echoknowmix

 I never had a chance to deliver a Valedictory Address in my school days, though I had several occasions of writing for my students and my daughter when she was in prep school because during her elementary school, she wrote her own valedictory address.                  Looking at the meaning of valedictory which means farewell, goodbye, parting – just the thought of it draws me to sadness.   But on the other hand, a valedictory gives one a chance to thank people who had been vital in the success of another.   It also brings back the memories of struggle and triumph over challenges overcame and a realization that success is not handed over, but worked for.   I am drawn to a conclusion that I, too, can make my own valedictory not as a top academic achiever but a   Mom of a graduate.                 ...

I was invited to a gathering where people were given citations for exemplary jobs done.  As the proceedings went on, I saw this young lady moving back and forth doing almost all sorts of things to make the affair go smoothly.   I seem to lose energy just by looking at what she was doing. Before the end of the ceremony, a high ranking person,  gave a speech mentioning names whom I heard to be division heads or supervisors of some sort.  Listening to all those litany of praises for a job well done, the face of that lady rushing back and forth attending to every minute detail of the ceremony flashed into my mind.  To me, this little lady deserves the recognition as well. In a corner not far from me, I saw that lady clasping her hands and giving a deep sigh of relief as the ceremony came to an end. In most cases, recognition is not accorded to people who deserves the most, simply because they are not heads of offices or prominent people, or perhaps the...

Since I, regrettably, can't attend a very special event tomorrow, here's a special message from me to my family, and anyone who wants to read. I'm used to death. My father died when I was 11, my grandmother died when I was 13, two of my uncles died when I was young, and I never even got to meet my grandfather. I'm used to bittersweet stories and sad longing and overwhelming grief. I'm used to funerals and going to the cemetery for Father's Day and tragic smiles over what coul d have been. My uncle died when I was 15, just a week ago. It was an accident and unexpected and because of that, all the more devastating. In Les Misearables, Marius sings, "There's a grief that can't be spoken." And I can see that all around. There's the grief of his wife, his children, his siblings, his mother, his father, his friends, his family. There's the grief of his boss, of his neighbors, of his former classmates, of the people who used to buy...

A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Continuation of Political Dynasties in the Philippines, and for Ensuring That Members of Other, Less Influential Families May Win the Elections It is a melancholy object to those, who know the great and long history of our beloved country, or to those who are even vaguely familiar with Philippine politics, to see a yellow ribbon. Once the symbol of the epic yet peaceful revolution inspired by the death of an influential leader and the grieving of his wife, it became a symbol of democracy. These yellow ribbons are often seen during the commemoration of this same event, or during Ninoy Aquino’s death anniversary. However, its most memorable recent reappearance was when Aquino’s son ran for president – and thus, the yellow ribbon became a symbol for the Aquino family and their reign in the field of politics. Time and time again, other families have begun to follow this staple: if they were politicians, then so would their children. It is not unco...

"If you really want to hear about it," protagonist Holden Caulfield opens, with his signature drawl, "the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born . . . and all that David Copperfield kind of crap (Salinger, 1)." Already, his voice is distinct and unbearably sarcastic, showing incredible disdain in so few words. A first-time reader of the classic novel may be surprised at his crassness and tone, and undoubtedly this was the general reaction when the famed Catcher In The Rye was first published in 1951. However, over time, the infamous novel by the reclusive J.D. Salinger has garnered almost universal praise, and is now one of the most widely taught novels in the United States (Aubry, n.p.). The story concerns Holden Caulfield, a smart but troubled kid who, after being expelled from his boarding school in December 1949, spends his time wandering New York City, mourning for the loss of innocence in children, and failing to understand th...

Informant: Mr. Antonio Q. Collado, 89 years old “He is younger in person,” my mother says to me, as we look at the pictures hanged on the wall. My informant is surrounded by the other veterans, no doubt at a gathering of some sort. It is a bit daunting and surreal to see that they are all normal men on the outside, but they have seen – (The terror in a comrade’s eyes, or heard the scream of a man. They have seen guns blazing and war on fire; Japanese men fighting for themselves and Americans fighting for the world; Filipinos - that could have even been them - wondering, hearts beating furiously, if it was going to be their last and praying that it wasn’t.) – things that I never have. As a car parks by the entrance of the Capiz Chapter of the Philippine War Veterans Office, I step out of the building. A man in a Barong Tagalog steps out of the car, and I hastily apologize for the delay after greeting him. Antonio Collado smiles as he leads me and my mother into the office of ...

Wishes, Thinking, and Wishful Thinking My mother is a complicated woman. She is an incredibly strict (though she does not act like it) teacher who likes scaring her students; at the same time, she may cry while watching Korean dramas.   As you may have guessed, my mother is tad eccentric.   That isn’t the only thing that’s odd about her.   Even though it’s obvious that she has a lot of work to do, she somehow manages to be there for me when I ask her to be.   For example, she may have papers to check or grades to compute, but if I ask her to, she would gladly take me out for halo-halo.   That isn’t to say I don’t appreciate it; I just find it odd.   It doesn’t mean I don’t love her – even though I practically never verbalize it – it just means that despite her oddities, I love her all the same.             There are many wishes I would like to wish for my mother.   But in the end, I wish ...