USTMD70 E-MAGAZINE
DECEMBER 2011
HAVE A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY, PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR!
HAPPY, YUMMY THANKSGIVING!
BITE YOUR TONGUE, HOLD YOUR PEN
It has been six months since the piece was written, five when the firestorm started raging that lead to his fall from grace, getting up one of the most prestigious position in the surgical world even before he was to be installed, and four months since he vacated the seat from where it all started. And it will be in October, in San Francisco three months from today, at the 97th Surgical Congress, when the American College of Surgeons will hang the Presidential Medallion on the neck of a woman surgeon from upstate New York, Patricia Numann, MND FACS, 1st Vice-President Elect, instead of Lazar Greenfield, MD FACS who was the President-Elect. It will not be the first time that a woman will be the president of one of the world’s most prestigious surgical societies in the world. In 2005, Kathryn D. Anderson, MD FACS from San Marino, California was installed as the first woman President of the American College of Surgeons in San Francisco during the College’s 91st Annual Congress. But it will be the first time in memory that an incoming President-Elect won’t be installed because of sexist allegation based on an editorial which Dr. Greenfield wrote “to amuse rather than to offend.”
On February of this year, in a Valentine editorial “Gut Feelings” penned by Dr. Greenfield who is the Editor-in-Chief of Surgery News, the official newspaper of the American College of Surgeons, he opined that meeting one’s significant other might have a physiologic basis, proceeding to discuss the mating habits of fruit flies. He then cited research from the Archives of Sexual Behavior, which found that “female college students practicing unprotected sex were less likely to suffer from depression than those whose partners used condoms” and that “their better moods were not just a feature of promiscuity because women using condoms were just as depressed as those practicing total abstinence.” The study also found that the “benefits of semen contact were seen in fewer suicide attempts and better performance on cognition tests.” Noting the therapeutic effects of semen, he concluded, “So there is a deeper bond between men and women than St. Valentine would have suspected, and now we know there is a better gift fo that day than chocolates.”
It was this last statement that did not sit well with some women groups. It spurred a lot of protests about how someone from the high echelons of the College could write something so “offensive to women.” One prominent female professor of surgery at a well-known institution who claims she was “aghast” even publicly resigned her membership at the College in protest. Despite Dr. Greenfield’s explanation and apologies, he had to resign his editorship of the newspaper which he helped launched, and his President-Elect status of an organization that has 77,000 surgeon-members who proudly append the word “Fellow American College of Surgeons” (FACS) after their name.
Nowhere has there been more awareness and sensitivity these days to social issues such as equality grafted to sex, age and race than here in this country. Some statement may represent the speaker’s or the writer’s true intent. Others may not really mean what they say or say what they mean. Others still can be misconstrued or misinterpreted. No matter what, one needs to be mindful of what he or she writes or says especially if that person is prominent or well known. The scrutiny by what somebody calls “speech police” of public pronouncements be it spoken or written that they are not ‘offensive’ or ‘demeaning,’ can be so rigid. Whether it is fair or not, whether it is justified or not, is what provokes debate and controversy.
Not too long ago, former Senator Alan Simpson, a Republican from Wyoming and appointed Co-Chair of the Debt Commission by President Obama, was vehemently criticized and asked to resign from his post at the Debt Commission by the National Older women’s League, an advocacy group when he e-mailed their Executive Director comparing Social Security to “a milk cow with 310 million tits.” He subsequently apologized for his inappropriate analogy, did not resign and remained in his post as a Co-Chair. Larry Summers, former Secretary of the Treasury and recently a member of President Obama’s economic team, earned the ire of women students and advocacy groups in 2005 when he was president of Harvard University. He stated off-handedly that women are inferior to men in their ability to excel in mathematics and the sciences. The statement spurred protests that eventually he had to leave the University. A North Carolina basketball referee avoided harsh punishment for “sexist” comments in a girls’ basketball game when he was given “corrective action” and not a suspension. Ron Franklin, the longest play-by-play announcer of ESPN, working football and basketball for the network since 1987, was let go for “insulting and sexist comments to a female reporter whom he called “sweet baby.” Recently, in April of this year, a Jersey City Superintendent of Schools caused an uproar when he was quoted while speaking at a public function that the school system’s worst enemy “is the young ladies. The young ladies are bad.” Despite the apology, he offered for his insensitive remarks, the Superintendent has not resigned.
The landscape is replete with spoken or written word, usually in a sentence or two that may be abrasive to the sensibilities of some. What it inflicts may be real or imagine. The eventual outcome may or may not be satisfactory to the parties involved. For what he has been portrayed to be because of what someone called “Semengate” editorial, Dr. Greenfield has a number of women surgeons on his side who considers him as above reproach and a member and advocate of women in surgery in his previous capacity as Chairman of the Department of Surgery at Virginia Commonwealth University and later at the University of Michigan where he retired as professor-emeritus. After a meeting with the ACS Board of Regents where again he apologized, he stepped down from his position as president-elect, so that the College “will not be distracted by any issues that would diminish its focus on improving care of the surgical patient,” so says Dr. Carlos Pellegrini, Chair of the Board of Regents.
There are many surgeons, however; men and women, especially those in academic and surgical society hierarchy who prefer not to comment on the matter for fear of repercussions. I may not have written 128 chapters in surgical textbooks, edited two surgical textbooks, authored and published 360 peer-reviewed papers, or developed a surgical device that literally saved thousands of lives. But whatever miniscule reputation and lifelong accomplishments I may have, I certainly do not wish to have them wiped out by a single sentence I have spoken or written which has been misconstrued or misunderstood. I would have put up a vigorous public fight and not let what I consider an innocent and amusing single statement obliterate what professional reputation I have carefully nurtured all my life.
