What does ‘50 years’ mean?
March 4, 2006 | 12:00am
Be at my house before seven," Ching said. I was so tired the night before I just went to bed. I awoke at five in the morning the next day, got ready, chased after cabs and arrived 10 minutes early, just as Ching came driving in after a trip to the gas station. But we had to wait for Connie. We left at around eight past, arrived at around 11 past, had lunch. My stomach felt full and heavy. I must have over-eaten and over-drank last night, I thought. The day stretched ahead of us. We were together once again to attend and feast with our friend Nena, who was celebrating her 50th wedding anniversary today.
I looked around at the Playa Papagayo. Connie’s resort, where I had been to only once before. It has changed so much. I remember those trees though they were much smaller when I was last here maybe in 1967 – 39 years ago. Right. I was around 22 then when we were all friends – Connie, Nena, Ching and I. Nena and I decided to stay up all night then. Our husbands got irritated and sulked but all we wanted to do was to see the sunrise and we did. We also became very close friends for a while…until my marriage broke up… and I went to work and I got too busy to spend as much time with them. Then it was on and off but always with a lot of camaraderie and fondness. Always there was that and it never disappears.
We were at the church at three, in time to watch Nena and Logy Nakpil walk down the aisle with the rest of their family. The tiny grandchildren as the ring bearer (who bore no rings) and the little girl as the flower girl marched first led by her yaya and her mom. Then the rest of them followed, smiling, a little tense, a little uncertain about what would follow. Nena, the bride, wore white. Logy, the groom, wore a barong. The Mass went on. It coincided with the priest’s 23rd ordination anniversary. The mood was festive. Nena and Logy renewed their vows, read them aloud to each other and Ching, Connie and I wondered the same thing: Are you sure you want to repeat those vows? Connie and I were both separated. Ching was widowed. Among us, she was the saddest because she missed her husband who had passed away a few months before their golden anniversary.
After Mass we went down to the yacht club to take a sunset cruise. We were not a big crowd, just enough to fit into a two story yacht. Every time I’ve taken a sunset cruise I have sat on the upper deck. That’s where we went this time again, up on the deck where you see the view. We were a small crowd up there – only Ching, Connie and I and some of their nieces and nephews. It is beautiful in Subic where the sea is surrounded by mountains and dotted with a few islands. It was calm, the cruise soothing and refreshing, the sunset mild, nothing riotous, no reds or purples in the sky only streaks of peach and lavender as the sun slipped quietly into the sea. It was, I thought, well suited for a 50th anniversary.
Downstairs, where most of the crowd was, it was beginning to get riotous, Nena said later. People were singing and dancing through the sunset until it got dark and it was time to land and proceed up to Mountain Woods for the dinner reception. We got lost going there. I told the driver to follow a car that had left the yacht club. In it I saw people I thought I had seen at the reception. I was wrong. We got lost. Connie took over directions and we found Mountain Woods. People were getting tipsy. We didn’t know where to sit. There were tables for many and many tables for two. Then suddenly I noticed all the women sitting together at round tables and the rectangular ones filled with men. "Is this what ’50 years’ means?" I asked Gigi Calero, who sat beside me. "All men versus all women?" We laughed but nobody moved to the other side.
So we had dinner, women together, men together. We got up to watch the Power Point presentation that the children had put together but it kept getting stalled. In the meantime I was beginning a stomachache so we quietly slipped away. Some time during the night Logy had apologized to me for not being able to entertain me, so did Nena. Why? I asked. I’m here to celebrate with you. That’s all.
The next day before leaving for Manila we found ourselves at their house, sitting to watch the presentation, drinking a little before saying goodbye. All the time there was this question buzzing around in my brain: What does "50 years" mean? Now writing about their golden wedding anniversary, it comes together. "Fifty years" means a full life together. Sometimes there is love, other times something that feels like hate. Sometimes we fill up with indifference. But we stay together gritting our teeth and hoping the bad times will pass and they do. It means being together through sickness and health, richer and poorer, laughter and tears, sobriety and drunkenness. It means being there for the other to kiss or slap, to hug or hit, to ignore or light into. It means being there, reachable, at all times.
