Is there a Bell in Bell House and who is John Hay?

The three stooges

This was the first time I visited Bell House in Camp John Hay. My friend's wife found it strange that I have been to Baguio City almost yearly yet I have not visited this famous old house. I have been to John Hay before but, I guess, being too lazy, I missed this place. But finally got the chance to see it last Saturday when we tag along a friend's family on their Baguio (not their first time) all soul's day R and R. Or maybe I'm just a miserable miser who waited this long to get the opportunity to see the place for free. Hahaha...again teacher's salary, Heavens.

It'a a good thing our host had been here before for they were able to show us around the house. One thing I love about old houses especially ones designed and built by the Americans, which there are many in Baguio being the former American colonists summer get away, is the texture (the best I could come up with) or the feel of the place. The lay out of the house and the surrounding trees and foliage gave the feeling of being in another country in another era. The illusion was fortified by the abundance of pine trees, cypress and other trees imported from the US. It's obvious that the Americans wanted to re-create or at least create the atmosphere of America here in John Hay and in Baguio. 

But as I was going around the house, I could see that the poor maintenance was starting to show. There was also an old wooden building a few meters from Bell House that looked like a school building or an administrative house that have been left abandoned and neglected. I guess it's difficult to understand why they are in that state of disrepair, but I hope the John Hay people would look at it and pay attention to how it could be used productively without destroying it's  historical authenticity like maybe opening it as a restaurant.

Anyway, as we were touring the place we over heard people talking about the house and the most interesting discussion the tourists asked among themselves was how come the house was called Bell house. I, too, didn't know how it was so named. But unlike the pre-Google years, I didn't have to lose sleep over it, I could search for it later. 

Photo belongs to Pinoy Roadtrip.

So, one of the theories overheard was that there was a huge bell buried under the house. I mean, bell is bell what else could be the obvious explanation. So, a discussion ensued among my my two cumpadres and so I found out from one of them that "Bell House was named after Major General J. Franklin Bell "who lived in that house as the commanding General of the American Forces in the Philippines." From 1911-1914, "General Bell transformed camp John Hay from 'essentially a small convalescent facility into a major military resort'."

It's there in one of the tarpaulins posted outside one only has to be attentive to background information provided in the site. I guess I didn't pay attention. But my friend was right.

Who is John Hay and what is his connection to Baguio? here's Wikipedia's answer. No, John Hay did not live in Baguio. There's no mention of him even visiting the Philippines. But do read on.

John Milton Hay (October 8, 1838 – July 1, 1905) was an American statesman and official whose career in government stretched over almost half a century. Beginning as a private secretary and assistant to Abraham Lincoln, Hay's highest office was United States Secretary of State under Presidents William McKinley and Theodore Roosevelt. Hay was also an author and biographer, and wrote poetry and other literature throughout much of his life. 

John Hay Air Station was established on October 25, 1903 after President Theodore Roosevelt signed an executive order setting aside land in Benguet for a military reservation under the United States Army. The reservation was named after Roosevelt's Secretary of State, John Milton Hay. For a time, elements of the 1st Battalion of the Philippine Division's 43d Infantry Regiment (PS) were stationed here. Prior to World War II, a number of buildings had been constructed on base, including a U.S. Army Hospital and the summer residence of the Governor-General of the Philippines, later to be known as The American Residence, which is now used as the summer house of the United States Ambassador to the Philippines.

Hot rich Chocolate drinks and conversations

Hot chocolate

Baguio has been my second home since my sisters and nephews have been based there for about two decades now. I have been there on a regular basis but I have toured the place about twice when my wife and daughter first went there in the 90's and when we had our family reunion in 2010. 

My daughter and my nephews have gone the round of some of the coffee shops and restos around the summer capital but my wife and I have never really spent the time touring the city's attractions. I'm too lazy (or too poor) to move around. 

I guess being familiar with the place, I have lost the curiosity and the excitement of a tourist. I have gone there just to relax and decompress in the serenity of the Philippine Baptist Theology Seminary's campus at my sister's faculty house.

My idea of a chocolate drink.

Chocolate de Batirol. 

I have never even heard of the place until it was mentioned with the conversations inside the van. My good friend Engr. Aris Borja and his wife Jenny invited my family for a cup of chocolate. My experience of chocolate drink is limited to Ovaltine and Milo or Alvin's Cocoa and Ricoa which my parents used to cook champurado. So, my idea of a chocolate drink is limited to the diluted and over sweetened instant chocolate drink.

