Too late the hero.

Manila is abuzz with excitement over the news that finally Filipino veterans of World War II, our homegrown soldiers who fought side by side with Americans in Corregidor but who have neither gained renown nor recompense for it, will finally be awarded their due. I am sure many of those veterans who are still alive are euphoric. In these hard times particularly, they could do well with manna from heaven, one fallen unexpectedly from the sky, in the form of half a million pesos.

But out of 240,000 to 250,000 Filipino veterans, only 18,000 remain, their ranks constantly depleted like leaves in autumn at the rate of 10 a day. Our veterans are too old now that marching to the US Embassy to comply with the requirement, proved more arduous than the Death March from Corregidor to Capas.

The compensation of the Filipino veterans is a start, but it barely scratches the surface in giving them their due. Indeed, it barely goes beyond the first step in giving this country its due. It hasn’t begun to address the powerful currents of discrimination that underlie the American neglect, albeit, betrayal, of its former colony after the war.

You don’t quite know whether to regard this as victory or defeat, as stark tragedy or black comedy. But you have to wonder why it had taken this long for the US government to finally cast an eye in our direction. Franklin D. Roosevelt had promised to indemnify every Filipino to the last carabao (water buffalo) who would take up arms against the Japanese. Of course many of them had no choice: It was their duty; they were soldiers. But many others were not, they were civilians turned by the outrage and the atrocities into guerrillas. Of course, too, Roosevelt would die before he could live up to his word, leaving Harry Truman to make good on the unpaid bill. But then he proved to be anything but a true man, turning his attention, and American money, instead to reconstructing Germany and Japan, the countries that had made hell for the world.

We Filipinos can see the discriminatory mindset even at this late date, in an American movie “The Great Raid,” which tells the story of an operation during the war that led to the freeing of more than 500 American POWs in Cabanatuan. The raid has landed in the American annals of war as one of the most daring and successful operations ever carried out by American soldiers. The film stresses the point, noting in the end, before the credits roll, that it led to the deaths of hundreds of Japanese and only two American soldiers. One POW died later from disease, making the entire casualty only three. For the record, it also adds that the raid led to the deaths of 21 Filipinos who helped carry it out.

How can an operation that led to the deaths of 24 people, presumably brothers-in-arms, be seen as having so ingenious a strategy and so miraculous an outcome? Only if you don’t look at the 21 too closely, or at all. In fact, unless you argue that the Filipinos were just too dumb to know how to dodge the Japanese bullets, you have to assume that the real daring was shown by them. They bore the brunt of the Japanese fire either because they took the lead or the more dangerous aspects of the operation. However charitable the movie looks at Filipinos by Hollywood standards, its perspective remains horribly skewed.

Change has come to America. When will it come to the world?

In memory of Baboo.

I am grieving. I personally had to deal with the loss of two kittens. Even though Devo died last year and Baboo only yesterday when he was run over by a car, there was never a right time to say goodbye.

My adorable Baboo was a risk taker, an explorer and prone to loving purring moments. Baboo has a simple daily schedule: breakfast in the kitchen; playtime in the garage when the sun was shining or playtime in the living room, running here and there and bumping into furniture; dinner in the kitchen; and bedtime snuggled up to her best friend and sister, Inee, a calico cat he was left with since kittenhood. Baboo was cared for with total love and consideration up to his final purr.

While I am going through my grieving process, Stray the mother and Inee his sister is also going through theirs as well. Inee seemed to take a little more time wandering the garage and wondering where his snooze mate had gone. And just last night both were up long after their bedtime and meowing in the kitchen, and I wondered if it was out of their missing Baboo.

I have become so connected with my pets, that losing them seemed like losing a family member. Because, after all, pets are part of families, aren't they?

It is sad but I know that all too often the death of a pet is relegated to the land of lesser losses. A pet, as many would think, is not as important as a good job, a nice home, a wonderful romance or a dear friend. Many would think that losing a pet could not be nearly as upsetting as losing any of those other things.

Sure, the loss of a pet does not necessarily impact on one's safety on the planet in the way the loss of a job or a home might. And, certainly, the smartest of us would never want to begin arguing about the value of pet love versus human love.

But in the land of relationships, the experiences of love and loss of love are unique. To have a friend leave, whether it is a friend covered in fur, feathers, scales or just skin....well, it can be an experience of the most profound and poignant kind.

I know that these feelings, which range from joy to untenable loss, is part of the cycle of life. I would say, it is all part of the ride.

And to ride alongside a fuzzy or feathered or scaled buddy for a time and to have them choose to ride with me is an honor, a delight and, eventually, an experience worth having.

