Christmases past

Last Saturday night, I heard Christmas carols ringing out outside my home: “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.” “Sa Maybahay Ang Aming Bati.”

Thinking there was a Christmas party at one of the neighbors, I ignored it for a few minutes. But then the singing continued, and seemed quite close to my driveway.

Was I hearing caroling? The singers didn’t sound like children. Many communities have banned caroling by children amid fears that they might be molested, especially because the kids are usually too young to be left alone in the streets.

Curious, I opened the gate, and was greeted with a vigorous rendition of “Feliz Navidad,” complete with dancing by a group of teenage students from a school in the neighborhood.

The teens were clad in red and white, with Santa caps, waving hand-held lights and singing along to a portable karaoke machine. Their dancing was synchronized. They could train to be P-pop performers. It was so entertaining that I and other members of the household clapped and sang along with them.

After saying thank you, engaging in a brief chat and receiving their gift from me, they left.

I’m partial to traditional Christmas songs such as “Carol of the Bells” and “What Child Is This,” sang by children’s choirs with angelic voices, apart from everyone’s favorite, Jose Mari Chan’s “Christmas In Our Hearts,” which can be challenging for amateur carolers to sing. But I was so happy to experience caroling again, by singers who weren’t out of tune.

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After the carolers had left, memories of Christmases past came flooding back. In the city of Manila, children’s caroling was a nightly event in the Tondo and Sta. Cruz neighborhoods where I grew up.

Beginning on Dec. 16, the start of the dawn masses, groups of kids went from house to house, singing “Ang Pasko Ay Sumapit” and jingling improvised percussion instruments fashioned out of tin cans and flattened metal bottle caps. It was the closest event we had to Halloween trick or treat.

The caroling wasn’t always welcome. In my experience, we were sometimes treated with irritation. Considering our unharmonious singing, it was understandable.

Once, in the “looban” or inner corners of our Tondo neighborhood, an annoyed woman tossed the contents of her chamber pot at us. That ended my dalliance with neighborhood caroling. But it was fun while it lasted.

And I’m glad to see the tradition being revived, with a Gen Z twist.

Who knows, maybe one day when Generation Alpha grows up, romantic souls will even revive the harana, crooning a love song before someone’s window, accompanied by musical instruments with portable amps and AI-enabled special lighting gadgets.

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The harana was from my parents’ youthful days, when courtships could last years. It had completely disappeared in my teens.

But I was able to experience other traditions that have vanished. We went to church wearing lacy veils; long ones for the women, and round ones for the crown of the head for the little girls. Some women even wore lacy gloves as they clutched prayer books.

Today, lace veils have gone the way of crochet tablecloths, curtains, runners and placemats in our country. But abroad, crocheting remains popular, with new and colorful designs giving them a modern twist. At home I still use crocheted items in classic Pinoy designs as table runners, mats and piano cover.

In my youth the Christmas lanterns were made mostly of Japanese paper and nearly all were star-shaped. In art class, we were taught how to make the lantern tails and the frills that looked like close-shaved poodle hair.

Today, plastic has replaced the Japanese paper, and capiz lanterns with dancing lights are preferred.

As far as I know, the Kris Kringle tradition of exchanging gifts potluck-style remains alive even among younger folks, but it is no longer as widespread.

What remains unchanged are our Christmas feasting traditions. In our family, the gatherings have become progressively smaller as the younger generations limit their kids to two or, at most, three.

The bibingka and puto bumbong are still ubiquitous during the dawn and Christmas eve masses, although these days, you can buy them all year round in malls.

Lechon dealers are happy to report that their business is booming this Christmas season, with the African swine fever threat largely ignored. I’ve tasted lechon across the country, and so far the best I’ve had is one that fortunately I can get near my home – lechon by Danny Presnedi in Muntinlupa.

Excelente cooked Chinese ham in Quiapo is still the ham of choice. During Christmas, my brothers and I indulge in a cholesterol bomb: a thick slab of Excelente ham (fat included) brushed with honey and layered with slivers of quezo de bola, sandwiched between two slices of toast (my favorite is my home-baked raisin bread) that have been slathered with large amounts of salted butter.

As we grow older, we will have to watch out for “holiday heart syndrome.” This Christmas season, hospitals are on red alert for holiday heart syndrome. The alert must also be a holiday tradition in all health facilities.

But for this year, holiday heart syndrome can wait; I’ll be enjoying my cholesterol bomb again. And I’m looking forward to hearing Christmas carolers tonight at my gate, lustily belting out “Feliz Navidad.”

For keeping traditions alive, I might even join them in Christmas karaoke and dancing.

A merry Christmas to everyone!