Words to Live By
This blog post has 4 original quotes. The first one is from my eldest daughter Gilda who talks about DREAMS. The three other quotes deal with HUMILITY, LONELINESS and MONEY. As you ponder on each quote, may you find some grain of salt to live by. God bless you all this week!
“I wish I would survive to see my grandchildren picking cherries from these trees.” That’s my prayer five years ago while planting cherry trees. After learning about my cancer my wife and I planted three trees-one for each our children Gilda, Gilson and Gilary. I wanted to leave as many good memories as I could create. My Lord, Jehovah Rafa, my Healer, heard that prayer.
Today, Camden and Lyla enjoyed cherry picking from the trees I planted five years ago. As I watched them get excited my heart was flooded with joy and thanksgiving. Those trees have grown and are bearing fruits and I’d been healed from cancer. Today I’m enjoying my grandchildren and my cherries. God is good! He gives the desires of our hearts! Praise and glory be unto Him.
Wisdom Quote #6-6/9/16
Answers to these questions are driven by hopes and dreams. I hope you do have at least some of these things for these will:
Friends, keep hoping and dreaming and act on them. This is a good way to live. ———————————-
After writing my mother’s love story, some of my readers asked when I would write my own. Well, that’s easy! Let’s move from the 1940s to the 1980s by turning forward the pages of myJOURNEY.
I always believed that I have three callings in life: to be a husband, a father, and a preacher. I became a husband to a wonderful woman, Edita Olivares in January 1984. She is a beauty with a brain, and a good heart. These were my criteria in choosing a lifetime soulmate and she proved to be more than who I was looking for. But before she knew about my feelings for her, I had a huge dilemma. I had to go through some hoops to get to her heart. And so this was how the love story began.
Edita and I attended the same church. I had a special feeling for her but didn’t know how to even begin letting her know, because at the time she was my Sunday school teacher. How in the world can a student ask his Sunday school teacher to go on a date with him? She was only a year older than me, but far more mature than many of us in the church’s Youth Society.
For a while, I just watched her from a distance–admiring her beauty, grace, charm and exceptional intelligence. Until one day our Pastor, Rev. Fernandez, came to CLSU to visit me. He prayed and gave me words of encouragement, which I really needed at the time. Before he left, he said something that surprised and blew me away!
“If you are looking for a girlfriend, I have a recommendation–Edita. You and her will make a good match.” My mouth opened in disbelief. I wanted to make sure I heard him right so I asked, “Who, Edita? My Sunday school teacher?” Amused, he replied, “Yes, Edita Olivares!” I still couldn’t believe what I heard. “Pastor, are you serious or are you just kidding ?” I asked. “I’m serious, believe me”, he emphatically answered. I looked at him and said, “Actually, Pastor….I….I….I’ve had a crush on her….for a long while already, but I just didn’t know how to approach her.” I sheepishly looked back up at Reverend Fernandez. “I know….. I have caught you many times staring at her”, the pastor said with a big grin on his face. I blushed in embarrassment.
But even with my pastor’s prodding , I still did not have the courage to approach her. So I devised a plan. I told our mutual friends and the pastors’ kids that I had a feelings for her, hoping that she would hear about it. Indeed, she heard about it, but I still harbored a fear of rejection that kept me from doing anything. Until one day, I found myself in a big quandry.
During a Sunday service we had some visitors from Manila. They were from Campus Crusade for Christ organizing local chapters in Cabanatuan college campuses, and Edita invited them to church. They were good looking young men–well dressed and smart. I got very jealous when I saw her sitting with them on the same pew in my church. My mind wandered from church service that day. Is anyone of them Edita’s boyfriend? I hoped my suspicion would prove false.
I blamed myself for not doing anything about my feelings for her. I felt like my turf had been invaded. I could not stand looking at them any longer, so I left the pew and went inside a Sunday school room beating myself for being a slug. No more shyness, no more hiding the feelings, no more delaying. So I wrote a letter pouring my heart and feelings. After church I made sure I handed her what would be my first love letter…my heart beating fast and my hands shaking. As I was handing her the letter, our eyes met. They were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen…kind, gentle, graceful. That moment was the closest that I had ever seen her. She was even more beautiful close up. “What is this?”, she asked, smiling when I handed her the letter. Her bright eyes, glossy lips and beautiful white teeth made her face glow. “Oh, it’s just a note”, I said, trying my best to hide my nerves. She then proceeded gracefully, leaving the sweet scent of her perfume lingering in her place.
I felt relieved that I finally expressed my feelings, yet quite worried that it had been too late. I wondered how she would react after reading my letter. Would she be mad? Surprised? Would she just laugh at me? Edita knew that I had dated a few girls before. As a matter of fact, I took one of the girls I was seeing at the time to Edita’s Sunday school class during an attendance drive. She rewarded me with a star on the attendance chart for bringing my girlfriend to her Sunday school class. What kind of track record was that for a suitor like me?
And I was not without rivals. Many mothers at church who had sons our age were eyeing Edita to be their son’s wife. I heard them many times admiring her fine qualities. She was indeed a very ideal woman and I wanted her to be my girlfriend. Do I even have a chance?, I wondered. Since then, I was determined to be more courageous and pursue the girl of my dreams. I started to groom myself and put my best foot forward to get Edita’s attention. I decided I had to shed many of my boyish ways and become a grown man as she was a grown woman. This gave me more self confidence and my unfounded fear dissipated.
One Sunday after church, I bravely approached Edita and asked if I could visit her at their home that night. She agreed. By now, many of the church people knew that I was pursuing Edita. The purpose of my visit was not just to talk to her but also to indicate to her parents that I had good intentions. I had to muster all courage to do this because I had never done this before. Gil, you have to act like a real gentleman, I told myself.
She was dressed casually when I visited that night, but she was still stunningly beautiful to me. I extended my hand to shake hers and she willingly obliged. I shook her hand ever so gently and felt her soft silky hand in mine. I had never held such a soft hand before. “Hi Gil, come in. Please sit down, I’ll just get you something to drink.” While she was in the kitchen, I marveled about the soft hand I just touched. Does she do any housework at all? No one can have a soft hand like that if they do laundry, wash dishes, scrub pots and pans, clean the house and all the other chores.
