JASMS

This is my Grade II Class picture at JASMS. I can still remember all the names of my classmates.

In the first row, left to right are Glenn, Kim, Charlie Victor, Carlo, Mark, Reggie and Michael. In the second row are Jonathan, Monica, Djhoanna, Francine, Army, Trisha, Tessa, and Jill, and in the last row... Pj, Ronald, Binky, Anna, Rachel, Me, Tina, Christina, Tintin, Malyn, Dicky, and Richard.

We were kept as a block until seventh grade where they finally separated everyone into different classes. From grade one to six, no one had first day jitters since they knew who to hang out with and who would be there. The only strangers were the teachers that handled our classes from year to year.

JASMS was fun. There was no homework, no quizzes and there was only one teacher to teach everyone everything. They manipulated our schedules as they wanted. One minute we would be talking about Math, and somehow, we would segway into what she was doing at the exact time when Marshal Law was announced.

We had two types of uniforms. The day to day ones in pastel with pockets in the front, and the gala ones which were white and had embroidered maroon ties with PWU on it. We didn't wear them though. I came to school in jeans and a tee shirt everyday. No one made a fuss. You knew who the new students were since they were the only ones to wear the uniforms. That is, only for the first two weeks. Then they catch on to the system and then everyone would come in casual clothes.

The only requirement in JASMS was that we read three books a month. One fairy tale, one mystery, and one of general fiction. We were to write reaction papers on each book and we were to create a poem and a song monthly.

They weren't strict about it either. One year, I postponed everything until the end of the school year and suddenly, Mom had to ...ahem "help" me with them.

They really can't blame me. I asked Dad and Mom to recommend a mystery novel once, I was nine maybe, and while everyone in my class read Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys mystery novels, they recommended Agatha Christie's Ten Little Indians.

That was one hell of a scary book!!!!

Years later, I eventually became an Agatha Christie Fan but it was a long, long, long while before I picked up another book.

And so, Mom had to "help" me. :)

I liked JASMS though, it wasn't conventional, but it seems to have worked well for me. I think Mama teaching every afternoon us helped a lot too. it was weird. We go to school to play, and go home to get educated.

The picture above shows my classmates and I, standing in front of JASMS's man-made "mountain" I used to love going there and hanging around. It had numerous boulders to sit on, and lots of swampy ponds where there were more tadpoles than fish swimming about. There were a lot of trees and despite the fact that there were a lot of students, There seemed to be a lot of isolated spots available to sit and hang out with friends. Now that I think of it, it was very Anne of Green Gable-y.

I remember that one day, JASMS decided to start using chits for the canteen instead of money. We had to line up at a door beside the canteen to exchange money into these little paper bits and use that to buy our snacks.

I guess the students didn't understand the concept. I remember standing in line with a lot of students, finally changing my seven pesos into chits, then buying myself an orange juice. As I walked out of the cafeteria towards the "mountains" I saw chits thrown out all over the place, very much like multicolored confetti. I guessed that the student's didn't realize that the bits of paper represented money and threw them on the floor as soon as they got what they wanted.

I figure the parent's complained about the sudden disappearance of their children's allowance. A few days later, the chit system was gone and we were all back to using plain ol' money.

I on the other hand, had made out like a bandit. I had picked up the chits from the floor and proceeded to buy myself junk after junk after junk. I didn't even feel bad about it.

After all, in this particular instance, it literally was "one man's trash is another man's treasure."

I left there after completing the sixth grade. I still keep in touch with a few of my classmates. Very rarely, but I do. They were good friends.

Still are.

Catfights

Jo Ann and I used to fight all the time. We're only a year apart and strange power struggles, or just plain old pettiness happen between siblings in those cases.

Jo Ann remembers that at three and four, we would fight so viciously, hair pulling, scratching, screaming and stuff, that one Christmas, in fear of not being listed in "Santa's Good Children List", she decided to postpone all out fights and instead of attacking each other, we should just jump up and down the beds to release our frustration.

...I'm sure Mom and Dad loved that.

