underdogs, win. I always enjoy it when underdogs win. I think it makes victory sweeter. It was the same reaction I had when I watched the last four games of the American League Championship Series (ALCS) when the Boston Red Sox faced the NY Yankees to see who goes to the World Series.
The Red Sox had lost the first 3 games in the best of 7. Everyone was saying that the Yankees had it in the bag, especially since the Red Sox had not advanced to the World Series since 1986 and never won it since 1918. It was 3-0. When I heard that, I decided to watch Game 4. The underdog seemed to be in deep trouble, and this I certainly didn't want to miss. Not that I wanted to see them lose, but in case they decided to go against insurmountable odds, and triumph over seemingly certain defeat, I wanted to witness it. There's nothing like witnessing a moment like that as it happens. And it did! They won the next four games, in heart-stopping, nail-biting, history-making fashion. One New York newspaper's headline was "Hell Freezes Over". I think they summed that up pretty well. Haha!
The World Series starts tomorrow. The last couple of weeks, I kept saying that the curse of the Bambino will lift on its 100th anniversary. It just seems more romantic that way. But after seeing all the drama that unfolded in the last few days, I say that now is certainly a good time as any.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Home Improvement
On Saturday afternoon, Hubby decided we were going to do a virtual renovation. All these months, I've borrowed one of Blogger's templates. I wanted to design my own but the last time I attempted html was seven years ago, doing my very first webpage. Knowing how involved it was for a non-expert, I decided to just work with Blogger's freebies in the meantime. M's decision to give my blog a new home was very welcome. He is very comfortable with html and uses it with ease.
M and I put our heads together, brainstorming and designing. He put me to work with Adobe Photoshop creating what we needed, and he worked on the html coding constructing, in virtuality, the blog site's 'floor plan and blueprint.'
So welcome to my blog's new home. I hope you like the new look as much as we do. :) It's still a work-in-progress. It's not perfect and still might undergo some changes. Please make yourself at home. Someone's got to be in the housewarming. :)
M and I put our heads together, brainstorming and designing. He put me to work with Adobe Photoshop creating what we needed, and he worked on the html coding constructing, in virtuality, the blog site's 'floor plan and blueprint.'
So welcome to my blog's new home. I hope you like the new look as much as we do. :) It's still a work-in-progress. It's not perfect and still might undergo some changes. Please make yourself at home. Someone's got to be in the housewarming. :)
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Piano Prodigy In The Making
She just turned four last April, yet so early in her life she exhibits such talent. M's adorable little niece has displayed this aptitude to learn just about anything. But above everything else, there seems to be emerging, a remarkable musical ability. It started out at around age two, with her inventing songs about her grandmother, aunt, parents, and her brothers. The songs always expressed either her love for them or a story about them. It never was just the two-note or two-chord songs. It would always have a wide range of notes, complete with pianissimos to crescendos.
About a year ago, her seven-year old brother started piano lessons. Ever since then, we would find her from time to time, sitting in front of the piano trying out the keys. Lately, she has taken to playing with both hands at the same time. It is definitely not the thoughtless pounding that most kids do when their hands are on a piano. Hers is a sweet thoughtful melody with both hands playing, creating music that complement each other.
Last weekend, she had made a song that she had entitled, "Missing Building". :) She had a whole prologue explaining the story behind the title which I hadn't heard because I was preoccupied with something else. We asked her to perform it, so she sits herself in front of the piano and starts playing. We were surprised at what was flowing out of the fingers of a musically untrained four-year-old. It had a sad and melancholic feel to it. She ends it quite dramatically on the lowest note and lets her finger stay there until the sound faded. She then turns to us with a smile, and basks in our praise and applause. M, wanting to record the song, asks her to repeat the last part. She gamely turns around, repeats the ending down to the last note and finishes with flourish. We were stunned as it confirmed to us that it was not some random hitting of the piano keys, but an actual thought-out composition.
At the moment, she is enrolled in jazz, tap and karate. She is also supposed to start guitar lessons with the guitar that M & I bought her. However, I believe that my sister-in-law has a piano prodigy in the making. She knows she needs to hone that raw talent and bring her before a piano teacher soon!
