The Missing 'Calderon'

Scent of perfumed candles burning. I'm reminded 'all souls' but rather think 'the departed'. Suddenly sentimental, sadness slowly wells up in this blog.

It was probably in one of those years when the mumu and the pheasant were a fading fashion; passe were the bandana and the fishnet, the a-go-go veil and the harana. The mini was in vogue as hotpants was yet to be "in" -- I'm not sure. But the tiss hairstyle gives away clues of flower people and psychedelic colors, yet monochrome was then the usual language of photos expressed by Kodak or Pentax SLRs, bulbs flashed or not. In those years.

 

Photo grabbed from cousin Susie's fb page



So, that's what the picture in this post paints.

And whether in a thousand or in 909 words, it still cannot account for the story behind the black-and-white Calderon Family Picture: scene internal,  old house in Vergara, possibly daytime. Lola Fortunata (my cousins call her Nanay Ata), the matriarch/ mother seated, her children posed behind.

Shot long before the MV Edisco sank off Corregidor and the June-typhoon'd sea snatched Auntie Mameng (second from left) which brought my mother to an almost hysterical distress the early morning radio commentator Roger Arienda berated the lost victims then still being searched for in the waters of Corregidor. I could well remember Arienda's harsh voice radiowaves brought all the way to our Pasig home: "Bumabagyo na nga, excursion pa!" In tears, mother swore not to tune in to the loudmouth announcer ever again.

Same promise to an insensitive distant neighbor, who "guaranteed" that Auntie wouldn't stand a chance against the waves... and the sharks. Already in pain, mother's sobs couldn't hide her subdued rage, and perhaps, my quiet, sympathetic presence  anticipating breakfast prevented her from completely breaking down. I could only sense she was of desperate hope for her missing sister. So the kid that was I.

Back to the family pic. What's missing in this picture? Or... who's missing from the picture?

I'm not sure if Lola Ata chastised her children for going through with the picture-taking when the family was not complete. And if she did, I wonder if it was by the manner which, as a story and as a lecture my mother instilled in us: That, growing up with her sisters in the pre-war years when Lola Ata would at times scold them, Lola would shout out their names one by one, as if on roll-call, for all the neighbors to hear. Naturally, the girls, prim and proper and in pre-war modesty, pleaded their mom that their names not be called out.

Lola Ata for sure  didn't insist on a 'roll-call' before the photo-shoot, even if a daughter didn't show up.  This old photograph proved to be a family picture anyway, despite one Calderon missing. So, who was she?

Name's Lourdes, my mother. And we, her children, called her Nanay.

'Imagine'.'God' -- John Lennon (1940-1980)

EVERYTHING had already been said and written about the man. 'Nuff!  Today's his nth birthday! One or two more words would just spark another thought or two lest the legend far outlive the music&lyrics.

IMAGINE there’s no heaven, It’s easy if you try
No hell below us, Above us only sky.
Imagine all the people, Living for today.
Imagine there’s no country, It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for, And no religion too
Imagine all the people, Living life in peace.
You may say that I’m a dreamer, But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us, And the world will be as one.

Imagine no possessions, I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger, A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people, Sharing all the world.
You may say I’m a dreamer, But I’m not the only one
I hope someday you’ll join us, And the world will live as one.

GOD is a concept by which we measure our pain.
I'll say it again:
God is a concept by which we measure our pain.

I don't believe in magic. I don't believe in I-ching. I don't believe in Bible. I don't believe in Tarot. I don't believe in Hitler. I don't believe in Jesus. I don't believe in Kennedy. I don't believe in Buddha. I don't believe in Mantra. I don't believe in Gita. I don't believe in Yoga. I don't believe in Kings. I don't believe in Elvis. I don't believe in Zimmerman. I don't believe in Beatles. I just believe in me. Yoko and me. And that's reality.

The dream is over. What can I say?
The dream is over. Yesterday
I was the Dreamweaver, But now I'm reborn.

I was the Walrus, But now I'm John.
And so dear friends you'll just have to carry on.
The Dream is over.

September Storms Damned Them Damasos

.