The shop offered a variety of chocolate drink and food but since I am not that familiar with the coco-cocktail they serve, my wife and I settled for the traditional coco drink. When the cups arrived, the aroma was so good and powerful that it overcame my active rhinitis, which desensitizes, to a degree, my olfactory sense. The aroma brings back childhood memories of my cooking mother champurado and monsoon rains.

Hot choco and converstions. Jolo, my friends son, forgot his
Iphone there and the crew was honest enough to make
 sure the phone was returned. This gotta count for something.

Anyway, the first sip was confusing, being a virgin, I guess. I was expecting sweetness, which is the primary taste that I got used to, but instead my palate was treated to a grainy, thick bitter-sweet chocolate that it took me some time to process the conflicting thoughts my head was going through reconciling what I have been used to to what is being introduced now. I had to overcome my Milo and Ovaltine conditioning. I had to update my taste buds, so to speak. 

I let the liquid roll around my mouth. I had the same experience with brewed coffee. The first time I drank brewed coffee I almost threw up because I was so used to weak, over-sweetened instant coffee that when I drank my first sip of brewed sugarless coffee, the strong bitter taste triggered my gag reflex. But now, I like brewed coffee (but I could live without it, I mean, I knew people who could not survive without a dose of it.) 

But the rich chocolate drink unsettled some nerves in my stomach. I guess with the pizza and hot sauce, donut, coffee, and an earlier heavy lunch in near successions, the menagerie of food stuff in the digestive sac sort of declared war against each other. 

But I survived for the next stop, live music,  a bottle of light beer and sisig. Another story...

Jeepneys and jeepney stuffs about jeepneys

The backbone of our transport industry. I cannot imagine
our roads without a jeepney. But I could imagine it without
jeepney drivers.

For sometime now, I have not traveled on a jeepney. Having a motorcycle made it unnecessary. So, when our motorcycle had a mechanical problem, I had no choice but to to take a jeepney from Cainta to Taytay. 

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. And seated on a jeepney, feeling the breeze touching my face while listening to the stereo,  I realized that I do miss riding on it, but at the same time I was also ruing about the physical discomforts and the pains of the trip. Some things have not changed like suspensions and driving skills (or the lack of it) and  the drivers ignorance of Newton's law of inertia (you don't hit the brakes abruptly! full tank you, driver!).

The refitted WWII vehicle changed very little mainly its seating capacity and the fitting of more powerful engines. 

Personally, I prefer that the jeepney's external appearance not to change for cultural and sentimental reasons despite the fact that it is aerodynamically blunt and violates almost every articles and provisions of the automotive engineering's laws and constitutions. 

Willy's GPW or General Purpose Wheeler which was
shortened to "Jeep." This our jeepneys ancestor.
According to history Pinoys converted this
WWII vehicles left by the Americans
to passenger vehicles by retro-fitting it with seats
 and roofs. Sarao pioneered the mass production
of jeepneys based on the GPW.

It has a deeply ingrained identity. The boxlike body and the front grill with  two headlights and front grills, human-face-like if you ask me, retains its Willy's jeep ancestry. The multi-leveled bumpers that could turn Mad Max green with envy is a remnant of WWII battle tank philosophy that was designed for resistance and ramming, the very opposite of the impact absorbing bodies of modern vehicles .  There are accessories that are excessive like multiple side mirrors and tire flaps, signal lights, fog lights, and other auxiliary lightnings and powerful sound systems that could either induce heart attack because of the thumping bass woofers or seizures due to the the high frequency tweeters--I have not ridden a jeepney that has a balanced sound system--, but these defines the jeepney. 

Aside from these superfluities, there are now jeepneys equipped with DVD- karaoke system and airconditiong and it sometimes makes me wonder if they have their own portable nuclear power plants to feed these gadgets electricity. 

Its body paintings and other works of art are also another thing that should not change. The jeepney is considered a travelling canvass of Filipino artists. These designs say a lot about the drivers and the operators.

The INC's tricolors. This can be seen everywhere: on session
guitarists guitar on TV, Taho and puto vendors pails,
windows and doors, tricycles, bicycles, t-shirts etc.

Religious affiliations for one: a red-white-green sticker or a Romans 16:16 verse or an Ibong Mandaragit words printed on the mudguards says that the driver or the operator is a member of the INC. 

Rosary and the Lord's Prayer booklet hanging on the rear view mirror, statuette of the Virgin Mary:, a Roman catholic, 

Evangelical verses like John 3:16 etc, could mean an Evangelical affiliation. etc. Observe the logos and colors, there are meanings,(overt or covert), and order in the chaos of colors and designs.

