Legends Rise and Fall
- The Medalist
- Graciano A. Militante, Sr: How the River Flowed
- Jayme C. De Veyra: Out of Babel
My grandfather ‘Inkong’ Igmidio Moraga was a jeweler who owned vast of lands in Bulacan and Nueva Ecija. He loved me and my younger brother very much. At sunset, we will wait for him as he comes from the farm bringing fruits from his trees. He lived to be in his 90’s. Before he died, he asked me to wash his body and put on his barong. He is one of three sons to a Spanish friar and businessman named Francisco Moraga, after whom the Plaza Moraga in Manila China Town was named because of his bravery and heroism in the early 19th century. It was written in books that our history would have been different if it were not for him. This stature left us respected families in Bulacan. This is the legend of my great grandfather. It is from him that I got my genes of being tough, strong, and fearless as they once called me the woman with a beard (“babaeng may balbas”). Similarly, my oldest brother Pedro, the veteran, followed those footsteps during the Vietnam War when the bravery and heroism of a Moraga showed once more!
Inkong Igmidio has a brother with three daughters, first cousins to my mother’s mother. I remember them as my 3 beautiful Impo’s who were very rich. They were in the business and were very successful as they consulted each other. They have a big beautiful corner house made of marbles and colored stained glass like a church. We lived in the compound with them. They called them “Donyas”, who never got married and remained “matandang dalaga” and are very “masungit”. The Japanese used their house as a headquarters during the war. I grew up there that the Japanese officers became fond of me. One time, they saw a lot of men’s shoes, when they asked me, whose shoes are those, I told them, they were my father’s, but they were my brothers’, too!
One of them, my Impong Trudis (Gertrudis Faustino) has lot of rental apartments in Quiapo. She was very fond of me; she tagged me along to give her company, from the church every morning, to places in Manila in her Berlina, with her own driver, especially to collect rentals at the end of the month. She carried her money in big cans. She will surprise me with her hands closed, she will say, “Can you throw this in the garbage?” and when she opens it to me, I say, “This is money!” as I give it back to her, she will tell me, “Keep it and save it. At the end of the year, you will have a lot already”. She gave me a small box to keep and save them as my piggy bank. I grew up with her, but my father wanted me to sleep at home every night. My brothers hated it when I am with her as they fear that I may get influenced to become “sungit”, too. But despite of that, they were very generous. They are always helping people. They sent bright students to college to take Medicine and Pharmacy. I also remember her sister, Martina, but the other one, I can no longer remember. They lived to be over a hundred years old and I witnessed how they turned into their second childhood, (“bumalik sa pagkabata”). She grew up baby teeth that look like irregular, sawtooth, and I saw it, indeed!
My Impong “Polin”, Apolinaria Faustino Pilares, is a very rich grandmother, aunt of my mother. She liked me and remembers me as a daughter of Antonina.
Kakang “Tacquio” Eustaquio Bordador, my rich uncle, dresses up like a poor man who carries a “bag of cash” riding in a Berlina, the only one in town. One day, he went to a jewelry store, the salesgirl refused to entertain him because he was wearing his “corto” while his Berlina is parked in the front. He is married to a mean lady, Tandang Ariang, the grandparents of my sister Juana’s children. She used to send me for errands in the market that one day, I asked her to do an errand for me, too. I asked her to drop off some stuff to my house. I told her, I do errands for her, so she should do errands for me, too. She did not like that and got mad. This has taught me, to be aloof from rich people. On the other hand, as a culture, we really do not ask “utos” to our elders, Juana taught me. (525)~MDS
What runs in the family: The way we were
One note to remember, the women in our earliest generation were short lived. Of course, they had borne many children. My mother had ten children. Juana, my eldest sister had fifteen after she married ....Evangelista at a very young age. Carmen is the first, I took care of her. She saw how Juana treated me like any of her own children, so she got the notion that she can treat me like that as well. As she got older, she got stronger and meaner. I have kept my distance farther. I refused to go back to her house, but Juana begs my father, so Carmen will have a playmate, I was over four years older than her.
Our families are bright and intelligent like my father. Juana, graduated Valedictorian in high school. She married young at seventeen as her older husband-to-be was waiting for her as well. She did not go to college, but she is a very good housekeeper. She took good care of all her children and her younger siblings, too. All her children finished college and are now all living in the United States. Juanita, her sixth child, became a scholar here in the US as an exchange student and became a nurse. She met her husband Dr. Antonio “Tony” Toledo of Cavite, while he was an intern at St. Luke’s Hospital. They got married and came to US, Tony practiced Medicine as a surgeon, while Nita, took care of their 4 children. They live in Connecticut. She was inviting me I hope I could, one day visit them. Iluminada graduated from accounting also and landed a good job at the Land Bank. I was surprised to meet her again when I wIt is not uncommon that cousins mary one another, that husbands are older than their wives, because they must wait for the girls to mature and be ready for marriage. Girls marry young, before they reach the age of twenty, older men have already got them. That is a very tender and productive years, they bear a dozen or more children. That was our way of life then, we must live according to our times. My father learned to be more protective of her daughters, but still.