About a year ago, her seven-year old brother started piano lessons. Ever since then, we would find her from time to time, sitting in front of the piano trying out the keys. Lately, she has taken to playing with both hands at the same time. It is definitely not the thoughtless pounding that most kids do when their hands are on a piano. Hers is a sweet thoughtful melody with both hands playing, creating music that complement each other.
Last weekend, she had made a song that she had entitled, "Missing Building". :) She had a whole prologue explaining the story behind the title which I hadn't heard because I was preoccupied with something else. We asked her to perform it, so she sits herself in front of the piano and starts playing. We were surprised at what was flowing out of the fingers of a musically untrained four-year-old. It had a sad and melancholic feel to it. She ends it quite dramatically on the lowest note and lets her finger stay there until the sound faded. She then turns to us with a smile, and basks in our praise and applause. M, wanting to record the song, asks her to repeat the last part. She gamely turns around, repeats the ending down to the last note and finishes with flourish. We were stunned as it confirmed to us that it was not some random hitting of the piano keys, but an actual thought-out composition.
At the moment, she is enrolled in jazz, tap and karate. She is also supposed to start guitar lessons with the guitar that M & I bought her. However, I believe that my sister-in-law has a piano prodigy in the making. She knows she needs to hone that raw talent and bring her before a piano teacher soon!
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Mang Duliong
I was walking home today and I passed a construction site. The smell of sawdust brought back a fond memory. A memory of a man who used to come and work for us every summer during my childhood. His name was Duliong. Everyone called him 'Mang Duliong'. Back home, 'Mang' is a title of respect used with the first name of a man.
Mang Duliong was a carpenter, but I came to think of him as our carpenter. He would periodically come to our house, mostly during the summer, looking for work. He was old, thin, toothless and bent but he always had a ready smile. He wore a shirt that looked like it needed washing and a pair of pants that had seen better days, with a rope as a belt. His worn feet were adorned by equally worn slippers. My mom would always welcome him and find things for him to fix or make when he came to visit. He would stay for several days to a couple of months, depending on how long the work took. As kids, we were used to having guests and unexpected visitors, but Mang Duliong we always welcomed with delight. We loved to watch him repair and make things. During our breaks from playing, we hung around the garage and prodded him with questions endlessly. He was not very talkative but tried to gently field every one of them.
He made my first bed. It was white, with a high headboard, footboard and fancy railings on half of each side. He built our fence and our gates. He even rebuilt our garage. When I got tired of my 'little girl' bed, he made me and my brother matching headboards that had neat compartments and drawers. Yes, he was old but years of hard labor had kept him strong. At nights, he would relax by buying himself 'Shoktong'. I never saw anyone else drink that but apparently it was Chinese wine. He would sing, "Happy, happy all the time, drinking Chinese wine..." And we would always laugh and sing along with him. He had become a sort of a fixture during our summers. Mom would offer him used clothes that were in great condition. My Mom fondly chuckled when he refused a pair of flare pants because it was demodé! The 'in' thing then were the tapered legs cut. The man was fashion conscious! When his work was done, he would pack up. We were always sorry to see him leave. But he would always pick up his tools and move on, like a nomad, until the following year brought him back to us again.
Only years after did I find out that during his younger days, Mang Duliong used to work for my grandfather in his sugar plantation in Bacolod. He and his wife, Pining, were workers who lived in the farm so he practically saw my Mom grow up. Because of his carpentry skills, he and his family were transferred to Manila when my grandfather bought a property for my Mom after she got married. His daughter, Teresita, even became the nanny of one of my brothers. From then on, even when he was no longer under my grandfather's employ, he managed to find my Mom wherever she lived, and would show up at her doorsteps looking for seasonal work. That's how the whole routine stayed for years, so he saw me and my brothers grow up too. He seemed to consider us his family.
One year, he failed to come. And the next, and after that. We could not ask after him as we did not have a telephone number. Where he lived, there were no phones. I doubt they had proper addresses either where he came from, probably just unpaved roads and landmarks like trees and hills to refer to the direction of a person's dwelling. We longed to know how he was and what his circumstances were. We made up reasons for his absence, but deep inside we knew the inevitable had happened. He was, after all, a very old man.
