Remembering Mina

26 November. This was the birthday of my sister Myrna whom we all fondly called Mina.


Mina was the second eldest in our family. Unlike Ate, my eldest sister, Mina was responsible and serious. She was like a second mother to all of us who were younger in the family tree.


I could not forget the day when she did my hair so nicely when I was in grade2. She told me I had to look good because our class was going to have a class picture. She told me to smile when the cameraman finish counting up to three and take the shot. As young, shy and moody as I was, I did not. When I got the picture, she said it was okay and it was not so bad.


Mina's movie idols were Susan Roces and Eddie Gutierrez. She collected photos of the love team and would like so much to go to the cinema to see their movies. However, our father was very strict. He was like our Board of Censor. If we were so keen to see a movie, he first watched the movie himself to see if it was suitable for us to watch. Furthermore, we were not allowed to go to the cinema in the first place, unless he was with us.

One time, however, Mina with my Ate, took me to a second class theatre which showed double program. The movie she was keen to watch then was called Maruja which starred Susan Roces and Romeo Vasquez. As there was another movie, we came home at sundown. My sisters were shocked when we got home because at the door was our father whose face as we figuratively say it was un-paintable.


Ate, began reasoning out, but got a slap on the face. Mina was quiet. When it was her turn to get slapped, she fell straight down to the floor with her eyes closed. Our father furiously lectured to them. I was scared too, but I was young to be slapped and lectured to.


After a few days later when we recalled the episode with a touch of humour, my older cousins said it was surprising because Mina who was the perfect kid, whom they also said was my father's favourite, was in the end not really exempted from the rod. That is, as Mina rarely got lectured to and disciplined.

Mina was not just my big sister but my friend. As young as I was, she shared with me her secrets, particularly about her teenage crush in school by the name of Ruben Perez.


From hindsight, I supposed she also must have wanted to go out with Ruben. But our father's rule was books first, boys last. One time, however, Ruben with his friend Nick who I think got a crush on my Ate, came to visit. Of all days, however, the boys shouldn't have come that day. Why? my father who worked as a mobile patrol police happened to be at home. He regularly stopped by our house anytime he saw fit.

I saw the disappointment on my sister's face when she heard my father who answered the door, told the boys, "No one in his household is sick and therefore, is in no need of any visitors."


Mina survived this heart-breaking episode. After all, she was just a young girl. And she had all of us-- our parents who loved her and we, who were not only her siblings but her friends. Her love for music, singing, drawing, household chores and life put her back on track.


As my parents ran retail businesses and botique, Mina, as well, as my Ate and my big brother Abner, became involved in these. Soon my father gave her a mixed shop to run on her own. The shop was called Mina's Shop and Save Store.

The above is but just a little piece of my huge and fond memory of my beloved sister whom we all lost on 2 November 1979. I wish I could write more... but other things have copyrights in heaven.


This is a video I created in memory of my beloved sister Mina

I thank you Lord I belong to a family

Oh how beautiful is the colour variation of bougainvillea! Every time I see their bracts—white, red, pink orange and yellow, I tend to think of the family I belong to. And when I think of them Lord, I also think of love--because I learn a lot about loving through them.

Am I not blessed to have a mother who trudge one subdivision after another to get me different bract colours of bougainvillea for my genetics class? And could you imagine her catching grasshoppers with me, too and searching for turtle and dead shark?

As for my father, God… did he think I was still 15 years old that he still went with me to get a medical certificate? Why? I was already a postgraduate student then!

Haha! For my father and mother, my siblings and I will always be like their little children in need of help and support.

Lord, it gladdens my heart to belong to parents like them. I thank you forever for them.

And I thank you also for my brothers and my sisters--for Art, Cynthia and Merle whom I go out with to attend concerts and plays and sing praises and share your love to others over plains, valleys and mountains; and also do some crude baking and roasting.

I thank you also for Rommel who runs an errand for me whenever I want to eat Ebisen and for being able to compute my income tax return.

Just the same God, I thank you for Nimrod, my intelligent brother and comrade who talk to me about rockets, booby traps, submarines and the Sinos. Haha! Did he think I want to go to war?

Am I not so blessed? I don’t only have five siblings but more…!! WoW! Amazing indeed to belong to a large family! My siblings are not just my brothers and sisters but also my friends!

Thank you for Mina, Abner, Delmar Jr, too-- Mina who shared with me the little smiles and tremendous pains about life; Abner who skillfully drew for me Magellan, Marcelo H. del Pilar and Gregorio del Pilar; and Delmar, Jr., my bed-ridden brother who taught all of us to be loving and caring. But I tell you Lord…I get so hurt every time I think of them. The thought of their tragic deaths always bring tremendous pain in my heart that I cry, cry and cry….How I wish they were still around!

But then what can I do? But just grow strong and brave to accept things as they are… Life is made of tears, but also comfort and joy...

