I know many of you may have heard or read the quotes that follow but I think they all have invaluable lessons - some are heartbreaking, or beautiful, or sad, or the absolute truth, or just funny. I hope you enjoy reading them as I have enjoyed (and continue to...) collecting them. There are blanks after some quotes only because I can't remember who said them or they have been repeated so often, the world has forgotten who said the wise words.
It's a hot day in the summer of 2010 - August 5, to be exact - but I hope these quotes give my readers a pause to think and comment on the quotes below. The quotes in bold and italics are my personal favorites, though technically I love them all since I collected them through 4 years!
Here they are:
"I believe that addicts are not responsible for their addictions, but they ARE responsible for their actions, just like everyone else." - Susan Cheever
The opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference. - Maggie Scarf
Having the right to do something doesn't mean it’s the right thing to do. - WSJ 8/3/10
"90 percent of life is just showing up. The other 10 percent might be knowing when to leave." - Woody Allen
"Fast ripe, Fast rotten" - Japanese Proverb
Nothing is easier than self-deceit. For what each man wishes, that he also believes to be true." - Demosthenes
"You have to accept that on the Internet there is no erase button." - Sandra Zoratti, vp of global solutions at InfoPrint Solutions Co.
Work is the rent you pay for life – Queen Mary of England
"It isn't enough to succeed; your friends must fail" - Gore Vidal
"Better to keep your mouth shut and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt" Abraham Lincoln
We don't play God when we take terminal patients off life support; we play God when we put them on it. Norris Church Mailer - "A Ticket to the Circus: A ...."
It’s our choices that make us who we are.
"Los hombres teneis muy poca memoria" - MJPerez Meler - "Dias de otono...donde esta el Rey?"
A death unseen is a death unrealized.
The exchange between Churchill & Lady Astor: She said, "If you were my husband I'd poison your tea." He said, "If you were my wife, I'd drink it."
A member of Parliament to Disraeli: "Sir, you will either die on the gallows or of some unspeakable disease." "That depends, Sir," said Disraeli, "whether I embrace your policies or your mistress."
"He has all the virtues I dislike and none of the vices I admire." - Winston Churchill
"He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." - William Faulkner (about Ernest Hemingway).
45 THOUGHTS TO PONDER AND LIVE BY -
1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But, don't worry, God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But, the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words ''In five years, will this matter?".
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything.
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time, time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.
Patriotsm means to stand by the country. It does not mean to stand by the president. - T. Roosevelt
......Everytme you think you are in control, God taps you on the shoulder - or kicks you in the ass, depending on what you need - and shows you who is really in charge. - Melissa Gilbert
Marriage changes passion. Suddenly, you're in bed with a relative.
The best way to predict the future is to create it.
"Being defeated is often a temporary condition. Giving up is what makes it permanent." Marilyn von Savant
Remember where you're standing when the spotlight goes off. You'll have to find your own way off the stage - Lovell
To name a demon is to make it yours.
Let another hail him dear -
Little chance that he'll forget me!
Only need I curse and fear
Her he loved before he met me - Dorothy Parker
Because your eyes are slant and low
Because your hair is sweet to touch
My heart is high again, but, oh,
I doubt if this will get me much – Dorothy Parker
Scratch a lover, and find a foe - Dorothy Parker
Where's the man could ease the heart like a satin gown? – Dorothy Parker
The sun's gone dim and the moon's turned black, for I loved him and he didn't love back – Dorothy Parker
Say "I love you only when you really mean it, and learn to say "I'm sorry" even when you don't.
Never take something from someone that was never yours to begin with.
"You're one decision away from disaster....." Kathy Lee Gifford
"A mother always has to think twice, once for herself and once for her child." Sofia Loren
"I didn't know how to ask for what I wanted for fear of losing what I had." Jane Fonda
"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable" John F. Kennedy
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
Happiness makes up in height what it lacks in length.
I'd rather have three minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. (“Shelby” –Steel Magnolias )
It’s hard to shine when you stand next to the sun - TIME re Bill Clinton and Hillary
"Susanne, if sex were fast food there'd be an arch over your head" (Designing Women)
"For those who know me, no explanation is necessary. For those who don't, no explanation is possible." - Yogi Berra
"Pity goes hand in hand with contempt."
"He looks at me like he's the spoon and I'm a dish of ice cream"
You don't get rich doing what you love. You get rich doing what no one else wants to do.
".....its what you don't choose that makes you who you are" Ben Affleck in "Gone Baby Gone"
A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out - Walter Winchell
Statistics are no substitute for judgment - Henry Clay
Meetings are indispensible when you don't want to do anything - John Kenneth Galdbraith
I'm always fascinated by the way memory diffuses fact - Diane Sawyer
Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in – (Michael Corleone -Godfather III)
I've always depended on the kindness of strangers...(Blanche Dubois - A Streetcar Named Desire)
Sometimes people who really love each other have the knack of making each other uncannily miserable.....
To understand a man, you must know his memories. The same is true of a nation. - Anthony Quale
Any child can tell you that the sole purpose of a middle name is so he can tell when he's really in trouble.
There ain’t no surer way to find out whether you like people or hate them than to travel with them - Mark Twain
When all else fails read the instructions.
Children are likely to live up to what you believe of them - Lady Bird Johnson
NOTHING MAKES A PERSON MORE PRODUCTIVE THAN THE LAST MINUTE
Any time you think you have influence, try ordering around someone else's dog
Other things may change us, but we start and end with family - Anthony Brandt
It is a funny thing about life; if you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it - W. Somerset Maugham
It infuriates me to be wrong when I know I'm right - Moliere
Never let people see how you feel, it gives them too much power. - Mike Nichols
The problem with doing nothing is not knowing when you're finished. "Night Fall" Nelson DeMille
Be careful whom you choose for an enemy because that is who you become most like - Nietzsche
Provided you have enough courage or money, you can do without a reputation - Margaret Mitchell
Oh let's don't ask for the moon.....we have the stars – (Bette Davis in Now Voyager)
I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last for days – (Kevin Costner in Bull Durham)
Children are paparazzi. They take your picture when you don't want them to, and then they show it to you. - Jamie Lee Curtis in AARP May/June issue.
The value of education is not in learning of the facts, but in training of the mind to think.
Statistics is like a bikini. What it reveals is suggestive. What it conceals is vital.
One doesn't plan to fail, one fails to plan.
Take what man makes and use it, But do not worship it, For it shall pass. - Anonymous
"Say hello to my leetle friend." – (Al Pacino in Scarface)
Do not mistake coincidence with fate.
You want to risk a no if you ever want to hear a yes.
It’s not our abilities that show us who we truly are – it’s our choices.
Though you can't change a situation, you can control how you respond.
Bad table manners have ruined more marriages than infidelity - "Gigi"
Romantic is the life you want to live. Sexy is the night you want to have.
Cats seem to go on the principle that it never does any harm to ask for what you want - Krutch
Time spent with cats is never wasted. - Colette
There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats. - Anonymous
There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats. - A. Schweitzer
You will always be lucky if you know how to make friends with strange cats. - proverb
There are few things in life more heart-warming than to be welcomed by a cat. - Tay Hohoff
The Present is the living sum-total of the Past. - Thomas Carlyle "Characteristics"
Perception is the ultimate truth.