I don't remember that discussion, but I do remember the jumping on the bed thing. I think we were under Santa's probation list there. I'm sure he took into consideration that jumping on the bed was a "good" thing especially when compared to tearing each other to pieces.

As we grew older, the fights became less physical and more verbal... and the reasons for them, completely eludes me now.

I remember one though. Jo Ann was a 'fraidy cat.

We used to play the piano daily... It was mandatory one hour practice everyday - "Mama's Law"

I liked the old one that was in the dining area. It sounded better and I liked being off in a corner alone. It allowed me to daydream without interruption. Jo Ann apparently liked it too, and I assumed, for the very same reason. So everyday, we would race for it.

We had this signal... tap the piano pedal twice (it made a small '"thud-thud" sound) meant come over, I need to talk to you.

Jo Ann would use this signal quite often especially when she was in the dining room piano. When I got there, she would usually scold me for some infraction or other. The scolding would last as long as she felt Mama wouldn't miss our playing.

Years later she told me that she actually didn't like the dining room piano. The dining room was dark and creepy she said. She took it only to prevent me from having it. Scolding me her way of comforting herself. While I was there, she wasn't alone, and the "monsters" can't get her.

There were also the times when arguments start because I can't sleep with the lights on, and she was scared of the dark, there were nights when she would suddenly wake up and jump into my bed. Initially, there was a lot of pushing and shoving as I didn't like having anyone beside me. Then a few years passed, and whenever she would jump into my bed. I would just get up, take my pillow, and jump into hers.

No more arguments and I fell right back to sleep. I couldn't say what happened to Jo.

One fight is still burned into my memory. We were arguing in Dad and Mom's bedroom. I forget what for...but it was a massive yelling spree. I was wearing blue "Casper the friendly Ghost" stretchy nighty and we were all riled up.

(Seeing that this is my blog, and as much as this is my version of the truth. I just have to say that whatever the fight was about, I was right and she was wrong. She was being pigheaded and I was fighting for Truth and Justice... She can just go on ahead write her own blog if she wants to contradict me. he he he)

Anyway nearing the end of the fight, we were all done in but of course, nothing was resolved. Jo Ann went out of the room, and in my frustration, I slammed the door right behind her.

Now I knew that the door wouldn't hit her but seeing that there was that one time when Dad shut the door hard while one and a half year old Lynette was standing in the doorway, sending her flying for a couple of seconds before he even realized it, enraged Jo Ann further. ( As if I could've sent her flying if I tried)

( Dad had opened the door again and asked us "Did I imagine it or was Lynette standing here?" mumbling apologies to her when he heard her screaming her head off. She wasn't hurt but suddenly being launched off without a countdown is a bit unsettling.)

So...with the door being slammed behind her, Jo Ann stormed right back in with all her anger re-energized. She came right for me screeching and stomping around, yelling about how the door could have hit her and stuff. I was defending myself just as she stomped towards me and stepped right onto my Casper shirt. I was suddenly yanked down and tried to pull myself back up. her foot got somehow entangled in folds of the shirt and as I tried pulling my shirt up, her leg came with it and we were suddenly into a Three Stooges slapstick routine as I kept yanking myself up as she hopped about while yelling.

I couldn't stand it anymore and I started laughing...hard. (which Jo Ann did not appreciate at all!!) In the end, she finally got her foot off, my shirt got stretched all out of shape, I was laughing like a hyena, and she hit me with a pillow or something and left the room in a huff.

I've had millions of other night shirts but that one was the one I remember the best. I think that was possibly the last of the down and dirty fights Jo Ann and I ever had.

Casper Shirt

Overachiever

One of my oldest keepsakes is this...

by her...

who is now doing this...

with honors...

Congratulations Lynette...we're all so proud of you!!

Chip and Dales

mary

Mary Vergara used to come to our house every couple of years. She was a friend of Mama and Papa. She lived in Hawaii and had a son named John.

Every single time she would come to the Philippines, she would bring over a case of Mauna Loa Macadamia nuts as her pasalubong for Mama and Papa.

