I have been spending this morning of the Feast of the Three Kings, in my "Meditation Garden". Yes, it is finished and the "Grand Opening" was held on Christmas Eve, our traditional family celebration. Of course, everybody was as "surprised" as they were required to be and as appreciative of my creative efforts as all dutiful children and grandchildren are expected to be.
But I am the most appreciative of all. This morning sitting in my garden, sipping my breakfast coffee, feeling the comforting mild warmth of the sunshine that filters through the branches of the trees that tower above me, I thought of the past year.
It was a sad year for us, the saddest in the past two decades. The truth is when December set in I actually dreaded the coming holidays, knowing how much keener the feeling of loss is on special days like Christmas and New Year.
But I did not reckon with the mystic alchemy of pain and joy. As it turned out, during the holidays, we felt a keener, purer sense of joy, a deeper appreciation of all the exquisite pleasures of living. It was strange, but I felt as if we were not just trying to be happy inspite of a deeply missed Presence. We were actually happy in a glad-sad way. It seemed to me as if by going through the old family rituals all the beloved people who could no longer be there in person to celebrate with us, somehow through us still could share in the joys of this world. They were very much there.
Dear friend, if I wax too philosophical, I suppose those are the kind of thoughts that come with a "Meditation Garden"!
Now back to the mundane–the who and where and what and what for that you always expect me to furnish you.
After a wonderful family-oriented Christmas, we set off for our usual end of the year trip to Baguio. We had not been able to go for the last two years, but we found our Baguio New Year schedule had not changed. Except for a few who were absent because of force majeure (like illnesses, and death) the old "Baguio Barcada" reported for duty as always. We hardly ever see each other the rest of the year, but for the last ten years or so, in the last five days of the year we see each other for breakfast, lunch, merienda, cocktails and dinner with a possible midnight chocolate y churros at the Club coffee shop or a night cap on the veranda.
But as usual the real partying started at O. V. Espiritu’s (he is reportedly going to be the new head of San Miguel Corporation if and when Danding Cojuangco gives up the post). The delicious food that Marilen Espiritu always serves more than compensated for what seemed to me two hundred or so steps to climb to get to their fairy tale house. But I made it on my own two feet, struggling up step by step with a lot of help from my friends and with Marilen standing on the uppermost terrace shouting out words of encouragement "The worst is over– you can make it!" And so I did. Lorna Laurel "chickened out" and opted to be carried up in a chair by two able-bodied men who I am sure were glad that she still keeps beautifully slim. When the two chair bearers saw me I think they were relieved to see that they would not have to carry me up!
Table talk at the "Young People’s Table" where Marilen seated us was fun because we all belonged to the same "pre-war generation". I’m afraid I was the oldest person there because Nuning Oppen, who is celebrating her 90th birthday soon, stayed in Manila this year and Nanoy Ilusorio at 88 has gone to that Great Golf Course in the Sky. And talk of that, to answer your usual question, Monching del Rosario was telling us that at the wake of "Gatas" (Ernesto) Santos last month, his widow Tessie reminisced with Monching about when she and Gatas got married he (Monching) along with Teddy Kalaw, "Jobo" Fernandez and some other "boys" (who have now all gone to their reward, so to speak) tied bells under the mattress of the bed in the honeymoon cottage. Laughed Monching, "Those bells kept jingling all night long!" And he said to me, "You wrote about it in your column and referred to us as ‘vandals’." I do not have the faintest recollection of ever having written about it but that is excusable, considering this happened only some 60 years ago!
But very much of the present was Helen Lichauco Small who was urging everyone to join her latest organized tour. Since September 11th Helen has been concentrating on local tourist spots and the latest is a trip to Batanes, which very few Filipinos (not counting the few thousand Batanes folk) have ever seen. Ronnie Concepcion (who, with twin brother Joe, recently celebrated his 70th birthday) and his pretty wife Menchu seemed interested. If they ever make it, it will be only a matter of time and those Batanes rock houses will be air-conditioned by Concepcion Industries.
Helen came with the "entourage" of Isabel Wilson, still very ambassadorial from her recent assignment in Spain. Commenting on the recent appointment of Lanny Bernardo as Ambassador to Spain, Isabel said, "With Lanny’s appointment you get two for the price of one," the other one being Conchitina Sevilla Bernardo who makes the ideal ambassador’s lady, having once run a finishing school whose graduates have such impeccable manners they eat bananas with knife and fork instead of the "natural way" that dates back to the monkeys!
Speaking of such table skills, the next day we saw a master demonstration at Tricie and Louie Sison’s picnic at their lovely pine grove on the zigzag. (The Sison annual picnic is also part of our annual Baguio New Year schedule.) Tricie served mostly crabs, shrimps, tahong, sugpo and other seafood for a change from the usual lechon-relleno-ham menu. And we saw with our own eyes Zita Feliciano dissect a huge fat crab without touching it. Using only her knife and fork, she daintily picked every bit of meat out of the shell of the whole crab and ate it with relish. I forgot to ask Zita if she learned to do that in finishing school. If so, as they say in the colloquial, "Bilib ako!"
Tessie Choa’s "hen luncheon" was the last on the agenda as far as we were concerned (we had to skip Teroy and Lorna Laurel’s New Year’s Eve dinner because we had to rush down to Manila to join the rest of the family on New Year’s Eve). This year, instead of having the lunch at her house, Tessie had it at the Girl Scout Camp in front of the old Hyatt Hotel, which was destroyed in the big Baguio earthquake. Tessie had a double motive–she wanted to show off the great remodeling job she has done on an old house that used to belong to Rogelio de la Rosa, the movie idol. Tessie has converted the three stories of the house to three complete independent family suites, each consisting of three beautifully decorated bedrooms. The living room has a huge fireplace, the dining room and kitchen all completely equipped with fine silver and china and cooking utensils. The suites may be rented at a very reasonable price, plus the double satisfaction of knowing that all the money goes to the Girl Scouts of the Philippines.
I could go on and on. Baguio was jam packed with people and we enjoyed seeing so many we knew. But the next day, the first of the year 2002, I woke up with a strange longing to see the sea. I could not explain why, when I told my children when they asked where I wanted to lunch, I was insisting on "a place where I can see the sea".
We went all over town hunting for such a place. Would you believe that in this island city the nearest we could get to the sea was the Manila Hotel coffee shop? Marla Yotoko Chlorengel, who has become part of our family excursions, said, "I think I know how you feel, Tita Jeanie. In literature class in Maryknoll, I learned a poem by a woman poet about wanting the sea. What was her name?" We all kept trying to remember for the longest time and it was only when we were already eating our bibingka and puto bumbong (the late lunch had gone on until merienda time) that Eureka! Suddenly I exclaimed through a mouthful of halo-halo, "Edna St. Vincent Millay!" But still none of us could remember the wording of the poem.
When I got home, I reached for the book of Millay’s poems that I keep near my bed and looked it up. There it was, Entitled "Exiled"; it starts:
"Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be;
That I am weary of words and people
Sick of the city, wanting the sea."
It takes a great poet to put one’s innermost feelings into words. After a long week of intensified socializing, that is what I felt when I woke up on the first day of the brand new year–"sick of the city, wanting the sea. I that now am caught beneath great buildings–stricken with noise, confused by light."
I suppose that is the rationale behind making a "Meditation Garden", if only my next-door neighbor would tone down the blare of his talk back, which is not exactly conducive to spiritual thoughts.
Happy New Year, dear friend. Keep well.
I love you,
Jeanie