Is He Worth the Fight?

When boys ages 10-11 were sporting bowl cuts, Eliezer's hair was longer than most, parted at one side and neatly finished at the edges. He was 12 or 13 years old but was in grade five. According to the grapevine, he failed one level and had to repeat it. At my young age of 10, Eliezer's 12-13 year old's antics were more sophisticated and mature than my 10-11 year old boy classmates.

I was invisible to Eliezer. In grade 5, I was chubby and awkward. Surely, a heart throb like Eliezer was beyond my reach. Of course I was so young and didn't know any better. Every batch, whether in college or high school and even in grammar or elementary level, had its own resident vamp or tramp or bitch. In our grade 5 batch it was Nerida. She and Eliezer were an item - the heart throb and the vamp. There was no way Eliezer would notice little-chubby me. However, an opportunity was presented. The school decided that it wanted to put up a Rondalla group. Good for me. I excel in playing the banduria as my papa taught me well. I joined the group and lo and behold! The tramp and throb joined too. Nerida played the laud while Eliezer the guitar. Okay now. Nerida sucked, big time! I was better in playing the banduria and Eliezer gravitated to me if only to play his C's, D's, and whatever chords as accompaniment to my melodious banduria.

For the next couple of months, everything went fine. We were busy practicing for we were supposed to play at the local town's first air-conditioned cinema's opening. I was really minding my own business - playing my banduria. Then one Saturday after practice Nerida approached me and challenged me to a "duel". What the heck? Whatever for? It seemed that Eliezer broke off with her and the vamp thought that I snatched her boy friend. (Nuh-uh! I have not mastered the skill. That would come years later!)

I thought long and hard while the remaining rondalla members were jeering/cheering "suntukan na! suntukan na!"* I didn't like Nerida. She was trashy and flashy. She was also several inches taller than me. Do I fight her? Maybe I could use Karate to crack open her skull or split the lip of the batch bitch. But my father told me not to use Karate for meaningless fights. Umm... what will happen if I do fight her then lose? Does Eliezer merit me fighting for him? Do I even like him now that I found that he has bad breath? What will my parents say (both dentists) if I come home bloodied and scratched all because of someone with bad breath?

"Excuse me, Nerida. If your ex left you, it's because of your rotten personality. Why should I fight you? I don't want to get dirty."

Nerida made a dash for me but I was quicker. I was holding a baton in one hand and boinked her hear with it.

"Touch me and I make sure the principal hears of it. She is after all, my aunt."

I packed my banduria, looked haughtily at her and left. I started out slowly at first then progressively speeded up. The bitch might change her mind and come after me. She didn't. Eventually, we ended up acknowledging each other but we never became friends. Eliezer? I have not seen him since 1969.

Lesson learned: A boy is not worth fighting for, specially one with bad breath.



* fist fight! fist fight!

Passing Fancy

In grade five I met Delfin. He was a transferee from a parochial school. Students from the said school felt superior to us public school-ers. What the heck? - we public school toughies used to say. Delfin had a hard time fitting in at first. There were some talk (from our section 5-1) that he transferred school due to pressing economic crunch suffered by his family.

Delfin was dark and dusky. Talk was that his father was a hunter and that Delfin occasionally tagged along, thus, his dark complexion. He was smart too. While I struggled with the dang universal, finite and infinite sets, Delfin was breezing through it. He can also, sing, declaim and scrub the floor best when assigned as homeroom cleaners. (Yes. Public school-ers were mandated to clean their classrooms, which I never did because my Tiya Liling was the school principal.) Anyway, Delfin was just a passing fancy. He was new in school and I was curious. I was then more mesmerized by an older boy, a grade six student, Eliezer.

Love Triangle

My first grade year was spent "obsessing" with Roger. However, there was a boy in class who can't take his eyes off me too. Well, of course I didn't know at the time that Jay had a crush on me. We were the class A-1 students. A-1 is not about being the top in academics. A-1 has something to do with being the healthiest students in class. In the 60's, healthy meant "chubby". Yes. I was the chubbiest (and the cutest) girl in our grade-one-section-one class while Jay was fat, not chubby. I remember him looking at me with basset-hound eyes. Always. He was always in my peripheral - during class discussion, seatwork time, recess, etc.

