At my book launch last month, relatives and friends, some of whom I hadn’t seen for some time, came out to fulfill their bounden duty. In fact, they actually bought copies and even joined the line for my autograph.
I’m glad no one had asked me what I planned to do with my life before I knew any better, or I’d have felt forced to give the question serious thought; I might have even drawn a roadmap to success and happiness. How ridiculous that would have been—to think one could actually plan one’s life! Indeed, looking back on every turning point in my long life, I don’t know how I could have planned it as it has gone. All I can say is I’m happy beyond expectation.
I’m not alone in hoping that next year, Christmas and the New Year will not sneak up on us just like it did this year. It went—just like that. It’s becoming harder to relish a moment, much less a season. Time—the most precious, most perishable commodity—is gone in a blink.
Just before three o’clock in the afternoon, the hour of greatest mercy, Manila’s 400 arrived at the Rockwell Tent to enjoy a most lovely book launch.
A picture is worth a thousand words, but for some, a thousand words are not enough. That was my feeling at the book launch of “i’m afraid of heights (or why i can’t social-climb),” the new tome of Thelma Sioson San Juan, Inquirer Lifestyle editor and my boss.
The three lovable Delgado sisters sit in a front pew of the Power Plant chapel at Rockwell for a Mass commemorating the anniversary of Cory Aquino’s death. As usual for any Cory occasion, they are dressed in casual-chic yellow and, as usual for just about any occasion, wearing their golden-brown hair neatly teased. In their late 80s now, they look frailer than when I saw them last, but they remain bright-eyed and enthusiastic.
Marcos, Aquino, Ramos, Estrada. Tick off the names, and every political dynasty—but one—was represented at the launch of Senate President Juan Ponce Enrile’s memoir, which was so well-attended it caused horrendous traffic on Makati and Ayala Avenues in Makati Thursday night.
With its title, “Killing the Spider”, one would think Vicente C. Ponce’s memoirs, as told to Rolando E. Villacorte, is a cloak-and-dagger tale, filled with intrigues, secret meetings and coded messages. But Ponce is an engineer and his world is more about landmarks and monuments. In fact, the book would have provided fitting sidelights to [...]
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