Business runs in the family, from jewelry to gasoline, to fishing and poultry, there is always money to rake in. Emerenciana, my eldest half-sister was married to….a businessman and became a millionaire from gasoline and auto supplies. I remember, how they were making/counting monies. They hid the money in the attic. When they remembered, to check, termites have already attacked the bills. My father helped them save what they can, and the rest got surrendered to the bank, totally useless.
My niece, Elizabeth, the eldest daughter of Pedro has moved to Taiwan.
The Lumbrera Heirloom
One of the greatest blood relative, worth mentioning is Claro M. Recto, a first cousin of my father, Francisco M. Lumbrera. They have M for Mayo in their middle names. That makes Claro, my uncle. They grew up together.
If you are from Batangas, you will never miss the Levistes. While Dr. Jose “Peping” Panganiban Leviste of Bauan, Batangas was known as a rural doctor, his legend and legacy is kept dear among the Batanguenos. As the owner of vast farmlands, he distributed agricultural lands to five hundred of their “kasamas”, 3 hectares a piece as a family. While this is a big help to the livelihood and industry of the rural folks, this made it difficult for New People’s Army to steal, as each one oversees their own ward of lands. I was among one of them as a recipient of his generosity, kindness and mentorship for my business, Irene Lumbrera Farms. He helped me secure a loan to borrow from the Development Bank of the Philippines (DBP) and encouraged my livestock industry. I met him through “Donya Trining”, Trinidad Leviste Endaya, his sister in the bus one day and became friends since then. He is also married to a doctor,…Endaya and have a house in Queens.
As a doctor, he graduated from the University of Santo Tomas. He practiced Medicine and Surgery while being an entrepreneur and chairman of DBP. He was all, a great family man, educated and has God in him. He taught how to love as he has received his countless blessings He made it possible to raise responsible social entrepreneurs, businessmen and educators as he was.
To all his children and family, his legacy and services as the people’s doctor has impacted the most. He did not treat his being a doctor as an income, but service. His integrity, honesty and sense of fairness has without boundaries. He loved everything in life, culture, arts, theater, sports, and chess. His thirst for learning and science is insatiable. He is a strong advocate of integrating sciences in everything in life. He is always humble, compassionate, and generous person.
To this legacy, his children wanted to pay forward, as he already paved the way for them. In all their successes, their father has a part and influence. They are not just grateful for being a part of the legend, they want to live on that legacy, that someday, their own legends will rise. ~MDS
There was a man by the name of Kapitan Kulas who owned a vast area of farmlands in Tayabas. As there was drought, his taxes piled up and cannot pay, the government took and repossessed his lands. He got so mad and hid himself in the vast mountain range of Sierra Madre Mountains, from the north of Cagayan to the south of Quezon. He is the king of this jungle. He knows the ins and outs, every nook and cranny of the mountains. It is a beautiful place along the coast of the Pacific Ocean. The place is noted for its caves, where no ordinary man dared to go, or a sure death, as no one finds the way out. Alone and armed, he knows his ways in the caves and the forests. Anybody looking to arrest him was killed, as he put justice in his hands until he became a fugitive. He is an outlaw, but somewhat a Robin Hood to the natives. He is a friend of my father, who is the chief of police at that time. He was instrumental in negotiating between Kapitan Kulas and President Manuel L. Quezon. He eventually surrendered and was forgiven. Tayabas became peaceful since and was later named as Quezon province, after Manuel L. Quezon, the Philippines second president of the republic. My father has told me more about Kapitan Kulas and his legend. Everybody in Quezon knew him. Later, there was a movie starring Ramon Revilla as Kapitan Kulas. Could it be the same legend?
4 Graciano A. Militante, Sr: How the River Flowed
My grandfather, Graciano A. Militante, Sr. had always been a very wise and quiet, even funny presence in our family vacation trips to his rice farm in Palo, Leyte, his birthplace and where he had retired. I was this 5-year-old girl from Mati, Davao Oriental, who had the first coconut planting experience, a ritual we observed every vacation. He took me and my two brothers to drop young coconut saplings into holes in the ground and declared that each coconut tree bore our names. To love and care for the Earth was my first, among the many lessons from him.
