Voters in all 25 electoral ridings in Toronto have spoken and have painted Canada’s premier city red – cautiously, conscientiously and convincingly.
Way beyond reasonable doubt, the resounding cry is, was and ever shall be “Let’s Go, Raptors!”
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Just like the Raptors, champions and winners are subject to greater expectations.
Congratulations! You have won in your riding. It’s time to get over the euphoria.
Move on. Pack up and ride to Ottawa. Occupy your seat.
A few quick reminders, though: Be a parliamentarian, not a rowdy clapping shouting shadow puppet.
Have and say your own mind, while the walking dead are still a distance away.
Cross the aisle if you believe it is worth your while. Make the Parliament Hill floor cleaner work. He may mop off your footprint, but it will leave an eternal imprint that says you have moral fiber and strength.
Serve your constituency, not any party. Make a difference for Canada and the greater good. Create a lasting legacy your family will be proud of.
Uh, oh! It really does not matter if it is regulation time or overtime period. Work with everyone else as a team, like the Raptors who clipped Pelican wings (130-122) in their first game of the NBA season 2019-2020.
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One last time, please. Never haunt or scare anyone. Halloween is over and comes only once a year.
Even then, never ever exploit and use that hair-raising and spine-tingling event as a trend-setting daily affair.
Be dead serious with your job and work. Play hard and win. Let’s go, Raptors!
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November 1 and November 2 are holy days for us Filipinos, as we commemorate All Saints Day and All Souls Day, respectively.
Unfortunately, these are not legal holidays in Canada, unlike in the Philippines.
Why pout? Far away from the land of our birth, we have a Canadian lifetime to relive the good and happy times – and maybe, some grubby but enjoyable ones — we had with family members, relatives and friends who have reunited with Bathala in the Great Beyond.
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Memories and throwbacks! We once were there.
Wasn’t it amazing to have witnessed millions of Filipinos completing the annual traditional trek to public and private burial grounds before, during and even a few days after All Saints Day and All Souls Day?
Although the privacy of the dead was invaded, those six feet under never complained and took issue at all.
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Everyone excitedly looked forward to that yearly trip to the cemetery when family members felt wanted, dead or alive.
Like Christmas, a birth day or a funeral, All Saints Day and All Souls Day have always been occasions for a clan reunion – accidental, incidental, even incremental.
In the likelihood of tradition, it is a dawn-to-dusk moment of public convergence when people somberly gather around the grave of a dearly departed, lighting candles, offering flowers and mumbling, with their heads down, a prayer of eternal rest for the deceased.
After that is a quick (at times lasting an hour or two) conversation about how good the dead were in their lifetime. Then, all partake of home-cooked or take-out food and deli, set on the mantled ground or on top of the “nitso” or “pantyon.” A few more minutes of catch-up talk precede at least an hour of bidding each other goodbye.
Finally, everyone goes home in high spirits, pretending that they are not exiting a place they will eventually head to in time.
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These days, November 1 and 2 have also become a reason and an escape for many people to beat domestic boredom and do their wild and crazy thing in cemeteries.
The young once are busy either playing mahjong, “tong-its” or bingo or engaging in idle “tsismis.”
On the other hand, the young ones are loudly jamming to the sound of loud solid rock, R&B or rap; or silently texting or pressing buttons ipods and other techno gadgets.
In some cases, tin cans, junk food wrappers, plastic flowers and other trash litter the cemetery grounds.
Just asking: Will the bedlam, the noise and the dirt be enough to make the dead roll in their graves or send spirits into wild orbs?
What do we know? Even the dead resist hell!
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In public cemeteries, once lonely tombs have given way to condo tombs (one-deathbed apartments four stories high — without escalators, elevators and hydro, of course).
“Excuse me” has become a byword as people squeeze through the smallest opening and narrowest space to get to the grave of their dead.
Many have shifted to cremation. At the very least, they have ashes to stare at and remember their departed by.
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An off-topic confession: Boys in our village in Sampaloc, Manila – that was on or about 50 years ago — were afraid of only one thing about the La Loma cemetery.
That was when they were forced to make that once-in-a-lifetime summer trek to the razor blade-wielding “manunule” to have their circumcision.
Chewing fresh guava leaves after that scary visit was never fun.
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Lest We Forget. On November 11, Canada marks Remembrance Day to honor the ultimate sacrifice of men and women who fought for and defended humanity from oppression and tyranny; they who have gallantly stood up against and defeated thugs and bullies who tried but failed to rule with gold, guns and goons in wars of global reach.
Not even in their minds were the glitter of medals, the make and size of trophies, the breadth and width of plaques and the oratory of citations. They did their duty. They marched to, shed blood and died in battlefields.
Up above, they knew they made a difference and left a lasting legacy to those still standing on the ground.
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Remembrance Day always brings back to mind the news items I penned about the southern Philippines armed conflict, to which I was exposed since working as a news agency and local newspaper reporter in the 80s.
But then, when I recall scenes of soldiers moving about or laying still in peace, figuratively and literally, I have to admit that I have missed out on a lot of things.
I missed telling people how and why a soldier is the loneliest person on earth — he whose prized possessions are cramped in a small backpack; whose home is either a makeshift tent or a hole he dug himself; whose most loyal companions are a helmet, a pair of boots, a gun and a picture of a loved one; whose marching orders either brings him to safety or to extreme risk and danger.
I missed telling people how a soldier’s family feels when they learn that their son or daughter, father or mother, husband or wife will soon come home in a silver box draped with the national flag while an officer or a buddy eulogizes about him or her taking the bullet for love of country, freedom and peace.
I missed telling people how and why the newly-born and small children will never understand why they can no longer hug and kiss their dad or mom.
I missed telling people about a war no one wants.
It is this inadequacy that should prompt us to seek those who were there and could tell us exactly the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ of war.
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Many soldiers get home to tell us a story, perhaps long stories. Did we care enough to lend them our ears?
They want to talk because they want us to know about those who were with them but never made it back.
They want us to remember those who have fallen so that we may rise above war and conflict.
They want us to remember those who have died so we may live in peace.
They want us to not forget that only death, destruction and suffering are the results of war.
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Too late now, the federal elections are over. However, I still believe that in the future, we will all go out and vote with the notion that the essence of the right of suffrage does not necessarily hinge on who we vote. Rather, the purpose of elections lay on why we vote.
As an elector inserted his ballot into the ballot box, he commented: “This is my future.”
Let us recognize and remember those who died to secure for us a free and stable future! Happy Remembrance Day! #####