Mama was hmmm, how do I say this..."extremely practical." She used to cut up chocolate pieces, specially her favorite chocolate "turtles" into three or four more pieces so that the chocolate would last longer. Eating a whole chocolate would be such a waste when a third satisfies the craving.

The same applied to those nuts. She would give out only one nut apiece for each grandchild. If you were smart, right before you put your hand in the canister, you peered through it very quickly to see where the ones where the whole nut was. If you didn't you'd just as likely get the teeny 1/4th of a piece which were liberally scattered about.

Now everyone knows you can't give a person just one nut...it's like giving a person one potato chip...you want more...you crave more...your NEED MORE.

Which is why, we shamelessly admit to occasionally sneaking into Mama's room for just "one more nut." This time making sure we got the whole piece.

Making this last was a huge deal. I didn't just pop the nut into my mouth, I would scrape it's sides to "grate" it to make it last. I still do it to this day...HUGE eating disorder there. People look at me strangely as I nibble through the nut eating "layers" where no layer naturally exists.

I think this may be also why the Macadamia Nut is one of Carlos' favorites, if not the favorite.

Strange how our habits were formed by odd incidents of our youth...though Mama really really would have preferred to teach us better studying habits or some such other valuable personal behavior ...rather than inadvertently schooling us to learn weird nut eating techniques.

Oh well.

Wings Over the Rainbow

Niagara Falls

It's The First Month's Anniversary of my Blog!!!
Thanks for the 362 visits from people who have dropped by since the blog started.
Thank you also to those who have written in the comments and guest book I appreciate it.

The picture above is from our one and only visit to the Niagara Falls in Buffalo New York. We were with Mom, and it was my and Jo Ann's second visit to the United States though Lynette, Laurie, and Eric's first. We were a little lost during those times.

The picture shows the less traditional view of the Niagara Falls. We were on a bus tour with a lot of German folk and we didn't understand anyone. Somewhere near Buffalo, The tour guide, Ingrid I think her name was, asked us to pass our passports forward to see if our Canadian Visas were in order.

Now we had signed up for the Tour of New York, so why would we need Canadian Visas? It was all very strange. Apparently, part of the tour was showing the Niagara Falls which separated The United States from Canada in that part of the world. The Canadian view of the Falls was the more grandiose one and part of the tour was seeing the falls from the Canadian side, as well as having dinner atop the rotating restaurant of the Skylon Tower. It was a stop on our tour which contained two Canadian day trips, with an overnight stay in a Buffalo Hotel.

Since we didn't have Canadian Visas, we were dropped off near the Canadian border to see the Falls on our own. We took a few pictures, walked around the area until they picked us up. The second day, we were dropped off near a shopping area. We spotted a huge factory outlet of Esprit which was an extremely trendy boutique at that time. We, being a group of mostly girls, shopped our heads off. I remember buying wallets at one dollar a piece which I then brought home as pasalubong as well as using them myself over a number of years.

The nights in Buffalo, were the best. We had discovered something which we loved. So much so that we didn't mind not seeing the Falls. As we lay watching Tommyknockers and shaking in our boots, we ordered something from the room service menu. We decided to go ahead and order what appeared to be a homegrown delicacy of the State. you know, "When in Rome..."

Our order came and we tasted this delicacy. It was delicious!!! Spicy ,but not hot, coated with a reddish marinade, there was a bit of a crunch as you bite into it, but tender, and juicy, with a creamy tangy cheesy dressing. It was soooooo goooooood!!!!

I think most of the time we spent in that hotel, as we stayed there stranded while the rest of the tour group spent two days in Canada, we gorged ourselves with it. All the while saying eat it while we can. We're leaving Buffalo soon and likely never coming back...and so we gorged.

By now you know what we've been eating. It's as common as water. It's available everywhere but we didn't know it then. Each time we ate out after Buffalo, we would open the menu and there it would be, right under the Appetizers heading. The first few times, we just thought it was because we were still near Buffalo, then as we reached L.A. we found out our folly. By that time, we must have already gained a lot of pounds from constantly eating it. At each restaurant, each and every time... we ordered it...just because we might never ever have it again.

Serves us right. I came home from that trip ten pounds heavier. All because of Buffalo Wings.