Never interrupt an enemy while he's making a mistake - Napoleon Bonaparte
Man plans, God laughs.
Diplomacy is the art of saying nice doggy, until you can find a rock. (Nelson De Mille - Plum Island)
"You can never be lonely if you read." - Brooke Astor
There comes a point where life stops giving you things and starts taking them away – (Indiana Jones - Kingdom of the Crystal Skull)
We are the choices we have made – ("Francesca" - Bridges of Madison County)
I don't want to need you if I can't have you – (Robert to Francesca – BOMC)
This kind of certainty comes but once in a lifetime – (Robert to Francesca BOMC)
I watched him walk away and all the blood in my veins followed him. Anita Shreve
'People will forget what you said. People will forget what you did. But, people will never forget how you made them feel'.
"After the first death, there is no other" - Dylan Thomas
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Friday, July 30, 2010
My 3 cents on the article of the Barcelona Reporter on Bullfighting in Catalonia
Deveras, que tiene que ver las corridas de toros con la independencia o nacionalidad o lo que hizo Franco hace 50 anos? Digo yo. Ver articulo que sigue que copie del “Barcelona Reporter”
Catalonia’s Independence from Spain drives bullfighting ban
Catalonia’s decision on Wednesday to ban bullfighting in 2012 is akin to Quebec banning hockey or California banning fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Catalonia’s Independence from Spain drives bullfighting ban
Seneca, the Roman playwright, cast the Iberian Peninsula as a stretched bull’s hide — la piel de toro — more than 2,000 years ago. Cave paintings discovered in Spain depict men staring down bulls. Bulls and bullfighting are icons of Spanish self-identify, and as such, are interwoven in the culture’s pageantry and sense of patrimony.
It is part of the country’s pageantry, but it’s more than that, and b.
On the surface, banning bullfights is about animal welfare, but more than anything, it’s about politics and age-old tensions being played out in the bullfighting ring.
“In this case, banning the bullfight has a lot to do with Catalonia saying, ‘Look, we are not Spanish,’ ” says Carrie Douglass, a cultural anthropologist at the University of Virginia who specializes in Spain and is married to a Spaniard from Madrid. “Because if Spain is associated with or equal to the symbol of the bull and the bullfight, and the Catalans are prohibiting it then they are saying: ‘We can’t be Spanish. And we should be separate.’ ”
Originally, the Catalans were separate, a kingdom unto themselves known as Aragon, with a distinct language, governing institutions and customs that persisted long after the birth of the Kingdom of Spain in 1469.
By the end of the 18th-century bullfighting, as we picture it today, was already fully developed as a commercial enterprise. It was the first form of mass entertainment in Western society. Arenas dotted the Spanish landscape. Stars were worshipped like matinee idols. Festivals would end with a bullfight, followed by a feast. People loved it, even in Catalonia, the first region in Spain to industrialize and, by the 1850s, the wealthiest.
“A Catalan nationalist movement emerged in the 1850s,” says Adrian Shubert, a historian at York University in Toronto. “The Catalans saw themselves as more sophisticated, more European, more advanced economically than the rest of the country.”
And the future, to the Catalans, was to be European, and being European meant no more bullfights. Bullfighting was a symbol of Spanish backwardness, of barbarity, a tradition unbecoming a progressive people. To the rest of Spain, bullfighting was the people; it was Castilian virility, artistry and bravery in the face of death.
Goya celebrated it in paintings. Federico Lorca, the poet, embraced it with verse.
“Perhaps little children cannot imagine the shape of Spain, but we adults know – our teachers told us so – that Spain stretches out like a bull’s hide,” he wrote. “In this geographical symbol lies the deepest, most dazzling and complex part of the Spanish character.”
Lorca was executed during the Spanish Civil War, a bloody conflict that ended with the dictatorship of General Francisco Franco.
“Franco detested the Catalans,” Mr. Shubert says. “He saw them as separatists and a threat to the unity of the Fatherland.”
Under Franco, the Catalan language was banned in public, and banished from media. Nationalism went underground, and wouldn’t emerge again until after the general’s death in 1975.
Almost four decades later, a new civil war is being waged in Spain, and the first casualty is bullfighting. The debate that ended the blood sport played out in Catalonia’s legislature for several months. Biologists, veterinarians, philosophers, writers — bullfighters — all were invited to address the politicians before the crucial ballot was cast. And when the votes were tallied, bullfighting, and the Spain behind it, was defeated 68-55.
“Can you have a fiesta in Spain that claims antiquity — a patron saint festival — without a bullfight?” Ms. Douglass wonders. “In Spain, you can hate the bulls. But your fiesta — like the Fourth of July — is more than just corn on the cob and a band and some watermelon.”
There has to be fireworks and a rocket’s red glare. Being opposed to the bullfight is like being a supporter of the National Rifle Association in the United States: it says something about a person’s politics.
And to the Catalans, it says that we are the modern ones, the progressives and, most of all, that we are different. And they are different, even though the region has a rich bullfighting tradition and a reputation for producing some of the finest matadors in the land.
“It is not a cruel show,” renowned Catalan bullfighter Serafin Marin said this week. “It is a show that creates art.”
Text within the news headline and/or news body may be subject to copyright Barcelona Reporter does not claim copyright to any such text.unless it is written by one of our reporters :
Please refer to the URL-referenced web page (the ‘Article Source’) for further information and details of the original source from the Barcelona Reporter.com web site. Copyright remains with the original copyright holder
Catalonia’s Independence from Spain drives bullfighting ban
Catalonia’s decision on Wednesday to ban bullfighting in 2012 is akin to Quebec banning hockey or California banning fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Catalonia’s Independence from Spain drives bullfighting ban
Seneca, the Roman playwright, cast the Iberian Peninsula as a stretched bull’s hide — la piel de toro — more than 2,000 years ago. Cave paintings discovered in Spain depict men staring down bulls. Bulls and bullfighting are icons of Spanish self-identify, and as such, are interwoven in the culture’s pageantry and sense of patrimony.
It is part of the country’s pageantry, but it’s more than that, and b.
On the surface, banning bullfights is about animal welfare, but more than anything, it’s about politics and age-old tensions being played out in the bullfighting ring.
“In this case, banning the bullfight has a lot to do with Catalonia saying, ‘Look, we are not Spanish,’ ” says Carrie Douglass, a cultural anthropologist at the University of Virginia who specializes in Spain and is married to a Spaniard from Madrid. “Because if Spain is associated with or equal to the symbol of the bull and the bullfight, and the Catalans are prohibiting it then they are saying: ‘We can’t be Spanish. And we should be separate.’ ”
Originally, the Catalans were separate, a kingdom unto themselves known as Aragon, with a distinct language, governing institutions and customs that persisted long after the birth of the Kingdom of Spain in 1469.
By the end of the 18th-century bullfighting, as we picture it today, was already fully developed as a commercial enterprise. It was the first form of mass entertainment in Western society. Arenas dotted the Spanish landscape. Stars were worshipped like matinee idols. Festivals would end with a bullfight, followed by a feast. People loved it, even in Catalonia, the first region in Spain to industrialize and, by the 1850s, the wealthiest.
