Nostalgia Journal





This is the first of a series about my “Nostalgia Journeys”-  Revisiting the places where I’ve worked and lived in the Philippines from 1966 to 1973 prior to my emigration to the USA where I lived and raised my family for more than four decades.

Circa 1966 – 1968          Tabangao, Batangas          I Set foot for the first time in 46 years, June 17, 2012.

This place is the most memorable one because it was my very first job after bumming around for 3 months doing nothing after graduation.  Yes, 3 months of bumming around exhilarated  by the absence of homeworks and exams until one day, my late mother told me that I had to pack up and start working with a Construction Company which the owner she knew, starting the coming Monday .  Off to work I went to this place called Tabangao, in Batangas province; a quaint little seaside village adjacent to the Shell Oil Refinery where my employer was a contractor.

I don’t remember how I got to the jobsite but I remember vividly standing in front of the refinery gate like a lost soul.  Here I was, 21 years old, fresh from college, a city boy smacked suddenly in a tiny village with all the construction workers.  I was wearing a white shirt, a school uniform which became my trademark at the jobsite because I didn’t own work clothes. My co- workers laughed at me when they found out that I brought pajamas and party clothes. Where’s the party in Tabangao?

 My foreman I will call Perting, my boss, a dark 40yish good looking man, an electrician by trade who will become my life mentor, and my friend, not necessarily the job itself but how I will get along and relate  with the rest of the group. I will have a separate paragraph about him later.  I was the only engineer in the group and a so called “employee of influence”- being there because of family connection with the owner of the company.  Perting broke me in, not exactly knowing what to do with me because I got nada experience.  He asked me to take care of our field office(shack) and I became a glorified “Tool Boy” and a part time electrical “cable tag artist”. Cable tags are 1”x3”x1/16” tags cut out from lead sheets by hand and individually stenciled with identifying numbers I will never ever forget….50001, 50002, 50003…90001...  I also had to punch 2 small holes on both ends.  I am telling this because this job was my first introduction to the construction world and the pain from the blisters on my hands cutting those lead tags with metal scissors.  I remember shedding some tears during my first week.  I went home after my first weekend and told my late mother that I didn’t want to come back to Tabangao anymore and if she could find me a another job in Manila.  I even showed her my hand blisters.  If you knew my mother, you already know the answer. “Go back there on Monday”.

Our group lived in a rented two story house where everybody sleeps anywhere on the hard floor.  If you happened to be on the lower level, you have to find a space where nobody sleeps overhead of you because of sand from the other guys feet will be raining on you. There are the snorers, loudmouths and the stinkers I had to stay away from to have a peaceful night.  We bathe in the open, in a small creek nearby and pooed by digging in the sand around the thorny aroma bushes by the beach on the way to work in the mornings.  We travelled to and from the refinery by a motorized outrigger- fishing boat(banca) owned by our landlord.  This hell of a place, and all the other ones after this,  I learned to endure and enjoy with “Perting,” our foreman, our boss, always on my side to keep everything within our group in control.  With him, one could never get bored nor be lonely. He led our group not by instilling fear nor commanding authority, but mostly with fairness and real compassion.  I have yet to meet the next person whom I can honestly bestow my respect and admiration.  I really miss the guy.  I do not have much regret in life but one of them is not being able to convey to him my feelings before he died about 10 years ago.  Perting did not have a college degree, an electrician by trade, a poor man, he did not attain wealth, high status or fame but Perting became “The most memorable person” in my life. I was inclined to describe him as “My most Unforgettable Character” but it could also mean something in a negative note and too Reader's DigestyJ.

 I have a lot more stories to tell about this place, mostly humorous, my experiences, my learning process, but this is only a blog, not a juicy novel .  Most importantly, this was the place where it all begun and shaped my destiny into the world of “Engineering and Construction”.

