The recent bombing of the Boston Marathon that shook the world brought back a flood of sweet memories to this sentimental septuagenarian. It was in the late 1960s when I first set foot in Boston, and it was, for me, love at first sight. After my pediatric residency in New York, I had the chance of a lifetime to be selected as a Grant Foundation Fellow in adolescent medicine at the Harvard Medical School.
The month of May touches a sensitive place in my heart as it holds the more memorable events of my checkered life as a boy and a young adult.
Tita Mely, my dad’s sister and the only one left among the siblings, was 86 and stricken with pneumonia—and from Europe, the United States, Hong Kong and Manila her children came. On her last day we were all at her bedside, up to the last moment.
Two months after I moved back to the Philippines from the United States, I received a welcome present when I met a woman who wanted to work as my kasambahay (household help). The idea enchanted me because I had long fantasized about living the life of a donya in retirement, freed from the drudgery of [...]
How I have celebrated Holy Week through the years was often dictated by where I spent it. In my adulthood, it has been mostly in Manila.
Before I retired from government service, I was a regular taxi rider. And when you ride a cab to and from work (as I used to), you get to meet all kinds of drivers. There are those who give unsolicited advice. One cabbie “suggested” that I buy a car because my office is far from my home. My aversion to unsolicited advice tempted me to lash out at the guy for his effrontery, but prudence dictated that I just bite my tongue.
Sampaloc around UST (University of Santo Tomas) was the place to be right after Liberation. It was the first area to be liberated because of the concentration camp at UST where Americans caught in the war were held; the environs teemed with GIs, schools converted into hospitals, night spots for war-weary GIs and WACs, and army vehicles.
Might I tell you that, in the foreign service, those who are assigned to North America or Europe would rarely want a transfer elsewhere; some of them have even obtained green cards for residence in the United States or Canada. I had also a tour of duty in each of the two regions; but my wish was to retire in East Africa.
Writing about myself may be a self-indulgent act, but it is a most propitious time to do so as we prepare to celebrate the centennial of our alma mater, the College of the Holy Spirit, formerly Holy Ghost College, starting with a homecoming on Feb. 2.
The year was 1951. It was a lovely time in Pasay City. We lived on Mabolo Street beside Cartimar, which didn’t exist at that time. A dilapidated shrimp crackers factory stood there instead, in the middle of a vast empty lot. Each day, square pieces of white, gelatin-like, future crispy crackers were placed on the [...]
We were the golden boys and girls of March 1961—the graduates of Holy Angel Academy (now a university). We returned from our diaspora in foreign lands to celebrate our golden anniversary in December 2011. When the whirlwind of events—endless dinners and parties, a visit to the alma mater—ceased, we rested and got our second wind. We decided to challenge Mount Pinatubo to see how these middle-aged bodies would fare.
Let me tell you about an uncommon love affair—an unforgettable man-machine interface, in diplomacy.
