In the time of People Power, on Dec. 5, 1987, a lively gathering was going on at the “in” place at that time, Limelight at the Remedios Circle. Political activists, socialites, artists, bohemians and academicians of all stripes had trooped to the fun district of Malate to toast and roast themselves in the launching of the book, “History of the Burgis.”
“FOREVER 81” writer Gilda Cordero Fernando (Philippine Daily Inquirer, Sunday Lifestyle) models for the 80 and above a waltz down memory lane beyond “Triviata.” A neighboring column, “My Chair Rocks” of Conchita Razon, not only awaits more “aha moments” from PDI readers, but also propels them to keep in step with her beat. One can’t help tapping into her vibes and rocking, too.
There seems to be a resurgence lately of interest in the aswang and other creatures of lower mythology. The outrageous new novel by the inimitable Ricky Lee, “Si Amapola sa 65 na Kabanata,” and Erik Matti’s hilarious spoof of a film, “Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles,” which Belai Gruenberg and I caught on its last day, are the most recent.
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.
Be enthralled by the colorful creatures of Philippine folk literature and mythology as the UP Playwrights’ Theater puts the spotlight once again on “Umaaraw Umuulan Kinakasal ang Tikbalang,” Dulaang UP’s hit production last season. The play is adapted from Gilda Cordero-Fernando’s children’s short story “The Magic Circle,” written by Rody Vera and directed by José Estrella.
That was a conclusion I had arrived at many months after my husband’s death. It was a contentious marriage. We were the opposite of each other—qualities he didn’t have, I had, qualities he had, I didn’t have. Which should have been, if you blanked out everything else, a perfect fit.
We are a family of cooks, gardeners and musicians (except me), artists (ehem), and pretend-interior and exterior designers. Wendy is the only pro in some of those callings. She lives in Antipolo, and it was her birthday. As always, in parties for the family, we make do with whatever is there. We never have caterers or decorators and are so cocky-sure that everything will just look and taste great.
I used to hate my birthday parties as a long-time only child. I had one each year yet none of them was really for me. In the ’30s, birthday parties for children were an excuse for adults to get together.
In the anthology “Teacher Teacher: A Tribute to Teachers Everywhere,” there are moments captured between teacher and student that seem like “a soap opera in dire need of revision,” in the words of communications consultant Cynthia J. Gruet. These moments enabled the mentors to touch the lives and futures of the contributing writers in ways unimaginable.
When I sit in the garden for my morning sunbath, the tweeting on the trellis above is real. The brown, long-tailed Angry Birds arguing fiercely above my head are not virtual. Neither is the mouse hiding behind the flowerpot. The spider is hanging on the jade vine, thank heavens, not on some world wide web.
Because she loves being surprised, Inquirer founding chair Eugenia Apostol— our tita Eggie—was feted in a surprise birthday party plotted by former PDI Ombudsman Lorna Kalaw-Tirol, former Inquirer columnist Melinda Quintos-De Leon and Inquirer editor in chief Letty Jimenez-Magsanoc.
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