Tabangao, Batangas June 17, 2012

After the Election

At the end of the campaign, there is an overwhelming sense of relief that is so real but the feeling of fear or victory during the last 2 days before election day is beyond words. I kept those emotions in check until the unofficial election returns started to come in from several precints after the first hour of closing the votes (7:00pm). Before 8:00 pm, even before returns from other precints started to come in we knew we lost the election. Moments of silence followed before JP could really face our people to make the announcement. I went up to my cottage all alone and fixed myself a drink. I did not shed any tears then until the next morning when our father came by to offer his comforting words of wisdom. "Politics is no longer for us and let us move on with our private lives. Accept defeat gracefully for it is God's will that we may serve others in many other ways." My father lost the same mayoral election a long time ago and never tried to come back for a second time. It was the wisest decision he ever made.


The hardest part of losing an election is picking up the pieces the morning after. You wake up and the whole place is empty, devoid of the usual influx of supporters ready to start the day of rigorous campaigning months before election day. Suddenly, there is that feeling of loneliness, abandonment, absence of hunger, pain and wonderment as to what went wrong. You ask a lot of questions...


I pity my brother and his family who had to endure the loss thereafter. I pity our father who celebrated his 94th birthday 5 days after the election. Victory would have been a nicer gift for him. I missed his birthday because I left Alfonso the 2nd day after the election to go back to the States. I left Alfonso with a bleeding heart. Just like that, our dreams and aspirations for our beloved town dissappeared in a flash.




I'm back in the States after 3 long months of campaign to heal my wounds. My brother Joy, the candidate and his wife will follow very soon. Time for healing, it might take some time. Time to thank God for giving us this chance.



We want to thank all our friends and supporters who really worked hard to help us in the campaign, those who braved the heat under the sun joining the campaign trail, and those friends and relatives who similarly worked hard but expected nothing in return and shared our goals and concern for Alfonso. I want to give my special thanks to all my Facebook friends who inspired me along the way throughout the election. A very special thanks to Mango Mandarin whom I've never met but guided me along this journey.

Facebook

Facebook is taking away my blog time. I never imagined I will be spending too many hours reading and messaging my friends, relatives, or even children. I promised to free myself from the internet, emails and cell phones after retiring and live as a minimalist. All I really wanted was a windy beach away from it all...windsurf till my arms "feel like jello"(windsurfer's lingo).
I lost what I should be blogging about FB. I shouldn't have mentioned windsurfing. It's almost 12:00 midnight so I'll continue tomorrow.

7:00 pm Tuesday, Got into FB sometime last year because of a friend's email with a link to FB to show a photo album but I needed an account to view them so the rest is history. I discovered that my daughter, daughter in law and my eldest son were all in FB. Wowee! Nice opportunity bonding with my kids. Being a nice dad of course, I clicked the "invite your friends" button. The next day I got my first "....are now friends" and a comment from my son - "the party is over guys. My dad is on FB". I knew he was kidding but still something was not quite right being on FB with my kids generation. After a while, everything seemed going well but "one liners" was something hard to get used to.

Fastforward 2010 - I now have more than 100 friends, mostly relatives, new found relatives and even little children not even old enough to read. Invitations from groups like "sinigang", causes like Haiti, mafia wars but my favorite is "Farmville" where members can grow plants on the internet and send gifts of all kinds. Then there's the 90% angel or 10% devil? and the daily horoscope, someone asking for bricks to build something. I wonder if they can use hollow blocks which is cheaper. I guess I'm missing a lot of fun out of FB. Tomorrow, I'll check my "lover of the day"and hope it's not a guy or a kid and then call Tara the psychic if I'll win the lottery and I'll be on my faraway windy beach under a thick Indian Mango tree (smiling).....on second thought, would I leave my FB friends?

In conclusion, I'm getting a lot of good things in FB especially the discussion board. "The page is powerful enough to stimulate good intentions and create deeper understanding of our community for worthwhile causes." (quote from a friend).

My Father - 2nd Edition

Two years ago, he gave me a shoebox of memorabilla they kept for decades, mostly pictures of everybody and a brown envelope with stuff for me. It was a collection of my school report cards from elementary to college, my boy scout pictures(10 yrs. old), neckerchiefs, pins, graduation invitations, letters, etc.. He told me that he kept the wooden scooter with bearing wheels I built when I was about 10 yrs. old but it disappeared somehow. I'll never forget how I rode it downhill in Tagaytay City sidewalks when my mother used to to take me with her while working there. My report cards even showed my absent days in college and my mediocre grades. I've always thought I was a bright student. I don't remember my father ever criticizing me for my poor performance in school...now I'm suspicious that he was also just like me that I did the same thing to my kids..like father like son.