He was the civil engineer who built the Angat River Dam in Angat, Bulacan during the time of Commonwealth President Manuel L. Quezon. We only came to know the historical fact, many years after he had passed, during a quiz/game on a local TV show, Eat Bulaga, that he was the first Civil Engineering graduate of the Philippines. I don’t think he even knew as he never spoke of it at all. It was a pleasant surprise and indeed a great source of pride for us all.
Lolo Anong, as we fondly called him, had come to America to study and he worked as Caregiver for his friend Fran Lou, a paraplegic in Ohio. In the 1900s, Filipinos were freely allowed to travel and enter the mainland as subjects of the American Commonwealth regime. Although he had already finished high school in Palo, Leyte, he had to start all over again in first grade grammar school, a lanky, brown-skinned Filipino among a sea of white-skinned children. Lolo Anong easily surpassed his classmates and was top of his class when he finished. Despite attaining the highest grades, he was not honored as valedictorian. He was a colonial subject, deemed not equal to his white classmates.
It was about this time that Lolo Anong received news that his father, our great grandfather Lolo Tonio, had fallen from a coconut tree while harvesting “tuba” (a local wine) and was dying. He was filled with so much grief and wanted to come home. The story I heard was that Lolo Tonio asked Anong’s older sister Sofia if there was “something higher” than high school. She said yes, it was called “college,” as she herself was a teacher. Lolo Tonio’s reply was, “Tell Anong not to come home and not to worry about me. Go on and finish that ‘higher’ (hitaas in Waray language) school.” It was sheer act of courage during those times for father and son to decide not to come back home to pursue the “higher school.”
Here he was, all alone without home and family, still in deep sadness grieving for his father. Winter was fast approaching. He had to find work so he could study further. So, he knocked on the door of the house of the Ohio State University president. The butler told him, “We need a cook.” With his last five dollars, Lolo Anong bought a cookbook, returned to the butler, and said, “I can cook!” Years later, my mother would teach me how Americans baked stuffed chicken, a skill learned from Lolo Anong, the Cook.
The story goes that Lolo Anong would cook while studying two books, the cookbook and his engineering subject textbook. This would go on for four years. He aimed to be a member of the Phi Beta Kappa honor society. While he passed all his courses in civil engineering, he could not attain the high QPA or quality point average to qualify as member of the honor society, because he had to work to survive. He would later ask his fourth daughter Priscilla (who studied Paleontology at Stanford University) for the “Key,” the token and symbol of those who made it to the honor society. I realized early on from Lolo Anong that excellence must be the goal, and not just simply to graduate.
My mother recollected that after Lolo Anong obtained his Civil Engineering degree, his employer, the president of Ohio State University, sat him down in his office, gave him a cigar and said to him, “From now on, you are no longer a servant; you are a professional.” He also said that he had a duty to return and serve his home country. Once home, Lolo Anong was in due time appointed Chief Project Engineer of the Angat River Dam which still stands today, supplying water to the people of the Central Plain of Luzon.
Being an eligible and good-looking pensionado from America, he met and married the beautiful Anita Juan, our Lola Aning, who descended from a landed Filipino Chinese family in Gapan, Nueva Ecija. He built the first concrete (“bahay na bato”) house that also served as his office in Plaridel, Bulacan, where he raised twelve children, six girls and six boys, quite comfortably on his monthly salary of five hundred pesos, and even owned the first Model T-Ford car in town. Also, the “engineering genes” ran strong in Lolo Anong’s family, with three sons who became successful engineers. My mother Amarie witnessed the power and influence her father wielded as Chief Engineer of the “patubig” (water supply) for the rice lands in five neighboring provinces. Politicians would offer to peddle his influence, but he never caved in nor did he get rich. He was known to be firmly honest, humble and kind, fair and wise by all who knew him.
When the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Hawaii on Dec 7, 1941, it was Dec 8 (in Manila), my mother’s 21st birthday and her last year at the University of the Philippines. Like thousands of students going back to their provinces, she rushed home to Plaridel, Bulacan, with only the clothes on her back and her precious picture albums.
Because he had to protect his young family, Lolo Anong presciently found a way to relate to the incoming Japanese. He told his oldest daughter, “We have new masters now. We must learn the language of the new masters.” So off Nanay went to learn Nippongo (with Katakana and Hiragana writing systems) at the existing Japanese language schools. My mother learned very quickly and utilized polite, courtly Nippongo; effectively communicated and negotiated several dangerous incidents and intense conflict situations with the “new masters;” and spared the lives of several Filipinos accused by Japanese soldiers. Lolo Anong’s intuitive foresight on learning the master’s tool was keen and on point.
