Unknown ages from the time when God created the heavens and the earth and then formed man and woman in his own image. Several thousand years after the flood, when God made the rainbow shine forth as a sign of the covenant. Twenty-one centuries from the time of Abraham and Sarah; thirteen centuries after Moses led the people of Israel out of Egypt. Eleven hundred years from the time of Ruth and the Judges; one thousand years from the anointing of David as king; in the sixty-fifth week according to the prophecy of Daniel. In the one hundred and ninety-fourth Olympiad; the seven hundred and fifty-second year from the foundation of the city of Rome. In the forty-second year of the reign of the Emperor Octavian Augustus; In the sixth age of the world, while the whole earth was at peace— Jesus Christ, eternal God and Son of the eternal Father, desiring to sanctify the world by his most merciful coming, being conceived by the Holy Spirit, and nine months having passed since his conception, was born in Bethlehem of Judea of the Virgin Mary. Today, the twenty-fifth day of December, is the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ according to the flesh.
My cousin called me from her office ten months ago. She asked me if I could help her fellow attorney. I left awkward to learn that it was a marital problem. The assistance she needed was for me to surveillance her cheating husband. I think it was a pretty easy task; however, I didn’t want to do it even for a fee. I felt I was to intrude into somebody’s privacy. Not wanting to sound rude, I didn’t ask or suggest that she hire a private investigator for the job instead of me. In the next two hours, we talked about her predicament. It was evident that her husband has extramarital indiscretions. Yet, he had been truthful to her about that. So, what does she need me for such a task since it was known to her? Her answer was to help her finalize her decision to call it quits. If it was the case, what more proof will suffice to finally make a decision? I told her the usual encouragements to “give their selves a chance,” “don’t be drastic” and “try conceiving a baby”. I taunted her to look at things at a different perspective. But she was adamant. She wanted me to help her on this. Not my way but her way, of course. Reluctantly, I agreed not because I was eager but I wanted a way-out of it, fast. We exchange contact numbers to tell me when I shall begin my task. But twist of fate, a series of ailment afflicted me soon after our conversation. By the time she called me I was dealing with intestinal infection. Her timing couldn’t be so perfect when after a week she called again while I was down with the flu. Again, I had the perfect alibi. After recovering from the flu, I had an emergency dental procedure done. I had one molar extracted and a dental crown-fitted on the other. I was still in the midst of discomfort when she once again called me. Again, she wished me well. For almost six weeks I was in some pain or discomfort. Yet, I felt it was a blessing to be indisposed. After a few text and missed-calls, I came-up with reasons for me not to take the task she asked me. It was all I could manage to politely refuse her request. And she’s not dumb to know that soon enough she stopped connecting with me. I have not heard from her since. Pangs of guilt caught me for refusing to help her.
I was sympathetic to her plight yet I felt it was not right for me to meddle, even at a professional level. Besides, I know that even in her distraught, she wanted to save their marriage. For her to employ somebody to get further proof of her husband’s affair, the fact she already knew, was a delaying-tactic. She could very-well leave her husband instantly. Since they do not have kids makes their separation more bearable than if they do have one. Both have great careers going for them that it wouldn’t be hard to go on their separate ways. Still at their peak of productivity, the possibilities are bright for them individually. Each may even take a second chance at their personal life and enter new relationships. With all these weighted down, I am sure, what she wanted was her husband and make things work for them inspite her telling she wanted it over. If she did, she needs no further evidence. She could decide to leave him afterall he has been honest about his extramarital affair.
Amidst her calm demeanor, I could tell she was confused and just wanted some reassurance from others of her decision; that what she was to do is the right thing. But, is it what she truly wanted? Moreover, to talk about something so personal to a stranger may really indicate one’s state of anxiety. She was not hysterical but it was apparent that she was ambivalent about her wanting to pack-up and leave. These considerations were reasons enough for me not to take part in her odd scheme. Who knows, I might even get blamed if things go wrong. I can not afford to damage, even a part, of my person for any amount: at least not in this kind of task.
Recently, I learned from my cousin that the couple has adopted a baby girl and on their way to a new leash in family life. I didn’t regret not helping her in her proposed solution. It would have weighted much on my conscience if I had conspired with her plan. Supposing I did, it would have jeopardized them of the chance to live together and create a family. It would have robbed a child of an adoption that will give her love, care and a bright future.
At this point, I never regret putting her off and constantly making alibi to evade her. I don’t know what she thinks of me after all that. But, it doesn’t matter anymore. I know deep in my heart what I did was right. The complexity of the situation appeals to my sense of prudence not to be a cause of the couple’s break-up, which is likely if I participated. I bargained hard with my conscience to help or to abandon her in her plight. I chose the harsher option by not keeping my word and breaking the agreement to conspire with her at the cost of my integrity. Yet, it is a cheap price compared to the priceless value she earned by learning how to forgive, to manage hope in the midst of challenges, to have faith in the future and to find the fulfillment in love.