“Heto, magmerienda ka muna.”(Here have some snacks.) She came with a glass of iced Mountain Dew (How did she know that was my favorite pop drink?) and a plate of pancit. After some bites of the pancit, I tasted that it was already going bad and she didn’t know. I ate and finished it anyway downing it with my favorite drink. I didn’t tell her about the pancit because I don’t want to offend her. At first, we talked about plans for the youth group because that was the most comfortable topic to converse about. Then we slowly shifted to other personal things and before we knew it,we were laughing and having fun. It felt so good that I was there talking and so close to the girl of my dreams. Then, I felt the freedom to interject about the Campus Crusade boys. “Oh, I don’t really know anyone of them. They just want my support in organizing local chapter of the CCC.” Upon hearing that, a heavy burden instantly lifted from my chest. No more worries Gil. She’s not committed to anyone yet. I wanted to celebrate! So I asked, “Can I have another glass of Mountain Dew please?” As she disappeared into the kitchen, I raised my fist and excitedly whispered to myself, “Yes!”
I didn’t want that night to end but it was getting late. Like a gentleman, I said good night and goodbye before midnight. I decided to just walk instead of getting a tricycle ride. Walking home, I felt like I was on cloud nine. I was hopeful–almost victorious! I liked the way she welcomed me and spent time with me.
The next day, I went back to CLSU with renewed enthusiasm for my school work. Somehow, she inspired me in a very special way. You better do good in your studies, I challenged myself. Edita was an excellent student. She was one of the few recipients of a coveted full government scholarship. She related to me how she got a very high and winning score in the state scholarship test. In one section of the test, they were to fill in the blank of poems written by famous authors like Edgar Allan Poe. She was able to supply the missing words because she remembered them. Working as a student assistant at Araullo library, she happened to thumb through poetry and mentally scanned some of them. She was gifted with photographic memory. She really was a smart cookie and that was one of the many qualities that made her very attractive to me. She was even about to finish her civil engineering degree at Central Luzon Polytechnic College, a feat few women had accomplished at the time.
After attending my morning classes, I went back to my dorm to have lunch. That’s when I heard a knock at my door. When I opened the door I was very surprised to see Edita and her friend Dolores. After letting them in, Edita who seemed very distraught asked me, “Gil, how are you doing? Are you okay? I mean aren’t you sick?” Her questions confused me. “Sick? No, I’m not. I’m perfectly okay! Why?” Edita explained, “Well, remember the pancit I gave you last night? My mother said it was already spoiled when I served it to you. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even check. So we came here to check on you.” I assured them that I was okay. I felt how relieved she was knowing that I wasn’t ill. I then offered to give them a tour of CLSU the rest of the day. I took them to a leisurely walk to Little Baguio and told them the story of how I prepared my speech there for the national oratorical contest in Cebu.
I opened the gum and collected the foil packaging on which I wrote love notes. I showed them to Edita. One note read: “I love Edita”and the other one said “..and I will marry her someday.” She was visibly tickled by what I wrote and gave me a pinch on the side of my abdomen as sweet Filipina girls do. I thought I knew what that meant and I was very happy. Then I took a more serious tone. I gazed her in the eyes and said: “I really mean it and I hope one day you will feel the same toward me.” I folded the love notes and I inserted them between the thatched roof of the gazebo while saying, “These are silent records of my love for you. One day this dream will come true.” I intentionally did not demand a verbal response. I knew that she liked me too, and that was enough for me at that moment. In my heart I knew that it was premature to make any commitment. I wanted the courtship to develop further. I wanted this to be set apart from the other experiences I had. I wished for her to fall in love with me by knowing me more.
Walking back to the dorm, we passed by a thick vine of a plant named cadena de amor–cord of love. I picked a bouquet of the luscious pink blossoms and gave them to Edita. She took the flowers and held them like holding a wedding bouquet. I saw my beautiful future bride whom I would tie a real cord of love with one day!
So far in my seven blog posts, I have shared five years of my life from 1975-1981–my College years. Allow me to turn the pages backward and join me in visiting the colorful and eventful beginnings of my family.
I wish to remind my readers that the original purpose of writing myJOURNEY was for my grand children to know me. I don’t want my story to die with me! That purpose is still the BIG WHY for writing this project. As of this writing, May 2016, I have five grandchildren: Camden age 6, Liam age 5, Lyla age 3, Evelyn age 2, and Ryland 6 months. And I expect to have more in the future…God willing. These little ones are my inspiration. It will be a long while before they are able to read Lolo’s life story. I am imagining them to be in their 20’s when they can appreciate this work. That will be about 15 years from now.
So, where did Lolo come from? Who were Lolo’s parents? How was his life as a young boy? If there were no computers back then, what kind of toys did he play with? What kind of food did he eat? If there were no cars, how did he travel?
The follo
wing story will trace my beginnings. In this episode, my mother narrates her unique
love story. I reconstructed the story and the dialogues from my memories of hearing them for the purpose of story-telling. First, let me begin with a brief background of my origin.
My family came from Pangatian, a barrio of Cabanatuan City. Both of my parents were migrants from Pangasinan, so we learned how to speak Ilocano in the midst of a Tagalog-speaking community. Like many of the barrio residents, we were tenant rice farmers. That means we did not own the land we tilled. Tatang–what we seven children called our father–was a katiwala (overseer) of a huge hacienda owned by the Lopez landlords. Tatang being the eldest of five Valenzuela sons, inherited that job from his father Simeon. As a community leader, he was respected and trusted by many. Inang–that’s how we called our mother–was a very religious woman. She was the prayer leader in the barrio. In short, both of my parents were highly involved with community life.
As a young boy I was especially interested in hearing my parents’ stories. “How did you and Tatang meet?”, I asked Inang one night after we had our family prayer –we called it family devotion. At this time I was about ten years old, just a few years after my father passed away. After she told the following story that night, my siblings and I were hooked and we begged her to tell more stories at night before bed.
“Oh! it’s a long story”, Inang answered. But she was very eager to share her story.