Loved it then, still do now. Specially when dipped in that yummy blue cheese dressing.

Mmmmmm.

Pepper Speak

"You're squishing me!!!"

"We watching TV?"

"watya doin?"

"Leslie's scaring me again"

"Miss my mommy"

"Can I have a treat?"

"stop staring"

"I'm tired...want to go to bed"

"wuv you..."

Suhol

Papa and Tatay on my first birthday

It's Papa's birthday. He would have been one hundred years old today.

He used to buy Magnolia ice cream for us. He filled the freezer of the small refrigerator in their house with it. There were twin popsies and drumsticks and my favorite, the up and down icicles with yellow pineapple flavor on top and orange flavor on its bottom half. He kept it there to keep his grandchildren visiting his house. He was, after all, living with the woman who constantly laid the piano, reading, and math lessons on the aforementioned grandchildren.

Ice cream was bait.

(Hmmm... dad? Do you think this explains why your children are never hyped up over ice cream?)

One evening, a very long time ago. I was the only one left doing Mama's lessons. Everyone else had either finished their lessons or were called home. I was in Mama's bedroom and Mama was sitting with me on the couch where the window is, right in front of the grotto.

I remember I was wearing one of those dusters she bought for us on one of her trips to Divisoria. It was sleeveless, had a teeny pocket right in front and was printed all over with little blue flowers. She had me reading Dick and Jane to her.

It had gotten really late. Papa had already finished watching television and was getting ready for bed. I was getting tired from reading and was feeling resigned as Mama seemed to be intent on making me read the book from cover to cover. My throat was getting scratchy and dry but I kept reading the words on and on...occasionally misreading a few and Mama would correct me and have me redo the story over.

I guess Papa had been looking at us and was feeling rather sorry for me but he knew Mama derived a great satisfaction from teaching us and what made her happy, made him happy. Still, that particular night. He felt bad for me.

I know this because after our reading session. Mama finally allowed me to get up and go home. I kissed her goodnight and she walked towards the bathroom. Papa had just been standing in the middle of the room and Mama reminded me to give Papa a kiss before I left.

As I went over to Papa to kiss him, He bent over and stuffed something in my pocket. Mama turned around just at that moment and saw him. He was still bending towards me and and suddenly whispered something in my ear...

"Run!"

I started running. I heard Mama snap "Ano yan?" and I kept on running. Only when I got home did I check what he had placed n my pocket.

It was a crumpled up, crisp Twenty Peso Bill.

I was thrilled.

(If you were a young girl who had a seven peso weekly allowance, you would have been too.)

Happy Hundredth Papa.

Thanks for the twenty pesos :)

Chaos

It was Summer...we were bored....'nuff said.

In the wee small hours...

Ha Ha!! Just kidding

This happened one night twelve years ago.

We were creatures of the night. Vampires, werewolves were we all. We slept all day and were on the prowl at night. (Actually...we still are. note the time...it's 5 Am...)

When school is in session. June to March, we are obliged to wake up and go home on time. There are schedules to be followed,homework to be done, and deadlines to be well...deadlined.

However, summer vacation releases us from out metered schedules and tend to make us kind of... chaotic.

There was the time I learned to make what I perceived to be the easiest snack in the world. Meringue.
I whipped up three egg whites, added some sugar, vanilla, and cream of tartar, dolloped the mixture in spoonfuls onto a cookie sheet, baked for eight minutes and presto. Sugary snacks for all.

There were the midnight ping-pong tournaments where the clackety clack of the ball inevitable caused our neighbors to throw stones at us from outside the gate. Their curses, they reserved for the morning after... their complaints go unheard...especially since we are all dead asleep by then.

Then there's the relatively quiet mahjong marathon where a peso-pot-per-play would end up costing someone at least a hundred pesos in debt.

The particular evening in the picture above, was just one of those random moments of craziness. Lynette, Philsen( who took the picture) and I crashed into Eric's room in the middle of the night. His room had no windows and the lights were turned off. With pillows in hand, we started a massive pillow fight. Seeing nothing and hitting anything. Eric quickly joined in the fray

We eventually...