An ode to courageous people

I have been following blogs of people with chronic illness or maybe what I can call as "specific conditions". Amy, Phil and Kirst has urostomy, Ray has ostomy, is diabetic and also a colon cancer survivor, Sid with his panic disorder, and Joey with her brittle asthma.

I was never aware of these conditions before, but now I can understand why these people feel vulnerable, confused, and worried about their health and the future. I can empathized with their sadness and disappointments, and I don't blame them if they find it unfair and they sometimes get angry with themselves or with the people around them. I know that these feelings are part of the coping process. And even if each one's reaction is different, I know they are all completely normal.

But what I admire most from them is how well they take control of their conditions that it doesn't seem frightening at all. Instead, they will tell us how comfortable they are with their treatments and with the tools or shots that they use to live a normal life. Phil and Kirst had walk me through their daily regimen of changing their bags, and Ray with his insulin shots and cat scans, Joey with her steroids shots, Amy with her pain numbing morphine, and Sid with his pills. They even told it in manner that the steps involved will seem like just another way to care for one's body, in much the same way that daily teeth brushing or showering help people stay healthy.



But of course I also see glimpses of their vulnerabilty to the illness as emotions would surface at all stages of the coping process. I guess everybody's idea of coming to terms with and accepting a chronic illness is different. Even if their treatments go well, they still feel sad or worried from time to time. It is but natural if they also feel the pull of wanting to lead a "normal" life in which they don't need medicine, have no limitations, or have to care for themselves in any special way.

With such daily challenges, I salute these fellow bloggers inner resilience. It seems that they have learned more about themselves through dealing with their health challenges. Striving for a balance between work and play, rest and activity, relationships and solitude, and grief and joy, has made them accept their limitations and appreciate their gifts.

Go, visit their blogs by clicking on those names and be inspired by their courage.

'Coz Tracey had asked, so here are my boys.

I can say that raising a son or sons is an adventure no matter what way you look at it. People have said that girls are easier to raise than boys. But honestly, with no girls in the house I wouldn’t really know.

As a mom of three boys, I’ve spent a fair bit of time over the years telling my sons to settle down, look where you’re going, be careful, take it easy, and watch out! But they always seem to gravitate towards challenges - ninja moves, stick fighting, climbing, running at high speed…



Sorry for the hazy photo of Tido, but unlike my memories of my sons growing up years, it was all so clear to me. Theirs’ is loud and SMASH, SMASH, SMASH! For them the living room is for climbing, figurines are for stacking and the pans are for banging – KAPLOW, CHOMP ,CHOMP, KABLOOM! There are always balls of all sizes and colors, and running and tickling and laughter is easy.

But there isn’t any surefire rule when it comes to raising boys. Every little guy is different, and what works with my eldest may not work with the next. So all I did was enjoy the pleasure of discovering each of their unique traits. But there are loads of things that make raising my boys a blast.



First, my boys don’t care if the house is messy. They make the mess, especially Benjie!

My boys will wear underwear more than one day if you don't get around to the laundry. Heck, they'll just go without if they have to, hahaha. And if I ask one of my son what he’s thinking about and he says “ nothing,” then that’s probably true.

My boys have always been hearty eaters. Now that they're in their teens and very active, they really eat me out of house and home. With three boys, the younger one always end up with the small piece of cake pretty often so I need to set aside extra food for him. That's him below - Cedric.



Raising boys is different. Seriously. How many little girls stuff their socks between the couch cushions, left sticky gel on the mirror, or thinks that "Do you want to wash dishes?" is actually a question.

But, I could still remember when they were little tykes and I would stare lovingly at them while they sleep. I love caressing my son’s soft hair and listening at their quiet breathing and took pride of their loyalty - for my little boys then, nobody, absolutely nobody, is as good as mama. Nobody.

Another award!!!

Tracey is becoming such a popular blogger getting an award every so often which she oh so generously pass on to fellow friends who's blog she also follow - me included.

Do check out her blog from the link and be amazed at how this lady despite only two-hours sleep every night is able to create pretty things and cooked the best cookies and yet makes it so easy I sometimes believe I can do it myself!

Letting go.

Isn't that what we wanted all along
Freedom like a stone
Maybe we were wrong
But I can say goodbye
Now that the passion's died
Still it comes so slow
The letting go

Letting go...
It is difficult for me in so many ways and in so many levels. Yet life calls upon me to do it, over and over again. I guess letting go is part of everyone's growth process. You see, we cannot move on to the new while we continue to cling to the old.