Lord, I thank you also for Daisy with whom I had shared jackets and jeans, Big Mac and coke and of course basketball games to fight over with when her Motorola team wins over my Crispa. I wish she did not have to fly to Australia because I miss her so, particularly her frowning and crying face whenever my Crispa team win over Motorola.

And I thank you just the same for my Ate. I quarrel with her too! Am I bad? But she was so spoiled!!!! Spoiled by our grandma! How my ears hurt everytime she speaks coarse language! Even then through her worst also shines a little kindness that touches my heart. So I love her just the same, God. You know I do, God.

My family isn’t really that fantastic as you are fully aware, Father. Sometimes we laugh a lot. We sing, cry and pray together. But when we discuss issues in our round table…My! We shout, fight and cry! We do not sound like a family at all! I am sorry to say.

I thank You God because your grace is sufficient, however. After awhile we all can forgive each other and forget about all the fights. Then once more, we are a family again who talk a lot, laugh, sing, eat and pray.

Glory be to You, Lord who binds us together in love and perfect unity.

(From L.R. Blanco’s My Life’s Journal, 1984)

Bare Trees

How could I take pleasure in them?
How could my heart skip a beat as I see a landscape of them?
What is so special about them?

Could it be the backdrop of this blue river
or the blue sky streaked with fluffy clouds?
or their earthly tones and the array of winter flowers
or extensive green grass underneath them?

I think I know--bare as they are yet they paint
a picturesque rustic romance.

Yes, I think I know-bare as they are yet they create
a spiritual solace in my mind and searching soul.

And one more thing...I know when spring comes
they will come alive like me...
when the winter cold is over.

From L.R.Blanco's Strings of Words and Solitude

Myself (1)

striving for victory
over self-centeredness.
*****
a genetic entity.
*****
an outcast full of inadequacies
*****
a loner,
more of an introvert,
prudent in everything
****
saved by God's grace
****
a student of the Bible till Jesus returns
***

To A Beloved Friend

There's nothing much I can remember about you and me.
We've known each other for eight long months,
have gone to places with Christian friends we both love
sung anthems, hymns and praises to God
strolled in the parks under the dome of blue skies
shared nice and bad foods in nearby restaurants
waited for hours for the last bus
laughed at little things and cried over some petty quarrels.

What else have I got to remember?
Nothing more.
This world was not meant for you and me.
If it was--
I could have sung a joyful song,
I could have filled the empty pages of my life
I couldn't have cried alone in the rain
or chased a bluebird and then lost it in bitter despair.

No, there's nothing much between us--
except for that dream now lost in gray clouds.