She risked loosing face by exposing her embarrassing predicament to me, a stranger reluctant to help her. Consequently, she found peace when she came into terms with herself and mend the broken pieces of her life to her alone is possible. As for me, I may have paid the price of loosing face in the process but, like her I am at peace with my conscience.
Efren Peñaflorida, Jr. was declared CNN Hero of the Year. Thanks to those, mostly fellow Filipinos, who voted for him online. In a way, this contest was not about whom among the nominees are better than the other or is a greater hero. Each of them is a hero in their own right.
Kuya Efren, as he is fondly called, coveted the title “Hero of the Year” with the prize amounting to $ 100,000 (approximately 4.6 million Philippine Pesos), 90% of which will fund his on-going advocacy to teach street children and 10% to benefit his church. Not a cent will go in his pocket. Of humble state and unassuming, Kuya Efren is a son of a tricycle driver and his mother a snack vendor. He gave-up his regular teaching job in a private school to be with street children teaching them to read, write, to do good grooming and values formation. The touching sight of him, on foot, going from town to town with his “kariton” (wooden push-cart) full of learning tools is truly moving. When asked by a journalist if he is going into politics, sure of himself, he said, “No.”
Efren puts to shame all those in this country who build a pedestal of heroism for themselves. They exploit the ignorance of the destitute to believe that they are (self-proclaimed) saviors of this impoverished country. For in fact, they just seek the privileged life of importance that feeds their ego. It is doubly tragic that even those who rose from humble beginnings to achieved fame and fortune has been consumed in the bonfires of the vanities. Instead of generating heroic inspiration from their personal success, it resulted only to commercial avarice and selfish ambitions. Instead of being paragons of appropriateness and morality, the taste of success has corrupted them to lead a life of notoriety. Tragically, just because they have achieved international popularity as a Filipino, they become instant heroes. This impulse to honor those who managed to get into the global stage to bolster national pride is a lame strategy of the politicians to cover up their failures and a propaganda tool for their electoral benefits. On the other hand, they are the creation of the media networks and conglomerates to boost their advertising agenda and further their commercial interests.
But the rise of the pseudo-heroes can be attributed to our myopic view of heroism. Efren was relatively unknown, except for some publicity he got from foreign and later in local media, within the twelve years since he took the heroic initiative of his. Until, this CNN Hero of the Year Award, very few in our country gave the slightest interest in his work. We waited until a foreign entity to catch our attention to the heroism of our ‘kababayan’ (countryman). Unless, one gets recognized abroad we don’t care specially, if one doesn’t have a name and a prominent social status to boast of.
Oftentimes, we are lost in the moments of glory when supposed heroes are bestowed upon with honor. But, it is not the act of honorary bestowal, the public acclaim or official proclamations that makes a hero. In some instances, these acts may even defy the very nature of the heroic deeds. Moreover, we beam when material rewards are given with the recognition. Yet, true heroes never aspire for all of these unless it furthers their noble cause. The real heroes shine not in the moments of honorary glory but in the labors, challenges and difficulties of every single moment of heroism. They inspire not when they show confidence and appreciation for the honors accorded to them but when they demonstrate dedication, perseverance and humility in fulfilling their vocation.
As we were momentarily taken into the reverie of heroic glorification, we relish the trappings of honor, the praises and ovations. However, these are but icing on the cake. After all that is said and done, we need to be awaken from the dream and get on with the reality that much is still to be done. One hero has showed us that change is possible and it beckons us to live our own heroic ideals.It does not require us to be extra ordinary. We can work with what we have. As we are, we can do something to make this world a brighter and more humane place to live in.
Kuya Efren, makes us proud to be Filipinos again. I have almost forgotten how proud I was to be a Filipino. I have seen nothing but simulated images of heroism in this country for the last two decades or so. Propaganda has marred the history of this country, if it wasn’t so, we wouldn’t be still in this hapless state. Yet, the likes of Efren give us hope. He reaffirmed, even in poverty, we are selfless people. The shameful and blatant oppression of our people by some egotistical brutes among us may seem more prominent because they have their names printed in official documents, publications and their calloused faces plastered on television and cinema. However, we don’t have to look far for those who help and take the initiative to work for altruistic motives. Some have their missions in secluded and forgotten areas where help is needed most. Neglected by the government, these areas are served by those who may have left their comfort zone, promising careers in the cities and away from their families to be of service to those in need. Most of them are practically unknown because they are not wealthy philanthropist or influential personalities. But, eventually, fate will one day reward them for every heroic deed. Their names shall be forever etched in the hearts of those affected by their heroism.