Where the money for the jeepney came from: An anchor or a ship's helm obviously says that the owner is a seaman. "Katas ng Saudi" this is getting fewer and more and more I am seeing "Katas ng Barko", "Katas ng Uling", Katas ng Saging", "Katas ng Gulay" and other "Katas ng ___"

Family oriented: Portraits of family members, the bunso, acronyms of names like Jomajenroblinron (for Johnny, Maring, Jenny, Roberto, Linda, Ronaldo) etc.

What else? Humorous sayings like "God knows Judas not Pay" Hmmm...naughty stuffs like "bulbuhok", ...nevermind.

Horns...I don't know where jeepney drivers get these horns. Cow moos, gunfire, laughter that could make your hair stand on its ends. I was riding our motorcycle when a jeepney stopped in front of me, then I heard chimes and an elevator voice over message:"thank you for riding". Where do they get these things? 

I had a horrible experience with smoke belchers.
I was riding at the front with the driver who
abruptly cut another jeepney to pick up
a passenger. This is stealing among jeepney
drivers. So, the other driver ran after us,
cursed our driver and then aimed his exhaust
pipe adjacentto the driver's seat and pumped
black, acrid,dirty, poisonous smoke on the driver,
me,and the rest of the passengers.  

I cannot imagine our streets without jeepneys and its mechanical idiosyncrasies. But it does not mean that the iconic Filipino mass transport vehicle should not change. 

Engines for one, they are still using junked engines from Japan, Korea and other industrialized countries. The poisonous exhaust is horrible. Needs no explaining.

There are moves for alternative fuels like gas or battery but the jeepney's body are made of cast iron that only steam and diesel can power it. Body works and the materials used should change too.

Suspension. I don't know if these vehicles are still using the Christie-Battle-Tank suspension.system but it's obvious that it was designed for cargoes and not for human beings. 

The jarring and the throwing from the seats, head bumps, because of the vehicle's stiff suspension, may cause cramps down there, below;  cramps basketball players experience when they play without their supporters. I often experienced this when I was still studying in Morong, Rizal. Ask anyone who is travelling to south of Rizal province and they will tell you what the word "fast" and "blender" means.

Seats. For heaven's sake there are things that discomfort and injure passengers like protruding welding joints especially in the seats, the sharp objects that is used to hoist the tarps against the rain, extra signal lights placed on the headroom, the protruding cabin lights that bumps the head, slippery floor, low headroom, etc.

Windows. I mean, why are they still using tarps?

Driving skills. I have respects for jeepney drivers. They have outstanding skills for maneuvering, evading, slipping through tiny openings, it's as if they were riding a bicycle. But their skills are for military applications; they will make excellent battle tank drivers.

Anyway...I have run out of energy. I have an asthma attack,. It's hot, for heaven's sake, I gotta do something to take my mind off the ailment...blah, blah,blah, blah,..Good bye.

Northern Exposure

For a long trip, I always wear malong. It fits in my pocket and I prefer it to a jacket. Though it cannot be avoided that some passengers look at me with that strange look, but it is better than bringing a blanket. 

I went on a little trip to the North this weekend to attend to a "speaking" engagement to a Christian School in  Aalaminos, Pangasinan. I left Friday and arrived at three in the morning. After delivering the commencement message, I then proceeded to Baguio City to pay a visit to my mother, siblings and my nephew Ycoi. I spent a couple of hours there and then went on my way home. I was pretty tired because the travel back from Baguio to Cubao took nine long hours  because of the fog and the road constructions along the way. So, I spent more time sitting on a bus than with my mother and my siblings. Anyway, I will be coming to Baguio in a couple of days for to bring my daughter there for a scheduled vacation. Boy did my butt and back hurt.

While passing through Pangasinan, I saw this gate. My daughter was a Daniel Padilla  fan  so I took a picture and asked my daughter if Daniel Padilla was from Pangsinan. She didn't know. Anyway, this was odd, why would anyone put his name on a gate. Maybe to attract fans, paparazzi or kindappers or, maybe, its just a namesake. either way, this was dangerous.

Baguio by night: I arrived at around eleven in the evening last Saturday  and I was surprised to find that the road in front of Jones Park, a major thorough fare, was converted into a night market.  Usually night markets is held on streets and sidewalks. The Ukay-ukay capital of the Philippines.

Baguio fog. Reminded me of Stephen King's novel "The Mist". I have been regularly to Baguio but this was the only time I saw fog this thick in summer.