“A Catalan nationalist movement emerged in the 1850s,” says Adrian Shubert, a historian at York University in Toronto. “The Catalans saw themselves as more sophisticated, more European, more advanced economically than the rest of the country.”
And the future, to the Catalans, was to be European, and being European meant no more bullfights. Bullfighting was a symbol of Spanish backwardness, of barbarity, a tradition unbecoming a progressive people. To the rest of Spain, bullfighting was the people; it was Castilian virility, artistry and bravery in the face of death.
Goya celebrated it in paintings. Federico Lorca, the poet, embraced it with verse.
“Perhaps little children cannot imagine the shape of Spain, but we adults know – our teachers told us so – that Spain stretches out like a bull’s hide,” he wrote. “In this geographical symbol lies the deepest, most dazzling and complex part of the Spanish character.”
Lorca was executed during the Spanish Civil War, a bloody conflict that ended with the dictatorship of General Francisco Franco.
“Franco detested the Catalans,” Mr. Shubert says. “He saw them as separatists and a threat to the unity of the Fatherland.”
Under Franco, the Catalan language was banned in public, and banished from media. Nationalism went underground, and wouldn’t emerge again until after the general’s death in 1975.
Almost four decades later, a new civil war is being waged in Spain, and the first casualty is bullfighting. The debate that ended the blood sport played out in Catalonia’s legislature for several months. Biologists, veterinarians, philosophers, writers — bullfighters — all were invited to address the politicians before the crucial ballot was cast. And when the votes were tallied, bullfighting, and the Spain behind it, was defeated 68-55.
“Can you have a fiesta in Spain that claims antiquity — a patron saint festival — without a bullfight?” Ms. Douglass wonders. “In Spain, you can hate the bulls. But your fiesta — like the Fourth of July — is more than just corn on the cob and a band and some watermelon.”
There has to be fireworks and a rocket’s red glare. Being opposed to the bullfight is like being a supporter of the National Rifle Association in the United States: it says something about a person’s politics.
And to the Catalans, it says that we are the modern ones, the progressives and, most of all, that we are different. And they are different, even though the region has a rich bullfighting tradition and a reputation for producing some of the finest matadors in the land.
“It is not a cruel show,” renowned Catalan bullfighter Serafin Marin said this week. “It is a show that creates art.”
Text within the news headline and/or news body may be subject to copyright Barcelona Reporter does not claim copyright to any such text.unless it is written by one of our reporters :
Please refer to the URL-referenced web page (the ‘Article Source’) for further information and details of the original source from the Barcelona Reporter.com web site. Copyright remains with the original copyright holder
Monday, June 14, 2010
The GULF OIL SPILL
Hi All,
I know this is not the fun, light, and lovely messages I usually write about, but I am truly concerned about the world we are leaving to our precious grandchildren so this oil spill in the Gulf is a disaster too horrid for us to ignore. And, after reading the item in bold below, please keep this disaster in your prayers - our fragile ecosystem needs all the help it can get, and at this point, the Big Guy Above needs to send us a miracle.
I just read this comment (below in bold) about the oil spill in Yahoo. If this doesn’t scare the beejesus out of everyone I don’t know what will. Every disaster movie that was ever made would pale in comparison if this holocaust did happen. The person who wrote this sure sounds like someone who knows what he is talking about. God help us all.
"A lot of people here are missing the jist of what is happening there under the sea.
BP has not capped the well because they are terrified of a problem they have not yet discussed in public. Namely that the rig explosion cracked and damaged the sea floor around the well head, and that besides the broken pipe there are other, more fragile leaks of oil coming up from the sea floor itself.
This is why they are so cagey with information, and why they are keeping everyone not directly involved with the repair out of the area.
They have not capped the well because they are afraid if that if they totally capped the pipe closed, the pressure would back up into the damaged well bore and cause a blow out of the damaged sea floor around the well head.
This would be a much, much, MUCH bigger disaster than what is happening now; with little or no hope of us being able to control it. They are purposely letting the leak run in order to keep the pressure low in the well and minimize any further pressure damage to the well bore. A 20 inch pipe leaking into a containment cap is much better than a 75 foot wide crack or hole in the sea floor rocketing an enormous unstoppable geyser of oil into the Gulf. If that happens, it's goodbye Charlie. The Gulf would be overwhelmed in a short period. They have to do this, no matter how frustrating it is. This is also why they are capping it in increments, so they can carefully observe what each change in well pressure does to the damaged area.
This is why it was unacceptable when the first cap iced over, because it was blocking the oil flow, and again the pressure would back up into the well and might cause a catastrophic sea floor blow out.
When viewed in this context, what they are doing makes sense. They are trying their best to avoid the worst case scenario, and it definitely can get worse than what is happening now. They are not letting the pipe leak just for their health or negligence, or for financial gain.
Barack Obama did not cause this, and he is trying as much as possible to stay out of their way so that they can think and work without government hassle in order to try and get this extremely dangerous situation under control.
The US government is not an oil company and does not have the expertise to handle this, although it's obvious BP doesn't really have it either.
There is a distinct possibility that if the government shoved their hand in there to get things going, it would end up making it far worse. What is happening now is a disaster. If the sea floor blew out at 5,000 feet, it would be a holocaust."
I know this is not the fun, light, and lovely messages I usually write about, but I am truly concerned about the world we are leaving to our precious grandchildren so this oil spill in the Gulf is a disaster too horrid for us to ignore. And, after reading the item in bold below, please keep this disaster in your prayers - our fragile ecosystem needs all the help it can get, and at this point, the Big Guy Above needs to send us a miracle.
I just read this comment (below in bold) about the oil spill in Yahoo. If this doesn’t scare the beejesus out of everyone I don’t know what will. Every disaster movie that was ever made would pale in comparison if this holocaust did happen. The person who wrote this sure sounds like someone who knows what he is talking about. God help us all.
"A lot of people here are missing the jist of what is happening there under the sea.
BP has not capped the well because they are terrified of a problem they have not yet discussed in public. Namely that the rig explosion cracked and damaged the sea floor around the well head, and that besides the broken pipe there are other, more fragile leaks of oil coming up from the sea floor itself.
This is why they are so cagey with information, and why they are keeping everyone not directly involved with the repair out of the area.
They have not capped the well because they are afraid if that if they totally capped the pipe closed, the pressure would back up into the damaged well bore and cause a blow out of the damaged sea floor around the well head.
This would be a much, much, MUCH bigger disaster than what is happening now; with little or no hope of us being able to control it. They are purposely letting the leak run in order to keep the pressure low in the well and minimize any further pressure damage to the well bore. A 20 inch pipe leaking into a containment cap is much better than a 75 foot wide crack or hole in the sea floor rocketing an enormous unstoppable geyser of oil into the Gulf. If that happens, it's goodbye Charlie. The Gulf would be overwhelmed in a short period. They have to do this, no matter how frustrating it is. This is also why they are capping it in increments, so they can carefully observe what each change in well pressure does to the damaged area.
This is why it was unacceptable when the first cap iced over, because it was blocking the oil flow, and again the pressure would back up into the well and might cause a catastrophic sea floor blow out.
When viewed in this context, what they are doing makes sense. They are trying their best to avoid the worst case scenario, and it definitely can get worse than what is happening now. They are not letting the pipe leak just for their health or negligence, or for financial gain.
