Gentle hurricanes

My late Dad Frank Mayor was the wind beneath my wings but it is my 84-year-old mother Sonia who enabled me to fly, simply by letting me know that if I could not soar to the treetops at first try — it’s okay to land on the middle branches.

I was always deathly scared of being No. 2 or not acing my exams. I could just imagine, even now, the glare and the disappointment in Dad’s big, round eyes.

But Mom would always tell me when she would see that my young shoulders were burdened by great expectations, “As long as you tried your best, that is okay.”

And when she saw me anxious before exams or report card day, she would say, “You know your Tita ____ also went through the pressure you’re going through now.” Mom made me feel that it was normal to feel pressured when you’re aiming for a certain standard.

Mom also never had hard-and-fast rules for study period. For instance, she wouldn’t encourage, but neither would she forbid us from watching television while doing our homework on the dining table.

When Dad would call her attention to it, she would counter with eyebrows raised: “Eh, tingnan mo naman ang mga grades ng mga anak mo. Ang tataas.”

She made her case.

***

Mom has been through her own share of trials. But even when feeling blue, she would put on her best face. I remember that during one particularly sad phase in her life, she bumped into a townmate she had not seen for years and the latter exclaimed, “Si Sonia, hindi tumatanda!” If only she knew!

I derive my own chin-up-come-what-may face from her. After an accident in October in a faraway land, I kept my chin up. Every time I was on the precipice of self-pity in the weeks I was confined to a wheelchair, I would put on the brakes. At the time, ironically, the movies I would randomly choose on Netflix were inspirational: The Swimmers, Father Stu.

I honor my mother during Women’s Month this March because she is strength in gentleness personified. She had four Caesareans by the time she was 28 but I hardly remember her being down with the flu.

With her by my side, it was easy to aim high because I knew that if I fell short, I would have a hammock ready for me nearby to catch me, and a mother’s love to swing it.

Sister Fidelis

When I was in senior year in high school at the Assumption Convent in San Lorenzo, we had a new principal who was a gentle hurricane. She never raised her voice but she made changes that toppled existing “traditions” in school. She forbade senior-freshman initiations and I, as head of the Special Events team of the student council, had to think of an alternative that would foster camaraderie without the freshmen being called “slaves” and the seniors “masters.”

“That is not sisterhood”! Sister Fidelis Estrada r.a. would tell me, her calm voice not raising a single decibel.

I then thought of calling the activity “Kapatiran,” with the freshmen and seniors calling each other “sisters.” Instead of seniors ordering freshmen around, they would help them get settled. Sister Fidelis approved the activity and I was told “Kapatiran” still exists today, 40 years after we first conceptualized it.

Another entrenched tradition she wanted upended was the senior prom. To make it more meaningful, we made it father-daughter night, with proud dads having the first dance with their daughters. Of course the equally dashing prom dates were waiting in the wings, but we had reached a detente with Sister Fidelis. I’m sure she knew we had prom dates but she also knew that she had us looking beneath the surface of traditions.

Whenever she would call my attention to things that she wanted changed or enhanced in my capacity as Special Events head, I would listen intently. Listen. Listen.

I was surprised that during graduation, I got the leadership award and a citation for my “loyal response to trust.”

Sister Annunciata

Sister Annunciata r.a. believed in me as a writer more than I believed in myself in my high school years. She told me my prose was uplifting.

When I was a newbie teacher teaching English at my alma mater, she audited my classes. Of course I was nervous. What would my former English teacher think of me now, following in her footsteps?

“I had a great time listening to your class!” she said after I dismissed the students and walked over to her. “And I loved the way you would weave values into your lesson plan.”

Later, when I was already writing a column for The Philippine Star and I would bump into her at alumnae events, she would gush — yes, gush — about the columns she particularly liked.

Her enthusiasm about life was viral.

“Until the very end, she was so upbeat,” says Assumption College president Dr. Angela Regala. “She spoke in ‘precise’ and crisp English. She was always so grateful and so happy when she received something. She would usually say, ‘For me? Thank you!’ or ‘That’s fantastic!’ She was always joyful.”

Both Sisters Fidelis and Annunciata have gone on to heaven. On Women’s Month, I honor them for walking their faith as they walked the corridors of power — the corridors of a school building.