...killed the cabinet.

(See it above as it undergoes its death throes and dies in our arms.)

It was horrible....the poor cabinet...bled out and vomited multicolored clothes everywhere.

Sorry, craziness...5 o'clock remember?

Vanidosa

I just had a party.

I prepared in my usual manner. I curled my hair, I put on my make-up, I got dressed, I spritz perfume on myself and then went over to the mirror to check myself out.

I am suddenly transported back into time when for some reason or other, I was in a car with Tito Tony and he looked at me and said..."Manang-mana ka sa Mommy mo...Vanidosa."

That was the first time I heard the word and had asked him to explain. He simply said "Vanity."

I understood.

No arguments there...

" I yam what I yam" says Popeye the sailor man

...as do I.

After all, I come from a long line of vain women.

Mama used to cover her face with Ponds cold cream or Johnson's baby oil. When we would kiss her goodnight, her face would already be glimmering and shiny and she would stoop down so we could kiss either her head or her neck instead of her cheek. A century later, her skin may be sagging a little but it is soft and line free. Her nurses still put Ponds cold cream on her face nighty.

I remember staying overnight in Mandaluyong and very early in the morning Tita Virgie would sit on a stool and face her mirror. She had creams, pencils, and compacts. There was one very distinct shiny red bowl that sat on top of her table. I was always fascinated by it. It had a shiny red cover and it contained white powder and a large feathery powder puff. It always reminded me of an old show where the host yells "MAKEUP!" and someone hits him with a large puff full of white powder. I actually remember hittling Joann's face with it one morning. "Makeup!!" I had yelled.

My Tita Maya literally made vanity her business as she managed her own beauty salon. She used to tell me to learn how to put on my own make-up so I do not spend money having to go to the parlor every day just to put my face on. She said this because, at that time, Mom did. (After all, why not? Why bother with it when you can force your expert younger sister to do it for you.)

Mom of course...well....hmmmm....you know?

Let's just say ...Tito Tony wasn't wrong.

Vanity in me started fairly early. As witnessed by Dad who wrote this comment in my baby book...

(double click on the picture to see it bigger)

Yup... don't know where I got it from

(Hi Mom! wink wink).

Really I don't.

Believe in Magic?

There are just some things that maybe someone has told you directly to fool you, or just something normal you somehow misconstrue...and then weird things happen.

Jo Ann once told me that when passing a church, you need to make the sign on the cross only when the church is open. When it is night time, and whenever the doors are closed, you don't have to.

She also told me that whenever I dip my fingers into holy water, the rest should be wiped on the sides of your neck so the vampires can't "get" you.

The Yaya's used to tell us that when people sleep on the bed in a group, ghosts will take only those in the middle of the bed because those who are at the sides have space enough to "kick" the ghosts, and they don't like that.

One of my cousins thought that she was anemic because some "dumb doctor" took too much blood from her and now she has less ( she previously had only pinprick blood tests and the blood test using vacuum vial ones shocked her)

Someone once told me that on Good Fridays, when Jesus "dies" at 3 o'clock, God was dead and no one was watching so demons are free come out and roam about so you have to be very careful just in case.... You are only safe again on Easter Sunday.

One of the things that amazed me when I was young was the conclave that had happened more than 26 years ago. Since the conclave to choose the new Pope is about to commence, it's about time to tell you this story. I think that I was around seven when this happened.

I must have somehow heard that there is a chimney in the Vatican where smoke comes out of. The smoke changes color from black to white when the Cardinals have voted on who the next Pope should be.

I somehow concluded that while in the conclave, the Cardinals had a special spot in front of the fireplace and all the priests stand there in turn. When God likes the person standing in the secret spot, he makes the smoke change color from black to white to tell everyone that this is the guy he wants to become the next Pope.

I thought it was sort of like that dove and glow-spotlight thing that was pointed at Jesus on the River Jordan. The one that is drawn in Children's bibles? When God tells everyone that Jesus is his son?

Anyway, the crowds cheer, the chosen priest gets an invisible halo on his head and is crowned Pope.