It was a shock for me to see an old, almost torn letter I wrote to my grandmother(s) while in early college days asking for money pitifully. I cannot recall now if I ever got my wish or if my parents ever shown my grandmother my letter. The fact that my parents kept the letter and it was all creased, I presume they didn't. I still keep those letters.

My eldest son now 39 did also write a similar letter to Tatay while in high school asking for $400.00 to buy a Les Paul electric guitar. His letter was so neatly written (I framed it) in a way that no grandpa can say no. Tatay being a generous man sent him the money....Now it makes me wonder why my letter to my grandmother was crumpled and was in his possession.....hmmm.

When we were growing up, Tatay used to put up real elaborate nativity set up during Christmas time, some ideas copied from the old "Avenida Rizal" Christmas decorations. I even copied a couple of his scenes for my house in the States. There is one thing odd about our family tradition for Christmas. We never really practiced exchanging gifts with one another but being home before 12:00 midnight for the "noche buena" was a very strict rule. I quit believing Santa Claus at a young age when we put out our Christmas socks at a corner one night and waking up without anything in it in the morning. Tatay was all smiles telling us all kinds of reasons why Santa didn't come. Alfonso was too far and something else I don't remember. It was funny alright now to think about it but then was "traumatic"...Now I am like a traumatized Vietnam veteran waking up some mornings screaming "don't shoot me Santa!"

Tatay is really getting older each day but he is still good telling stories...over and over...and over but I always patiently listens. I'm getting old too and I think I now understand why they do that. Getting old sadly and slowly ends the capability of doing the same exciting things when you were younger and all you can do now is reminish and share them to whoever will listen. I'm ending this with tears in my eyes and that I will go on listening to him...over and over.

My father

I thought of writing this while my father is still alive and to have something to share with my family and friends. He will be 94 years old this May 15, 2010. My own children and their cousins, mostly adults now know not much about him. He was born in barangay Kaytitinga, Alfonso, Cavite and lives in the same house where we were all born (5 boys) in the town proper of Alfonso. Our mother Leny Dominguez passed away couple of years ago followed by our eldest brother less than a year later. Both of them died from diabetes complications. I can feel that the loss of my mother and eldest brother really took a toll on his well being. He now walks with a cane but still very well for his age.

It is very amazing that his memory is better than mine because he can still recall the street names and the stores he frequented while visiting us in 1983 (USA) and that was 27 years ago. He was only there for 3 weeks and got bored after seeing "America the Beautiful" in Disneyland. He said, "I've seen America and I'm going home". Once in a while, I even hear him quote from Shakespeare. I don't even know one.

All his working life was being a civil servant although he and my mother I vividly remember owning a bakery before he worked for the Central Bank in Manila and only came home during weekends. He became the Municipal Treasurer of Alfonso for a long time until he rose to become the Provincial Treasurer of Cavite in the early 80s until his retirement in 1982. I migrated to the USA before then (1973).

My father is a very honest man and very well respected in our town. Almost all his working life was managing money and could have been very tempting especially being the Provincial Treasurer. He had the opportunity to amass a fortune and got away with it He loves to tell us those missed opportunities and the people who took advantage of them and I believe him knowing how corrupt our leaders are. The one thing he is very proud of is never having fed us with stolen money. I remember when I was growing up seeing a huge quote poster on his office wall about "If at the end of the day you do not feel guilty putting in your day's worth..then." I don't remember the exact words but it was inspirational.

He is a very quiet and mild mannered man. I can't recall a time he raised his voice in anger although he was a disciplinarian He had his share of midlife crisis when he started losing his hair. A few years after I migrated with my family to the States, I received a registered big brown envelope from him and inside was some flattened newspaper with masking tapes all over it. It had with it a note if I could get him a toupee. It turned out that the crumpled newspaper was what he molded over his head and taped over to keep the shape of his head. Me and my wife laughed all the way home imagining how and where we can find someone to make it and keep a straight face. I wrote back my father to send me his head...just kidding. Seriously, I told him that it will be difficult to do what he wanted.