The following is Inang’s recollection of her unique love story:
In the early 1940s, when I was about 19 years old, before the Japanese invasion of the Philippines, my cousin and I traveled from Asingan, Pangasinan to visit our relatives in Kalawagan–another barrio of Cabanatuan. One day, our uncle asked if we would be interested in working at the nearby barrio of Pangatian in Hacienda Lopez to harvest rice. I needed to earn some money before I went to my folks in Pangasinan. So my two cousins and I–all girls–went. We stayed at the house of Tatang Simeon Valenzuela, the overseer of the hacienda.
On the first week of our stay in Pangatian, we were serenaded by the young men of the barrio
almost every night. Our visitors usually stayed late, so we had just a few hours of sleep before we woke up at day break to go to the harvest field. Tatang Simeon noticed how we became sluggish because of lack of sleep. From then on he gave a regulation for the serenaders. “From now on there will be no serenaders on weekdays, only on weekends and on my approval.” We liked the new rule, and so did the five Valenzuela sons, Igmedio, Simeon Jr, Pantaleon, Apolonio and Jose. Igmedio–also called Reming–and the eldest of the five sons was with the first group of serenaders. They had two sisters- Juliana and Dora.
Inang’s eyes lit up as she related this part of the story.
“Did you live in the same house?” I asked with anticipation.
Yes we did but when my cousins and I moved in with the Valenzuelas, the Valenzuela boys slept in the barung-barong (a makeshift house usually constructed on the other side of the property.) But we all a
te together.
“Did you and Tatang date before you got married?” I inquired.
Oh no!!!! No! No! No! She shook her head vehemently. No, the older Valenzuela boys were not allowed to talk to us girls. That’s improper. We only had conversations around the table when we were eating in front of everyone. Tatang Simeon instructed the boys not to bother us.
With eagerness I asked, “So then how did you get to know and liked each other?”
Well, your Tatang did not court me. He was too shy to even talk to me. Some unfortunate events brought us together.
Again, I saw the glow in her eyes as she narrated the story:
My cousins and I ended up staying in Pangatian longer than we planned. We then became members of the household. The Japanese invasion made it difficult for me to go home to Pangasinan. I got stuck in Pangatian.
One night, when we were having dinner, several men came looking for Tatang Simeon. They were the guerillas–civilian people who secretly organized themselves to fight against the Japanese invaders. Tatang Simeon invited them in, but only three of them came inside the house. All the others stayed outside guarding all the exits–doors and windows. The Valenzuelas knew that the guerillas were rounding up all families with male members for recruitment in the local guerilla unit. While Tatang Simeon was talking to his guests Inang Catalina, Tatang Simeon’s wife, whisked Igmedio into a room to hide him from the men, hoping that they wouldn’t find him. She hid him in the closet where the blankets, pillows and banig (woven mats) were kept when not in use. One of the men became suspicious. He and his other companion went inside the room and quickly found Igmedio.
“O heto ang isa nagtatago sa silid.” (Heres one hiding in the closet.) Inang Catalina started to cry and begged the guerillas to spare him. “Maawa na po kayo, huwag ninyo siyang kuhanin. Malapit na po siyang ikasal.” (Please have mercy, don’t take him away. He’s about to get married.) Then I heard her calling my name. “Basil, halika dito!” (Basil please come over here!) I did not understand what was going on and so I heeded the call. “Siya po ang nobya ni Igmedio at malapit na silang ikasal.” (She is my son’s fiance and they will be married soon.) Hearing what Inang Catalina just said Tatang Simeon whispered to me in Ilocano. He said, “Ibagam nga nobyom ni Reming. Nu haan alain da isuna.” (Tell them that Reming is your fiancé, if not they will take him away.) Sure enough, one of the guerillas interrogated, “Talaga bang nobyo mo siya?” ( Is he really your fiancé?) “Opo”, I answered rather sheepishly. “Eh bakit ka dito nakatira?” (So why do you live here?), continued the guerilla. Tatang Simeon quickly answered, “Mga dayo lang dito yan” (They are not from here), pointing to me and my cousins. “Taga Kalawagan sila, nagpunta sila dito para tumulong sa pag-ani ng palay.” (They are from Kalawagan. They are here to help in harvesting rice.) “Ha ganoon ba? Kailan ang kasal?” (Is that so? When is the wedding?), asked the guerilla with a hint of suspicion. “Sa susunod na buwan po. Inaanyayahan ko kayong dumalo.” (Next month and I’m inviting all of you), quipped Tatang Simeon. Before they left they warned that if the wedding did not take place as told, they would enlist Reming to the active guerilla unit.
When I woke up the next day, I was so confused, worried and angry. I was very embarrassed about what happened the night before. Why did I say yes? I cannot believe I got into this sticky situation. Reming’s parents had been teasing me about their son, but that was it. He never approached or even talked to me about anything, and now we were getting married? I thought of escaping but the situation with the Japanese was very dangerous. I was so ashamed about what I did so I decided to hide in the dugout in the nearby field. The barrio folks made dugouts in the fields to serve as shelters in the event of Japanese air bombings. I told my cousins not to tell anybody where I was. They brought me food and water in the dugout during my stay there. However, at the insistence of Tatang Simeon, my cousins finally told him where I was and he came to talk to me.
“Basil, pasensiya ka na sa nangyari, kailangan lang para maingatan si Reming. Mabait naman ang panganay kong si Reming ah, masipag pa at may sarili nang bukid.” (Basil, I apologize for what happened. It was just necessary to protect Reming. You see, my first born son is a kind man. Besides, he is hard working and he has his own farm already), Tatang Simeon explained. Still upset, I answered, “Tatang bakit po kayo nagsinungaling? Wala naman kaming relasyon ng anak ninyo. Ayaw ko pong magpakasal nang hindi alam ng mga magulang ko!” (Tatang, why did you tell a lie? I have no relationship with your son. I don’t want to get married without my parents knowing!)Tatang Simeon would not take no for an answer. “Pero ang mga magulang mo ay nasa Pangasinan. Sigurado ako maiintindihan nila. Basil, makinig ka sana sa akin. Madaling mahalin si Reming. Tulad mo mabuti siyang tao, mabait at masunuring anak. Hindi ka magsisisi kung siya ang mapapangasawa mo. Kung mag-aasawa rin lang siya, gusto ko ikaw para sa kanya. Bagay kayo, maniwala ka sa akin? (But your parents are in Pangasinan, it would be difficult to send for them. I’m sure your parents will understand. Basil, please listen to me. Reming is easy to love. Like you he is a good person, kind and obedient son. You won’t regret if you will marry him. I want you for him. You are a good match, believe me.)
