“…Men’s lives may depend upon a comma.”


—Justice William Johnson in U.S. v. Palmer (1818)

Saturday, October 01, 2011

IN CLASS

Question: "What is a family home?"
Student's Answer: A family home is where the family stays together. [So I add, "...and prays together?"]

It's the truth, really, but IN A LAW CLASS? Come on.

Monday, July 04, 2011

One Day At A Time

Law students will have many why-am-I-here moments; they will constantly wonder if all the sleepless nights, aggravation from professors, and their sudden lack of a social life will be worth it when the time comes. 

I say to you, these are all part of the rite (or right) of passage. 

Monday, June 27, 2011

LOOKING BACK

To move on to greater things, it’s important to look back and take stock of what you’ve done, what you failed to accomplish, and what you could have done to achieve better results. We often take this for granted and rush into things, sometimes even forcing people to conform to what we want. But looking back requires alone time and patience. This we fail to see when we’re on the verge of what we think is a breakthrough in our career or personal life.

Does this make sense to you?
It's usually difficult and scary to try something you haven't done before. But then again you never know what you're missing until you dive in head first!

Sunday, May 08, 2011

Happy Mother's Day!

NEW POST:

For all Moms:
(These quotes were taken from 'If Mothers Were Flowers I'd Pick You' published by History & Heraldry in 2009, a little book-cum-key chain a student gave me. Read and choose one that fits you best.)

A Mother's first gift is life, the second is love and the third is understanding.

Instant availability without continuous presence is probably the best role a mother can play. - Lotte Bailyn

To become a mother is not hard, to be a mother is.

There's no such thing as a non-working mother. - Hester Mundi

A Mother's love is a garden where the sun always shines and the season is always Spring.

Who takes the child by the hand takes the mother by the heart. -German proverb

To bring up a child in the way he should go, travel that way yourself once in a while. 
-Josh Billings

Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life. -Josh Billings

Mother is another word for love.

Now, as always, the most automated appliance in the household is the mother. -Beverly Jones

Mothers are the most incisive philosophers. -Harriet Beecher Stowe

A mother's love transcends time and circumstances and endures forever.

A mother's patience is like a tube of toothpaste - it's never quite all gone.

A mother's role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car for ever after.
-Peter de Vries

This would be a better world for children if parents had to eat the spinach. - Groucho Marx, 'Animal Crackers'

A baby is an alimentary canal with a loud voice at the end and no responsibility at the other.

Even when freshly washed and relieved of all obvious confections, children tend to be sticky. - Fran Lebowitz

MY PERSONAL FAVORITE: 
The most difficult thing for a mother to remember is that other people have perfect children too.

Parenthood remains the greatest single preserve of the amateur. - Alvin Toffler

The joys of motherhood are never fully experienced until all children are in bed.

Friday, May 06, 2011

NEW POST:
To get the most out of your day, look at everything with the eyes of a child.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Good Friday Reflection

NEW POST:

On this day, Jesus, the culmination of your sacrifice and work of salvation, help us to reflect on our lives, the moments when we glorified your name, and the seemingly countless times when we chose to betray you. Allow us to feel your immense love and humility as we recall how you gave your life for us so that we may, too, join you in Heaven at the appointed time. Amen.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Mundane Musings

Just my luck that I chose to run an errand on a really hot day. I had not been out in the sun in a while and wasn’t prepared for its bright fury and scorching rays. Good thing I brought my sunglasses along, but it didn’t help at all that I picked today of all days to wear a black shirt over black jeans (Groan!).
 
My string of bad luck did not end there, though. As I walked along U.N. Avenue trying to make up my mind between lounging comfortably inside an air-conditioned cab and taking the long, hot trek to the LRT station, my right hand suddenly shot out as if it had a mind of its own and hailed the first taxi it sensed. "Ok", I thought."Might as well get in and enjoy the ride."
 
The traffic was at a standstill. My driver, a white-haired grandpa who looked like he was not a day over eighty, turned out to be a monster who hurled invectives at every vehicle that wouldn’t get out of our way (his exact words are not fit for public consumption so I dare not repeat them here). I couldn’t help but cringe as I heard from him all the Tagalog profanities known to man. In the background, the DJ was rambling on in her cheesy monologue and proceeded to play a song I was in no mood to hear. The noonday sun beat painfully down my nape, searing through my black shirt and the skin underneath, and I put up my hair in an effort to stave off the heat a little. As it turns out, my “comfy” ride was almost as old as its driver, with the air-conditioning about ready to conk out anytime. Sigh…so much for small comforts.
 