Pissing off my nephew Ycoi.

My mother who is always busy with the laundry. Visited her and had a chat with her. She begged me to lose some weight because blah, blah,blah, she was worried I'll have a heart attack or something. That's what mothers do, worry about their children even though they are already adults.

Our bus drivers will make good battle tank drivers. How they maneuver that bus as if  it's just a bicycle never ceases to amaze me. They evade buses, taxis, pedestrians effortlessly. They have the essential skills for battle tank operations.

Bourne Legacy and other films shot in the Philippines

Rachel Weisz on the set of The Bourne Legacy in Manila.

The shooting of the fourth installment of Ludlum's Bourne series The Bourne Legacy started yesterday. Many Filipinos are excited about the film; it's not everyday that a big budgeted major Hollywood production is shot here in the Philippines. Aside from the prestige, the shooting of the movie would create job opportunities for the community where the film is being shot and also generate revenues for the involved local government units and government agencies.   Another benefit of Hollywood movies being shot in the country is that it would promote the Philippines as a tourist destination, sort of a product placement.

The story of Boracay, I think, is the best example of what a movie could to do in promoting a tourist spot in the country. Boracay then was an unknown beautiful island where the 1970 Hollywood WWII movie Too Late the Hero, starring Michael Caine, was shot. Since then, foreigners took notice of the island especially the powder white sand beaches and soon after that Boracay became a favorite destination for foreign tourist especially for the budget conscious backpackers. And because of this popularity among the foreigners, many local investors saw the potential of the island to become a world class tourist destination and the rest, as they say, is history.

I am a bit at a lost about the tourism hype of the  Ludlum movie because it is being shot in the areas of Marikina City Market, San Andres Market, Navotas Fishport, Ramon Magsaysay Blvd., Ayala Avenue, Nagtahan, Pasay Taft, Intramuros and Jones Bridge. I don't want to douse cold water into the enthusiasm about the potential exposure the movie could generate for tourism because many (if not most) of these places are not your typical tourist destinations . That is, unless the expected tourist market we have in mind  are urban survivalists interested in simulating post-nuclear war survival scenarios or journalists who are interested in doing documentaries about Metro Manila's nefarious taxi drivers (not all of them of course).Or, I could be wrong, maybe there are tourists interested in third-world- urban tourism, sort of.

Anyway,  the movie is not yet finished, and there maybe beautiful places that would be included in the movie like Palawan, Boracay, Bohol etc. Or,  they would pan the camera so as to avoid the eyesores, etc.so its too early to tell. I maybe wrong of course!

I expect that the DVD of the movie would be available from your trusted DVD Bootleg vendor way before the shooting is over. Also one of the benefits....early, early, pre- screening.

Anyway I am curious about  Hollywood films were shot here in the Philippines. Here are some of them: (Wikipedia)

1. Missing in Action (1984) : Chuck Norris, Directed by Joseph Zito

2. The Year of Living Dangerously (1982) : Mel Gibson and Sigourney Weaver, Directed by Peter Weir

3. Platoon (1986): Tom Berringer, Willem Dafoe and Charlie Sheen, Directed by Oliver Stone

4. Thirteen days (2000): Kevin Costner, Directed by Roger Donaldson

 4. Apocalypse Now (1979): Marlon Brando, Directed by Francis Ford Coppola

5. Enter the Ninja (1981): Franco Nero, Sho Kosugi, Directed by Menahem Golan

Videoke Blues

When I attended my wife's family reunion in Gumaca, Quezon, we hired a videoke machine. I was shocked when I saw that the video being shown was a PowerPoint presentation of the supposed achievements of a Quezon Province congressman. What was worse was that I am informed that all barangays were given these machines. Reminded me of the Nazi Goebel...(Photo not mine)

We got home from Baguio from our New Year’s break at 3 o’clock this morning. We rested for a while and then we slept. After a few hours, we were rudely awakened by a neighbor singing, at the top of his voice, Blue Bayou, a classic by Linda Rondstadt, complete with the mispronunciations and the Visayan accent.

I have nothing against Visayan accent, heck I am a half Visayan myself, but, really, one cannot help but be amused (well in this case, irritated) by this. I used to sing Karaoke too, but, that was when I was still living in sin, unsaved, condemned and fallen from grace. But when the realization came that the Karaoke was in C Major while my singing voice was in B minor, I quit. I   stopped and instead went on to play guitar in the church.