Tatang’s pep talk angered me even more. I still cried every night and I did not eat most of the time, especially when Reming was around. I avoided him. I also skipped farm work for many days, and didn’t want to talk to anyone.
By this time in Inang’s story, we were jumping out of our seats. “Didn’t you have any feelings for him at all at that time?” Inang let out a big smile and continued her story.
Not that I didn’t like him, it’s just that I was so confused. I got engaged to a man whom I did not know. We had not even talked to each other before. I didn’t know him and I didn’t even know if he really liked me. I heard that he was seeing a beautiful girl in the barrio who liked him also. I heard the others in the rice field gossiping about them.
“So you liked him and you were jealous?”, my siblings and I laughed together. She smiled with a glow in her eyes.
Well, after the event that night, I started to notice him. He was indeed a very good man. I liked the way he treated his parents, especially his mother and sisters. He was very obedient and respectful to his parents, and incredibly hardworking. And yes, he was handsome, especially when he was wearing his newly ironed white long-sleeved shirt whenever he went to the city on weekends. One time before our scheduled wedding while we were eating at the dinner table, he asked if I could iron his pants and long-sleeved shirt. Of course I said yes because I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone.
When I was done ironing his clothes he came by to pick them up. I held his clothes out to him and as he reached to grab the neatly folded pile, our hands touched. I felt his hand gently cup around mine. I almost screamed, but I was able to control my self. He held my hand tighter and he whispered. “Basilisa, ay-ayaten ka, isu ngarud nga pakasaran ka! (“Basilisa, I love you. That’s why I’m marrying you!”) Then he left immediately.
I wasn’t able to sleep that night but I felt peace in my heart. I knew then that I was ready to marry him, but I felt bad that my family did not know what was going on.
After that moment, he began to send me food and merienda (snacks) when I was working in the field. Sometimes he would get close just to say “Kumusta kan Basil?” (How are you, Basil?) Tatang Simeon arranged for us to talk in the house some nights but not without a chaperone. I found out that he was a funny guy and had a beautiful singing voice. Igmedio’s brothers, sisters and my cousins soon caught on and began to playfully tease us.
Two weeks before my scheduled wedding, while working in the rice field, I heard my cousin yelling and calling out my name. “Basil!! Basil!! Adda agbirbiruk kenka!! Basil!! Basil!!” (Someone’s looking for you!!) I looked to where she pointed and saw a familiar figure approaching. It was my father! I ran to him as he was running toward me. Almost hysterical, I hugged and kissed him. My father kissed me from head to toe! Then he related to us how he got to Cabanatuan from Pangasinan. He said that it took him several weeks to travel on foot to come and find me. He avoided Japanese check points and begged people to help him with food and shelter along the way. That night my father gave me a heart-to-heart talk.
“Basil, anak, nasayaat unay no umanamong ka a ni Reming ti pakiasawaam. Ta isu na naimbag, ket nasayaat unay ti damag na, ken kasta met ti panangipateg dagiti dadakkel na kenka ket aywanan dakanto ti amin nga kabaelanda. Dayta ti inkari ken impanamnama ti pamilyada ken dagiti nagannakna kaniak. Isu nga natalgedak unay anak ko no isuna ti maasawam.” (Basil, my daughter, you would be better off if you will agree to marry Reming. He is a good man and he came from a good family. His parents assured me that you will be loved and taken cared of, not only by him but by the entire family. I will be very happy for you anak.)
My father Jose Emperio gave his blessings on my marriage to your father. My wedding was simple but beautiful. Your father was a wonderful man and I really loved him. Within one year of our marriage he built this house.
That night I heard mother silently cried–again–just like many other nights. She still missed him many years after his death in 1964 at the young age of 42. Mother did not marry again, although there were several proposals after she was widowed. She selflessly dedicated herself unselfishly to single-handedly raise their brood of 8. I am blessed to be one of them–the 7th. The legacy of their unique love story continues as 17 grandchildren and presently 22 great grandchildren were added to the family. All praises be to God!
The trip from Manila to Cebu was my first ever airplane ride. This new experience was really a dream-come-true. Growing up in the farms of Nueva Ecija, airplanes flying over the central plain were a common sight. Watching from the rice fields, the air crafts flew on high altitude most of the time, but there were 
instances when they flew low enough that I could figure out the shape of the airplane and could hear their monstrous roaring sound. “T
hose are US Air Force planes.” My uncle Jose would tell me. The airplanes were flown from Clark Air Force Base in Angeles City, Pampanga, close enough for them to exercise in the air space of the nearby provinces. I remember one particular day when my friends and I were in the fields grazing our carabaos (water buffaloes). Right above us the airplanes flew in groups and in formation like the migrating birds, leaving trails of white smoke. What a spectacle seeing those planes somersault and move in synchronized motion. As a young boy I wonder how it would feel riding those magnificent flying objects.”I will ride an airplane someday.” I dreamed.
The day I fl
ew from Manila to Cebu was the fulfillment of such a dream. I took a detailed mental note of that experience as that was my first.
At the Domestic Airport, we were taken by a shuttle bus ride to the Philippine Airline jet waiting at the tarmac. We boarded the aircraft through it’s giant stairs. (There were no airport tubes yet in the mid ’70s.) We were welcomed and greeted with big smiles by the beautiful flight attendants. On the way to my assigned seat passing by the business section, my eyes caught a familiar beautiful face–someone I saw frequently on magazines, tabloid news, billboards and movies. Did I just see Alma Moreno in person? I cannot be mistaken. She quickly covered her face with her hand upon noticing that people recognized who she was. I wished she would just look and smile. But she didn’t. My being star-struck quickly faded.
Seated on the comfortable, softly cushioned airplane seat, I paid attention to the pre-flight safety demonstration. I listened to the Captains greetings and instructions. I buckled my seat belt following the flight attendant’s instructions.
The aircraft taxied on the runway. It’s powerful engines got more vigorous every second. I heard the familiar monstrous sound, more intense than what I heard before. Then I felt the buoyancy when the aircraft wheels were lifted off the ground. The airplane was finally airborne and up,up and away we went. The pressure in my ears started to build up.