From L.R. Blanco's Strings of Words and Solitude

Precious Memories

I was sitting on the rocking chair facing the hedge that separates my property from that of my neighbour. As it is autumn now, the hedge is starting to bear orange flowers. I took pleasure watching a lorikeet hop from one flower to another to savour the flower's nectar. I would be listening to some music shortly. I was just catching my breath after doing a bit of gardening despite my sore right hand. I know I must be crazy to be abusing my hand. In the morning, I played on my mother's antique phonograph the records of Perry Como, ie after I asked 'her which record would she like to listen to this time. Hearing Perry Como's I Love You and Don't You Forget It set my mood to do a bit of aerobic exercises. I told my mother sitting on the swing chair by the time Perry Como's record finished, my blood sugar must have gone down. As the sun was on the verge of hiding itself, I opted as always to listen to classical music. I find this quieting the soul and calming the storms of life. I listened this time to the first of the vinyl record in 5 record set of 125 Musical Selections. I felt great satisfaction listening to Handel's Pomposo, Wagner's Lohengrin, Beethoven's Sonata No. 14, Haydn's Toy Symphony... at the same time thanking God for the peace and quiet. As I stared deeply outside through the glass, I was amazed at the pretty sight before me: the harmony and synchrony of the music I was playing with nature --ie the sun filtered through leaves of the hedge, the whooshing wind causing the millions of them dance rhythmically. Even if I could not physically feel the gentle wind as I was enclosed in a glass, I could feel nevertheless the mirth of my surroundings. WoW!!!! As the record spun on the turntable, i dwelt into a deeper meditative state....then I felt an immense sadness within me. Images of our house back in Manila which held precious memories flashed back in my head. Yes, i remember the records we had back home--Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture, Mantovani's instrumental music, Mario Lanza and our own Kundiman. The memory of my father came back once more. He was also fond of this kind of music. Funny, I was feeling great satisfaction but sadness at the same time. I wish my father was still around to see the near completion of my building project. I was sad because I could not share with him the sense of fulfilment of having improved the little cottage I bought from my savings a little over a decade ago. At the early stage of my planning to build in 2009, I could see in my father's eyes the same enthusiasm as I had. He was still around when the framework of my project was put up. He even involved himself in clearing and levelling the pathway along the enclosure to the side gate of my house. But then, he got terribly sick, being in and out of the hospital. Nevertheless, he continuously aired his interest in the progress of my project over the phone. The project dragged on and on, not because I ran out of funds then as I had saved for this over the years. Rather, I found it difficult closing a deal with the tradesmen. More so, the contour of their faces scared me. Amazingly, at the beginning of 2011, God led me to good tradespeople and the project came into good shape... Sadly, however, my father was gone to see this. 10 May 2011, it will be my father's first death anniversary. Time flies quickly--i have not even noticed it. It is almost a year since he left this planet earth. I have not felt him gone forever. How could I? My house and my garden hold heaps of his precious memories. As I am aiming my garden to be low in maintenance, I'd say it has to undergo a major overhaul--including the dismantling of the old shed. However, before the tradesmen do this, I thought I better visit it first. I hadn't technically went inside this shed for ages. Surprisingly, I found my father's toolbox in here. Inside this box were his tools--old and rusty. I could have thrown these away as I could not sand the rust away anymore as I did with his chisel, ie with my injured right hand. However, I would not do such a thing even for a million dollar. My father brought all these stuff from the Philippines when he first arrived in Australia. Furthermore, if any single artefact, so to speak, in Jose Rizal's life has been preserved, I would want by the same token, preserve my father's ones. My father was not a national hero, but to us his children, he definitely is---in his own small, unique and detailed ways. I could go on listing the ways he had been a hero in my life, but I'm afraid I do not have a rich English vocabulary to described these.... When he passed away, I have always said and written as well, he lives forever in my and my siblings hearts... Yes, it is true, not only in our hearts but in my house. I put on top of my keyboard his small photo. When I could not fall asleep or else I could not go back to sleep when I wake at 1.30 or 2.00 am, I walk to my study to play my keyboard. My heart bleeds as i play Silver Threads Among the Gold. When I was just learning to play this, he sang along with my poor playing of the piece. He continuously sang till the last stanza even if I was hitting the wrong notes and then chuckled in the end before pat my head. As Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake came to an end, I realised I was now staring at the hedge which was progressively blackening with the shadows of the night. I remained on the chair for a further ten minutes or so. There was perfect stillness around me. From a distance, I could hear my father's happy singing of the song, You Are my Sunshine while playing on the guitar. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine...he repeatedly sang this song to us. Such precious memories.... Before I dwell deeply into this nostalgic state, I walked towards my mother lying down on the swing chair. I told her, Mum, it is time to go inside the house before it gets totally black outside. Im going to check your sugar, inject you with insulin and then we'll have our dinner''

Below is a video memoir I made to remember those days gone by...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_NY9klFpLbQ

Rain - A Gift From God

"Rain, rain go away! Come again another day!" so little children chant on a rainy day.

As a child, I hardly could remember having said something like this. Basically because I had liked to stay indoors.

When it was raining, I remember I'd sit by my window, read a book, eat peanuts and enjoy the rhythm of the rain.

When I grew up, my memory of rainy days was also pleasant.

It was a rainy day in July at Rizal Park when my "Paul"extended to me his black umbrella. That was one long walk I had enjoyed as a young adult--walking with and hearing someone I cherished sing a song for me.

Through the yearsm a beautiful friendship developed between me, the Rainmaker and the rain He sends from heaven.

For ten years I worked at the Philippine Atomic Energy Commission, I used to walk a couple of minutes from Don Mariano Marcos Avenue to my laboratory. On cloudy days, I had always whispered to the Rainmaker these same lines:

"Father, please make the rain fall nicely and friendly. You wouldn't want me to go to work soaked, would you?"

And I'd feel little friendly raindrops on my face lifted towards heaven...

One time, however, I was caught halfway to my lab, by a storm. The big winds and the torrents blew inside out my umbrella. Needless to say, I got to the lab like a wet duckling. I had to stay in my office in my laboratory gown the whole day.

Once again, I talked to the Rainmaker. "Father, it's okay, really. It's good I have a spare, nice and clean lab gown and my boss is absent."

Rain refreshes. After the rain, don't we always see the leaves greener and the lilies whiter. If there was no rain, I wonder if we'd ever see the earth clean.

I like rain. It has always been on rainy days of my life that I hear God speak eloquently to me. It is on rainy days too, that I learn to know about myself and the people closest to my heart... and what life is about...

Rain like sunshine is a gift from God.

To the Rainmaker, I always say, "Father, I thank you for the rain, believe me, I do. But just the same, I like to see the sun."

And in His Word is the answer, "Faithful is He who calls you and He shall bring it to pass...(1 Thess 5:24)

From L. R. Strings of Words and Solitude [copyright (archived at the National Library of Australia and State Library of New South Wales)].