I noticed today’s date and did the math. Unbelievable! Sixty-eight years ago today, after 37 months under the rule of the Japanese Imperial Army, the battle for the liberation of Manila began. One hundred thousand Filipinos perished in what historians call the Manila Massacre, described as the “worst urban fighting” ever recorded.
After Magellan was killed in Cebu, the victorious chieftain, Lapu-Lapu, refused to return his body, saying that they wanted to keep him “so that they would not forget him.” Magellan’s remains were never recovered. (From Mary W. Helms, 1988)
The Philippine National Historical Society (PNHS) recently launched two books on Philippine history, “Journal of History: Rizal Sesquicentennial Edition,” and Teodoro A. Agoncillo’s “Vignettes of Philippine History,” at the National Historical Commission of the Philippines (NHCP) Multi-Purpose Hall.
The assassination of General Antonio Luna in Cabanatuan on June 5, 1899, by Cavite soldiers blindly loyal to President Emilio Aguinaldo, fell like a thunderbolt upon the staff of the revolutionary newspaper “La Independencia.”
Jose Rizal had class and charisma. He was a renaissance man who dazzled and insulted an archaic Spanish colonial ruler with his liberalism in modern politics. His symbol: a pen that is mightier than the sword.
The thing is an ancient ruin of a weird, huge arch. It stands forlorn at the base of a steep ravine walled in by a thick jungle and the Olya River in Majayjay. It’s a tall arch, moss-covered, with wild ferns and creeping vines growing in its cracks and crevices. Below is a dark green lagoon where we swam and frolicked naked when we were young boys many moons ago.
I do not remember the Jai Alai. I have never marveled at the flame trees that once lined the paseo to Luneta. Not once have I walked through Escolta in all its glory, when it exuded glamour comparable to stylish European boulevards.
The Baronial structure, with its mix of modern and Gothic architecture, never fails to attract attention and reverence.
Anyone who was a child pre-World War II remembers the menfolk’s visits to one another’s homes. They enjoyed cigars or just conversation, sitting on sillas perezosas (lazy easy chairs) in the sala as if there was nothing ever urgent to do. If they were ilustrados (learned), they spoke in Spanish and all the kids around imbibed a smattering of it. “Si para si para buto ng sili!” we would mimic them.
In matrimonial matters, the ruby marks a couple’s 40th year since tying the knot.
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