Barack Obama did not cause this, and he is trying as much as possible to stay out of their way so that they can think and work without government hassle in order to try and get this extremely dangerous situation under control.
The US government is not an oil company and does not have the expertise to handle this, although it's obvious BP doesn't really have it either.
There is a distinct possibility that if the government shoved their hand in there to get things going, it would end up making it far worse. What is happening now is a disaster. If the sea floor blew out at 5,000 feet, it would be a holocaust."
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Mi Mami - my mother - Paquita Rodriguez de Bowie - Memories this Mother's Day 2010
She arrived with her mother Amparo, her sister Enriqueta and her best friend Nieves. It was around 1938 and pre-war Manila was a charming, beautiful city. They had left the horrors of civil war ravaged Barcelona to join her brother Carlos, sister Sara, nephew Fernando and other extended family who lived in the gracious, lively, cosmopolitan city that was called the Pearl of the Orient. She was petite, with a perfect oval face, lovely dark hair which she curled herself, and with flashing black eyes and a ready smile, she soon became popular among the Spanish/American/Filipino community that made this city the envy of other Asian capitals around it. My mother loved to dance and until the rheumatoid arthritis restricted her to a wheelchair decades later, she could dance anything any orchestra threw at her. She told me she loved Fred Astair and Ginger Rogers and when little, she adored Shirly Temple who tapped danced into many a little girl's heart.
She met my dad on a sort of blind date concocted by her brother Carlos. My uncle was then married to a lady (her name was Alma) who worked at the KZRH (later, MBC, owned by the Elizalde family), where my dad was one of the main newscasters. They all decided to go bowling at the YWCA and the moment my dad took one look at her, he fell in love and told everyone and anyone who would listen that he was going to marry Paquita Rodriguez Fernandez. My uncle told him that would be next to impossible. Stacked against him was the fact that my grandmother was a strict Spanish lady who didn't believe young unmarried ladies should go out with a man without a chaperone; secondly, my mother did not speak any English and he not a world of Spanish; thirdly, my mother like her mother and sisters, was a devout Catholic and dad was Lutheran. My dad's response? In today's vernacular, "no problem!" He set out to woo and win the hand of this lady - whatever it took. First, he got both himself and my mother corresponding Spanish/English dictionaries. Then, he came around to visit my mother's home, endearing himself to my grandmother and uncles and aunts. (And, did! Until she died, my grandmother and dad were kindered spirits and in some ways, were more in tune than my mother and father.) He became a fixture at the Rodriguez home and slowly and surely won my mother's heart. He proposed to her on top of those double decker tour buses that used to go down Dewey Blvd. with my her sister (my Aunt Sara) sitting 3 seats behind them. He converted to Catholicism before he married her and on December 7, 1941, my mother walked down the aisle of the Malate Church (she swore it was the longest aisle of any church anywhere!) to meet the love of her life, Hal Bowie. Of course Fate had more serious events going on - at the moment my parents were saying their vows, the Japanese were bombing Pear Harbor. My parents' honeymoon in Tagaytay was cut short and a month later, the Japanese came and "escorted" by dad to Bilibid prison before incarcerating him in Santo Tomas (the Japanese concentration camp for all Allied countries' prisoners). Since my mom was a Spanish citizen (and the war broke out before she could get her American passport), the Japanese did not require her to go into the camp but my mother had centuries of her Spanish Catholic faith woven into her very bones and she made a vow and by golly, she was going to keep it! So, she marched up to Bilibid and insisted that she be joined with her husband and the incredulous Japanese - shaking their heads and telling her that if she went in she couldn't come out - let her in. After a year and a half in Santo Tomas, the Japanese decided to take about 2,000 able-bodied men out of Manila into the foothills of Mount Mackiling (Sp.?) to the little town of Los Banos, Laguna. The women followed a bit later. And therein that camp, in the middle of a typhoon at 1:35 AM of July 16, 1944 my mother was delivered by cesearian section of a 2 pound 2 ounce baby girl - me! That she, and I survived that is surely a miracle on many levels but my mother attributes it all to Our Lady of Lourdes to whom she was devoutely faithful. In fact, after I was delivered and my mother was under heavy sedative and the doctors and my dad weren't sure this little thing was going to survive, so he went looking for a priest and asked his good friend Johnny Oppenheimer what name he could give me, and Uncle Johnny said, why not Lea, so in front of Fr. Reuter who witnessed my baptism, and another priest who actually performed the ritual, I was christened into the Catholic faith. When my mother came out of the fog of sedation, she asked my dad what he named me and he said Lea and she was not happy as she had never heard of the name before and had promised Our Lady of Lourdes that if all went well and she had a girl she would name her Lourdes. But since I had already been baptized, they placed Lourdes as my middle name though I rarely use it.
Aftter the war was over and surviving a harrowing rescue by the 11th Airborn Division of the Los Banos Internment Camp, my parents came to the United States for a while but after 3 years decided to return to the Philippines and make their life there.
All through my childhood, girlhood, and teenhood, my mother was the center of our little family. Daddy was the one who 'brought home the bacon' but my mother made sure it got to the pan. Both she and my father were marvelous cooks and though by today's standards we lived very normal middle class lives - my parents gave me a wonderful childhood. We never wanted for anything....and I know that sometimes times were hard. Dad changed jobs from radio to newspaper to television and these ups and downs rocked the family economy now and then but I never wanted for a pretty dress for a party nor stopped me from enjoying the privilidges of being a member of the Army Navy Club which was a mecca for us teenagers who lived in Ermita and Malate. I should've been more sensitive to those times but teenagers are an uncouciously selfish lot and I just went on my merry way not appreciating then how comfortable my parents made my life. There were times when my mother's rheumatoid arthritis was so painful she could hardly move, but you never heard her complain. Dr. Fores prescribed cortisone for her and at that time it was the miracle cure-all but after a while, the cortisone made her appear bloated and the pain returned, so he cut of the cortisone completely and then her pain was so bad, tears would run down her cheeks but she still didin't complain. There was a time the cook and the housegirl either quit or had to go to the province for something or other so I cooked lunch and supper for my parents. But the good times were good - Christmas was especially wonderful. No matter what, good times or bad, there was always a hefty pile of presents under the Christmas tree on Christmas mornings. Once when younger, I wanted a "Tiny Tears" doll soooo much. And I got it. But the extras for the doll were expensive since it included a whole layette, so my mother made a whole layette of baby clothes herself for the doll. Just as she made all the baby clothes for me in the Japanese concentration camp from silk and linen slips and thread and needles she managed to find around the camp. I may have had what I needed ,but not always what I wanted - that I was taught to earn, like roller skates - I worked hours in the yard picking up calachuchi leaves from the ground, mowing the lawn, painting my mother's flower pots and other chores to earn the money for those skates. When I finally got the money to buy them, (it was near my birthday), my parents surprised me by presenting the skates to me. But they taught me the lesson. When I was young, I adored my dad and loved my mother. You know the difference. Daddy always made me feel good about myself, but my mother was the moral compass I had to follow and hers the roots that kept me grounded to the earth. Then, I resented my mother for being the killjoy I thought she was, but my dad balanced it off by waving away the cobwebs and expecting that pot-of-gold at the end of the rainbow (what else could an Celtic/Irish man believe in?). My mother, however, knew that there was no pot of gold anywhere unless you saved for it and all those doom and gloom predictions she gave me were just about always right. And thank goodness I listened to her too. Now, many, many years later, through many trials and tribulations and watching my mother fight and finally give in to the arthritis that crippled her limbs (but not her heart and soul), I know that if my father was the wind beneath my wings, my mother was the strong thread that kept me (and, continues to keep me), grounded to earth.