I basically thought "Hey! Cool!"

And finally poor baby Natasha, thought I stayed in bed all day with my comforter up to my waist...

"...because she has no legs?"

no-legs-Leslie

Summer Lovin'

Henry with Corky and the Titas

Summer Vacation has started.

Mama didn't approve of summer vacation. She defied it. She decided that although we no longer went to class, she would keep on giving us lessons anyway.

There were the perpetual piano lessons of course, one hour once a day, everyday except Sunday. There was reading, where we all read from books such as Dick and Jane, and Short Stories about Pioneers. She also constantly produced many many multiplication tables made of carton.

"One times one is one, one times two is two...two, four, six, eight, ten.....seven, fourteen, twenty-one, twenty eight....."

Daily recitations, no wrong answers, speak it aloud in rhythm.

"Twelve, twenty four, thirty-six, forty eight...."

I could never understand whether her stock of multiplication tables stemmed out of a love for math or from her extreme practicality where every spare bit of carton from used boxes of cereal or empty biscuit cases must be kept and recycled.

Whatever the reason, there it was, the never-ending supply of tabled numbers piled neatly in her "tokador" waiting for the chance to torment us.

teacher

One summer, my cousin Henry came over to spend some time with us. Mama, rather than letting us be, seeing that we had a visitor, did not spare us a moment. If that person had to be there, he just had to be included in our activities. The lessons had to be done, and so he had to undertake the lessons too.

(Hmmm, that must have been a very relaxing vacation for him...don't you think?)

Anyway, one afternoon, Mama prepared math problems for the both of us. Two pieces of paper, two pieces of the green pencils marked "Polytechnic Colleges of the Philippines." One set of questions.

We were taken outside, to the glass topped metal outdoor table she had in front of her house. I guess it was cooler there. We sat next to each other, and Mama gave us instructions to come to her when we were done.

An hour later. I was finished. I asked Henry whether he had completed the paper too, and he also said he was done. I decided to compare our answers so that we would know if either of us made a mistake. I was excited and happy, the answers matched and I logically concluded we both had perfect scores. We would be done right away and Mama would allow us to go and play the rest of the afternoon.

We finally went to Mama. I was smiling knowing I had done well. Then Mama said "May mga Mali!!"

I was surprised. How could that be? We'd both gotten the same answers....

Mama asked us to redo specific questions. She again brought us to the outside table, and sat us down. This time, at opposite "kabiseras." Then she said " Wag kang pakokopya..."

Okay...

He had copied off of my paper. That had never happened to me before. I was shocked. It never occurred to me that it could happen (Why would it? It wasn't graded after all...)

Anyway, I finished right away, and he spent another half hour with his. I checked the answers again, and Mama rechecked the papers, finally, with all answers correct, we were allowed out.

Henry never again allowed himself to get caught when Mama was in a teaching mood .She rarely ever saw him again and you can bet he made sure to make himself invisible to her all the rest of that summer.

26 years

The Pope has died. Twenty-four years ago I saw his back from very far away. He was all in white, under a canopy. There were a lot of people and I could barely see. It was a very hot day. He was saying Mass at Quezon City Memorial Circle. I could barely hear what he was saying. After the Mass, we walked through Quezon Avenue because the roads were all blocked from traffic. There were balloons and confetti everywhere.

His last visit, was the tenth anniversary of World Youth Day. Lynette was hyper-active with organizing her group's vigil and activities as they stayed over night at Rizal Park. She was so proud that the Pope said he was so happy at the number of people who came to celebrate. There were four million in attendance.

Years from now I will remember that I had watched the news on television for a couple of days. They had announced that he had been given the Last Rites (Anointing of the Sick). CNN gave bulletins of his progressive deterioration. I finally heard the news off his death on television a few minutes after it was announced. Ara and I were in the room watching The Village and the concert of the Blue Man group.We caught the announcement after we had finished watching. It was around four in the morning.

Palanca

This is pretty self explanatory. On my fourth year high school retreat, I asked 9 year old Lynette to give me a palanca letter. Here's what she had to say...

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