After Pearl Harbor, the bombing and air raids that followed shortly forced Lolo Anong’s family to retreat into Malanga-ang Hills to live in safety for some months. They returned to Plaridel where the concrete “bahay na bato” was still intact in the rubble. This house attracted the new masters.
At the height of the occupation, General Akutso, head of the Japanese Imperial Army Engineering Corps, came to utilize the ground floor of the concrete Militante home as their headquarters. Partly because of Nanay’s honed skills in using their language to the point of becoming a Japanese language teacher herself, the Japanese captain treated the “Miritante” family like his own. He came back three decades later to visit and happily reunite with the family. It was an ironic milestone to embrace a labeled “enemy” who affectionately treated us like family despite the shared experience of a cruel war.
This was the genius of Lolo Anong’s “strategy” to ensure his family’s protection during those very difficult years of the Japanese occupation. By wisely creating a cordial, familial place for the Japanese officers and practicing the basic human values of cooperation and harmony, the Militante family survived the war practically unscathed and unharmed. While they witnessed atrocities around them, the presence of the Japanese captain in their house protected them from that fate. Indeed, this clearly showed that the bonds of human beings are so much bigger and more enduring than socially imposed labels or political ideology.
Lolo Anong always wanted to go back and retire in his hometown of Palo, Leyte. On one vacation when I was 10 years old, we left my baby brother Alex, just a toddler, for him to babysit while we went to church. We came back and found my grandmother’s dining area all cluttered with pots, pans, and littered with spilled bottles of sugar, coffee, flour beans, and what have you. Baby Alex was poking his arms and little hands into every jar and bottle, tasting every content in his mouth, and just having so much fun! He was wet with dirty stinking diapers, while Lolo Anong watched calmly nearby, smoking his pipe. “Why all this mess, Lolo?” we cried in shock. He chuckled softly then declared, “Give him freedom!” Baby Alex had the most thorough cleanup that day. Yet, he has grown up to be the most adventurous, fearless, and courageous of us all --- daring the hot-as-hell deserts of Kuwait as an Oil Rig Driller to support his family.
The babysitting incident sent everyone laughing, especially the ending, Lolo Anong’s declaration of freedom. That became our “battle cry” every time we teased our parents on some rule to be followed, much to their chagrin. He impressed on us the essence of freedom --- that it was fun, even chaotic, but exhilarating and to some degree, quite harmless. In déjà vu, freedom means pure self-expression.
That Lolo Anong never went to church was never an issue because my loving grandmother, Lola Aning, devout Catholic that she was, never questioned it out of respect for his belief (I learned later that he was a Freemason in America). His church-less Sundays nevertheless stayed in my memory without judgment because nobody said it was wrong. This memory of Lolo Anong quietly sitting on the sofa on Sundays set an example of acceptance that would serve me well much later, when I began to seriously question the religious conditioning I had in search of my own existential truth.
After my devoted Mass-loving Lola Aning passed away in Palo, Leyte at 65 years old, Lolo Anong moved to Diliman, Quezon City, to help support his three youngest children living with their sister Dr. Priscilla Militante, a geology professor then at the University of the Philippines. My brothers and I were in college then, living in campus dorms, until we all transferred to the professor’s cottage. We reveled in hilarious camaraderie with him, even some antics that drove my aunts crazy. He always treated us gently like buddies and friends as he regaled my brothers and cousins with stories of his adventures and life in America.
He lived on until about 87 years old, a smoker until the end. Yet he was a most contemplative man who was an example of equanimity amidst family conflicts and dissent, even as he sprinkled nuggets of philosophical insights when things quieted down. When his time came, along with aunts and cousins, I said goodbye to him and witnessed his peaceful transition at the U.P. campus infirmary.
Lolo Anong always stressed the importance of integrity and humor, industry and determination, fortitude, and courage in the stories he shared. The epitaph on his tombstone as I recall, stated how critically important this “journey” was, rather than its “destination.” It puzzled me deeply for a very long time. Looking back now, I know this is the heart’s wisdom. He had opened Nanay’s mind to other realities, like learning the Bible, which unfortunately was not part of traditional religious training. Lolo Anong encouraged us to be tolerant of others’ beliefs and creeds, as he truthfully said, “Not all Catholics go to heaven.”
Now I have realized that the journey Lolo Anong was pointing at, is a Journey in Higher Consciousness, that our purpose in life is to evolve the soul to higher dimensions, not really knowing our destination, but trusting the Creator’s Guidance to lead us there. Bless dear Lolo Anong who opened my way!