EARLY in the first week, it was the celebrated physicist Stephen Hawking-hogged headlines that flooded the net: "God did not create the Universe."  Hawking says: "It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the Universe going... Because there is a law such as gravity, the Universe can and will create itself from nothing... Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the Universe exists, why we exist."

The scientific conclusion that the total energy of the universe is zero  somewhat echoes the (big)bangs that may well lead to a theory of everything  and  consign the god-concept to total oblivion, even if it  remains, for now,  deeply drilled into human heads. As if biologist P.Z. Myers didn't constantly remind us: "Science is godless; we need to embrace that fact."

Second, professor Richard Dawkins turned into a firebrand at a London rally and whipped up a whirlwind that blew the robes off Joseph Ratzinger aka Popeye Benedict. The rally culminated a months-long campaign and clamor for the arrest of the German Ratzi for the alleged cover-up of sexual molestation  committed by countless priests over the years. In his fiery speech, Dawkins nuked the Pope:

"He is an enemy of women – barring them from the priesthood as though a penis were an essential tool for pastoral duties. He is an enemy of truth, promoting barefaced lies about condoms not protecting against AIDS, especially in Africa. He is an enemy of the poorest people on the planet, condemning them to inflated families that they cannot feed, and so keeping them in the bondage of perpetual poverty -- a poverty that sits ill with the obscene riches of the Vatican. He is an enemy of science, obstructing vital stem-cell research, on grounds not of morality but of pre-scientific superstition."

Third, the startling, but not surprising, American headline that screamed: Survey: Atheists Know More About Religion Than Believers. The unambiguous headline speaks for itself. The survey results, released by Pew Forum leads to this great article "The Unbelievable Truth: Why America has become a nation of religious know-nothings" capped by humorous pieces of bitter irony: "If you emerge from seminary still believing in God, you haven't been paying attention" and, "Seminary is where God goes to die."

Oh, we almost forgot what Albert Einstein once confessed: "Thus I came... to a deep religiosity, which, however, reached an abrupt end at the age of 12. Through the reading of popular scientific books I soon reached a conviction that much in the stories of the Bible could not be true. Suspicion against every kind of authority grew out of this experience, an attitude which has never left me."

And it was  Isaac Asimov who said,  "Properly read, the Bible is the most potent force for atheism ever conceived." Surely, who can blame those believers who, deliberately or not, read the Bible improperly, or don't read the Bible at all. Lest they become atheists themselves?  LOL.

Then, on 30 September and closer to home, in the Manila Cathedral at that, one Carlos Celdran pulled a stunning stunt that stung not only the sitting prelates of the Catholic church but also the fence-sitters and snorers among the faithful. Originally, Rizal in his novel condemned the Padre Damaso character for all time; a century hence, Celdran damned latter-day Damasos! 

Still very much in our midst, these Damasos not only threaten fire and brimstone on those who see the redeeming value and liberating promise of the Reproductive Health (RH)  Bill pending in Congress but also deviously aimed excommunication at the President. And what did these Damasos in turn reap?  Storms. Lots of little storms.

The public storm of protests and condemnation continues unabated way into what's usually LaNiña'd October. It has not flooded much the streets yet, but, heaven forbid, it will, soon -- as verbalized rains of blogs and comments deluge cyberspace. The weatherman might as well raise the warning signal a notch higher.

Go hide the children and women, er, no... not the women! They're the primary beneficiaries (the whole country a close second) of this RH Bill, and thus, should be allowed to man the frontlines, and defy the Damasos' call of "civil disobedience" purportedly against the RH Bill.

Hmm... the smell and thought of storming the Bastille keeps nagging. Only this time, Bastille is the Church hierarchy. No, not the Church itself -- I love this institution, archaic and near-relic, yet still of so-so service -- for eventual reduction, re-use or recycling. Sustainable development is the new gospel! And you know it makes more sense.

Imagine the poor women of the informal settlers sector, screaming at these Damasos in the (reversed) Marie Antoinette fashion: Let them eat pagpag!

Liberté! Egalité! Fraternité!... este... Rock and roll!
.