I have nothing against Karaoke. I mean, karaoke singing is fun especially the ones that tells the singer’s score after the piece. And for some, an artificial girl’s voice telling them that they got 99 for their singing is already an affirmation of their singing talent. That is until I tried the machine and I got a score of 50, I doubt the scoring method these machines use.

But, but, but… Again I have nothing against Karaokes or videokes. I have nothing against singing too. I believe singing is a basic human right. But singing and Karaoke are two different things. All human beings have the right to sing. I mean all. This right is inviolable and is on top of our basic human rights.

But just like any rights, it is regulated by common sense and common decency. One does not sing while his mouth is full; one does not sing dirges in birthdays; or one does not sing happy birthday in funerals (except when it is the deceased birthday). These rules, or conventions, are built in our heads. It’s a priori, deontological and these are examples of Kant’s categorical imperative.

Anyway, when it comes to karaoke and videoke machines, I think it is time our legislators create guidelines and laws. Normal singing voice is ok. No problem even if the singer’s voice is flat, sharp, atonal, alto, soprano, tenor, round, sandpaper-like, etc. It’s okey. No problemo. But when these voices are amplified and accompanied by machines with their artificial-mechanical-robotlike midi accompaniment, well, things change. The harmless singing becomes…not harmless.

Really, kidding aside, videoke, like firecrackers, should be regulated because sometimes, one cannot tell the difference between bad singing and nuclear explosion and the damage to the ear drums that they cause is almost identical. Really, sometimes videoke singing does more damage than physical, they have deleterious psychological impact too.

Island Hopping Christmas

I had a good time with my family this Christmas break. It would have been a perfect Christmas holiday if my missionary brother and his family were here with us. But I know that their absence was more than made up for by the knowledge that they were doing God's work, and they were with us in spirit. Of course it would have been better if we were able Skype with them, but the broad band signal in Alaminos was so poor that it was not made possible.

We went island hopping at the Hundred Islands Park in Alaminos, Pangasinan. This was not the first time I had been to Alaminos, I had visited the place a couple of times since my sister and brother in law started their ministry at Alaminos Baptist Church; this was my first time to go island hopping.  

Though the waves were a little rough when we left the shore, the bobbing and the water splashes added thrill to the ride. I was a little concerned because I do no know how to swim, and I was thinking if ever the boat capsized, what would I do or who would I save first, to think that I do not even know how to swim! Of course my fear was unfounded because we all had life vests, but I could not help thinking about it.

I was really amazed by the natural bonsais that I saw on the rock ledges. Though I didn't know what kind of tress they were, their size, shape and proportions impressed me ( a non bonsai guy, may I say). Anyway, I am thinking of buying binoculars so that next time I go on an eco-trip, I would be able to make the most of the sights. Of course a DSLR camera would be fine too, but that is way, way beyond my salary. 

My sister was pointing to an island and she was telling me that it was shaped like a turtle. This was another way of enjoying the hundred islands, looking at them and letting your imagination run wild as to what they were shaped to look like. But here was the problem, the boat's engine was so loud that it made it impossible to have a conversation.

This made it almost impossible to think and to share ideas about the sight. The shared experiences of the moment were virtually lost, drowned by the engine's noise. What remained was your own impressions which would have been enriched by the shared impressions of the others. Once on the island, away from the boat, it's futile to talk about a particular sight that had passed because looking and sharing your impressions were not the same as describing and talking what you have seen...just not the same. 

My sister and nephew covering their ears because they were sitting near the engine.

The trip was enjoyable except for the noise of the boat's engine. I wondered why nobody ever though of putting mufflers on those engines. Of course, to some tourists, the engine's noise maybe a good thing...

Anyway, we all had fun. God be thanked. Next year, the family is planning of going to Thailand to celebrate Christmas with my missionary brother's family...that is, Lord willing.

Road Sign, Housing Projects

I fetched my daughter from Baguio last weekend. On our way home, the bus that we were riding on stopped because of a road accident. It was a traffic jam.  There was an ambulance and police officers were investigating while some were writing reports about the incident. My daughter and I didn’t pay much attention to it and so are most of the passengers. Maybe its because we were more concerned with going home and resting after a long stressful travel.

I was looking out the window when I noticed words painted on the service shoulder of the highway (is that what it was called?). 

This was what it said:

Taking

Over

No

I was a little confused at first. My first glance was the words said:

Taking
Over

On

Because the words were written in reverse order, my mind, somehow, automatically read the word “no” as “on”.

