Sunday Lifestyle
This year, said son Mol, let’s plan the Christmas menu as dad would have, as if he were still alive. “All meat??!!” shuddered Son No. 2’s wife Lilli-Ann. “How can it be complete,” wailed Wendy, “when there’s no Collins Street Bakery fruitcake this year? Dad was so ill in May I’m sure he forgot to order it or it would have arrived in November.”
Although my dad passed away on an April’s day 32 years ago, and I’ve now lived the better part of my life without him, whenever this month comes along, my days are often filled with thoughts of him and what my life would have been like had he been alive.
Children are always an interesting and insightful bunch. Cartoon Network recently released a survey on what Filipino kids valued and aspired to. The New Generations 2012 study found that Filipino kids desired high-paying jobs by age 30, but showed less enthusiasm for marriage.
COLORS have lost their innocence. Some are even getting their reputation smirched.
Tonight is the Bb. Pilipinas pageant and for sure, a big, fanatic segment of the population will be tuned in. I might be, too. While I’m no beauty-contest junkie, I’ve started to take interest in our beauty queens since I had the chance to dine with them, and had a fun, chill time.
You can point a mother to the ends of the earth and it won’t weaken her resolve to find that cure for her ailing child. Broadcast journalist Karen Davila’s firstborn, David, was 3½ years old when he was diagnosed with Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified (PDD/NOS) in the Autism Spectrum, a severe form of autism. The development pediatrician said there was no cure for David’s condition.
I wept in disbelief listening to a witness at a Senate hearing, a confessed member of the so-called Davao Death Squad, as he told in gruesome detail his story of human beings being thrown alive to crocodiles, or gutted or chopped up to feed fish, or mummy-wrapped in packing tape and dumped somewhere labeled in death as dope pushers or otherwise bad examples.
I am 23 years old, and I have a boyfriend who is seven years older than me. We met through a friend two years ago. We became close, though he was jobless while I was in my final year in college.
We share from our souls with our sisters and mothers, and evidently that’s very good for our health I must admit I doll up for intimate lunches with girl friends. After all, the first part of the program is usually a gushing exchange of compliments, and, while I may need some self-assurance in this department, I’d like to deserve at least some of it.
As a child, I was a huge scaredy-cat. I had overprotective parents who tried to shield me from all sorts of danger, real and imagined, because of their love for me. It took decades, much heartbreak and many losses before I finally grew into the courage that I have now. Close to 50 now, I’d like to think that I’m finally fearless.