By: Lutgarda Militante Resurreccion
5 Jaime Carlos de Veyra: Raising the Status of Indigenous Philippine Native Languages
Out of Babel
“Itaga mo sa bato”, indeed this very emotional saying called proverb or idiom is one of several unclassified Filipino words that do not have a direct translation in English, that need context to fully translate them. More so, in an archipelago of more than seven thousand islands, the Philippines have inhabitants who speak some 120 to 817 native Malayo-Polynesian languages and a number of Spanish-influenced creole varieties called Chavacano in South Western Mindanao, along with the use of the Arabic script in southern Muslim areas of Mindanao. This noise of similar sounding dialects needed to be reconfigured into a harmonious symphony of a common language. Dissecting, collating, and codifying the spoken words and ancient scripts that make up this linguistic tower of babel demanded dedication, determination, and hard work from generations of Filipino leaders designated by the Philippine Commonwealth Government. On November 13, 1936, the Surian ng Wikang Pambansa (Institute of National Language) was established and mandated to choose which native Philippine Language would be used as the basis for the national language.
In 1937, under its first director Jaime C. de Veyra, recommended that Tagalog be adopted as the national language. At this point, it could be surmised that the choice was most likely influenced, not only by its relatively well-developed prose, but also by its proximity to the center of political and economic power, Manila, which is located in a major Tagalog region. As a national concern for progress, there must be one language that all the Filipinos can relate with, to bond them together as they express their ideals as a people. Consequently, the well-facilitated transfer and communication of a Filipino identity through a codified, organized national language has rooted the consciousness of global Filipinos in a deep knowing of WHO WE ARE, and is bequeathing to future generations a proud and firm understanding of our cherished heritage and values.
My name is Fausto “Aka Tito” de Vera. Growing up in Quezon province, I have a rich remembrance of this town, my home. There are two de Veras, one is spelled De Veyra, and mine, De Vera. These 2 families used to be one, hailing from Tanauan, Batangas. There were 2 brothers, one was smart enough and asked his sibling if he can use their family lands to send his children to college, so they did, and became all professionals. When the time came, to talk about distribution/sharing of the inheritance, he has denied and kept the heirloom to himself. His brother, who is my great grandfather cannot express his anger in any other way but took his bolo and buried its sharp edges with all his strength and anger into a bench. He then prepared three horse-driven caravans with all his belongings and headed to Quezon and started anew. This is the story I have heard from my father, how he earned those lands and now handed to me. When I was young, there was a relative who died in Tanauan. As we went to visit and paid our last respects, a cousin showed me the bench with the mark of my great grandfather’s fury. Over time, the wound it caused to my father’s heart has healed, but our family name persisted without the “Y”.
I have no recollection of meeting or knowing him, except the common stories that I heard and passed on over time. Jaime Carlos de Veyra was born on November 4, 1873, in Tanauan, Leyte Province. He attended public and private schools, and finished college at Colegio de San Juan de Letran, Manila in 1893. He studied law, philosophy, and letters at the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, from 1895–1897. If he is one of the children of my great grandfather’s brother whom he sent to college with the family’s lands, and became successful, if he is the one who became the Governor of Leyte in 1906 and 1907, and a member of the Philippine House of Representatives, 1907–1909; if he is the father of Manuel R. de Veyra who was a doctor during World War II serving at Bataan and Jesus R. de Veyra who became a judge and was Dean of the Ateneo Law School, 1976–1981, bringing pride and honor to our family and the nation, then the means have served the purpose for a common good. We, too, can use our wealth and inheritance to serve the many, and not just the few.
I got the chance to visit Tanauan, Leyte, with my father to visit the center of De Veyra clan situated near the gulf years ago. We were there to amend the feud of the past, but soon the Typhoon Yolanda devastates the region and swept the De Veyras into the ocean. It was sad, I felt the pain of a failed new beginning to reunite the two de Veyras together.
I may not have the education that he got, but my heart is light with the honor and legacy that he shared with us.
6 B.O.S.S.: The Battle of Sibuyan Sea
Elena O. Abella burst into tears when she saw the book that I ordered today, The Crucible by Colonel Yay Marking. More so when she glanced upon the frontispiece showing the author and her three young children. Manang, as we fondly call her, has been telling us for months since she joined our Home Living, about the woman who have influenced her life and brought her to America, where her story begins with the Marking of a Hero Unknown.