I still think of him through the years. I wonder about him, how he spent his last days and how he died. I regret not getting to know him more. I regret not asking him about my Mom's childhood and adolescence. I regret not asking more about his family. I regret not knowing where he lived so we could have gone looking for him when he did not show up. I regret not being able to thank him for everything that he did for us and for being that strong and quiet presence in our lives, even as he caused a ruckus with his hammer and saw. I never had a photo, but I will never forget his face. I haven't heard his voice in decades, but I will never forget him singing that happy song. Salamat, Mang Duliong! Thank you for enriching my life!
Mang Duliong was a carpenter, but I came to think of him as our carpenter. He would periodically come to our house, mostly during the summer, looking for work. He was old, thin, toothless and bent but he always had a ready smile. He wore a shirt that looked like it needed washing and a pair of pants that had seen better days, with a rope as a belt. His worn feet were adorned by equally worn slippers. My mom would always welcome him and find things for him to fix or make when he came to visit. He would stay for several days to a couple of months, depending on how long the work took. As kids, we were used to having guests and unexpected visitors, but Mang Duliong we always welcomed with delight. We loved to watch him repair and make things. During our breaks from playing, we hung around the garage and prodded him with questions endlessly. He was not very talkative but tried to gently field every one of them.
He made my first bed. It was white, with a high headboard, footboard and fancy railings on half of each side. He built our fence and our gates. He even rebuilt our garage. When I got tired of my 'little girl' bed, he made me and my brother matching headboards that had neat compartments and drawers. Yes, he was old but years of hard labor had kept him strong. At nights, he would relax by buying himself 'Shoktong'. I never saw anyone else drink that but apparently it was Chinese wine. He would sing, "Happy, happy all the time, drinking Chinese wine..." And we would always laugh and sing along with him. He had become a sort of a fixture during our summers. Mom would offer him used clothes that were in great condition. My Mom fondly chuckled when he refused a pair of flare pants because it was demodé! The 'in' thing then were the tapered legs cut. The man was fashion conscious! When his work was done, he would pack up. We were always sorry to see him leave. But he would always pick up his tools and move on, like a nomad, until the following year brought him back to us again.
Only years after did I find out that during his younger days, Mang Duliong used to work for my grandfather in his sugar plantation in Bacolod. He and his wife, Pining, were workers who lived in the farm so he practically saw my Mom grow up. Because of his carpentry skills, he and his family were transferred to Manila when my grandfather bought a property for my Mom after she got married. His daughter, Teresita, even became the nanny of one of my brothers. From then on, even when he was no longer under my grandfather's employ, he managed to find my Mom wherever she lived, and would show up at her doorsteps looking for seasonal work. That's how the whole routine stayed for years, so he saw me and my brothers grow up too. He seemed to consider us his family.
One year, he failed to come. And the next, and after that. We could not ask after him as we did not have a telephone number. Where he lived, there were no phones. I doubt they had proper addresses either where he came from, probably just unpaved roads and landmarks like trees and hills to refer to the direction of a person's dwelling. We longed to know how he was and what his circumstances were. We made up reasons for his absence, but deep inside we knew the inevitable had happened. He was, after all, a very old man.
I still think of him through the years. I wonder about him, how he spent his last days and how he died. I regret not getting to know him more. I regret not asking him about my Mom's childhood and adolescence. I regret not asking more about his family. I regret not knowing where he lived so we could have gone looking for him when he did not show up. I regret not being able to thank him for everything that he did for us and for being that strong and quiet presence in our lives, even as he caused a ruckus with his hammer and saw. I never had a photo, but I will never forget his face. I haven't heard his voice in decades, but I will never forget him singing that happy song. Salamat, Mang Duliong! Thank you for enriching my life!
Sunday, October 03, 2004
PINOYexpats.org
Finally, it has launched!
PINOYexpats is an e-zine for Filipino migrants in Europe and I had the privilege of being invited to contribute. Check it out! It's full of articles and anecdotes. My article is entitled "My Yurrupean Trek" and appears on the 'Stop-over' column.
Congratulations, Melissa! The birthday of your brainchild finally arrived!
PINOYexpats is an e-zine for Filipino migrants in Europe and I had the privilege of being invited to contribute. Check it out! It's full of articles and anecdotes. My article is entitled "My Yurrupean Trek" and appears on the 'Stop-over' column.
Congratulations, Melissa! The birthday of your brainchild finally arrived!
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