My mother died 15 years ago on a March afternoon in Barcelona, 21 years after my dad passed away during a typhoon in Manila in 1974. I was not at either of their sides when they left the bounds of earth and I don't think I have ever really come to terms with that, but it's just as well. I was lucky enough to see them before they died (my dad a year earlier and my mother 3 months before), so I remember them whole and happy. I've often wondered why God or circumstance deprived me of being by the side of my parents before they passed away but maybe He knows better. Being their only child, I don't know and I don't think I could've have the strength to watch them leave this earth, and me. But, I have a lasting memories from both of them. From my dad - the last long, long letter he wrote to me for my birthday in July 1974, telling me of his plans and that the place he was staying for a while during the week, had a great brick oven that he could bake the best bread in! And my mother - I was visiting her in Barcelona Christmas/New Years of 1994 and the night before I left I had a splitting headache and she told me to put my head on her lap and she stroked my hair and my head, just as she did when I was little, calling me "corazon" which she did very rarely and she hadn't called me that in years, and told me that everything would be alright. I will never forget thinking that though her hands were crippled badly with the arthritis, they were not stiff, but soft and gentle...........
And so, here I am, 15 years after she died and almost 66 years since she gave birth to me, and I still miss her today as heart-wrenchingly as I did the day I found out she passed away, minutes before I was going to board a plane to fly to see her in Barcelona.
I know she's up there in good company with her mother, my dad and all her family and I know she watches over me, and my daughter, who is now a great mother herself, and I hope she knows that I may be her "corazon" but she will mine forever..
Feliz Dia de la Madre, Mami. Te quiero como siempre.........
She met my dad on a sort of blind date concocted by her brother Carlos. My uncle was then married to a lady (her name was Alma) who worked at the KZRH (later, MBC, owned by the Elizalde family), where my dad was one of the main newscasters. They all decided to go bowling at the YWCA and the moment my dad took one look at her, he fell in love and told everyone and anyone who would listen that he was going to marry Paquita Rodriguez Fernandez. My uncle told him that would be next to impossible. Stacked against him was the fact that my grandmother was a strict Spanish lady who didn't believe young unmarried ladies should go out with a man without a chaperone; secondly, my mother did not speak any English and he not a world of Spanish; thirdly, my mother like her mother and sisters, was a devout Catholic and dad was Lutheran. My dad's response? In today's vernacular, "no problem!" He set out to woo and win the hand of this lady - whatever it took. First, he got both himself and my mother corresponding Spanish/English dictionaries. Then, he came around to visit my mother's home, endearing himself to my grandmother and uncles and aunts. (And, did! Until she died, my grandmother and dad were kindered spirits and in some ways, were more in tune than my mother and father.) He became a fixture at the Rodriguez home and slowly and surely won my mother's heart. He proposed to her on top of those double decker tour buses that used to go down Dewey Blvd. with my her sister (my Aunt Sara) sitting 3 seats behind them. He converted to Catholicism before he married her and on December 7, 1941, my mother walked down the aisle of the Malate Church (she swore it was the longest aisle of any church anywhere!) to meet the love of her life, Hal Bowie. Of course Fate had more serious events going on - at the moment my parents were saying their vows, the Japanese were bombing Pear Harbor. My parents' honeymoon in Tagaytay was cut short and a month later, the Japanese came and "escorted" by dad to Bilibid prison before incarcerating him in Santo Tomas (the Japanese concentration camp for all Allied countries' prisoners). Since my mom was a Spanish citizen (and the war broke out before she could get her American passport), the Japanese did not require her to go into the camp but my mother had centuries of her Spanish Catholic faith woven into her very bones and she made a vow and by golly, she was going to keep it! So, she marched up to Bilibid and insisted that she be joined with her husband and the incredulous Japanese - shaking their heads and telling her that if she went in she couldn't come out - let her in. After a year and a half in Santo Tomas, the Japanese decided to take about 2,000 able-bodied men out of Manila into the foothills of Mount Mackiling (Sp.?) to the little town of Los Banos, Laguna. The women followed a bit later. And therein that camp, in the middle of a typhoon at 1:35 AM of July 16, 1944 my mother was delivered by cesearian section of a 2 pound 2 ounce baby girl - me! That she, and I survived that is surely a miracle on many levels but my mother attributes it all to Our Lady of Lourdes to whom she was devoutely faithful. In fact, after I was delivered and my mother was under heavy sedative and the doctors and my dad weren't sure this little thing was going to survive, so he went looking for a priest and asked his good friend Johnny Oppenheimer what name he could give me, and Uncle Johnny said, why not Lea, so in front of Fr. Reuter who witnessed my baptism, and another priest who actually performed the ritual, I was christened into the Catholic faith. When my mother came out of the fog of sedation, she asked my dad what he named me and he said Lea and she was not happy as she had never heard of the name before and had promised Our Lady of Lourdes that if all went well and she had a girl she would name her Lourdes. But since I had already been baptized, they placed Lourdes as my middle name though I rarely use it.
Aftter the war was over and surviving a harrowing rescue by the 11th Airborn Division of the Los Banos Internment Camp, my parents came to the United States for a while but after 3 years decided to return to the Philippines and make their life there.
All through my childhood, girlhood, and teenhood, my mother was the center of our little family. Daddy was the one who 'brought home the bacon' but my mother made sure it got to the pan. Both she and my father were marvelous cooks and though by today's standards we lived very normal middle class lives - my parents gave me a wonderful childhood. We never wanted for anything....and I know that sometimes times were hard. Dad changed jobs from radio to newspaper to television and these ups and downs rocked the family economy now and then but I never wanted for a pretty dress for a party nor stopped me from enjoying the privilidges of being a member of the Army Navy Club which was a mecca for us teenagers who lived in Ermita and Malate. I should've been more sensitive to those times but teenagers are an uncouciously selfish lot and I just went on my merry way not appreciating then how comfortable my parents made my life. There were times when my mother's rheumatoid arthritis was so painful she could hardly move, but you never heard her complain. Dr. Fores prescribed cortisone for her and at that time it was the miracle cure-all but after a while, the cortisone made her appear bloated and the pain returned, so he cut of the cortisone completely and then her pain was so bad, tears would run down her cheeks but she still didin't complain. There was a time the cook and the housegirl either quit or had to go to the province for something or other so I cooked lunch and supper for my parents. But the good times were good - Christmas was especially wonderful. No matter what, good times or bad, there was always a hefty pile of presents under the Christmas tree on Christmas mornings. Once when younger, I wanted a "Tiny Tears" doll soooo much. And I got it. But the extras for the doll were expensive since it included a whole layette, so my mother made a whole layette of baby clothes herself for the doll. Just as she made all the baby clothes for me in the Japanese concentration camp from silk and linen slips and thread and needles she managed to find around the camp. I may have had what I needed ,but not always what I wanted - that I was taught to earn, like roller skates - I worked hours in the yard picking up calachuchi leaves from the ground, mowing the lawn, painting my mother's flower pots and other chores to earn the money for those skates. When I finally got the money to buy them, (it was near my birthday), my parents surprised me by presenting the skates to me. But they taught me the lesson. When I was young, I adored my dad and loved my mother. You know the difference. Daddy always made me feel good about myself, but my mother was the moral compass I had to follow and hers the roots that kept me grounded to the earth. Then, I resented my mother for being the killjoy I thought she was, but my dad balanced it off by waving away the cobwebs and expecting that pot-of-gold at the end of the rainbow (what else could an Celtic/Irish man believe in?). My mother, however, knew that there was no pot of gold anywhere unless you saved for it and all those doom and gloom predictions she gave me were just about always right. And thank goodness I listened to her too. Now, many, many years later, through many trials and tribulations and watching my mother fight and finally give in to the arthritis that crippled her limbs (but not her heart and soul), I know that if my father was the wind beneath my wings, my mother was the strong thread that kept me (and, continues to keep me), grounded to earth.