Yellowed, brittle, and dog-eared was the title page of the book given to her (You-Forever by T. Lobsang Rampa). On it, Manang Elena wrote: “Col. Marking Yay Panlilio was a writer, she wrote the book, Where Our Country Begins, Vol I & Vol II & Vol III. The books are in my home in Pangasinan. She gave me (3 of them), “very lovely.” On the next page, a picture of Col. Yay was pasted and Elena wrote: “She was a journalist in the Manila Times. Yay was my first employer since 1962 until her death in 1978. Also pasted was another photo: “Maya was her granddaughter. I took care of Maya since she was three years old until her teens.” On the back of the book’s front cover, Yay wrote: “Xmas, 1977... “Ellen, This will explain all about everything. It is the book most recommended by professors. Most words are clear here, for others, use your dictionary. May you enjoy and put only to good use your special talent. Good Luck, Ma’am.”
When Yay went back to the US in 1976, Manang Elena accompanied her for medical treatment. Yay was very sick, unable to swallow except for the pureed food, Manang prepares. With utter devotion and compassion, Manang took care of her as they lived alone together in Aquebogue, the far end of Long Island, until her final hours, recalling it with tears flowing down her cheeks. To this day, Evangeline (Niki) Falek, the granddaughter of Yay through daughter Rae, is still in touch with their Manang Elena who is now eighty-two years old. Still, her eyes teary every time she reminisces life with Yay and how she held her beloved employer and friend in her arms as she died. Manang remembers how Yay taught her to be firm and proud, to stand her ground for truth, to be brave and forthright like a soldier---values she has imbibed to this day that have guided her own journey in America.
Yay Valera Curtis Panlilio Marking, a journalist, born in Denver, Colorado to an Irish father and a Filipina mother, who grew up in the freedom of the United States and came to Manila as a newspaperwoman when she was eighteen. During the war, she left her children, a daughter and two sons with trusted friends in Manila and she took to the hills as second in command of a Guerrilla group commanded by Marcos V. Agustin. She was the “brains” and the "mammy" of the guerillas and a regiment was named after her, hence Yay Marking's Guerillas. This guerrilla group harassed the Japanese Army until Gen. MacArthur liberated the Philippines. In 1951 "Colonel Yay" Panlilio Marking was awarded the United States Medal of Freedom with Silver Palm. After the war she married Gen. Marking (Marcos Villa Augustin) on September 11,1945 in Chihuahua, Mexico.
The Crucible: Activism Continues Post War
Her1950 book, The Crucible, is an account of her own biography. Denise Cruz, editor, wrote these excerpts in her Introduction, “The book narrates her incredible experience as a journalist, triple agent, leader in the Philippine resistance against the Japanese, and lover of the guerilla general Marcos V. Agustin. Panlilio’s focus moves from the war-torn streets of Japanese-occupied Manila, to battlegrounds in the Philippine countryside, to the rural farmlands of central California.”
“For Yay Panlilio, however, The Crucible was meant to be more than a good story, and certainly more than a mere account of her life experiences during the war. Rather she saw the book as a necessary act of political redress and retribution. Ever the consummate journalist, Panlilio published The Crucible with clear objectives: to publicize the important yet unrecognized contributions of the guerilla resistance in the war against Japan, to recognize the role of Filipinas in wartime efforts, and to articulate a nationalist formation of mestiza Filipina identity (underscoring mine). The book is a complicated often vexed attempt to champion Philippine independence and Filipina American feminism. To appeal to a U.S. audience, Panlilio uses organizing metaphors of motherhood and domesticity (what she calls “guerilla motherhood”), emphasizes her dual Filipina and American heritage as the biological foundation of her ability to represent both countries, and fosters a potential sisterhood that includes U.S. readers.”
“But unfortunately, The Crucible failed to significantly influence how Americans or Filipinos remember World War II. Despite the many war-era books that mention Panlilio with admiration and respect, her name is now relatively unknown. Today, few Americans are aware of the guerilla resistance in the Philippines, and fewer still know the details of Filipinas’ involvement. And although Macmillan’s release of The Crucible, one of the first Filipina-authored works of literature published by a U.S. press, was a landmark in literary history, the book was never recognized or studied by scholars of Philippine or Asian American literature. The Crucible is a call to reconsider how we tell the story of World War II.”
From Kate Holliday’s Foreword on the Crucible, “I first saw her in 1945 in one of the crummiest hotel rooms I have ever entered. Fresh from the blood-drenched provinces she had defended, she had brought her three children by army transport to their grandmother in California. The Red Cross had arranged for available shelter, and I found her on Los Angeles’ “Skid Row” in a corner room furnished with two enormous double beds of brass, an ancient dressing table, and a rug brown with the droppings of humanity. There was a telephone hanging from the woodwork by the door, and a cubicle which boasted a three-foot tin tub.