At first, I was not irritated because I had no idea that he had a crush on me. The moment I found out though, I was annoyed. Even more so when Roger started teasing me about it! Roger! The love of my grade one year! What was I to do? I was 6.5 years old and was completely lacking in experience! Mothers were of no help then. It was unthinkable for a 6 year old girl to have a "heart" dilemma. Yes. I started young. I just let it go when moms today say that their kids are so emotionally advance because they have crushes in kindergarten. Big deal. I had a love triangle at age 6.

In grade two, Jay transferred to a private school. Problem solved. There were times that I saw him lurking about the school ground, probably looking for me. After more than 30 years I had the chance to see Jay in our elementary batch reunion. He said that he was an honorary guest. That was in 2005. The following year Jay succumbed to a heart failure.

My First Crush

It was June 1963. Or was it July? I really can't remember. It was the first day of school and six-year old me walked all the way to the local primary school. I was to be in grade one! Back in those days mothers don't hang around school. In my hometown, kids walk to school by themselves. If one's house is not within walking distance from the school, one takes a motorized tricycle. No school bus.

My grade one teacher was a relative of my mother. Therefore I was given the best seat in the classroom. Some of my classmates from our church's kindergarten class were also there. As I looked about the classroom, one boy caught my attention. He had fair skin, dark hair, and beautiful eyes. He looked neat and clean too not like some of the boys in the room whose noses needed cleaning - Not my neat and clean object of curiosity.Let's call him Roger.

He lived in the big white house across the school. He was the youngest in the family and his siblings were batch mates of my older cousins. All through grade one, I think my eyes always strayed on Roger's face so much so that my teacher finally decided to sit him beside me. After school, we hang out by sitting on the low concrete fence of their yard. The fence must have been teeming with streptococci for in one or two occasions, I developed boils on the part that touched that dirty fence. The boils were painful. There were no antibiotics then, only penicillin based medications that I was allergic to. My father finally forbade me to stop hanging out by that fence. My budding feelings were cut short due to a boil.

Roger and I remained classmates until grade 4. For the next two years I still saw him around the school. In high school, I've totally lost track of Roger. However in 1976, we once again crossed path at my aunt's wake. My childhood friends were also there and they were excited for me as they knew that Roger was my first crush. Gosh! I said, that was eons ago.I was then requested to sing a Vilma Santos-Fernando Poe Jr. theme song. I obliged. I sang Bato sa Buhangin. Mid-song, Roger decided to join me to the excitement of my amigas. I was "loveless" that time and I thought "What the heck? Why not?!" But as I looked into his dark tantalizing eyes, the magic of 13 years ago was long gone.

Last I heard he and his family migrated to Australia.

Monday Blues

It is a lazy, rainy, gloomy, Monday. As usual I woke up before my alarm clock was set to ring at 5:30 A.M. Monday mornings are just hectic for me. My son is off for the week and I have to make sure everything is ready and packed. Daughter #1 is on duty today until tomorrow. Daughter #2 has to be in school real early - she has been elevated to senior level teacher and IB teacher. Daughter #3 has a patient at 8 A.M.- a child of 5 is to have multiple teeth extraction and has to be sedated. Daughter #4 is all toxic for today is the start of her midterm exams. Ethan added to the hullabaloo by waking up earlier than usual and demanding to be fed ASAP.

By 6:30 A.M everyone's out of the house. I was left with Ethan and was tasked to take him to school later. As I was seeing my kids off I noticed that the sidewalk gutter at the front is filled with mud. Instead of assigning the job to the maid, I got the shovel and started to dig up the mud. Oh, this is hard. Just then a neighbor passed by and shouted "hoy! bakit ikaw gumagawa nyan?" ( why are you the one doing that?). I just put down the shovel -mind you it's the rectangular biggie shovel- and smiled and waved at her. I continued with my work. The mud was pretty thick and smelly. I started to sweat and swear. If my mother could see me now she'd die!

I tried to hasten my work for several neighbors ( going to work) are coming out of their houses now. I got the broomstick and dustpan and started sweeping the remaining dirt. I was able to clean up the front sidewalk pretty well. The stinking mud is gone and I am left with the thought that for the rest of the day "I have nothing better and of consequence to do."

I felt sad.











picture courtesy