I was fortunate to be seated by the window. But part of the jet’s wing was bloc
king the view, so I craned my neck to see outside. Looking down, I saw the city from a bird’s eye view. Buildings, trees, houses, roads, smoke from factories, bodies of water-lakes, rivers-wide greenery, rice fields–beautiful, breath-taking scenery! Then the scenic view slowly faded–we were now flying above the clouds–the sun brightly shining at the sea of nothingness but blue. Then I heard the Captain’s announcements. “Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, we are currently cruising at an altitude of 33,000 feet, at an airspeed of 400 miles per hour….” My head was spinning hearing those numbers.
Then all the flight attendants were all over the place looking so busy. Carts wheeling down the isles, soft drinks cap popping, drinks pouring, food smelling, coffee aroma filling the cabin. The food smelled so good. Eating time again? I just had a full breakfast at the army camp this morning. I opened my lunch pack. It was filled with variety of goodness–baked chicken breast, flavored steamed rice, vegetables, fruits, a piece of cake for dessert and for a drink, I asked for my favorite Mountain Dew–because I wanted to celebrate again!
My CLSU meals were a far cry from what I had been having for the last several days. My palate had been experiencing a variety of tastes I never had before. I’ve never eaten so frequently and so much as the last few days. I had eaten so much that I could feel my abdomen bulging a bit now. This whole new experience of seeing places, meeting people, eating variety of foods and riding an airplane was a whirlwind.
Everyone seemed ready for a nap after the sumptuous lunch, but not me. I wanted to be awake to savor these new encounters. I closed my eyes anyway, not to sleep but to ponder the events of my life during the last few weeks: How my circumstances transformed from despair to optimism, from poverty to riches (that’s how I felt), from anonymity to being recognized. “Lord these are all Your blessings and I am very grateful!”
I was about to nap. My digested food seemed to lull me to sleep but then it hit me. I realized the reason why I was on this trip. I was going to compete.Was I ready? Now I was getting nervous. I was feeling some pressure. As I mentally reviewed my oratorical piece, I imagined myself wearing my new military fatigue uniform and my shiny, new marching boots. As of this time, I haven’t tried them yet. The picture of myself wearing my new military outfit gave me a feeling of assurance and gave me a feeling of readiness. Yes I was ready!
Staying at the Rajah Hotel located at the heart of Cebu City was again a whole new experience. That was the first time I felt a velvety carpet on my bare feet. The bed was soft. There was a refrigerator with variety of beverages. The bathroom was shiny and clean with lots of towels. There was a shower above the bath tub. I had never bathed in a tub before. And there was a telephone. I perused the phone book curious if there were Valenzuelas in Cebu. I found a number of names. What if I call them and invite them to the event? I would have some relatives cheering for me. The room had two separate beds and the other bed already had stuff on it, so I knew my roommate had already arrived.
“Hi I am Cadet Lt. Ramirez (Not his real name) from Pangasinan representing Region I. And who are you?” The guy was my assigned room mate. He was well built and much taller than me. “Oh, my name is Gil Valenzuela and I’m representing Region III and I’m from Nueva Ecija.” “I mean what is your ROTC rank? A Sargent?” “Oh no, I am a Private.” “Yes, that’s what I thought. Do you know that you are suppose to salute me because I am your senior officer? You are an underdog!” “I know that I am suppose to salute an officer. But I didn’t know that you are.” “And so now I’m telling you. I am the Corp Commander of an ROTC batallion. I am your officer.”
That was one of the most uncomfortable conversation I’d had. It was a very awkward meeting. I immediately felt I was being bullied. I wish I had a more friendly room mate. I never really got to know him because he was aloof and quite arrogant. I did not mind. I psyched myself not to be affected. I did not tell anyone in my delegation because I did not want to sound like a tell-tale, cry baby.
My roommate was away on a lunch and I thought it was a good time to brush up some parts of my speech aloud in front of the bathroom mirror. When I came out he was there pretending to clap his hands with a mocking grin on his face. “So you are delivering a Tagalog speech?” He said with a scorn. “Oh yes, my speech is all in Tagalog.” I proudly announced. “I don’t think you have any chance of winning. First, our audience here in Cebu does not speak Tagalog very well. They will hardly understand you because the Cebuanos speak Visayan and they speak more English than Tagalog. Mine is all in English.”
Then he started his speech. I could not believe my ears! He was trying to mimic President Marcos–the intonation, the phrasings, the inflections. I found it funny. I could not help but laugh at what he was doing but I did not want to offend him so I turned around and pretended to cough.” You sound good, but I believe you will sound better with your own style and voice.” I was very honest with that opinion and advise. Because, really, his regular speaking voice was quite impressive. His big chest could let out a very commanding sound just like when he was bullying me. But he loses it when he mimics Marcos. “Who could be better than the great orator President Marcos, he argued.” “But you are not Marcos.” I sighed to myself. I didn’t really say anything anymore. I already said my piece.
The auditorium at the military camp was huge and packed with hundreds of people. We were assigned numbers and were called to the stage one by one reading our names and announcing where we came from. When my name was called, there was a group of people seated behind the auditorium who cheered and clapped their hands. I knew they were the Valenzuelas from Cebu whom I invited over the phone. It felt good to have supporters even if I was away from home.
There were more than ten contestants coming from different regions of the Philippines. Everyone looked smart and sharp. I felt so confident wearing my new military outfit. They fit me very well. I wished mother was there to see me. I had to salute each one of my opponent because I was the only Cadet Private and they were all ROTC officers with high ranks. Indeed, I was the underdog.
One by one the contestants delivered their speeches. Then it was my roommate’s turn. As soon as he started his piece, the audience and the judges seated in front were all smiling. They knew what he was doing and it got their attention. I saw some people elbowing each other and whispering to one another. Whether it was good or not I did not know. He was enjoying the audience’s reaction but at one point of his speech he seemed to have forgotten some lines, maybe he was distracted….and then he ended his speech rather abruptly. There was a loud roar when he finished. He went back to his seat quite distraught.