My mother died 15 years ago on a March afternoon in Barcelona, 21 years after my dad passed away during a typhoon in Manila in 1974. I was not at either of their sides when they left the bounds of earth and I don't think I have ever really come to terms with that, but it's just as well. I was lucky enough to see them before they died (my dad a year earlier and my mother 3 months before), so I remember them whole and happy. I've often wondered why God or circumstance deprived me of being by the side of my parents before they passed away but maybe He knows better. Being their only child, I don't know and I don't think I could've have the strength to watch them leave this earth, and me. But, I have a lasting memories from both of them. From my dad - the last long, long letter he wrote to me for my birthday in July 1974, telling me of his plans and that the place he was staying for a while during the week, had a great brick oven that he could bake the best bread in! And my mother - I was visiting her in Barcelona Christmas/New Years of 1994 and the night before I left I had a splitting headache and she told me to put my head on her lap and she stroked my hair and my head, just as she did when I was little, calling me "corazon" which she did very rarely and she hadn't called me that in years, and told me that everything would be alright. I will never forget thinking that though her hands were crippled badly with the arthritis, they were not stiff, but soft and gentle...........
And so, here I am, 15 years after she died and almost 66 years since she gave birth to me, and I still miss her today as heart-wrenchingly as I did the day I found out she passed away, minutes before I was going to board a plane to fly to see her in Barcelona.
I know she's up there in good company with her mother, my dad and all her family and I know she watches over me, and my daughter, who is now a great mother herself, and I hope she knows that I may be her "corazon" but she will mine forever..
Feliz Dia de la Madre, Mami. Te quiero como siempre.........
Monday, April 5, 2010
One lovely week - Lovely Easter weekend and happy early Spring!
First of all, I hope everyone had a happy and blessed Easter Holiday.
I was supposed to get my granddaughter Laura to stay with me from Tuesday morning on until Easter Monday but it was raining sheets on Tuesday so her mother brought her over on Wednesday morning and for 6 days and 5 nights I had my sweetie with me.
One of those cutsie sayings out there is that "our grandchildren are our reward for not killing our children." Now, y'all will agree that there are fleeting moments (especially when they are in their teens) that we have entertained the thought of strangling our offspring. In any event, my granddaughter and I (who is all of 11 already! (birthday March 18)) get along splendidly. She enjoys shopping with me especially when we go look at the handbags. We had to buy her some summer tees and jeans and God bless Old Navy. At least here in the Big Manzana, we would all walk around naked without it. The prices are rock bottom and the clothes are trendy but useful. The trick is in accessorzing. A cool scarf and attitude will make a $25 outfit go a long way. We watched Vogue's The September Issue 2007" (we both like to pretend we are sitting there wearing all those cool shoes, clothes and handbags and we can critique better than anyone on "Project Runway" and what woman DOESN'T wish she was Anna Wintour!), and also watched the sweetest 3-hanky dog story on DVD titled "Hachi" with Richard Gere. TIME magazine recommended it and if you like dogs and sweet movies, don't miss this. We had our first Baskin and Robins ice cream for spring - twice and raided Barnes and Noble (she, because she had 5 gift cards to use up, and me so I can jot down books I want to get on my Kindle). Ah, another thing my Laura likes to do is read, but I can't get sole credit for that - my daughter and I, her grandfather (my ex), and my parents, are and were all avid readers so she comes by that almost genetically.
On Saturday, Frances came to stay with us as she was doing Easter Sunday Mass with us, and my son in law went to stay with Cliff (Frances's dad) and later on Saturday evening we had a lovely pre-Easter dinner (we couldn't get a reservation in for Sunday - it was fully booked) at "Buttermilk Channel" - a lovely restaurant in the French boit style three short blocks from my apartment. The dinner was excellent and the gentlemen treated the ladies, natch. Coincidentally, Saturday was April 3 and it was 45 years ago that I had walked down the aisle with Cliff in Manila. My, my. The roads I have travelled since then, yet 45 years later, albeit divorced so long we can't (or he can't) remember what it was like to be married, we sat with our only child and granddaughter for Easter dinner. Life is not so bad.
So here you have me giving you a glimpse of my Easter holiday, on Monday afternoon, April 5th, feeling blue because my little apartment feels so empty without my girl(s). Tomorrow back to the office to earn my daily bread. But for the moment, there's a little breeze blowing thru the new curtains in the windows at the back of my apartment - making my cat Marco happy as the windows are up and the screens down and he can have some fresh from the garden smells of birds and squirrels after being denied all this, this long, cold, wet, winter. And though I grumble about having to work, I am glad I have a job as it keeps my mind active and worse things could happen to me, I guess. Spring is here (though I don't think we're through with the cold yet, April is a tricky month), and Life is not so bad.
I was supposed to get my granddaughter Laura to stay with me from Tuesday morning on until Easter Monday but it was raining sheets on Tuesday so her mother brought her over on Wednesday morning and for 6 days and 5 nights I had my sweetie with me.
One of those cutsie sayings out there is that "our grandchildren are our reward for not killing our children." Now, y'all will agree that there are fleeting moments (especially when they are in their teens) that we have entertained the thought of strangling our offspring. In any event, my granddaughter and I (who is all of 11 already! (birthday March 18)) get along splendidly. She enjoys shopping with me especially when we go look at the handbags. We had to buy her some summer tees and jeans and God bless Old Navy. At least here in the Big Manzana, we would all walk around naked without it. The prices are rock bottom and the clothes are trendy but useful. The trick is in accessorzing. A cool scarf and attitude will make a $25 outfit go a long way. We watched Vogue's The September Issue 2007" (we both like to pretend we are sitting there wearing all those cool shoes, clothes and handbags and we can critique better than anyone on "Project Runway" and what woman DOESN'T wish she was Anna Wintour!), and also watched the sweetest 3-hanky dog story on DVD titled "Hachi" with Richard Gere. TIME magazine recommended it and if you like dogs and sweet movies, don't miss this. We had our first Baskin and Robins ice cream for spring - twice and raided Barnes and Noble (she, because she had 5 gift cards to use up, and me so I can jot down books I want to get on my Kindle). Ah, another thing my Laura likes to do is read, but I can't get sole credit for that - my daughter and I, her grandfather (my ex), and my parents, are and were all avid readers so she comes by that almost genetically.