Yay, hearing I was in the writing racket, has asked me to come down. The newspaper business was and still is one of her greatest loves. Before the war she was the finest woman reporter in the Philippines, and she had begged for a “chance to talk the language.” When I saw where she was living, I was shocked. Then she made the statement which, more than any other, indicated what the preceding three years had been for her. “But it has walls, Kate,” she said. “It has walls!”
In The Crucible, she had a larger reason for writing it: she wanted to tell the citizens of the country in which she was born about her “boys.” In that, I thoroughly agreed, for they---and the man who led them---made an army out of legend. Yet someone should tell you what Yay herself endured. Someone should point out that although, less than a year before the occupation, she had broken her leg in an automobile accident and it had not healed properly, she marched over mountains with the rest of them And that although, shortly before the bombs started falling, she had spent three weeks in a hospital with her heart packed in ice, suffering from a cardiac condition from which the doctors thought she would never recover, she worked eighteen hours a day in the hills, lived on less than nothing, fought her own war against the Japs. And that she too had malaria and dysentery for months, lay in muddy huts when she had the awful chills and fever, marched in the few hours a day when she was free of them, rarely had the solace of drugs of any kind. This takes courage. Yay has it. Yet she is humble. Her importance in Marking’s outfit must be inferred. She makes herself a shrew, if anything, a gnat singing about them all. But Marking himself has told me that at the end there was not a man among his followers who would not have given his life for her. Many of them did, in fact. Gladly.”
The Marking Guerillas' Creed
The creed imbeds the right of every Filipino to walk in dignity as they bear arms against the enemy, its allegiance to America and the hope for an independent Philippines. "We believe that God is with us all the while we do right, and the victory shall be ours in the end."
On the April 9, 1942 Death March and Fall of Bataan, Yay wrote: “If the least we do is fertilize the soil where we fall, then we grow a richer grain for tomorrow’s stronger nation.”
~Lutgarda M. Resurreccion
Icon of The Aging Fil-Am
Before she was dearly called “Tita Connie”, she has an exciting diplomatic career as Assistant to the Press Minister of the Pakistan Mission to the United Nations for forty three years. She met "almost every significant political figure that had been responsible for the rising (and sometimes falling), the shaping and the molding of the very people who made the history of Pakistan," according to Marium Soomro in an article entitled, "Consuelo: A Window of Pakistan." As she recalls, "It was my second home, the best part of my life." In gratitude, the Pakistani Government awarded her the Tamgha-e-Kidmat, the 7th highest honor given to military persons or civilians upon the invitation of then Prime Minister Motharma Benazir Bhutto.
As she returned to the Fil-Am community, she felt that the best life path for her is to give back and make a difference in the lives of seniors and elderly persons by "Preparing and Enjoying the Golden Years ". Indeed, the best and most satisfying life is serving those who are truly in need. She continued her legacy as the “Face of the Aging Fil-Am.” she has become an icon in her own right, as acknowledged by former Consul Generals of New York, Mario de Leon, Theresa de Vega, and Claro Cristobal. For Connie, old age is a milestone she would like her fellow senior citizens to acknowledge with grace and without isolation and bitterness.
Her ultimate dream, as she founded the Philippine Community Center Services for the Aging, is for it to become an "enduring" institution to serve one of the most forgotten sectors of the Filipino American community and the world at large. She graduated with a major in the Humanities and Social Welfare from the University of the Philippines in the 1960’s.
She was married to Mark Shaffer, a well-decorated educator. She has a lone daughter, May Clites and 2 grandchildren, Cheyenne and Sebastien Clites who will carry her legacy forever. She led a vibrant New Yorker's life, with her roots in the Filipino-American community. ~MDS
While Irene found Ka Felix to learn about God, there was my guru who I have met while searching for God, Dr. Prashant Shah. I do not hesitate to mention his legacy as he influenced me to feel spiritual, even just a little while because of his untimely death. As we search for God who is as wide as the universe, we narrow even our ways to find Him. How can we make God a reality in our lives? How can we find true answers to our deepest questions? What is the Way to God? Do we have God in us?
