by rossanahead | Sep 29, 2011 | Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
I grew up believing that I should give as much as I can—whether it be in terms of money or kindness or time—whatever could be given, anytime, anywhere. It was only natural for us to give food to street children or old clothes to needy neighbors. Giving knew no timing. We did not need to wait until Christmas or our birthdays to find avenues and occasions to give.
There was nothing benevolent or arrogant about it, it was just something that we did. I never found it weird or out of the ordinary. What I did find bizarre, years later, was that other people did not have the same philosophy.
I was surprised at how people would jump at the opportunity to hold gift-giving parties around Christmastime at orphanages or hospitals. It was strange to see long lists of groups of people who were assigned times and dates when they could hold the said gatherings at an orphanage, making appointments for such exercises. It was also a revelation how individuals would organize groups of people to trek to the mountains to remote villages in order to donate school supplies before June.
I was happy to see all of these activities, don’t get me wrong. But it was all alien to me. Soon after I was settled in Baguio, I got acquainted with people who would call my attention to needy groups, schools, or villages. I and some friends would then mobilize help from others to bring books or old clothes and other things the community needed—even in the middle of the year.
When people admired how I could share with other groups all year round, I realized that I was at a very unique and advantageous place. I was not part of any big group that trekked to the mountains sponsored by big business to spend a day meeting people who needed and received help. I feel blessed that I can just go on a five-and-a-half hour bus ride to Sagada with boxes of books and school supplies, be welcomed into the homes of the teachers and principals there, and spend three days getting to know the children and their families who receive the donations from friends all over the world.
It is not something that every person gets to do. But we each do the most that we can with the resources we have been given. I am very thankful that I have been given the capacity to do so.
by rossanahead | Sep 22, 2011 | Education, Ruth M. Floresca, woman
By Ruth Manimtim-Floresca
I sometimes hear friends and other people verbalizing their desire to pursue further studies like enrolling in cooking classes, joining self-enhancement seminars, or taking up their Masters but having no time to do so. I have the same sentiments once in a while but make do with other things I CAN afford to do and spend time on.
For me, learning for adults like us should be a continuous process and must not always require formal schooling or enrollment in a class. Yes, it’s great if we can shell out money to pay for tuition or seminar/workshop fees but having no budget should not stop us from pursuing other things.
These past years, I’ve been able to expand my knowledge through self-study. I have long since acknowledged that I won’t always have the time to set aside these many hours or days to attend learning/training sessions somewhere, or that I will be able to shell out enough money to pay an instructor to teach me something.
For instance, when I got hooked on The Corrs’ music some years back, I had a cousin buy me Irish pennywhistles from the U.S. even though I’m not even sure if I could play one when they get here. A few months later, I was able to play Irish melodies from memory without looking at notes anymore!
While I was pregnant with my second child and had extra time on my hands, I also finally learned how to do cross-stitch projects properly and realized how enjoyable it is. For the next year or so, I was able to have more than a dozen creations framed and hanged on our walls.
The saying that goes “When there’s a will, there’s a way” is true. If I want to know how to do a task and I can’t afford to pay for acquiring the knowledge, I research and try to learn it on my own. When I started my own blog back in 2003, I had no idea how htmls work or what they are in the first place. I also don’t have the slightest clue about using new software that makes Power Point presentations or converts mov files to mpeg and wav files to mp3s.
But, with enough resolve to figure everything out plus a little help from techie friends who willingly answered my numerous questions, I slowly learned how to do stuff online by myself. I know I still have a lot to discover and apply, but I’m getting there.
As to my kids, I’m proud to say that my firstborn learned to play the guitar very well just by watching instructional videos and printing out music sheets from the Internet. He practices day and night and gets better by the minute. My youngest, on the other hand, could now play anime theme songs on the piano also by watching tutorials on YouTube. How’s that for determination and thirst for knowledge?
So, I think I can safely say we’re proof that learning doesn’t have to be expensive or that one has to wait for the perfect moment. Right now is better than any other time.
by rossanahead | Sep 20, 2011 | children, family, grandparenting, home, Jing Lejano, parenting, woman
By Jing Lejano
For several Saturdays now, I’ve found myself by my lonesome at home. Actually, I have not been so lonely for my granddaughter S has kept me good company. We’ve been playing with her doll house, eating ice cream, and watching cartoon movies.
As for my own kids, well, they’re off with their own lives. My two kids in college, E and F, have classes on Saturdays. My second son S, who’s in high school, has Citizen’s Army Training on Saturday mornings. However, he only comes home around dinner time as he usually spends the afternoons with his friends. My youngest son K also has stuff to do on Saturdays. He’s either off to a classmate’s house finishing a project or at the mall hanging out with his friends.
This is new territory for me. My kids and I usually spend Saturdays at home. Well, at least some of them or most of them, but never not all of them. We usually get up late in the morning and I’ll cook something nice for lunch. This would be followed by marathon sessions in front of the tube, watching the latest batch of movies.