Then it was the underdog’s turn. I don’t remember being nervous. I was more concerned about the audience than about myself. I remember my roommate telling me that the Cebuanos do not understand Tagalog very well. I didn’t believe that. They may not speak it as good as the native Tagalogs do but I’m sure they understood it. Having that thought, I adjusted my delivery. I made sure they could follow me. With all passion and sincerity, I talked about the role of the youth in the society. You could hear a pin drop when I was delivering my piece and then a lively applause followed when I finished. I guessed they appreciated the lone Tagalog orator.
Then the moment of truth came. They announced the winners. They called my name first! I pl
aced third in the national oratorical contest. The Valenzuelas from Cebu stood up and cheered for me. The contestant from the National Capital Region (Manila) got the second place. The first place was bagged by the ROTC Corp Commander, a communications major from Xavier University, Cagayan de Oro City (Mindanao). I briefly met with my guests after the competition. Then the organizers whisked us away for a reception.
Back to CLSU, I brought home not only a trophy but a story to tell. The CLSU Collegian had me on the front page and I got a courtesy call from CLSU President Amado Campos. I also presented my trophy to my coach Prof. Tumangan and to Engr. Ricardo Fermin–the Registrar who let me enter CLSU in spite of the surrounding circumstances (See Article Against All Odds). After congratulating me, he asked: “Have you heard about your student loan yet.? Up to this point my enrollment at CLSU was still on the conditional status.
Yes, I’m back to reality. Back to my existence of hunting and gathering while grinding the academic wheels.
Note One: I added 2 pages to my blog site: 1) Gems and Nuggets Wisdom; 2) myRecipe. Please visit these pages for more details. Click the scroll down “Menu” and choose a page.
Note Two: I am collecting inspirational stories from my friends around the world for possible inclusion to a future publishing project. Please share your story with me. You can email me at gilvalenzuela@icloud.com
My life in CLSU was not confined in the classroom and field work studies. I decided early on to get involved with extra curricular activities. Such participation helped in my growth and personal development and in honing some skills. Little did I know that my involvement outside of the academe would be instrumental in training for the profession that God would eventually call me to do-become a pastor.
I had only been at CLSU for two months and my schedule became full and hectic. I grabbed every opportunity presented to me. I wasn’t afraid to take any risks or challenges.
In celebration of the Linggo ng Wika (National Language Week), during the month of August, the Pilipino Department of College of Arts and Sciences launched a freshmen-wide talent contest. The contest categories included: on-the-spot writing, on-the spot speech, poem recitation and solo singing in the Pilipino language. I competed in all four categories and I bagged first place in all of them! I received trophies and cash prizes. I was so excited about winning that I treated my entire class–Block 12 with Magnolia twin popsicles. And the rest of the prize money, I purchased some much needed school supplies.
Winning those contests opened many doors for me. Mike Isidro, the editor-in-chief of the CLSU Collegian, interviewed me and wrote news and feature articles about me. “I am asking your permission for your article to be published on this semester’s maiden issue of the CLSU Collegian,” Mike said. “Also, I’d like to invite you to be a staff writer in the Pilipino section”.
I was quite elated to see my name in the tabloid student newspaper. It felt surreal to be called by my first name and waved at by my fellow students who I did not personally know. (I will share memories of my student journalism journey in future blog.)
My biggest break came when I was approached by the ROTC through Dr. Tumangan-the Head of the Pilipino Department at College of Arts and Sciences. After hearing and reading about me, I was asked to represent the entire Region III in a national oratorical contest in Cebu City. Dr. Tumangan wrote my speech and he also coached me.
Days before the scheduled national contest,
I was summoned by the ROTC office to meet with a high ranking army officer visiting from Fort Magsaysay, Lt. Colonel Servando Lara. He wanted to brief the contestants about the forth-coming event. I was told to report on my ROTC uniform.
In order to present myself in the best way I could, I ironed my uniform, dyed and shined my military boots and had a fresh haircut.
I noticed a surprised look on his face when we met. I don’t know if he was disappointed to see a small-built, thin and short ROTC Cadet represent the whole of region III or maybe he noticed my over sized boots and faded military uniform. It’s one or the other or both, I thought. The contrast between my uniform and the other ROTC Cadet officers in the room was glaringly obvious. Mine was old and faded and theirs were new and in a striking bright fatigue color. I was almost sure he noticed that, although he did not say anything about it.
“So you are Gil Valenzuela?” He asked.
“Yes Sir!” I replied enthusiastically.
“How old are you and what year are you in?”
“Sir, I am seventeen years old and I’m a freshman.”
“I want to hear at least a portion of your prepared speech. Are you ready for the national contest?”
“Yes sir, I’ve been preparing for the contest.”
I stood at the back of the room facing the desk where he was seated. The Cadet officers stood on either side of the room. I paused and imagined that I was addressing a huge audience in an auditorium.
This is my moment and my chance.
I brushed away all my fear and anxiety.
I need to prove myself and make a good impression.
Mustering all courage, I started my Tagalog speech with passion. I addressed the Colonel and my ROTC comrades while delivering my speech. Then, I stopped when I thought that I had shown enough. Everyone including the Colonel gently clapped their hands. He stood from his chair and said with a big grin: “Very good Valenzuela. Very impressive. You are small but terrible”. It felt very good to have gained the approval of the official.
We traveled and stayed overnight at Fort Bonifacio in Manila before heading to Cebu City the following day. The CLSU delegation included myself, WATC Cadette Susan Apostol and WATC Corp Commander Teresita Galamay.
Our delegation including representatives from other regions were treated with a special dinner. We were taken to a banquet hall. I knew it was special because the tables were all covered in white linen set with plates and utensils and a beautiful flower center pieces. We were first served with soup, then some salad and bread. I was already full just by eating the soup and the bread, when a huge platter with a big portion of beef steak, and a big scoop of mash potato was served before me! This is a lot, enough to feed my whole family. I 
told myself. Before I started my meal I looked around and observed how to attack the big meal. I particularly observed the Colonel who was also talking to us while eating. I followed his lead on how to cut the meat with his knife and fork. I learned quickly.
While working on that big meal, I realized that my stomach was trained to hold very little. A fist full of food would fill me up. After asking if I was done eating and I said Yes, the server took away my plate. I could only sigh: SAYANG! (What a waste!) I knew they will just throw the food away. I wish I could take it home. I thought. No sooner than he took my unfinished dishes when another server came with a plate of dessert. How can I eat more? I could hardly breathe because I was already very full. I took few scoops of the wonderful dessert. That was my first experience of luxurious fine dining!.
