A quick look at the calendar startled me. It’s June? Half the year is over, just like that.
How have the first six months of 2015 been for you? I can’t complain.
I asked my friend who came home to retire early this year. She is still raving about her “newfound old life,” with “servicio,” inexpensive “peluquerias,” and other perks not available to her in America. She keeps asking herself why she didn’t do this sooner.
I can appreciate how she feels. For a number of years, it seemed like an impossible dream for me.
Imagine not having to do beds or scrub bathrooms anymore! Don’t get me wrong. I was incredibly happy there. But I always missed our Pinoy lifestyle.
Finally, in my senior years and with my nest totally empty, “balikbuhay” became an irresistible option. I recommend it.
A well-traveled lady I know whose children were in college in the Bay Area had an interesting exchange on one of her visits with a not-so-friendly immigration officer at the airport. He asked how long she planned to stay. While she thought about it, he asked sarcastically: “You mean you don’t know?”
Her reply was epic: “I am thinking of how long I can stand having to do laundry, cooking and cleaning toilets. I really don’t want to stay here too long.”
He waved her through.
Nervous wreck
My former classmate is stressed out. She has this nagging sense of foreboding that something terrible is about to happen. We think she suffers from TMI—Too Much Information.
She is an Internet fanatic, always online, reads every word on Yahoo and even does her shopping via social media. She has read everything on the Ring of Fire; quotes predictions about the Big One, lists each town on the Valley Fault, knows where and when an iceberg broke and is currently deep in the study of changes in sea levels around the world.
No wonder she is a nervous wreck.
On the other hand, my first friend does not bother with the Internet; still writes letters by hand, sends them by snail mail. She asks, what’s the rush? Besides, she has heard too many complaints about faulty signals and unreliable providers.
Over lunch she talks to me seriously about her one and only Provider. Her faith inspires.
“He is all I need and is only a prayer away!” she swears. You can’t argue with that.
Flag month
Driving into the village last night I noticed a huge Philippine flag at the gate.
Although in my heart I still celebrate Philippine Independence on July 4, I have this deep and strong desire to see a flag waving in front of our home before June 12. I checked with my landlord and he wants it “anywhere where all can see!”
At my sister’s home in Atlanta, Old Glory waves all year round right by her street entrance. It looks splendid.
Before going out to buy one, I thought I might need to read up on the rules. There are many.
Here are a few do’s and don’ts stated in Republic Act No. 8491 on how to honor and display the Philippine flag, “the symbol of our nation’s identity and integrity.”
In times of peace, the blue field must be shown above the red. I pray we never see it in reverse.
Flags must be raised briskly at sunrise and lowered slowly and reverently at sunset. If the flag remains through the night, it must be properly illuminated.
When a state of mourning is declared, flags must be raised all the way to the top of the pole, stay a few seconds and then lowered to half-mast.
No part of the flag should be allowed to touch the ground.
In a parade, if the flag marches with those of other nations, ours must be upfront and center.
Tattered flags should be immediately replaced. Old ones must be disposed of by burning and never be thrown in the trash.
Did you know that it was once prohibited to wear the flag as a costume or normal attire? Is it still?
I was born and raised during a time when our flag flew underneath the American stars and stripes. In 1943, a year into the Japanese Occupation, Jose P. Laurel was inaugurated as President of the Philippine “puppet” Republic. Our flag, banned from view until then, was allowed to show its face. Not too many were impressed.
But on July 4, 1946, with hearts broken from the war and amid the ruins of Manila, we wept when we saw our flag flying alone and free. Reactions were mixed. Colonial minds were upset, preferring the status quo. I was not quite 14 but it struck me as a mega-event.
Memories
I miss watching a parade. I remember loving the excitement and pageantry, a band playing loud and marching proud behind smart-stepping men in uniform who held the flag up for all to see. Crowds stood on the sidewalk, hats off, waving, saluting and cheering.
Where is that spirit today?
How are we today with the flag? Someone said: If you are ashamed to stand by your colors, you had better seek another flag.
What do we teach our children? Do we show them love of country? Are we still the “cradle of noble heroes”? Do they sing “Lupang Hinirang” “with fervor burning”?
Or are they jaded and cynical like many of us who complain and criticize but do absolutely nothing to change for the better?
Just asking.