On Saturday, Frances came to stay with us as she was doing Easter Sunday Mass with us, and my son in law went to stay with Cliff (Frances's dad) and later on Saturday evening we had a lovely pre-Easter dinner (we couldn't get a reservation in for Sunday - it was fully booked) at "Buttermilk Channel" - a lovely restaurant in the French boit style three short blocks from my apartment. The dinner was excellent and the gentlemen treated the ladies, natch. Coincidentally, Saturday was April 3 and it was 45 years ago that I had walked down the aisle with Cliff in Manila. My, my. The roads I have travelled since then, yet 45 years later, albeit divorced so long we can't (or he can't) remember what it was like to be married, we sat with our only child and granddaughter for Easter dinner. Life is not so bad.
So here you have me giving you a glimpse of my Easter holiday, on Monday afternoon, April 5th, feeling blue because my little apartment feels so empty without my girl(s). Tomorrow back to the office to earn my daily bread. But for the moment, there's a little breeze blowing thru the new curtains in the windows at the back of my apartment - making my cat Marco happy as the windows are up and the screens down and he can have some fresh from the garden smells of birds and squirrels after being denied all this, this long, cold, wet, winter. And though I grumble about having to work, I am glad I have a job as it keeps my mind active and worse things could happen to me, I guess. Spring is here (though I don't think we're through with the cold yet, April is a tricky month), and Life is not so bad.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Holy Week - yesterday and today......
Its been sometime since I've written - almost a whole month but I was in a winter funk what with all the lousy weather we've been having but spring has sprung and though I'm still not in full spring mode as it is still cold but at least sunny, I am looking forward to spending the upcoming week with my sweet granddaughter Laura and having my whole little family with me on Easter Sunday.
And keeping in the spirit of Holy Week, I am herewith posting a poem I wrote in high school (either in my freshman or sophomore year) which I want to share with you. It was submitted by either Miss Juco or Miss Ocampo or even Sr. Mary Angela (my Paulinian classmates know of whom I speak) to the Manila Bulletin and it was published during Holy Week then. Now, over 40 years later, I think I should post something fitting for this solemn week before Easter.
The Vigil
A woman stands beside the cross
Her beautiful serene eyes are glistening with tears
Her rose-tinted skin is now almost transparently white with grief
Her glorious mass of shining chestnut hair
Has tumbled over her shoulders
Now shaking with her silent weeping.
She raises her head toward the figure hanging on the cross
And as she looks at Him, a dagger pierces her soul
The Man hanging on the Cross is her only son
She is filled with anguish, pain and sorrow
But, helpless to do anything for Him.
There is a woman beside her sharing her sorrow
A woman called Mary of Magdala.
A group of soldiers are gambling for His seamless robe
Which she made for Him, so long ago.
The sky has suddenly become dark.
Lightning and thunder break through the unearthly stillness
With an angry force
And the woman hears a voice she knows to be her son’s murmur….
“Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.”
And a soldier exclaims in terror and wonder…..
“Truly, this is the Son of God.”
A soft drizzle begins to fall
As two men take the Savior off the cross
And they lay Him in His mother’s arms.
There is still great sorrow and pain in her heart
But, she is also happy.
That He is rid of His suffering and agony.
His hands still bear
The marks where the nails had been cruelly driven into
Those divine hands
Which had caressed her cheek as a babe,
Had helped His father at work
Had healed the sick, the blind and the lame
And had changed bread and wine
Into His own Body and Blood.
The people had demanded the death
Of her Divine Son
This innocent Man
Lying in her arms now
Who had come down to earth
To save man from his sins
Their God and Creator
Who had brought the message of…
Love your neighbor as yourselves.
She thinks about this as she lays Him in the tomb
And she weeps again
But this time, for those who have denied Him
Hoping they will find Him again.
And as she walks down the path, away from the tomb,
We see a Queen, a Mother, a Saint, an Angel
And her name is MARY.
Have a Happy and Blessed Easter, all!!
And keeping in the spirit of Holy Week, I am herewith posting a poem I wrote in high school (either in my freshman or sophomore year) which I want to share with you. It was submitted by either Miss Juco or Miss Ocampo or even Sr. Mary Angela (my Paulinian classmates know of whom I speak) to the Manila Bulletin and it was published during Holy Week then. Now, over 40 years later, I think I should post something fitting for this solemn week before Easter.
The Vigil
A woman stands beside the cross
Her beautiful serene eyes are glistening with tears
Her rose-tinted skin is now almost transparently white with grief
Her glorious mass of shining chestnut hair
Has tumbled over her shoulders
Now shaking with her silent weeping.
She raises her head toward the figure hanging on the cross
And as she looks at Him, a dagger pierces her soul
The Man hanging on the Cross is her only son
She is filled with anguish, pain and sorrow
But, helpless to do anything for Him.
There is a woman beside her sharing her sorrow
A woman called Mary of Magdala.
A group of soldiers are gambling for His seamless robe
Which she made for Him, so long ago.
The sky has suddenly become dark.
Lightning and thunder break through the unearthly stillness
With an angry force
And the woman hears a voice she knows to be her son’s murmur….
“Father, into Thy hands I commend my spirit.”
And a soldier exclaims in terror and wonder…..
“Truly, this is the Son of God.”
A soft drizzle begins to fall
As two men take the Savior off the cross
And they lay Him in His mother’s arms.
There is still great sorrow and pain in her heart
But, she is also happy.
That He is rid of His suffering and agony.
His hands still bear
The marks where the nails had been cruelly driven into
Those divine hands
Which had caressed her cheek as a babe,
Had helped His father at work
Had healed the sick, the blind and the lame
And had changed bread and wine
Into His own Body and Blood.
The people had demanded the death
Of her Divine Son
This innocent Man
Lying in her arms now
Who had come down to earth
To save man from his sins
Their God and Creator
Who had brought the message of…
Love your neighbor as yourselves.
She thinks about this as she lays Him in the tomb
And she weeps again
But this time, for those who have denied Him
Hoping they will find Him again.
And as she walks down the path, away from the tomb,
We see a Queen, a Mother, a Saint, an Angel
And her name is MARY.
Have a Happy and Blessed Easter, all!!
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Snow Days and Disasters.....in the Movies!!!
Well, its been a heck of a winter especially the last two weeks here in beautiful downtown Brooklyn. I woke up (well, actually, I was woken up by a text and email blast from the university that there would be no classes or administration going on), at 5:30 AM on Friday morning to a world of white outside my windows. The good thing is that I got to stay home and read, eat when and what I want, watch movies and make my cat Marco happy by keeping him company and playing with him. Besides, all the birdies and squirrels he watches or tease him from the windows have disappeared to wherever those creatures disappear to when there are big snowstorms or heavy rain. In any event, its pretty for the first 24 hours and since it snowed for 24 hours it was pretty to look at and take photos off. I wish I could play in it but these not so spry and not so resilient bones of mine can't take that sort of thing anymore. What my bones are really asking me is why don't I take them to some warm sunny beach or warm sunny anywhere! And they say there's more snow to come this week. Aaaarrrgghhh.... My granddaughter will be going to school till July if this keeps up to make up for lost school days.