My kids and I, we’re movie freaks. The boys and I, we love action and sci-fi adventures, usually those involving some journey to a galaxy far away. My daughter E loves gory horror movies, usually those involving somebody getting hacked to a million pieces. Sometimes, I can get them to watch cheesy romantic comedies, but not too often. We would watch and we would eat, and every so often, somebody would make a joke or two. Of course, we’re not always together. On some Saturdays, each of us would be occupied with our own projects, but we’d still all be home.
I suppose I am at the beginning of what’s popularly called the empty nest syndrome. You have these wonderful babies, bring them up into well-behaved children, and hopefully raise them into individuals with passion and purpose.
Raising these four kids has been one hell of an adventure filled with comedy, drama, romance, and yes, even action—the very same things that we used to enjoy on the tube every Saturday. Looking at them, I could only hope that I did right by them. I could only hope that I was able to teach them something about living and loving as they go off into their own adventures.
by rossanahead | Sep 18, 2011 | environment, family, home, woman
By Romelda C. Ascutia
Contentment infuses me as I sit in our front porch sipping hot morning tea. On the breakfast table is a small aquarium with a couple of tiny fish swimming. Against the wall hangs the birdcage housing clucking lovebirds, and by my feet lies our pet dog.
Over the past few weeks I have been channeling my inner domestic goddess, engrossed in transforming our modest house into my family’s ideal hangout.
I have long wanted to decorate the interiors, but office work prevented me. To me the house felt austere—serviceable but not welcoming. And although the situation filled me with dissatisfaction, it was tolerable because I was away at work most of the time. Now that I am a freelance editor working out of the house, I want my home to be more inspiring and embracing.
So began Project: Home Sweet Home.
I went into this activity diffidently with modest ambitions. My first step was to buy a fishbowl and two goldfish. The next day, one fish was dead, and the other soon followed. I replaced the fishbowl with a small aquarium for more space to swim, and bought smaller fish (the saleslady said they were rosy barbs) and some accessories.
My second step was to go to a mall sale and buy synthetic potted flowers (buy one-take one basis), which I placed strategically in our porch, living room, and dining/kitchen area. I wanted but couldn’t afford the imitation bamboo sticks even at their discounted price. I later encountered an ambulant vendor who was selling them for 80 percent less. After a little haggling, I bought a bundle and placed it in the corner near the TV set.
My next move was to give the lovebirds a better environment. The poor things had been languishing in the laundry area in the back of the house for years, and were regularly terrorized by the neighborhood cats. I transferred them to the front porch, perched high beyond reach of their predators.
And just a couple of days ago I purchased different houseplants and arranged them by the house entrance.
Now I feel not only a domestic goddess but also an Earth Mother. I’ve rescued our lovebirds from a life of neglect and terror. The little barbs are alive and lively—so far. (I’ll probably graduate to a bigger aquarium if they don’t make it.) As for the houseplants, I’m planning to buy nice pots for them, and I’m all excited to find out whether I have a green thumb or not.
by rossanahead | Sep 15, 2011 | career, family, grandparenting, Mari-an Santos, woman
By Mari-An Santos
My maternal grandmother is 96 years old. She has led a very full life and is actually still very strong. More importantly, she is also very lucid.
She was a teacher all her life. At 19, she started teaching at a schoolhouse in a small town in Mindanao. Her job had her traveling for long distances to get to work every day to remote locations. She eventually became a public school principal and that’s how she met my grandfather, who was a Schools Division Supervisor.
She speaks and writes in Visayan, Chavacano, Spanish, English, and Tagalog. Even now, she’s a voracious reader. Hearing her recount details of her exciting life is like watching an exciting movie.
She tells of how some of her first pupils were older than she. Being farmers’ sons, they could not yet read or write very well even as teenagers. Then, they would also need to help their parents with soil preparation, planting, and eventually, harvesting the fields.
She narrates how she had to come to Manila to pursue higher education, traveling all the way from southern Philippines to the nation’s capital. It was a time so far removed from all the present-day conveniences of rapid travel and automobiles.
She even recounts how she aimed the barrel of a shotgun at my late grandfather one night when she had had enough and gave him an ultimatum: stop his philandering ways or say goodbye. He chose the former. He still survived years beyond that and saw his daughters grow up. But he passed away due to a heart attack not long after he retired from government service.
When I was a child and my grandmother would visit us from the province, she would busy herself with either making rosaries or translating the Bible into her native Chavacano. During breaks in her “work” she would go into the kitchen and make jams or cook snacks like empanada.
Later on, she would take on a project to compile a family tree, tracing from her roots of Spanish migrants to the present generation—with cousins dotting the globe. This is her life’s work that she has, thus far, not seen come into fruition. She has asked the help of some other relatives, but to date, the task is not yet completed.
I used to notice her, poring over her big manila papers, drawing and writing to complete the project. When I approached her to “mano”, she would look up and smile long enough to say “God bless you”, before resuming her work. I wondered at her perseverance then.
She recently had a minor accident in the bathroom. Because she had a slight fracture, she is now confined to a wheelchair. She finds it difficult to feed herself and does not talk much.
Somehow, this sudden change in her attitude has also changed us who are around her. Now, I have decided to take up where she has left off to complete even just a fraction of the family tree project she loved so much. I only hope that I can competently pick up from where she left off, and at last, present her with a project fulfilled just as she had envisioned.
