By Cecilia Ejercito
I’m sure I won’t remember their faces, nor will they remember mine. Never more than an hour together, never any face time, never much conversation. My hands were only on the wheel, eyes only on the road. Our interaction was limited to me opening my car, popping the trunk, and getting them to their destination. A few directions given here and there, and some small talk about the distance I was driving—nothing more.
By Jose Ma. Montelibano
I am preparing to go on my first mission abroad for 2013. Since 2008, I have been regularly visiting the United States, deliberately seeking out Filipino-Americans and trying to imbibe their experience of leaving a motherland to adopt another country. I cannot anymore count the number of families who opened their homes to me, much less the greater number of people they gathered so I could expand my network of sources of information. I have organizations and associations to thank as well; they have been many and our interactions have been quite enlightening. While not a Filipino-American, I believe I have met more Filipino-Americans than most of them in the last five years than they since they migrated to America.
At the heart of the massive six-day search-and-rescue operation for Interior Secretary Jesse Robredo and his companions was the active participation of private citizens. It was a vital detail Robredo himself, the Magsaysay awardee and pioneer of people empowerment in local governance, would have heartily approved.
By Ramon Farolan
It was billed as the “music of World War II,” played by the legendary Glenn Miller Orchestra and, as expected, the crowd that turned out to listen that evening was mostly from the senior citizen generations that survived the horrors of a conflict that devastated much of the country.
By Jemika Kathryn F. Soledad
So here’s the thing. I was hit by the nostalgia bug after seeing photos of my closest college friends having a get-together because in the not too distant past, I enjoyed being with them in similar gatherings.