I have taken the gist of how to awaken my soul, I will keep Dr. Prashant’s legacy by following his art, of putting God in our midst, while looking from the highest peak! I will speak of his teachings over and over but most of all to live goodness as a way of life by example. He spoke of God as a Mystic Being that we believe because of faith. Somebody we acclaim to be our God, as the same Being who has no name, but who is “I am who I am” in the context of whatever you conceive Him to be. To live as a human being, guided by a spirit. I do not remember him calling the Spirit as God by his name, is it because God is the Spirit that we can only feel within our souls? (191)
I will never forget his words in a singsong way, “Soldier, Soldier, will you marry me?” While he is always delighted with his own kind, soldiers, and kings of and from great pasts, he is also delighted with beautiful women, queens and princesses from kingdoms and palaces of history, near and far. As a modern warrior and innovator, he introduced the Reserve Officers Training Corps (ROTC) in colleges and universities in the Philippines. As an educator, he took a lot of interests and research on history, arts, and humanities. As a writer, he wrote numerous books, particularly on history in his signature style of writing, historical novels. He wrote Las Islas Filipinas, about the history of precolonial Philippines, putting drama in the life of Magellan, his wife, Beatrice, his son Rodrigo, Lapulapu, Rajah Humabon and his Forty Wives, Enrique and Princess Agana's love at first sight and each historical infamous figures. Beside him and his soul mate is a beautiful woman herself, his wife from a young age, Dr. Josefina Velez. They were blessed with 2 children and 5 grandchildren. They are an inseparable duo, a balance and check for Dr. Zal, the Soldier, and Dr. Josie, as the beautiful, and gorgeous woman, his check mate!
Few may remember Cristo Rey Alunan, his pen name, but I hope someday, his legend will rise as the literary and entertainment worlds will embrace the beauty of his novels, as it happened behind the scene of each hero and villain’s lives of love and romance intertwined in history. ~MDS
They say that in priesthood, you must leave your family behind. You will serve God better if you have no attachment. This is of the past. The priest cannot do his ministry alone, he needs help, from more than anybody than his family and friends. Fr. Ben lived in the slums of Smokey mountain, a dumpsite pile of garbage in Tondo, Manila. It took him thirty years living with/in this pitiful plight of Filipinos, to come up with a solution on how to get out and breath fresh air. He moved to relocate his parishioners to a better housing and living conditions beginning from a change of heart, thinking, and values. He advocated for mother earth through MAID, Mga Anak ni Inang Daigdig. He advocated for literacy and leave nobody behind through the Sandiwaan Learning Center. He advocated for industry and sustainability. He advocated for health and nutrition, with his WOW for Women’s Health, Organic Farming, and organic vegetarian restaurant. His project on Bamboohay, planting a million bamboo, E-trading and much more. His initiatives on Solar Panel and Agriculture How can one man do it all? He is a priest first, close to his family and friends and belonging to a community that believes in him. How can the community forget about the legacy of Fr. Ben, a picture of spirituality in the most earthly, human way? He is the legend of the Unlikely Priest, the Revolutionary priest.~MDS
Annette Tersigni used to be a TV star before she became a nurse at age fifty-one. As a nurse, her spirituality became a focus in her practice. She specialized in Yoga, a higher form of prayer. Today, she has added Yoga Nursing among the special fields of the nursing science. While she uses Yoga to nurse body and mind, she trains nurses to become a healer of the Spirit. Watson, a nurse theorist believes in Yoga as a form of self-care and collaborates with the Yoga Nurse Academy which will soon become a legend, an institution of the highest learning.
To Annette, my friend and colleague, it is about a decade or two to move up and build a legacy. I saw her on the process of her pains, but a legend never gives up, spirituality is never lost, once found, it stays. The Nursing World will not close eyes on her, as the Yoga Nurse, the Legend of a Healing Star! (163)
13 Nurses in the Frontlines
The year is 2020 as the International Year of the Nurse. Incidentally, an unprecedented year of Covid 19 Pandemic. Never is a time nurses are called to this mission, greater than wars but from an unseen enemy, a virus. Nurses are caught off-guard, same as the world. Chaos world-wide claiming lives is overwhelming. As the world stopped, nurses continued to respond to the challenge beyond their expectation that put their dedication to the test. Their extraordinary sacrifices as they take care of their patients, their families and themselves are commendable. In this Pandemic Era, the government leaders are called to protect its people, from the highest laws of the land, not to instill fear but convince the millions to comply and do their individual share of survival. As the world keep on standstill and lockdown, people of all faith keep their Trust and Hope in God for Divine Intervention.
This is my opportunity to salute and hail my colleagues, the nurses for their dedication, courage, and service as they put themselves to the frontline without conditions. To those who cared and succumbed, and left their families and young ones. Let us pray that they will continue to respond to this global challenge we never had ever before. The legend of Florence Nightingale as the lady with a lamp rose again. I held that lamp before and I always will. ~MDS