Our response to these heroic moments of glory should go beyond inspiration. This inspiration will not be beneficial if it remains to be so. Likewise, great ideas will remain just an idea unless they are realized. Thus, heroic inspiration has to be worked on and live. Indeed, the challenges are great. But I fervently pray that we who were inspired will have strength to be able to take the initiative and live the heroic inspirations our heroes had sparked within us.
“MABUHAY KUYA EFREN AT ANG LAHAT NG MGA PILIPINONG NAGSISILBI NG TAPAT AT WALANG KAPALIT! KAYO ANG TUNAY NA BAYANI!” (Long-live Kuya Efren and all Filipinos who genuinely serve without expecting any reward! You are true heroes!)
“Life is full of heroism”, I remember this line from Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s A Psalm of Life when I memorized it for my freshman speech class in high school. Indeed, in our midst, heroes abound. Among our family, friends, neighbors and even strangers may had, one way or the other, played hero to us. There is no need to argue about what and who is our hero according to personal experience. As we say, “to each its own.”
However, it is troubling to see people pretending to be heroes and brandishing certain so-called-heroic acts senselessly in public. Nowadays, our mass media is plagued by many who put-on the image of heroism. Yet, in truth, what they’re after is the public recognition and worldly acclaim to gain wealth and power to be used for selfish interest. The audacity of those people in politics, showbiz, sports and business has reduced the most noble and heroic acts as tools to manipulate the mind set of the population. How tragic, indeed.
But, there are those who labor without the publicity; those who has nothing personal to gain but to make this world a better place to live in. Yes, true heroes are not dead, they are very much alive. They don’t crave for social status or gain influence for their own sake but rather for the purpose of their heroic deeds.
We don’t need those who seek public office and use public funds to do what they are ought to do. Forget the entertainers, beauty title holders and sports idols who may have gained fame internationally but that’s nothing much to solve the misery, poverty and ignorance of this country. I do salute them for their achievements. However, there’s nothing heroic about them.
It’s about time to open our eyes and hearts to those whose altruistic works inspire and directly touch the lives of people in their respective communities. They may not be popular enough for politicians to pester-on like flies to a pie, yet, they are tireless in helping others. They may lack the resources, yet, they never give-up. They don’t have much influence and power, yet, they give their best of themselves to serve.
Yes, heroes are those who give their very life so that others may live. There may be those who are called to die for noble causes, however, much more are those who live to give meaning to the lives of others. All of them, still alive or has gone ahead, are heroes. Many of them may pass-away unknown but their legacy will live forever in the lives of those they touched.
No amount of fame and fortune is the worth of any hero. Their heroic deeds can not be sufficiently recognized through public ceremonies, official pronouncements or civil and social salutations. Medals, certificates and trophies fade and tarnish. However, the ultimate recognition lies in the changed-lives of those who were affected by their heroism.
The remarkable story of heroes and their heroic deeds are truly inspiring. But they are tough acts to follow. The challenges of our lives may restrict us from accomplishing things that goes beyond what is required of us. The daily grind may prevent us from getting involved in the world beyond our home, career and personal aspirations. But, it is not hopeless for any of us to affect change. With one’s genuine concern, sincerity of purpose and inherent will to be of service in whatever capacity are fertile grounds for heroic inspiration to be born.
May more TRUE heroes be born unto us! “MABUHAY ang mga TUNAY na BAYANI ng bayan!” ( Long-live the true heroes of the nation!)
P.S.
We still have until today to vote for Efren Penaflorida, Jr. as CNN’s HERO OF THE YEAR. Just log-on and vote at http://www.cnn.com/heroes
Show our support. His prize will benefit the education of our street children. Let us help him break the darkness of ignorance by sharing the light of knowlegde. This is to brighten the future of this nation for the sake of our children. Thank you very much!
Monday, November 2, 2009
BYE, BYE BIRDY A Memoir on Death
Two weeks ago our pet Birdy was discovered by my mother to be lethargic. The bird was too weak to eat or to even stand up. His struggling to drink from the water basin could indicate dehydration. Tatay, my stepfather, got him out of the cage; wrapped him with a clean rag and tried to serve him water mixed with sugar. Later, a bit of antibiotic was administered which I think did not help or, perhaps, worsen his condition.
Feeling somber I prayed-over Birdy. I even placed the picture of St. Pio de Pietrelcina over where his body rest while invoking the saint’s intercession. I can’t help feeling ridiculous doing this. However, there is an overwhelming force within me that challenges the absurdity of the moment.