I wiped my brow and looked out the window, wishing I had at least brought a fan. The sky was a cloudless, radiant blue, and the trees never looked so green. It was a beautiful day actually, a perfect day to spend outdoors. My spirits lifted a little, but when I noticed the trees swaying gracefully (which meant that there was a breeze and it was probably more refreshing to be outside… Aaargh!), I felt hotter and more miserable. I wanted to open the window, but dared not risk the fury of the white-haired monster behind the wheel who was still talking to himself. While I was thinking that at least matters couldn’t get any worse, I suddenly felt something on my neck, then on my arm - a bug which I flicked away absently with my thumb and forefinger. As soon as this was done, I saw another creepy crawly, a bigger one this time, on the door handle, and another near the window. And another…and another…I lost count! Even my driver had one crawling up his arm (which he didn’t even seem to mind), and when I ventured a closer look, I realized it wasn’t just a bug but some other variety of cockroach. Ugh! I sat on the edge of the seat, as far away from the doors as possible, leaned forward, and nervously checked if the roaches had found their way into my hair.
 
Of course I was silently regretting my decision to take the cab. As my ride slowly inched its way through traffic, I realized just how much the little choices we make determine what our day will be like. Examples: deciding not to bring an umbrella on the same day you decide to wear open-toed stilettos to work, and it suddenly rains; deciding to use a different bag, and accidentally leaving your cell phone in another on the day you had an important appointment (which left the other person with no other way of reaching you), or leaving your wallet in another bag and not having any money for cab fare; deciding not to go to the bathroom first before taking the FX home after work and getting stuck in several hours’ traffic; deciding to wear the favorite trainers you hadn’t worn in a long time to the gym, and to your horror, the soles come off as other people watch in fascination; deciding to spend the day at home on the same day your annoying neighbor calls in for a visit; or, taking a cab against your better instincts and wearing black on a hot day… The thing is, once you’re in that fix, you can’t undo what it was that led you to the unfortunate situation in the first place. You just find yourself wishing you should have known better, should have remembered to do this or that, should have made a note to yourself, or, if you’re on a roll and things get really embarrassing, maybe even wishing for a magic wand to make yourself go “Puff!” and disappear. But at that moment, there’s nothing else you can do, but force a grin and bear everything through gritted teeth.
 
When you think about it, though, things actually have a way of resolving themselves. It’s also in difficult situations where you find a new friend whose willingness to help is a pleasant surprise (in these times where muggers and robbers rule the streets), or discover that your not-so-favorite person isn’t at all that bad. I guess if you try your best to keep a jolly disposition, a positive outlook if you will (hence the cliché “Look at the bright side!”), you soon realize that your situation isn’t all that hopeless and depressing as you thought it was; after all, you still have the most important things that count - family, friends, a job you love… It’s not a life and death situation, really, not as if you’re at a crossroads, about to make a radical, life-changing decision. So, big deal, the worse case scenario if I didn’t get to my destination on time was being late for an appointment or having to re-schedule. Unlike a lot of other people, I didn’t have to worry about where to get my next meal, or think about whether my children would have to stop school…or look for a place to stay because the landlady had given today as the deadline to pay up or move out and there was no money. I was actually a very lucky person in a very unfortunate situation, which I could very well  live with.
 
All at once, I knew how mundane and insignificant all my worries were.
 
As if on cue, traffic suddenly eased up. The taxi gathered speed, and what do you know - the air-conditioning was working after all. The creepy crawlies seemed to have retreated to their respective corners and were nowhere in sight. I glanced at my watch, suddenly knowing that I was going to make it to my appointment.
 
Much like good things, bad situations have to end sometime. I guess you just have to know what to do with yourself while waiting for the final wave, hoping that when it finally comes, you have enough leverage to not get caught up and be swept away.

Papa

*This was written right after Papa passed away. I found that writing about my feelings at the time helped relieve some of the heartache caused by his passing. But come to think of it, the pain never really went away...
 
 
 
Death had not knocked on our family’s door in a long time. I am the eldest in a family of two girls and three boys, and all of us, especially my Mama, had not expected that life would deal us such a painful blow that early. I, for one, had taken it for granted that nobody really knows when our time here on earth will run out, and this reality was rudely thrust upon me last November 27, 2005.
 
Papa was one of those individuals who just couldn’t sit still for one minute. At 54, he decided to opt for early retirement to enjoy life more: play tennis, groom the dogs, take care of his garden, and romp with his grandchildren. We were all surprised when he suddenly announced that he was quitting the job he had held for more than 20 years, but he quickly adapted to life at home with Mama, who reveled in his attention. Their roles had been reversed: Mama, who tended to her small business in Cubao, had become the ‘breadwinner,’ while Papa waited on her hand and foot. He brought her to and from the office, cooked their meals, and did the laundry as well as all the other household chores.  
 
In his day, Papa was breathtakingly handsome, a dead-ringer for Sylvester Stallone with his deep-set eyes, thick eyebrows, and long, straight nose. He also had charisma, his ticket to success in the competitive world of sales. When he stepped into a room, everyone was sure to look up and take notice. Admired and well-liked by his peers, he was what one would call a “people person,” and those he came into contact with were certain to remember him. Papa was also the number one supporter and organizer of family reunions, and that job was a handful when it came to the Arias Clan. He didn’t mind, though, because he had all the time in the world for others.
 
