The Sampalok Tree – a story of giving back

Rewind.  On my first trip to Bangkok in 2002, I brought home a few kilos of sweet and juicy sampalok for my Mom to enjoy. I remember the sharp look I got when I offered some to my Titas. "Akin yan," her eyes firmly said. 

Fast Forward. Seven years later (and six years after my mother died), I am almost surprised to see a graceful sampalok tree standing right by her old bedroom window. Unknown to me, she had planted a seed from that bunch, and it has grown and propagated not just the fruit, but the memory of that day, her joy and her generosity as well. 

Pause. Seven years ago, I brought my mother a pasalubong. Seven years later, she gave it back to me.

All dressed up

After months of going around
a) naked
b) in an ill-fitting striped red distressed bag
c) in a no nonsense reversible green and brown sleeve...

I am excited to announce that my MacBook has found the perfect outfit!!!

She now sashays around wearing a zebra patterned sleeve in pink and black. No, it didn't come from a high tech Apple store or a designer techie boutique.

I got it at SM Department store for P299.75. Eyeloveit!!!

Becoming them – an update

Yay! I'm giddy with excitement:

• J won as Department Representative in his college's student council elections. He actually ran unopposed – the two other parties (both of which asked him to be their rep before he announced his candidacy) were not able to find suitable candidates. 

• C was named "Rookie of the Year" of her volleyball team in the Varsity Dinner at her school tonight.

Priceless.

The perfect time

Under my pillow lies a rosary. Every night in the recent years, I have made it a ritual to pray until sleep dictates what comes next. 

I once read a priest's advice to someone who said she'd fall asleep while praying: "If that's how the rosary comforts you, then let it be..." And so, I took it to heart.

That's because these days, I go to bed only when my eyes begin to see double. My prayers have since become shorter and shorter, the decades unfinished, the words garbled, jumbled, mentally mumbled. I'd always wake up feeling guilty and promising to pray longer the next evening. 

But yesterday's homily during mass at the Holy Family Chapel in Eastwood changed it all. 

The priest talked about not waiting for the last minute to say your prayers. He said that at night, after spending the day doing everything we have to, it is normal that the only thing our body wants to do is sleep. And so he suggested that we say our prayers in the morning. "It will energize you," he promised.

It was one of the first things I remembered as I woke up. As my hand crept under my pillow in search of the beads, I also anticipated the extra minutes I could spend in bed.

Moments later, I felt like I've splashed my face with faith, or even taken a quick shower of blessings. 

I AM ready to begin my day.

Becoming them

As our children grow, we parents become amazed spectators to their transformation as their own person – each one a unique blend of our own genes yet perfectly different from the other and from who we are. 

This year is an awesome time for us, seeing J & C carve their own path to find out what makes them whole and happy.

J, 19, is running for a slot in his college's student council. It gives him (and his party) a tremendous boost of confidence that he was recruited by ALL three parties to be their representative. The campaign preparations are intense and tedious, so we are ready to support him 100%. This thing is quite new to us, but we are basking in the joy of seeing this shy boy emerge from his sheltered Jesuit upbringing to become a charming, self-assured young man who is deeply admired by his university peers for his intelligence and sincerity.

C, 14, has found her own comfy place in her new school. The adjustment

period was not as difficult as we had expected. She is in the Math enrichment program, to which she had always belonged in her old school. She has above average grades and enjoys being with her new-found friends. And now, as part of the volleyball varsity team, she 

is competing in three simultaneous tournaments. Training and games rob her of weekends but she enthusiastically prepares for them, making sure she is ready, never late and her gear, always complete. Gradually yet consistently, as her playing time increases and as they notch more wins, so will her discipline, confidence and competitiveness.

All these mean waking up earlier, watching less DVDs in bed and practically having no meals eaten together. But this an exciting time for our small family, as we watch our children grow into the wonderful persons they're shaping up to be.

You are what you write

My career as a writer has been defined by my journey as a woman. Let me show you how.

I started in advertising as a chic gym rat with long permed hair who wore Esprit and Anne Klein jeans in every color. I wrote product claims for brands like Lux, Sunsilk and Creamsilk and lines for celebrities like Sharon Cuneta, Kuh Ledesma, Kris Aquino, and international hairstylists Allen Edwards and Tovar. 

A few years later, I had gotten married and had a child. Giddy with the joys of motherhood, I plunged deep into kurot sa puso moments for Kodak, Gerber, Ovaltine, Tang, Cheez Wiz, Kraft Cheese, and fun and games with Chippy, Jack n Jill Pretzels, Piattos and a whole bunch of snacks. 

Motherhood sucks you in, and it's all up to you if you'll end up either a hip mama or a hip manang. Somehow, I got caught in between, and so while I dabbled in the techi-ness of Dream Satellite, Samsung, Nextel, iAcademy, StarWorld and American Eye Center, I also hit the kusina with Payless Instant Noodles, 555 Carne Norte, Angel Condensada and Blue Bay Sardines, plus the labahan with Budget Bareta and Winrox Bleach.

Hitting midlife and limping past it a few years later, the connection seems totally lost, the concept suddenly off-strat. 

This is because during the past year, I have written, or am now in the process of writing for: Monark-CAT Heavy Equipment, the Philippine Military Academy (PMA), the Maritime Academy of Asia and the Pacific (MAAP), Shell, Quezon Power Ltd., Saggitarius Mines, the Department of Energy and the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces of the Philippines. Sometimes it's brainless but at times it's a struggle – for insights, for familiarity, for words.

Did I cross the gender boundary unknowingly... while I was texting on my cellphone or updating my blog? Did I get a testosterone transfusion? How did I become macho overnight?

Discussing this realization with a friend over Yahoo Messenger this morning, I asked, "Did I become flexible or desperate?" He said he was sure I had grown flexible or else I would be writing for taho instead. But hey, I can do that! 

On my first month on my first job, my boss said, "to be a good writer, one should NOT have a style," I didn't believe her then but now I know that she did know what she was talking about. Even if it seems I'd need a lifetime of learning not to have a style.  

Calamansi Therapy

Calamansi Nip, that's how my Mom called it about two decades ago – long before eager entrepreneurs started bottling them commercially and calling them Calamansi Concentrate. But these bottled wannabes on supermarket shelves were either bitter, laden with preservatives or were too watered down to capture the real, the pure, the unique flavor so distinct to calamansi.

Of course to me, they were no way near what good old Mom used to make – instant, no-squeeze calamansi joy you just mixed with water by the tablespoonful. Naturally, it would entail hours of hard work at first – squeezing mounds of ripe and juicy calamansi fruits in the peak of ripeness, doubling its volume with the exact amount of sugar, stirring patiently until no visible sugar has settled at the bottom and then waiting a day to remove the bitter residue that has formed on top of the mixture. Simple, yes. Sweet, absolutely.

The rewards last for many weeks after that. When the craving arises, all you'd have to do is pour a dollop onto a glass, add cold water plus a handful of ice cubes to enjoy a refreshing and tingly beverage. Or on a cold and coughy morning like today, one or two spoonfuls stirred into a cup of hot water will warm you like a hug. Better yet, have a warm potful by your side. 

Calming my day, soothing my throat, warming my heart with memories of my mother... this is my comfort drink. What's yours?