For the next hour, I could hear a faint chirp. I couldn’t tell if it was in pain, discomfort or a sign of recovery. My auditory perception tells me it was of relief or, maybe, it was what I wanted to believe. I watched TV to momentarily distract me from the inevitable. Half an hour past, another faint chirp was heard. Tatay checked on him ten minutes later and said, “I think he is gone”. What I heard was his last chirp.
I said grace before dinner adding a prayerful thanks to God for all creatures. Then, quietly we had dinner, oblivious of the sound of the TV. Until Tatay broke the silence saying, “Futile it may be, we tried our best to revive him. At least he died with warmth and tenderness.” That thought made me feel better. No words ensue from any of us until after dinner.
Feeling uneasy how to dispose of the carcass, I just sat there. Until, in silence, Tatay got an empty pizza box and started cutting. The serious mood was finally broken when the makeshift coffin was labeled “Rest In Peace” and we all had a good laugh. I, then, took pictures as mementoes.
It was hardly the moment we read about or depicted on cinema or perhaps in actual experience. As opposed to a young dad comforting his child over a dead pet, here is a 61 year old with his 40 year old stepson together in “child’s play”. Looking back, it was ironic that I didn’t have moments like this with my own father. And when he passed-away eleven years ago, I felt betrayed because I was robbed of the times I could have had with him.
I remember as a child I cried over the movie film “Where the Red Fern Grows”. It was about a boy and his two dogs (I think they were bloodhounds) he found in the wilderness. The boy’s poor family was living in the mountains in a US Midwestern state. His parents were at first opposed to him keeping the dogs when they had little to eat. Eventually, his parents’ love for him prevailed and he got to keep the dogs. However, the boy was shattered when the female dog died fighting-off a grizzly bear to save his life. Later, in grief, the male dog soon followed to the grave. A red fern grew in the site of the dogs’ grave gave the boy the courage to move on and learn the lessons of life, survival and death. It was a turning point in his life.
As a teenager, while growing up in the harsh life of family dysfunctionality, I read about “The Tale of the Dog Who Killed Itself” by Richard Jenkins. Although the story revolved around the family’s pet dog and his demised, it was used as an allegory to the story of the family in the brink of brokenness and divorce. The dog (a schipperke) in the story run-away one day and deliberately jumped-off to a river. It wasn’t explained in the book why the dog did that. It was left to the readers. Maybe the dog felt the unease within the family due to estrangement. Or, perhaps, he felt neglected by his desolate masters. What was touching was when the dad built a fence around the house telling his son that it was a memorial to their dog. He adds, miles and miles of fences are being built across America to make them remember. Perhaps, the fences symbolize unity, continuity and hope.
Indeed, we learn about death as young as we can remember. As we grow up, we witness life’s mortality and in every encounter with grief we come in terms with its inevitability. As we age, we discover that death goes beyond the concepts we were taught in our youth.
Oftentimes, death is characterized as a solitary experience; truly, it is. However, it has a social dimension that we never fully realize. It is strange how death, more often than not, becomes an impetus to many life-changing events and unexpected turnabouts. More than any other phase of life, the complexities of human relations are emphasized at death. Families are reunited after so many years due to animosities or by long distances. On the contrary, family feud suddenly sparks by greed in the issue of inheritance. And suddenly, the varying degrees of relationship and its qualities, or the lack of it, are brought to the fore. The emotional intensity generated by our interpersonal involvements is expounded at death more than any other phase of life. So, whether it is happy, sad, remorseful, fury or indifference depends on the shared moments we had with each other.
As Birdy’s carcass was finally put inside the cardboard coffin, I went outside the garden to place it in a shallow grave in a terra cotta plant pot. Tatay followed and stand beside me over the grave for a moment. With wit but comforting voice, he said, “the carton is bio-degradable. It said so on the box. We could still use the pot for planting.” I flashed him a grin as I threw bird-seeds over the grave as a sign of reverence. In the midst of this, I know my mother was silently laughing at us. Perhaps, she can’t believe this comical sight. Tatay joined her to stand at a distance from me when I proceeded to light a candle at the grotto directly above the pot of a grave and whispered a prayer.
My prayer was not so much for the dead creature, as we do when praying for the (human) dead. It is more of gratitude for having moments such as this, silly as it may seem, to simulate a childhood experience with an unusual twist. Time paused for a brief moment for my mother, Tatay and me. In simple gestures amidst our silence we were one in spirit. It was funny yet at the same time profound experience that a pet’s demise was instrumental in bringing a special moment of togetherness. These are small yet precious investments we bring in our relationship as a family. In a way, moments like this shall be fondly remembered when either of us has gone ahead of the other. It shall be a bittersweet reminisce full of wonder and, perhaps, amusement.