As Papa neared 50, his hair started thinning out and went from gray in places to almost entirely white. There were times when he would decide not to use his supply of black hair dye, but this came in handy during inter-club tennis tournaments when rival team members, thinking he couldn’t be such a good player because he looked old and all, would pick him to challenge. Tsk, tsk, big mistake! Anyone who’d seen my Papa play would be amazed at how graceful and athletic he still was at that age. When he was at the top of his game, I believe he would easily have beaten any 20-year old intermediate player. He was an athlete at heart who played a wide range of sports aside from tennis (table tennis, basketball, swimming, bowling, and billiards). He was, for me and my siblings, truly a Super Dad who was capable of anything and everything he set his mind to.
 
Papa was like that when he decided to take up something – he gave his time and energy until the craft was perfected. He had taken up tennis in his late thirties, and in three years’ time was playing like a pro. He was also an amazing coach; aside from teaching me and my brothers how to play, he also got Mama (who had absolutely no athletic bone in her body!) into the game. His grandchildren were next on his list of trainees, of course, but before that, he made up his mind to build a swimming pool for them in our front yard. He slowly dug a hole, which grew bigger, deeper, and in a year’s time, there it was: Papa’s swimming pool. And oh, how the children loved it! I still remember Papa’s smile of satisfaction, and how he was quick to remind us that we had all scoffed at his idea at first.
 
I got pregnant at 20 without having finished college. I saw the anguish and disappointment in Papa’s face when I finally told him why I hadn’t yet enrolled that first semester of 1992. I knew that the man I looked up to the most had such high hopes for me, and from that day on, I decided that I would make it up to him someday.
 
Twelve years and two other children later, I finished law school and invited my parents to our graduation rites. My most vivid memory of that day was not being on stage as my name was being called, but of Papa taking me aside afterward as we were on our way to the car and whispering in my ear in a choked voice, “Anak, I’m so proud of you.” I remember how tight I had hugged him and how I had wiped my own tears of joy because finally, I knew I had redeemed myself in his eyes. I was also the proudest bar-passer come oath-taking day at the PICC, because both parents were there to celebrate with me and witness the event (my husband, the sweetheart that he is, was kind enough to relinquish his seat in favor of Papa).
 
I had always thought Papa would be there to witness my eldest son’s college graduation as he was there for mine. Mama and I would spend hours over the phone laughing about how Papa was always worrying what he would do when he was too old to play tennis, and how he hated it when youngsters called him “Lolo” behind his back. We talked about how Papa dreamed of spending the rest of his days with Mama, tilling the land he had purchased in Lucena City, Quezon where he would build a nipa hut near the creek and take his grandchildren camping. But I guess the Lord knew my Papa couldn’t handle such an existence: having such an active mind, eager to do so much, coupled with an old, tired and unwilling body that could no longer play tennis, let alone manage any other strenuous activity.
 
Just as Papa filled our lives with such joy, his passing left a painful void in our hearts no one else can fill. He suffered a massive heart attack that fateful night of November 26, 2005 while he was in one of his favorite places on earth: the tennis court in Lagro, Fairview. He never recovered. Even while he was gasping for breath, he had the sense to lie supine, and gave instructions for someone to call my youngest brother, and when Jay-ar arrived minutes later, how to carefully carry him to the car. He was immediately rushed to the hospital, but his life force was slowly ebbing away. One of his last words to my brother was, “Take care of your Mama,” and to Mama he said, “See you in heaven, one day soon.”
 
As my sister and I were on our way to the hospital, I had a painful knot in my stomach. We were hoping against hope, but there was the terrible realization that Papa was about to leave us. My life with Papa literally flashed before my eyes: throwing me up in the air as a child, his infectious laughter, his handsome face smiling at me, the way his stubbles grazed my cheek whenever he kissed me in greeting, everything he gave to us, how much he loved us all.
 
Papa was pronounced dead at about 1:00 a.m. the following day. He was 59 years old - an occasional drinker who had never so much as smoked a cigarette in his life.
 
I miss him so. Going to Fairview on weekends with my family has never been the same ever since. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for Mama at night, lying awake, thinking of Papa. But like my husband says, we have to let her be. Ultimately, we all have to face grief alone.
 
When I was 19, I signed up for a five-kilometer run with Papa. Fueled by youthful pride and my desire to win the race, I made the mistake of giving all my energy and sprinting through the first few minutes of the run. Papa was warning me to take it easy and to pace myself, but I wouldn’t listen. Soon enough, I had a gut-wrenching stitch on my side and I felt I couldn’t go on. We slowed down, and Papa instructed me to breathe slowly and focus on the rhythm in my steps. He prodded and encouraged as we ran and somehow, I persevered and was the first female to finish the race.
 
I remember that day in difficult times, and I swear I can hear Papa’s voice in my head and feel his warm embrace. He whispers words of encouragement, reminds me to be strong, that I can do anything I set my mind to, and that no matter what, he is proud of me.
 
You will always be remembered as the loving husband, the perfect father, and a good friend to everyone you knew. We love you, Papa.