In the sleeping quarters, I unpacked my luggage so that I could unfold my uniform. Mother made sure my uniform was washed and ironed. I remember her saying: O hayan, inalmirolan ko yan para magmukhang bago. “Here”, she said as she handed me my uniform. “I starched them so they would look new”. I had my military boots fixed also. I took them to a shoe repair shop to put new soles and dye them black and they were also shined professionally. They looked neat and shiny but the traces of them being old and beaten up still showed. While hanging my uniform, I noticed that it was extra-firm and hard to the touch. “Mother overdid it with starch.” I thought. I wondered how it would feel on my skin wearing those hardened uniform.
I was getting ready to go to bed that night in the military quarter when I heard someone looking for me and summoning me to the hallway. It was military man holding a big package. “ROTC Cadet Private Gil Valenzuela?”He inquired. “Yes sir”. I answered. “This package is from the Lt. Colonel Lara. He handed me the package and left”.
I immediately opened the package on top of my bed. It had two boxes. I opened the bigger box. I cannot believe my eyes—a new set of fatigue military uniform complete with my name on it and a set of underwear–a white under shirt (sando,) brief and socks.
Socks?!!!! Does it mean I also a have a new military boots? I quickly opened the smaller box. And lo and behold, there— the most handsome shoes I had ever laid my eyes on! Brand new military boots……. very shiny…. very clean,………very new………. very MINE!!!!
I was careful as not to disturb the other cadets in the room. I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. And so my excitement were all expressed under my breath. I was celebrating silently!
The kindhearted army officer Lt. Col. Servando Lara pulled some strings. I believed that was a God-thing. He
was specially touched by God to bless and encourage me on that critical phase of my life. In my prayers I thanked God for the Colonel.
I slept that night clutching my new pair of shoes under my blanket….just like what I used to do when I was a little boy whenever mother bought me new a new pair.
I was so encouraged, I felt I was energized and ready for the competition. I was ready to “fight”.
(The next blog “The Underdog Fights” deals with the national oratorical contest in Cebu City, Philippines. Find out how did the ROTC Private fare in the contest.)
I would appreciate your comments.
“College education is not for poor people like us. I’m sorry son, you know I cannot send you to college,” she tearfully said while hugging me tightly. I sobbed like a child! I still remember everything she told me that night of my high school graduation. Mother was simply resigned to the idea of her only son pursuing education post high school. ” You are better off than all of your cousins. None of them have been to high school, and you did very well! You made me very proud when I pinned that silver medal on you and even prouder when you received the leadership award. Anak, don’t despair– someday you will go to college,” she said forcing a smile, trying to console me. “For the meantime you will help in the rice farm…….and you can also work for your brother-in-law in his construction projects. He said you’re very good in grinding marble floors.”
Apparently, those are the only options I had after graduating salutatorian from high school.
But somehow deep in my heart I was hoping for some kind of miracle that would turn the tide. With God nothing is impossible, I heard many times as a young boy. I know the Lord will make a way for me, went my favorite Sunday school hymn. I believed those words….with all my heart. And so I prayed for a miracle. I knew it would happen… As to how, I was clueless.
I worked as a houseboy during my senior year in high school. A benevolent couple took me to their folds so that I could work during the day and continue high school at night. A few weeks after graduating high school, I was completing my house chores and taking out the trash. Sitting at the top of the trash bin was an old issue of the national newspaper. My eyes caught the front page news and it took my breath away. The article read: Study Now Pay Later, now available to top 25% of high school grads. I smoothed the crumpled paper and devoured the details of the news. This is it! Now I can go to college! I gasped.
The student loan program was available only to students pursuing a degree in the field of agricultural science. And so that’s when I decided… an agricultural engineer. That’s what I will be!
As I pondered my future plans, apprehensions and doubts began formulating in my mind.
Central Luzon State University is known for its agricultural programs. This is where I will venture… but there are problems. The semester is already one month underway; it might be too late. Will they still let me in? I still don’t have the student loan approval and I do not have money for the registration deposit. If ever I get admitted where will I stay? Is there still a room for me in the dorms?
There was a huge mountain in front of me! I had every reason to be discouraged, to cower and back out.
But I didn’t.
Brushing away all possible hindrances, I traveled to CLSU. There’s no harm in trying. This is your only chance. Go for it…bahala na ….I psyched myself. All I cared about at this point was to be admitted . And so I gathered all my registration documents: high school diploma, NCEE (National College Entrance Examination)score, my silver medal for graduating as salutatorian, my gold medal leadership award, and of course the newspaper clipping announcing the government student loan program. Without the knowledge of anyone in my family, I set out for an adventure on my own. Riding a Baliwag Transit bound to Munoz Nueva Ecija, where Central Luzon State University is located, I mentally prepared all the reasons why I was registering late, and why they should accept me anyway.
The receptionist at the Registrar’s office gave me a wondering look when I asked for a registration form. She did not give me a form “because enrollment already closed” and she “thinks that all freshmen classes were already filled”.
“Can I please talk to the registrar?” I asked.
“You have to make an appointment. He’s attending a meeting right now and when he comes back he will only attend to his appointments…” said the receptionist, pointing to a log book in front of her. “You may come back tomorrow, he has an opening at 10 AM.”
I almost cried after hearing these words. I prayed and in my mind I sang. Alam kong may magagawa ang Diyos. (I know the Lord will have His way for me.)
Come back tomorrow?, I thought. If she only knew… The only money I have is just enough for my two-way bus ticket. I do not even have extra money for lunch. And if I stay the night, where? I do not know anyone in Munoz. No! I need to talk to Registrar TODAY!
I seated myself in the waiting lounge just outside the Registrar’s office just as they opened their doors for the day. Clutching a manila envelope containing all my documents, I nervously waited with the rest of the people who had appointments hoping to hav
e at least a two-minute chance of talking to the registrar. My mind rehearsed a short dialogue. Sir, my name is Gil Valenzuela. I graduated salutatorian at Philippine Wesleyan College. I have a very high score in NCEE and I am a recipient of Student Leadership award. (Show transcript, medals, diploma and certificates). My family is very poor and cannot afford to send me to college but I will be applying for the new student loan program “Study Now Pay Later”. (Show the newspaper clip). Please let me register. I promise to be a good student here at CLSU.