My father was an impeccable dresser during his working years from head to toe. His work clothes were made to order barongs, gabardine pants, expensive shoes or always neatly pressed white long sleeved shirts always with cuff links. I saw his old shark skin suits and even owned tuxedos. My mother adored him and took care of him dearly.

If you look closely at his picture above, he had his facial age spots removed by that famous Vicky Belo.I was jealous , I had one too but a different doctor for half the price.

I got more to say but I'm getting sleepy...

Old Tradition

My sister in law's brother Eddie died from diabetes complications almost 2 weeks ago. He was also a childhood friend of mine and the funeral wake was held at the compound where I stay here in Alfonso which lasted for 5 days. I suddenly realized how little I knew about old traditions here in Alfonso having been away for more than 30 years living in the USA and experiencing a funeral wake within the family. I've seen wakes before but never really witnessed the entire practice - not even for my own mother and elder brother who died couple of years ago.

I was amazed at the amount of praying held by the "manangs"(some kind of a religious group of elderly women)who come to the place where the wake is held and pray loudly for about an hour every morning at 6:30 am. I'm not sure if they are reciting the rosary because I never really paid attention and watched from afar. After the prayer, they are served a nice breakfast and I'm not sure if they go to the next wake for lunch and so on. I don't remember who I was with one morning that she told me that this particular group of manangs are divided into 2 factions because of some personal conflict. It was quite funny that each group ate at separate tables and were not talking to each other although they pray together as one group. I assume that the prayers are for asking the forgiveness of the dead person's sins that he may go to heaven. May he rest in peace.

The fourth day is something more important because the prayers lasted longer and the prepared food was for lunch and much better. The funeral was held on the 5th day. The night before the funeral is called the "big night" where more people came all day and thru the night which was like an all day all night party. People playing mahjong and card games for money. Nobody seemed to be grieving for the dead..or should I say celebrant? And more prayers till the 9th day which is called "pasiyam". This day is also a big day with lots of food from morning till evening. Prayers by the manangs lasted all day and nobody seems to know what was the origin of this old tradition and the symbolism it stands for. 40 days is getting near and another commemoration for Eddie's death is coming. I don't need to write more on this.

Old traditions in Alfonso never die. Most of them I try to comprehend with respect but a lot of them just don't make sense. Some of them I believe are the causes of why the Philippines is still a third world country. One of them is the "compadre" system where people ignore and bypass the normal order of systems where equality and fairness for all should be the way of life. People vote not because the candidate possesses the right credentials but rather because he is my "compadre". Some best friends I know support a corrupt politician because he is their "compadre" who allows them to not pay their fair share of taxes. So sad for my country.

Philippine Politics

Feb. 21, 2010

4:30 am - I had a good sleep last night and getting adjusted to my new time zone. Since my arrival, I’ve been holed up in the compound and haven’t set foot outside. My father who will be 94 this coming May has been keeping me company every day and he too seems to be enjoying the flow of people in and out of this place. Boredom doesn’t seem to exist here (for older people at least) even in the absence of Starbucks, malls, theaters and all those hangout places people normally go – at least for the time being.

What bothers me the most is my indignation about the Philippine justice system and what happened to my brother’s protest case. I do not understand why the Supreme Court Justice can be so incredibly swift in reversing the Lower Court and the Commission on Election judgments that seated my brother back to office. The case took more that 2 years to deliberate but the SC reversal of the judgment only took them less than a month. How can a SC hand down a “status quo” ruling that was so vague that they had to issue a second ruling (7 – 8 vote) favoring the other party. It is common knowledge how corrupt the Philippine politics is but this one I believe is the pits. I also heard there was a PHP8 million dirty money injected to swing the SC order to their favor. They know who they are. I won’t be surprised if the Ampatuan massacre in Maguindanao goes to the dogs the way it is going.

I also have a gripe about our senators whom I sent email letters about Gov. Maliksi’s military takeover several weeks ago. Not even one acknowledged at least receiving them for courtesy purposes. I guess it is election time that they are too busy preparing for their political survival.