Then I had a slight heart attack (figuratively) because Thursday night it was snowing heavily already and my Direct TV dish was burried under the heavy WET snowflakes and I thought I would miss the ladies figure skating final at the Olympics but milagro! It came back on just about 9:30 pm. Wasn't that Korean girl just exquisite?!!
Nothing much else exciting is going on. Well, there is this earthquake in Chile, which is not exciting but horrid for those people and that tsunami scare because if it is supposed to reach Hawaii and Japan, the Philippines isn't far off but so far, it hasn't happened.
When I was a kid in Manila, really young, I had seen a movie called "Fair Winds to Java" and it was about a tsunami and for years and years I used to have nightmares about a tsunami rolling over us thru Manila Bay. When the real thing happened not so long ago in Banda Asche (Sp.?), I thought - some nightmares do become real. I know I may be a trifle weird but I rather like watching "disaster" movies like the original "Poseidon", "Earthquake" with Jennifer Jones/Charlton Heston, "Twister" (I like watching the movie but I can't relate too much to tornadoes not having really experienced or seen one in real life and I don't live in Oklahoma or Kansas), "Impact" or something with an impact about asteroids hitting the earth, which are a bit scary, and the two movies about nuclear bomb explosions, one had Jason Robards in it, "The Day After" and those are scary too. And then there's "The Towering Inferno" which those nasty terrorists made all too real and a thousand times worse by giving us a taste of the real thing. But I have the movie in video and I like it because of all the actors in it: William Holden, Fred Astair, Steve McQueen, Jennifer Jones, Susan Blakely, Paul Newman, Faye Dunaway and even OJ Simpson, who had a good supporting role. I like ""Dante's Peak" wth Pierce Brosnan (I like anything with him in it), "The China Syndrome", "On the Beach", "Titanic" and "A Night To Remember" (to some even better than Titanic by Cameron), "The Devil at Four O'Clock" (Frank Sinatra and Spencer Tracy), and "When Time Ran Out" with Jacqueline Bissett, Paul Newman and William Holden (talk about the dream team actors!). Anyway, I'm into a disaster mode and I haven't even included movies like "The Hot Zone" or "The Adromeda Strain."
I guess I'm from the older generation because I'd rather watch any of the above movies again than something about Iraq (The Hurt Locker), or blue people with a "message" (Avatar). Which brings me to the (drum roll) the Oscar's next Sunday. I have my favorite actors and actresses but none will win because everyone is now so "PC" (I HATE that term), but I like the spectacle and like looking at the dresses and who makes it or doesn't. I wish I could work the red carpet as an interviewer just for that night. As I'ved said previously, I like the Golden Globes awards better but the Oscar's are a tradition, so something to look forward to.
And for those of you who ARE "PC" and think that I should be talking about more serious stuff in here than old disaster movies, well, we get the serious stuff in our faces every day in the news, on TV and in our lives so I can indulge in old fashioned harmless memories of rotten and not so rotten movies that do what movies are supposed to do - entertain. Your entertainment may be French noir or Italian comedy or Merchant/Ivory films (I love them!) or Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. Whatever works, I say.
And then there's always my Kindle. Just finished reading a lot of non-fiction like "The Lost City of Z" and "The Johnstown Flood" so yesterday I indulged in a bit of chic lit called "Very Valentine" and loved it. The second of the trilogy by the author of this book releases in the middle of March and I can't wait.
Last but not least, last night I watched "The V.I.P.s" with Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Orson Wells, Maggie Smith, Elsa Martinelli and Rod Taylor and fell asleep watching Cameron's "Titanic" and hated Billy Zane all over again! Besides, not a thing to watch if you hate the cold!
Then I had a slight heart attack (figuratively) because Thursday night it was snowing heavily already and my Direct TV dish was burried under the heavy WET snowflakes and I thought I would miss the ladies figure skating final at the Olympics but milagro! It came back on just about 9:30 pm. Wasn't that Korean girl just exquisite?!!
Nothing much else exciting is going on. Well, there is this earthquake in Chile, which is not exciting but horrid for those people and that tsunami scare because if it is supposed to reach Hawaii and Japan, the Philippines isn't far off but so far, it hasn't happened.
When I was a kid in Manila, really young, I had seen a movie called "Fair Winds to Java" and it was about a tsunami and for years and years I used to have nightmares about a tsunami rolling over us thru Manila Bay. When the real thing happened not so long ago in Banda Asche (Sp.?), I thought - some nightmares do become real. I know I may be a trifle weird but I rather like watching "disaster" movies like the original "Poseidon", "Earthquake" with Jennifer Jones/Charlton Heston, "Twister" (I like watching the movie but I can't relate too much to tornadoes not having really experienced or seen one in real life and I don't live in Oklahoma or Kansas), "Impact" or something with an impact about asteroids hitting the earth, which are a bit scary, and the two movies about nuclear bomb explosions, one had Jason Robards in it, "The Day After" and those are scary too. And then there's "The Towering Inferno" which those nasty terrorists made all too real and a thousand times worse by giving us a taste of the real thing. But I have the movie in video and I like it because of all the actors in it: William Holden, Fred Astair, Steve McQueen, Jennifer Jones, Susan Blakely, Paul Newman, Faye Dunaway and even OJ Simpson, who had a good supporting role. I like ""Dante's Peak" wth Pierce Brosnan (I like anything with him in it), "The China Syndrome", "On the Beach", "Titanic" and "A Night To Remember" (to some even better than Titanic by Cameron), "The Devil at Four O'Clock" (Frank Sinatra and Spencer Tracy), and "When Time Ran Out" with Jacqueline Bissett, Paul Newman and William Holden (talk about the dream team actors!). Anyway, I'm into a disaster mode and I haven't even included movies like "The Hot Zone" or "The Adromeda Strain."
I guess I'm from the older generation because I'd rather watch any of the above movies again than something about Iraq (The Hurt Locker), or blue people with a "message" (Avatar). Which brings me to the (drum roll) the Oscar's next Sunday. I have my favorite actors and actresses but none will win because everyone is now so "PC" (I HATE that term), but I like the spectacle and like looking at the dresses and who makes it or doesn't. I wish I could work the red carpet as an interviewer just for that night. As I'ved said previously, I like the Golden Globes awards better but the Oscar's are a tradition, so something to look forward to.
And for those of you who ARE "PC" and think that I should be talking about more serious stuff in here than old disaster movies, well, we get the serious stuff in our faces every day in the news, on TV and in our lives so I can indulge in old fashioned harmless memories of rotten and not so rotten movies that do what movies are supposed to do - entertain. Your entertainment may be French noir or Italian comedy or Merchant/Ivory films (I love them!) or Colin Firth in Pride and Prejudice. Whatever works, I say.
And then there's always my Kindle. Just finished reading a lot of non-fiction like "The Lost City of Z" and "The Johnstown Flood" so yesterday I indulged in a bit of chic lit called "Very Valentine" and loved it. The second of the trilogy by the author of this book releases in the middle of March and I can't wait.
Last but not least, last night I watched "The V.I.P.s" with Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton, Orson Wells, Maggie Smith, Elsa Martinelli and Rod Taylor and fell asleep watching Cameron's "Titanic" and hated Billy Zane all over again! Besides, not a thing to watch if you hate the cold!
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