A Rizal reunion
June 18, 2005 | 12:00am
I was thinking," Manny Herbosa, great-grandson of Lucia Mercado (Rizal) Herbosa, current president of the Dr. Jose P. Rizal Resource Foundation, the family foundation of national hero Dr. Jose P. Rizal, suggested, "How do you guys feel about having a family reunion on June 12, Independence Day?" Okays were muttered around the table. After all, June 19 would be Father’s Day. Since last year, the Rizal reunion had been scheduled one week before his birthday. "Can we have it at Lolo Paciano’s house?" Yes, was heard again. "Okay then, who will take care of what?"
"I am only good for seating arrangements," I said. "I can take care of the name tags, those stick-on labels, and seating arrangements. I think we should try to sit different colors at every table so the descendants can make friends with each other."
"That’s a good idea," Manny said. "So what colors?" We got them: Purple for Saturnina’s descendants, white for Paciano, blue for Narcisa, red for Olimpia, yellow for Lucia, orange for Maria, green for Soledad. The three in the center – Jose, Trinidad and Josefa – did not have descendants. "Okay, I’ll get these done and see you there," I said in parting.
Then we had a lunch meeting. Marlene, Paciano’s descendant, was going to make T-shirts. She wanted to know how many and what style. Doris, Butch’s wife, another Paciano descendant, was handling the catering. She wanted to know how many tables. Would there be tents, we wanted to know. Would they be strong enough to protect us in case it rained? Esther, another of Paciano’s descendants, was there, too, and so was Minney, who was Saturnina’s. I looked at all of us Rizal women. What was the quote about us? "You can try to paint the sky blue or try to drain the sea. You might succeed, but you will never win an argument with a Rizal woman."
The week before, I went to the bookstore to buy labels and spent one afternoon coloring them. Then on Sunday morning, I drove off to pick up my son Gino and headed to Lolo Paciano’s house in Los Baños. We were just a little bit late. Some descendants had arrived and hadn’t been given their name tags. "Okay," I told Gino, "first let’s do the tables. Put two of each color at each table." He took over half of the name tags. Then I stationed myself at the reception table and dispensed the rest. "Not everyone has their name tags," Minney said.
"Tell them to come and get them from me," I responded.
Father Joey Cruz, SJ, said Mass. They had a difficult time keeping the candles lit. The weather was changing somewhat. It was getting hot and muggy. After Mass, I announced that maybe they could take their seats according to the way the tables were stickered, two of one color together with other colors so the descendants could get to know each other better. I can say that I know only the Maria Rizals tried to do that. My son and I were seated at orange patches surrounded by yellow patches who disregarded the colors and decided to sit together. Everyone decided to sit together with their colors.
After lunch, Tedjie got Gino and other young ones into a meeting with him over the family web page. Marlene set up her selling table for T-shirts. I picked up my box with the beaded eyeglass chains. I was going to set up and try and sell the 10 I had brought over. When I got there, it started to rain. My first cousin, Toto, pulled me to join him with lawyers Manny Malvar and Pempot Arguelles. We began to talk about certain moves we might make when suddenly the rain fell in torrents, poured vehemently on all of us, but what a pleasure to be under a tent getting slightly wet, feeling finally cool. That for me was the most pleasant time.
At the next table was Tita Marita, my aunt on the Maria side, my mother’s first cousin. There she sat with my publisher, Karina Bolasco, and Tess Villacorta, my old friend. They were talking about my cousin Patty’s book, which Karina was printing. She wanted me to write something for its cover. Soon, the guests ran out into the strong rain to go home to Manila. The Maria Rizals stayed on. It must have rained for an hour more. We couldn’t move around, couldn’t mingle any more. The rain sort of kept you where it had found you. I talked to my close cousins and enjoyed myself. Forget about seating arrangements. It had failed. But it was a good enough effort.
"That’s the Rizal family," I told Gino on our way home. "It is a big, good, simple family. That’s all we are. It is obvious in its reunions.
"I’ll make it to the next one," he said, smiling.
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"I am only good for seating arrangements," I said. "I can take care of the name tags, those stick-on labels, and seating arrangements. I think we should try to sit different colors at every table so the descendants can make friends with each other."
"That’s a good idea," Manny said. "So what colors?" We got them: Purple for Saturnina’s descendants, white for Paciano, blue for Narcisa, red for Olimpia, yellow for Lucia, orange for Maria, green for Soledad. The three in the center – Jose, Trinidad and Josefa – did not have descendants. "Okay, I’ll get these done and see you there," I said in parting.
Then we had a lunch meeting. Marlene, Paciano’s descendant, was going to make T-shirts. She wanted to know how many and what style. Doris, Butch’s wife, another Paciano descendant, was handling the catering. She wanted to know how many tables. Would there be tents, we wanted to know. Would they be strong enough to protect us in case it rained? Esther, another of Paciano’s descendants, was there, too, and so was Minney, who was Saturnina’s. I looked at all of us Rizal women. What was the quote about us? "You can try to paint the sky blue or try to drain the sea. You might succeed, but you will never win an argument with a Rizal woman."
The week before, I went to the bookstore to buy labels and spent one afternoon coloring them. Then on Sunday morning, I drove off to pick up my son Gino and headed to Lolo Paciano’s house in Los Baños. We were just a little bit late. Some descendants had arrived and hadn’t been given their name tags. "Okay," I told Gino, "first let’s do the tables. Put two of each color at each table." He took over half of the name tags. Then I stationed myself at the reception table and dispensed the rest. "Not everyone has their name tags," Minney said.
"Tell them to come and get them from me," I responded.
Father Joey Cruz, SJ, said Mass. They had a difficult time keeping the candles lit. The weather was changing somewhat. It was getting hot and muggy. After Mass, I announced that maybe they could take their seats according to the way the tables were stickered, two of one color together with other colors so the descendants could get to know each other better. I can say that I know only the Maria Rizals tried to do that. My son and I were seated at orange patches surrounded by yellow patches who disregarded the colors and decided to sit together. Everyone decided to sit together with their colors.
After lunch, Tedjie got Gino and other young ones into a meeting with him over the family web page. Marlene set up her selling table for T-shirts. I picked up my box with the beaded eyeglass chains. I was going to set up and try and sell the 10 I had brought over. When I got there, it started to rain. My first cousin, Toto, pulled me to join him with lawyers Manny Malvar and Pempot Arguelles. We began to talk about certain moves we might make when suddenly the rain fell in torrents, poured vehemently on all of us, but what a pleasure to be under a tent getting slightly wet, feeling finally cool. That for me was the most pleasant time.
At the next table was Tita Marita, my aunt on the Maria side, my mother’s first cousin. There she sat with my publisher, Karina Bolasco, and Tess Villacorta, my old friend. They were talking about my cousin Patty’s book, which Karina was printing. She wanted me to write something for its cover. Soon, the guests ran out into the strong rain to go home to Manila. The Maria Rizals stayed on. It must have rained for an hour more. We couldn’t move around, couldn’t mingle any more. The rain sort of kept you where it had found you. I talked to my close cousins and enjoyed myself. Forget about seating arrangements. It had failed. But it was a good enough effort.
"That’s the Rizal family," I told Gino on our way home. "It is a big, good, simple family. That’s all we are. It is obvious in its reunions.
"I’ll make it to the next one," he said, smiling.
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