Dr. Asela B. Franco

I had not thought about my grand-aunt Dr. Asela B. Franco in a long time. I must admit that my interest in finding out more about her was sparked only because I became curious about my ancestry after seeing some episodes of “Who Do You Think You Are?” an American genealogy documentary series that features a celebrity on a quest to trace his or her family tree.

I checked out Ancestry.com but got discouraged by the fees (I’m a work-from-home mom on a budget) so I decided to search using Google and started with the names of relatives on the family plot at the cemetery in Cebu. I came up blank except for one.

Dr. Asela Bermejo Franco is the older, half-sister of Edergisto “Eder” Teafilo Rama Rodriguez, my grandfather on my mother’s side. I do not recall having any interaction with her, but maybe that was because I was too young. I don’t even know when she died.

My mother, Evelyn Rodriguez Luab, says Asela or Lola (grandmother) Ilang was a rural doctor practicing pediatrics in Lapu-Lapu City, although she was more widely known for her interest in and expertise on shells. “She would go to Japan to buy shells,” my mom recalls.

This would explain why I grew up knowing her only as the owner of the shell collection that Socorro Rama Rodriguez or Lola Bebing, my grandfather’s sister, housed in her basement.  I particularly remember the heart-shaped ones (Corculum cardissa or the heart cockle) that Lola Bebing matched and tied with twine and the one I called “angel wings” because they were white and shaped like, yes, angel wings.

My mom says that Lola Ilang and Lola Bebing were very close, which would probably explain why the shell collection was with Lola Bebing. 

May hugot daw...

The cashier at the checkout counter looks inquiringly at an item I'd decided not to buy at the last minute.

"Kasi habang tumatagal, nare-realize kong di ko pala siya kailangan," I feel compelled to explain. 

What I really mean to say is that in the time it has taken me to reach the checkout counter, it has dawned on me that I really do not need the item. But since the Tagalog pronoun "siya" is not gender-specific, what I said could be taken to mean that "Over time, I have realized that I don't really need him."

She smiles and says, "May hugot ba yan (Is that coming from deep inside), ma'am?" 

Kaloka...

I miss my Sinulog

One of my earliest memories of the Sinulog Festival is of a well-dressed young woman brandishing her umbrella at two young men in an attempt to prevent them from putting grease on her face. It must have been in the early years of what is now branded as the “Mother of all Festivals” in the country. These days, no one wears a white sleeveless blouse tucked into a black pencil skirt and black pumps while walking along Mango Avenue on the day of the Grand Parade.

Everyone now dresses to brave the heat,
crowd and long hours of walking during
the Sinulog Grand Parade.

I was still a high school student when the City of Cebu started holding the Sinulog in 1980. I got to dance in the street when spectators could still join the parade, but never as part of a contingent since St. Theresa’s College was not among the participating schools. My sister, though, was among those in the University of San Carlos contingent and I remember her boyfriend joining the group as a “watcher”, although it was apparent that the only one he was interested in watching was my sister, who he zealously guarded from would-be hecklers. Security was not tight at the time and anyone could come up to anyone and dirty their face with grease, usually taken from cars parked nearby and God knows where else.

What our kids see

We’re trying out Netflix for free, and are enjoying some TV shows that are otherwise not available:  “Orange is the new Black” and “Vikings”, among a few.

Image borrowed from noobie.com's
  "What is my child watching on Netflix?"
by Patric Welch.

Anyone who’s watched these shows know there’s a lot of graphic sex scenes as well as blood and gore that comes with medieval fighting. 

My daughter sometimes watches with us, and who can blame her? The plots draw us in and we can really watch episode after episode after episode. Plus, it’s nice to watch together with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Coke between us.

My Wall, My Post

On the days leading to the Philippine Presidential elections in May 2016, I saw this phrase with increasing frequency on Facebook posts.

It usually ended a post stating a position on anything and everything about the presidentiables.  The comments and exchanges then were so heated that friendships were deleted, lost, blocked, hidden, etc. on Facebook.

I can write about it now. But at the time, I remember feeling upset at the ugliness of some of the exchanges, especially those coming from my friends. There was cursing, swearing, name-calling, accusations. And at the end of it, there was almost always that phrase or a version of it – “my wall, my post”.

Like it's license to be rude, make irresponsible accusations or statements, be malicious, issue insults…to be a total asshole and bitch.

So it’s your wall, your post. But it’s OUR space.

You indulge in behavior that would be unacceptable in an actual, physical gathering then you hide behind a reminder on respecting freedom of expression?

Coward.