For some people it comes easily, for others not so easily, but when it happens they are grateful. I know for me I will not see it in this life. Never mind I am happy alone. Nevertheless, I wish Nena and Logy, two of my most beloved friends, another happy 50 years together!
Please send your comments to lilypad@skyinet.net or text 0917-8155570 and note: I am free to disagree with you as you are free to disagree with me.
I looked around at the Playa Papagayo. Connie’s resort, where I had been to only once before. It has changed so much. I remember those trees though they were much smaller when I was last here maybe in 1967 – 39 years ago. Right. I was around 22 then when we were all friends – Connie, Nena, Ching and I. Nena and I decided to stay up all night then. Our husbands got irritated and sulked but all we wanted to do was to see the sunrise and we did. We also became very close friends for a while…until my marriage broke up… and I went to work and I got too busy to spend as much time with them. Then it was on and off but always with a lot of camaraderie and fondness. Always there was that and it never disappears.
We were at the church at three, in time to watch Nena and Logy Nakpil walk down the aisle with the rest of their family. The tiny grandchildren as the ring bearer (who bore no rings) and the little girl as the flower girl marched first led by her yaya and her mom. Then the rest of them followed, smiling, a little tense, a little uncertain about what would follow. Nena, the bride, wore white. Logy, the groom, wore a barong. The Mass went on. It coincided with the priest’s 23rd ordination anniversary. The mood was festive. Nena and Logy renewed their vows, read them aloud to each other and Ching, Connie and I wondered the same thing: Are you sure you want to repeat those vows? Connie and I were both separated. Ching was widowed. Among us, she was the saddest because she missed her husband who had passed away a few months before their golden anniversary.
After Mass we went down to the yacht club to take a sunset cruise. We were not a big crowd, just enough to fit into a two story yacht. Every time I’ve taken a sunset cruise I have sat on the upper deck. That’s where we went this time again, up on the deck where you see the view. We were a small crowd up there – only Ching, Connie and I and some of their nieces and nephews. It is beautiful in Subic where the sea is surrounded by mountains and dotted with a few islands. It was calm, the cruise soothing and refreshing, the sunset mild, nothing riotous, no reds or purples in the sky only streaks of peach and lavender as the sun slipped quietly into the sea. It was, I thought, well suited for a 50th anniversary.
Downstairs, where most of the crowd was, it was beginning to get riotous, Nena said later. People were singing and dancing through the sunset until it got dark and it was time to land and proceed up to Mountain Woods for the dinner reception. We got lost going there. I told the driver to follow a car that had left the yacht club. In it I saw people I thought I had seen at the reception. I was wrong. We got lost. Connie took over directions and we found Mountain Woods. People were getting tipsy. We didn’t know where to sit. There were tables for many and many tables for two. Then suddenly I noticed all the women sitting together at round tables and the rectangular ones filled with men. "Is this what ’50 years’ means?" I asked Gigi Calero, who sat beside me. "All men versus all women?" We laughed but nobody moved to the other side.
So we had dinner, women together, men together. We got up to watch the Power Point presentation that the children had put together but it kept getting stalled. In the meantime I was beginning a stomachache so we quietly slipped away. Some time during the night Logy had apologized to me for not being able to entertain me, so did Nena. Why? I asked. I’m here to celebrate with you. That’s all.
The next day before leaving for Manila we found ourselves at their house, sitting to watch the presentation, drinking a little before saying goodbye. All the time there was this question buzzing around in my brain: What does "50 years" mean? Now writing about their golden wedding anniversary, it comes together. "Fifty years" means a full life together. Sometimes there is love, other times something that feels like hate. Sometimes we fill up with indifference. But we stay together gritting our teeth and hoping the bad times will pass and they do. It means being together through sickness and health, richer and poorer, laughter and tears, sobriety and drunkenness. It means being there for the other to kiss or slap, to hug or hit, to ignore or light into. It means being there, reachable, at all times.
For some people it comes easily, for others not so easily, but when it happens they are grateful. I know for me I will not see it in this life. Never mind I am happy alone. Nevertheless, I wish Nena and Logy, two of my most beloved friends, another happy 50 years together!
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