Lola Lomy

[ Friday, November 21, 2003 ]

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving Day, dear readers! The Oyzons (sans Elice, who is in Morocco, and Beau, who, I think has a show; and we'll be missing Coco and Jonette, too) are celebrating Turkey Day at Curt&Elaine&the boys' in Atlanta with Curt's mom, Linda. For those who are traveling, take care, keep safe and may your reach your destination, to and from, safely and in good health.

[ Tuesday, November 18, 2003 ]

Discuss with me

I've read this somewhere, and it has become a constant guidance in communicating with others, or in observing the way others communicate: 'Great minds discuss ideas; Average minds discuss events; Small minds discuss people.' A friend of mine has this great way of speaking her mind. She is honest and tells it like it is, and I appreciate that. She falls under all of the above--what does that make her? By the way, part of the fun in blogging, as far as I am concerned, is perusing comments from various readers. It is not only a forum for the Oyzon family; it is for everyone, as the way a forum should be. So get involved--I'd like to hear from you! Sibs?

[ Wednesday, November 12, 2003 ]

Blog Therapy

I just noticed lately that I tend to get sappy; and I've been focused on neurosis -- mine. It is nice to be jolted back by the positive outlook that my dear husband, Ely, Weez and Beau (sass and all) endow. They do have a gift that I wish I could possess. Basically, I need to get a grip. Blogging is therapeutic.

[ Friday, November 07, 2003 ]

Middleclass Filipino Upbringing

Rosal (Filipino name for gardenia), my maiden name. I have 8 sisters: Vir, Bella, (I came next), Sonia, Bambi, Morna, Vicky, Tessie and Chet. I remember a joke our eldest, Vir, used to tell us: When we were growing up we had a talking pet parrot; his favorite incantation was some singsong in our dialect, which I forget now, but translated: "All holes, no balls"(am I allowed to write this?). We do have a brother, Butch, our youngest (poor guy). Growing up with a bevy of us was interesting although I really do not recall all of us bonding as a whole. I can recall my older sisters' activities as distanced from my own; as were the younger ones'. Discipline was fragmented: Aside from our parents, it was imposed by grandparents, aunts or nannies, and relatives (real and adoptive--all adults were called tios and tias; lolos and lolas). We used to respond to discipline through fear. I recall being threatened that I will be dealt with by the "boogeyman" if I didn't behave. The kids were always teased with put down or connotative names. I was stuck with the name "Macao," because I looked Chinese. And I was born in a Chinese hospital, I was reminded (I really was, in Manila); and for a long time I was teased that I may have been exchanged in the nursery. I dreaded the thought that it was true, and it crept into mind every time someone called me Macao. Sure I cried, but they delighted in making me cry (they thought it was cute!). I still see a lot of that in a Filipino household: The grown ups love to tease a child to tears! I am so sorry, I was guilty of the same, in the early years of bringing my kids up: Somehow it must have affected their attitudes, their mental health and possible prejudices. Back in school, there were always five Rosal sisters enrolled. When the oldest one graduated, one young sibling started. (We all went to Catholic schools). We do not have junior high school in the Philippines; so all the major subjects are crammed in four years of high school. Older sisters took care of younger ones at school. There was a time I was called from class by my sister Morna's teacher. Morna was the youngest one at school, then. Anyway, she was sick to her stomach that day and I had to clean up after her. What an ordeal she put me through! I was cross with the other siblings because I was the only one the teachers could get hold of. I think they knew what happened and made themselves conveniently scarce. Bella wrote for the school paper. Once she wrote something nice, and submitted it under my name. She looked after me that way: Making me look good. I was good in math, but it depended upon who my teacher was. Social Studies and Economics were boring--teachers, included. We had Religion class in every grade, all the way through high school (we had the dreaded Baltimore Catechism: lots to memorize). We went into retreats every year in high school. It was a religious experience wherein we were in seclusion for three days and nights for meditation and a lot of listening to sermons. I enjoyed it simply because it was a chance to be away from home and sleep in a dorm like situation; and I looked forward to the meals the cooks in the convent prepared. The rest of the time, I just went through the motions. Sermons were delivered by different religious orders. Sometimes, though, I felt holy by the impassioned sermons delivered by the Jesuit priests (they were more liberal and attuned to the times; they brought forth more impact than the fire-and-brimstone method used by the conservative Dominican order). On few such occasions I really thought I would become a nun. Junior Senior proms were exciting albeit devoid of boys. We had dances and refreshments. They were well chaperoned, by nuns! lest boys gate crashed. Because it was an all girl school it was inevitable that some of the students (mostly, the underclassmen) developed "crushes" on fellow students (the upperclassmen). It was a case of popularity amongst the students if one was a recipient of a card, a flower or some token gift from an admirer. I had one, a freshman, who sent me flowers, when I was in my junior year. Every time we passed each other in the hallway, she would blush and act out of sorts from embarrassment, much to my amusement. I felt such emulation to one senior, myself (I can't even recall who it was); it was just a normal desire to excel like her. This day and age, such adulation suggests a different meaning, in the eyes of certain people. I graduated from high school in 1956. Graduation was all pomp and ceremony. I hated leaving the old school for good--my best classmates, my teachers, my favorite nun. But it was exciting, having passed the high school stage. But it was onward to college. Our parents put us all through college. Whenever tuition was scarce, my father borrowed from relatives and friends; or mortgaged properties. It is of major concern, and prestigious for Filipino parents to have college-educated children.