Mr. Fermin was a stately gentleman. There was a stern look about him but he had a beaming smile that was welcoming. One by one, Mr. Fermin attended to his appointments. I patiently watched each appointment end, still clutching tightly to my envelope of credentials and awards. Every so often, I would peek my head into Mr. Fermin’s office, and each time he would briefly glance my way but he never acknowledged my presence. Towards the end of the day, he began ignoring my existence altogether. Before I knew it, I saw Mr. Fermin stand up and take his brief case, ready to go home. The clock behind him read 5 PM. The work day was over. I quickly got up from my seat and rushed into his office uninvited. “Sir please just give me two minutes of your time,” I begged. He relented. He put down his brief case and sat back down in
his chair, motioning me to sit down also. I began my rehearsed dialogue while showing him my documents, but in the middle I started to choke up and tears rolled down my face. I just couldn’t help it. ButI still managed to deliver my 
piece. 
He perused my documents and shook his head.
“Bata, may problema tayo.” (Young man, we have a problem.)
” Oo nga magaling kang estudyante, pero masyado ka nang late, mahihirapan kang humabol.” (Yes, you might be a good student, but you are too late, you will have hard time catching up.)
“At saka hindi ito ang kailangan ko, diyaryo ito eh. Ang kailangan ko ay yung approval ng student loan mo galing sa Department of Education.” (And this is not what I need, this is just a newspaper (waving the news clip). What I need is the approval of your student loan from the Department of Education and Culture.)
“At saka puno na ang mga klase ng freshmen.” (And also, all freshmen classes are all filled up.)
I couldn’t help but begin weeping when I heard Mr. Fermin enumerating all these problems. He took a tissue from his desk and handed it to me. I wiped my tears and cleared my nose and started begging like a child.
“Sir, sige na po payagan ninyo na akong mag-enroll. Ayaw ko pong matali sa bukid at magtrabho sa construction. Gusto ko pong makapag-aral at maiahon ang Inang at mga kapatid ko sa kahirapan.” (Sir, please allow me to register. I don’t want to get stuck in the rice field or work in the construction. I want to get educated and raise my mother and siblings from poverty.)
“E nasan bang mga magulang mo?” (Where are your parents?)
“Ulila na po ako sa ama at ang Inang ko naman ay naglalabada para po kami makaraos.” (I’m already fatherless and my mother is busy washing clothes for other people so we can survive.) “Kaya sige na po papasukin ninyo na ako kahit saling pusa lang.” (And so please let me in even as an observer.)
To which he laughed and chuckled saying: E ano ba ito? Kindergarten? (And what do you think of this? Kindergarten?)
I realized what I just said and I laugh with him too.
He looked at me and paused and finally said: “O sige papayagan kitang mag-enroll pero conditional lang.” (Okey, I will let you register but only conditional.)
I couldn’t believe what I just heard. And I cried again. Now shedding more tears, but this time they were tears of joy! I got up from my chair and rushed to him and gave him a hug saying, “Maraming salamat po sir.” (Thank you very much sir.)
“Saan ka nga pala titira?” (And by the way, where will you live?), Mr. Fermin asked. I ignored his question simply because I didn’t have an answer for it. In my mind, that was not a big deal. God already removed a mountain. Why would I worry about a small bump on the road. All I knew is that God will provide.
I was conditionally enrolled pending the approval of my student loan.
I made it!
I got in!
I am now a college student!
I want to jump! I want to cartwheel! I want to shout! I want to dance! God answered my prayers! He just performed a miracle! Praise the Lord!!!
As I left the Registrar’s office I felt my face beam smile from ear to ear. What just happened called for a celebration. I counted my money from my pocket to check if I had some extra for a cold drink. Across the street from the registrar’s office was the student cafeteria. I celebrated the event drinking Mountain Dew!
After being diagnosed with The Big C in 2011, I started making a list of things I wanted to do before I “kicked the bucket”. I knew that most cancer patients survive up to two years after their diagnosis so I listed some things I could accomplish within that span of time. One item on my list was to record a music CD. I want my grandchildren to hear my voice. This is the least I could do to introduce them to the old man when I’m gone, I thought. At that time my first grandson Camden was a year old and my second grandson Liam was only two months old. Within three months of my illness, and in between doctor’s visits “myTRIBUTE” was recorded. That’s one check on my bucket list!
I got very depressed when I received the news about the cancer. But I was determined not to allow depression take any moment of my remaining life away. I sang and sang and I sang…and I sang the depression away! Music proved to be therapeutic indeed.
The following is an excerpt of the essay I wrote on the back cover of my CD jacket:
“This music recording is an overflow of God’s blessings poured into my heart when the Lord touched me in a very special way while dealing with cancer. These songs bring comfort, peace, strength, assurance, hope and answers to my many questions. Singing has become a healing balm to me. I sing all the time. I sing the moment I wake up. I sing when I’m glad as well as when I’m sad. I sing when I’m mad. I sing when I get frustrated. I sing in the kitchen, I sing in the shower. I sing in the car. I sing when I pray. I sing when I’m in pain. I sing aloud. I sing in silence. I burst into singing when I teach and preach. Indeed:
I have a song that Jesus gave me. It was sent from heaven above;
There never was a sweeter melody. ‘Tis a melody of love;
In my heart there rings a melody, there rings melody with heaven’s harmony;
In my heart there rings a melody; There rings a melody of love.”
The next thing I wanted to do was write my life story. I started working on it after my cancer surgery.
That was almost five years ago and I have been writing my story in a spiral notebook since.
Yes, I beat cancer! I am healed! I am a survivor!
God has been gracious in extending my life and I have more stories to write in my thick spiral notebook.
However, I discovered this paperless pad they call the notebook computer, and its power to share my story not only to my family but to the whole world. And so, on these virtual pages, I will share my life’s journey: my sorrows and joys, my challenges and victories, my pains and comforts, my failures and successes, my confessions and revelations.
Thank you for following this blog and welcome to “myJOURNEY“.
No! My goal in writing is not simply to check an item on my bucket list. I have a bigger purpose than that. If my story can encourage and inspire one soul, I will have met my goal.
myJOURNEY 
