Widower Impong Tasyo (IT for short) is very fascinated with his techno gizmo, the latest cellular phone-camera-recorder (CPCR) he got as a gift from his son during his 71st birth anniversary a few weeks ago.
Quivering fingers that insisted on moving elsewhere after his mind has coaxed it to press either a green or red icon never deterred IT from coping up with such situations in his quite slow but calculating way.
But there are some exceptions. During a recent mall rectangular-table gathering, IT’s louder-than-normal ring tone — the Lone Ranger Theme (actually the March of the Swiss Soldiers, the finale of Gioachino Rossini’s William Tell Overture) — sounded off.
He retrieved the cell phone from his jacket’s breast pocket, glanced at it, and quickly pressed the red icon with ease and flair.
Whoever it was, great! The caller ID was undoubtedly therapeutic. IT got his unruly fingers off his thoughts.
This was further validated when he stirred his coffee with his hintuturo.
Patay mali, ngumiti! Awkward!
We civilly grinned back; no questions asked.
*****
Wisecrack Lolo Ambo then tried to poke funny bones with fumbling finger tips:
The hammer is best used to hit nails, not fingers.
Finger food is best served when V. Frankenstein is miles away.
Help keep crime off the streets. Use the finger appropriately in a police lineup or identity parade.
Let buy guns be bygone. Keep those skilled and talented fingers off a trigger.
Fingering makes a guitar sound good; fingerlings make the hand smell fishy.
Marital law is sometimes brutal. Washing hands is healthy and hygienic; just don’t let that wedding ring slip off that finger.
Avoid having your wings clipped by clipping your fingernails nowhere near a no-flight zone.
Games that use the finger do not include ear cleaning and nose picking.
All fingers appear good when holding cash.
Lolo Ambo, however, forgot something – that as soon as most members of the group walked through the mall’s automatic doors, most of his advices would have been blown in the wind.
*****
Below is a re-edited part of an opinion piece I wrote years ago to recall and remember Remembrance Day.
Lest We Forget. Any talk of democracy – how it works and how it has made the world a better and safer place to live — is never complete without recalling what peoples and nations had to go through to responsibly enjoy basic freedoms.
On November 11, Canada marked Remembrance Day to honor the ultimate sacrifice of men and women who fought for and defended humanity from oppression and tyranny. They 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 marched to, shed blood and died in battlefields.
For these brave souls, the memory of what they did and achieved was enough. Up above, they knew they made a difference and left a lasting legacy to those still standing on the ground.
*****
Remembrance Day always brings back to mind the news stories I penned about the southern Philippines armed conflict, to which I was exposed since working as a reporter for the weekly The Mindanao Cross.
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 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 all of us to seek for those who have been there and could tell us exactly the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ of war.
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.
*****
War correspondent Jonny Davis (played by Clark Gable in the 1942 MGM movie Somewhere I’ll Find You) is embedded with a group of American and Filipino soldiers whose mission is to stop the landing of Japanese soldiers off a beach in the Philippines.
Davis sees the gallantry of those who lived through and who died in that mission. He dictates his story to the New York Daily Chronicle, more focused on the exploits of five men who took the risks and were killed while throwing dynamite “cookies” at a well-entrenched enemy.
In every paragraph that mentions any or all of the fallen heroes of that moment in war, Davis says “Remember the names.” He repeats it most often, for emphasis.
Yes, remember the names etched on individual gravestones, cenotaphs and memorials. Remember too those who may have been inadvertently omitted when passing by the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. Better yet, remember their memory.
*****
On November 23, please join members of the community media in remembering 32 fellow scribes, along with 22 others, who were mercilessly killed during a routine political coverage in Sharif Aguak, Maguindanao in southern Philippines nine years ago. The horrible carnage is the infamous Maguindanao Massacre.
During the first anniversary of that fateful date, Filipino-Canadian media colleagues Tenny Soriano and Edwin Mercurio asked me to read a message in memory of the Fallen 32. Before the congregation at the Our Lady of the Assumption Church and with the permission of Fr. Romy Tolentino who celebrated the first Sunday Mass of Advent on November 28, 2010, I read:
“At mid-morning a year and five days ago today, the blood of 54 persons — 32 of them our media colleagues — were senselessly spilled in the fields of Sharif Aguak, Maguindanao.
“They were all victims of a brutal carnage planned and carried out by conscienceless politicians and their henchmen who thought they had power over life.
“This evening, we bring to mind not what happened on that fateful day, but what the bloodshed and the deaths mean to us. However, no oratory of sympathy or passing tribute can ever rationalize why a beastly few would want to silence journalists.
“I have shared ink and notes with two of those killed, Bong Reblando and Nap Salaysay. Perhaps, just perhaps, we can all recite together what Bong and Nap, if they were alive today, would have known by heart and would have equally prayed constantly — the Prayer of St. Francis of Assissi.
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.”
They may not have lived to tell the story; but they died to tell us all a bigger story; that no matter what, democracy always subscribes to free expression and a free press. #####