Stuck in traffic with my mp3 player dead, I was thinking, “there must some mistake.” Maybe the road painters were not literate, or they got the words in wrong order. So, I stopped thinking about it and wrapped my malong around me to keep me warm because the bus’ powerful air conditioning made the bus intolerably cold.

After a few minutes, we started moving; I forgot about the words. As the bus was gaining speed, I saw the words again. This time I finally figured it out (me not smart!). The first word that came into sight was “NO” followed by “OVER” then by “TAKING.” 

When the bus finally achieved normal travelling speed, the words read:

NO

OVER

TAKING

This is relativity of perception. Meaning changes relative to your position, direction, and velocity. I think.

_____________________________________________

Coming down from the mountains of Baguio, I noticed that as the years pass by, the mountainscape of the Cordilleras is continually changing. Mountains are scarred by new settlements being constructed, road crisscrossing the once luscious foliage and huge amounts earth being cut through the mountain. The mountains is starting to lose their face, they are becoming…hmmmm…ugly.

The flatlands are also changing. The mushrooming of villages and housing projects on the agricultural lands are starting to make the rural atmosphere disappear. These Lego-like, identical and architecturally lifeless prefab houses against the backdrop of green and living farmland give me the creeps. They are like alien invaders eating the defenseless nipa huts. Aliens out to destroy and suck the resources of the inhabitants.

I see these housing projects’ drainage system spewing dark sewage into the river. In a few years, all these rivers and all its tributaries and arteries would be dead.

Development.

Reunion stories

What I love about our reunions is not the food (though the food is always outstanding); it’s the preparation of the food. The women in one corner chopping, washing and cooking while talking, giggling like they were little girls and then bursting into peals of laughter. They “murder” their husbands, complain about their children, complain about money, complain about the weather…. Their stories sometimes meander to actors, national issues, about neighbor’s lives, classmates, jueteng…and of course, sex ( they could be very naughty at times). They are enjoying their company. 

As usual, the men were under the tree drinking and laughing and telling jokes and tall stories that we all knew were meant to be humorous rather than factual. The family is a musical family, the guitar and the naughty songs were there. 

My brother-in-law bought a half gallon of lambanog. There are good lambanogs and there are bad lambanogs. The best way to judge them is to taste them. Anyway (look around) I looked at the lambanog .It looked good because of the fruits floating in it. I smelled it and decided to taste it. No, I don’t drink anymore but this time it’s out of curiosity. So, I asked for a taste. I took a shot, and booommm…like drinking gasoline. 

One thing I don’t like about lambanog is the after taste. I have tasted many types of liquor before, but lambanog is different because it’s after taste lingers for hours that even chewing a gum could not remove it. According to my father in law, it is not safe to drink lambanog anymore because some distillers add chemicals to their products. The shot gave me a throbbing head ache anyway. 

It was a good thing that my brother in law had a motorcycle because I was able to enjoy the trip to the market. I did not have to ride in a tricycle- a bumpy, uncomfortable that takes about thirty minutes to get to the public market. But with the motorcycle, I felt freedom. The coastal road was lined with trees and the panoramic view of the sea overrode the desire to go fast but rather, it made me slow down to enjoy the breeze and the views. 

Everybody was looking for their children. Everybody was shouting somebody else’s name. Of course they could not find them, they were swimming in the sea. The little children that used to run naked were now young girls conscious of the minutest details of their looks. Taking pictures whenever the urge came…they were lucky because in our days pictures use film so every shot had to count. But with digicams, they could take pictures of anything, anytime and anywhere. In a few years from now the generation gap would be evident. 

The children loved the reunion. They had special food, the beach, games and what was most important was that they felt love not only from their parents but also from their uncles and aunts. The memories will forever bound them till they grow old. 

There was also sadness. When we left to go home, my parents-in-laws were crying tears of joy and tears sadness. My wife’s parents are getting old, and I could see the longing in their eyes to be with their children more often. My father in law even proposed that we held our reunions twice a year. Of course, if this was possible, we would not deny them of this request but there were many things to consider like time, money, the distance etc. But it’s hard to say no especially when they started talking about death and dying. Why do they have to blackmail us with death? Maybe I’ll understand them when I reach their age. It’s the empty nest syndrome.

We must please our parents especially in their twilight years.. They have sacrificed so much and the least the children could do is to grant their requests whenever possible. They deserve it. It is good that our children see how much we love their grandparents for it would set a good example for them when we too became old.

Reunions...

As a Chinese proverb says: "Reunion after long separation is even better than one's wedding night." 

Looking forward to next year’s…