when fathers leave.. and stay

Every January, for five years now, I plan to write my magnum opus. The article to beat all others that I've written ever since I've learned to string one sentence to another.

January is my Papa Boy's birthday month. And when he died some few years ago, I promised myself that I will write about him and create my first-born's memento on paper.

But somehow, Januarys have come and gone and I have always found myself at a lost on how to write about my father. How he was as a major influence in my life. How he loved me dearly but struggled on how to make it apparent in his own way. And how I fiercely loved him but did not understand him.

I think I got a little help this year. I received a short story in the email and it simply puts across something that I believe in fathers.

Do you know the legend of the Cherokee Indian youth's rite of passage? His father takes him into the forest, blindfolds him and leaves him alone.

He is required to sit on a stump the whole night and not remove the blindfold until the rays of the morning sun shine through it. He cannot cry out for help to anyone. Once he survives the night, he is a man.

He cannot tell the other boys of this experience, because each lad must come into manhood on his own.

The boy is naturally terrified. He can hear all kinds of noises. Wild beasts must surely be all around him. Maybe even some human might do him harm. The wind blew the grass and earth, and shook his stump, but he sat stoically, never removing the blindfold. It would be the only way he could become a man!

Finally, after a horrific night, the sun appeared and he removed his blindfold. It was then that he discovered his father sitting on the stump next to him.

He had been at watch the entire night, protecting his son from harm.

I know the story speaks of our Father in heaven. But somehow it touches the right chord in me. It is a story that I need. To be assured that even when fathers leave because lung cancer gets them away from us .. still they stay because their love never ends.

My magnum opus is still to be written and I am certain I will get around to writing it. But as January comes to close this year, I am calmed. Happy birthday Papa.

who is reading our e-mail?

These days, we are often defined by our home number, our business number, our mobile number, our messenger address and of course - our email address. When we meet someone, chances are we will ask for his email within fifteen minutes of introduction. And when we get to know that he has none - isn't it a bummer? How could one live without an email address?

I keep two email addresses for two different purposes. I had to create one for my office work - and it has a trimmed inbox. The other one gets everything else - stories and confessions from friends, Pinoy jokes that come from other parts of the world, tips from membership-based self-help sites, even indecent proposals from Viagra marketing agencies. I created kudvbeenme@yahoo.com almost six years ago, the one which almost always ends up with a request for an explanation why I named it that way - but that's another story and it's not the point of this entry.

I use that second email address whenever I register to Internet sites that I find interesting. So just a few minutes ago, I found this on-line test. You know, the one where you click on your preferences and they summarize how good your life and health has been and then they tell you what you must do to stretch your life-years.

So I entered my email address and I thought of a sure-fire password that I know I would not forget. I meant it to be the code for my involvement in this test and to all the future activities I plan to do with this website so I can maximize membership. But then after giving my password, a message came on screen:

"The password you entered is not the correct one for this e-mail address. Please check both your e-mail address and your password. If your e-mail address is correct but you don't know your password, click here."

Weird. How could that website possibly know that the password I gave is not the correct one for my email address? I am not opening my emails through their website, I was just trying to get registered to their services! My email address they need because that's where they will send my test results, but not the password to that same email address - unless they plan to open my email for me too! The password I gave, again, is for the password I want to use for the website.

And here's where they offer help - that should I happen to know that my email address is correct but I do not know my password, they are guiding me to a new page - that will what? Tell me what my password is? The idea is scary that I left the site.

If a big number of people log in to a big number of websites like this - then imagine the countless free submission of email addresses and their access that's been happening! Some emails are cool, and some are funny. But some are way too personal and well, some do not need the extra pair of eyes that could come from website technicians somewhere around the globe who now holds a stack of papers with people's email addresses and their passwords.

Who is reading our email? That question must feel like the hovering shadow over your shoulder.

an ode to what we had

They say past times are always the best times
And maybe I agree.
We see them through misty romantic forgiving eyes
With breath suspended

For the thrill
The anticipation
The ecstasy
Of things now gone.

But like a kaleidoscope
They sometimes flash again.
Oh the bliss of times simpler and moments sweeter.
Those that we had!

new years bring upheavals. but

Mirror, mirror on the wall - something wonderful will happen to me today!

Affirming this every morning, I am happy to be an advocate of positive conditioning. As a matter of fact, I have been its pupil ever since I was in college - when I would use my bus ride to school as the time to pray for the day’s events and activities, and for a special intention of a random happy surprise from Our Lady. And I always had one every day!

I will let you into a little secret. Whenever I look into a mirror, I smile. This might seem queer, but I believe that if the person in the mirror is smiling back at me, it forebodes positive impact to my day and the general feeling for myself. It's like self-affirmation.

Thus every day I pass by the mirrors in the house - in the bathroom, in the dining room, and the welcome mirror in the living room - and I smile and confirm that I am where I was supposed to be, doing things that I can do efficiently and creatively, and that in good times and in bad, I am beloved by someone.. all the way.

Smile and believe!