[ Tuesday, November 04, 2003 ]

Back Pains

My husband and I went to a wine tasting outing with three couples in our neighborhood two weeks ago. We had dinner at a restaurant later. Everyone had a great time, good conversation, and good banter. I've noticed, though, that hanging out with the people our age, we become engrossed with the subject of ailments, every aches and back pains that we suffer, and pretty soon we are prescribing each other with vitamins of choice. I remember listening to my mom and her friends talk about their ailments, when I was in my teens; I thought, was that what our conversation going to be when we became senior citizens? Well, we have come to be! Speaking of back pains, I cannot forget the time my family moved from our province to Manila. I was about six. My dad and his friends had to raise the piano up to the second floor of our new house. That night my father could hardly move from so much back pain. Someone brought a masseur/therapist, who came equipped with a little shot glass. He rubbed oil on my father's back and then in the little glass he put cotton soaked with oil, he lit it and applied it on dad's back. I watched in horror as the glass sucked my father's skin in, as he eased the glass back and forth, filling the whole space; I thought dad was going to die! I think that started my fear of everything that I could not understand, my neuroses. This particular time, I feared that we were all going to have the same pain my dad felt, and get the same skin sucking glass applied to our backs. I never knew what kind of treatment that was, but my father felt better. Hey, maybe that'll help me ease my back pains.

[ Sunday, November 02, 2003 ]

Silly-like, but heartfelt

Dearest All, I've been sent, yet again, this letter from the 83-year old woman --you know the one (it has been going round for ages)...Anyway, I am resurrecting my own--along her lines: Dear Bertha . . . I am reading more and dusting less. I am reading less, my eyesight is not as good as it used to. . . I always dusted less! I'm sitting in the yard and admiring the view without fussing about the weeds in the garden. But how can one admire the view, with weeds in the garden? I'm spending more time with my family and friends and less time working. It works both ways, you know... Whenever possible, life should be a pattern of experiences to savor, not to endure. No argument there. I'm trying to recognize these moments now and cherish them. Ditto. I'm not "saving" anything; There is none to save--I try and share my good stuff. We use our good china and crystal (if someone can wash and put them away) for every special event such as losing a pound, getting the sink unstopped, or the first Amaryllis blossom. ?finding the misplaced eyeglasses stuck up on your forehead; But it's more fun and less work to use paper plates! I wear my good blazer to the market. That, I do. My theory is if I look prosperous, I can shell out $28.49 for one small bag of groceries. I can shell out more than that, properly attired or not! I'm not saving my good perfume for special parties, I am allergic to scents. but wearing it for clerks in the hardware store and tellers at the bank. They're probably allergic, too! Someday" and "one of these days" are losing their grip on my vocabulary. Those days have come, and I am losing grip. If it's worth seeing or hearing or doing, I want to see and hear and do it now. Eh? What was that? I'm not sure what others would've done had they known they wouldn't be here for the tomorrow that we all take for granted. well, I hope they would give a care; tomorrow may never come for any of us. I think they would have called family members and a few close friends. You get that? I'm waiting for your call, you'all! They might have called a few former friends to apologize but...I don't have anything to apologize for. and mend fences for past squabbles. I try to mend fences, but a few 'rails' get undone by some 'loose screws.' I like to think they would have gone out for a Chinese dinner or for whatever their favorite food was. I like Thai Food, myself. I'm guessing; I'll never know. It's those little things left undone that would make me angry if I knew my hours were limited... yeah, it would make me feel guilty, as well. Angry because I hadn't written certain letters that I intended to write one of these days. So This...is it, folks! Angry and sorry that I didn't tell my husband and parents often enough how much I truly love them. Hey, I truly love all of you, guys! I'm trying very hard not to put off, hold back, or save anything that would add laughter and luster to our lives. Truly!.. And every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special. I do that, with every creak and ache that I feel in my body. Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God. Thank you Lord! If you received this, it is because someone cares for you. And I do. People say true friends must always hold hands, but true friends don't need to hold hands because they know the other hand will always be there. You know I will always be here for you! I don't believe in Miracles. I rely on them. I do. Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance. So, let's party!!! ...And I'll probably hate myself in the morning for doing this entry.