Yes Amna, there will always come a time when we must learn to let go of relationships. Maybe the relationship was not meant to be. In this case, even when there may still be feelings of passion, or attraction, or just the comfort of the familiar, you must be strong in letting go of something that is hurtful and hindering your growth.

By letting go, doesn't mean to forget or to ignore. By all means, we should carry with us the happy memories and the lessons we have learned from our past relationships. However, we need to let go in the sense of releasing emotional baggage we may be carrying around with us, so that we may be open to, and present for, a new relationship.

We also sometimes have difficulty letting go of friends and loved ones who had passed away, especially those who haven't had the opportunity to say goodbye. And there are those who have difficulty letting go of unresolved issues or guilt. We even have trouble letting go of old ways of viewing people who have been part of our lives for an extended period of time. Even when they may be changing, yet we do not let go of viewing them in the same way, and we even try to discourage that change.

Ok, I admit that I myself have difficulty letting go of my children, and allowing them to grow up. It was hard for me to make that transition from treating my children as kids, to treating them as adults and more like friends. Maybe because I am afraid to let go of my own identity as a mother. I have become so identified with that one role, that I no longer am sure who am I, outside of that role. But I realize that if I refuse to let go of old ways of identifying myself then I am hindering the growth and change that is occurring.

We all need, in one way or another to surrender to life, itself. It is not right to keep a tight grip on things that are out of our control. Let go, and allow the mystery of life to come in ...

In need of cool suggestions.

I am not a follower of Feng Shui, but the apartment I am renting faces west, so we usually have cool mornings and really hot afternoons. Being a two storey apartment, the sunlight passes through the glass window on the second floor and my bed room has turned into an oven late in the day. It is not good to lie down in the bed for apart from the heat, it can really strain your eyes even if you close them as you try to rest.

That is why after lunch during Sundays, I would often retreat to my son's bedroom, a much cooler place in the east side, with wooden walls and floor. There I try to beat the heat by sitting in front of the pc or sleeping it off on the bed or a foam spread on the floor.

Oh, but I now dread the coming of the summer season where temperatures could reach over 40deg centigrade. So please, I want to be able to to find ways to bring down the temperature in my big oven without resorting to expensive air-conditioning. Keeping cool with the use of an electricfan is never an easy thing either as the air it blows is the same hot air the room churns out.

So what can I do? Would putting a tall indoor plant in a corner of the room do the trick? I just thought that maybe having at least a green spot upon which my tired eyes can rest will lessen the heat. Or maybe putting on a darker shade of curtain to help filter extra sunlight? But I hate thick curtains as they dont allow air to circulate freely in the room.

So please help me before I melt inside my own room...

Of blogs and friendship.

I am very happy with my blog follower group and more pleased to know that it continue to grow. I think they have to be the most cheerful and supportive group that I have encountered. It's truly a breath of fresh air to see people just hanging out, having fun, learning crafts and supporting one another. Some of those who often write a nice comment in my page had not registered as a follower, but I know they are.

It was only late last year when I started writing a blog due to an urging of a friend. Yes, I sometimes write in a personal fashion, and I love it when people can connect to that. I never anticipated a medium where a written word could be read by so many people... This somehow leads to a sense of familiarity, which is expected, and eventually, a sense of intimacy - like friendship. I know that inside the heart of each regular reader of a weblog are the same feelings we felt when we are developing a friendship.

It is indeed amazing how technology makes people stay so in touch. I could say too that this medium allows people to be curious about other people and we just want to find out so much about them. What also strikes me is how willing people are to be so open about their lives and work. But then this same medium is also ripe for a false sense of intimacy – and friendship being one of them.

I have learned some tough lesson that unfortunately it seems, you only learn by living. Naah, television doesn’t teach it, schools don’t teach it, and if you’re above a certain age, our parents didn’t teach it either. You have to learn it by living, by thinking of someone as a friend, only to find out they don’t think of you as a friend. Of course, it can be devastating, I know, I’ve been there myself.

I learned that a friend is someone I can trust to be with me when I am at my weakest and most vulnerable. And they are people who, no matter how painful it is to see, are willing to be with me when I am so helpless and weak. It’s not about whether you are trustworthy, or whether you are friendly, it’s the actual act of trust that is the basis of friendship. If I trust you to be truthful, then you’re a friend. If I find I must be careful how I say things, then it’s something other than friendship.

I am glad that I have gained imaginary friends whose blogs I read everyday. I have never met these people but we are friends in my mind. These people I have gotten to know through this relationship continue to enrich my life so if you are reading this, you know who you are and why I consider it an imaginary friendship worth protecting.