This much I can say though — I am still a Fellow of the College in good standing. So I better bite my tongue and hold my pen. And I will attend the meeting in San Francisco.
Edward E. Quiros, Editor in Chief of “The Philippine Surgeon,” the official publication of the Society of Philippine Surgeons in America, Inc.
FALL IS HERE
Autumn foliage photo from Lynne
” The sudden dead of Summer had left quite agog,
Distinctly I remember it wasn’t such a long ago
Wither had thee wander from our trysts of yesterdays,
Forgive me if I ponder, “What it from my dev’lish ways?
The Autumn trees are churning Autumn leaves high & low,
but forever I’d be burning from your love that wasn’t so !
-Sir Charles Dunifer
I saw Your Rainbow pass on by.
And thought I’d ask You why,
But then I decided, no way,
For You call all shots Lord,
Only You have the last word,
And we humans resign and say:
“The Rainbow hath worked so hard,
He is to be with You, his reward,
Clearly, surely, no shades of gray.”The Rainbow showed us its colors,
Digital messages and bright images,
To last through ages upon ages.
Digital sounds and many flavors,
Reaching out to cyber space,
So delightful to follow and trace,
No doubt helpful to us road warriors.
We Facebook, Twitter and say hello,
We Skype, we type: ” wuzzup, yo! ”
We iTunes, we iPad, nothing us bores.We iPhone, we iMac, we email,
We’re in touch, we’re everywhere,
We have no limits,we’re here and there,
We find the head and tail,
We joke, we teach,we walk,
Multiple languages we talk,
We boogie, we fly, we sail,
We twist, we shout, we prance,
We can do lots and take the chance,
We can speed or slow down like a snail.Lord, thank You for the Rainbow;
It has enriched our lives,
It helps us venture out of our beehives,
Of course Lord, You already know.
Thank You for the WWW and Internet,
Everything’s from You we shouldn’t forget,
For You lift us all creatures low.
Lord may every mind and heart
Not from You ever depart,
And never away any gift from You throw.
Nature’s MedicineThe rhythmic sound of the waves lapping the shore
gently nudged us into consciousness.
The sea beckoned.
Tiptoeing out and then skipping as we headed towards the sandy shores.
The wind is salty .
The sand tickled our bare feet.
We ran .We walked .We laughed.
We stopped to examine treasures from the sea.
We wrote our names on the sand.
We watched the pelicans fly away with their catch.
There was not a soul on the beach.
We note flickering lights from a distance, against the dark blue -tinged sky.
The moon is still high.
The stars twinkled and winked .
After three miles of our foot prints on the sand , we retraced our path back home. It is daybreak. We watch the sun rise from the East,
The warm waters of the sea caress our tired feet.
We are always grateful for His provisions.
Lynne
Dawn to Dusk by Lynne
Dawn to dusk
Dusk to dawn
Ever present
Ever steadfast
Burning as the mid day sun
Gentle as the cool morning breeze
In stillness , you utter
Our hearts gather
Devotedness unending
Reason can not decipher
Your power manifested
In the beauty that surround
Freely they fly
Merrily they cry
Deep as the blue sea
High as the azure sky
Such is Your love
Thankful all must we
CHRISTMAS ACTUALLY CAME EARLY FOR FILIPINOS IN BOSTON
The Advent celebration came in the form of the San Lorenzo Ruiz statue’s long journey from Manaoag, Philippines to Malden in Massachusetts. It happened in September 2007.
For several years, the Boston Filipino Apostolate (BFA) members had always prayed before a San Lorenzo statue on loan from Dr. Lee. This could no longer go on. In late August 2007, Dr. Lee said that she could no longer allow them to use it. The Boston Filipino Catholics were in a quandary. They did not procure their own icon because they thought it would always be there for their use. Now was the time to get one of their own. The San Lorenzo devotees did what they do best. They prayed for guidance in resolving the problem.
Mini (4th from the left) with her prayer group. Fred, her husband, is farthest right.
This posed a problem. No one could go to the Philippines just in time to get one for the San Lorenzo Feast Day in September. J. Manuel, the Filipino Apostolate Liturgical Coordinator, approached Ate Glo, the coordinator of the Santo Nino Prayer Group. What a coincidence! It turned out that Gloria’s sister lives close to the town of Manaoag in the Province of Pangasinan. This town is known for its excellent craftsmen of religious statues. Within ten days, a huge box containing the San Lorenzo statue arrived on the doorsteps of Ate Glo’s house. That was incredibly fast! The box was quickly opened. The statue was carefully unwrapped. The prayer group of Gloria P, Virgie P, Esther O, Paz M, Minnie and Fred N gazed at the four-foot high statue of a praying San Lorenzo Ruiz. His hands were clasped together and his face was looking up to heaven. It was as if the icon was inspiring the congregation to pray as well. No one knows how San Lorenzo Ruiz looked like but the image was more Spanish than Filipino or Chinese. The prayers of the San Lorenzo devotees were heard. Truly, one cannot underestimate the power of prayer. Prayer works!
Now the “M & M” Twin Cities
Manaoag and Malden – “M & M”–as the San Lorenzo Ruiz devotees now call the twin cities — have more in common than just being linked by a Filipino saint who lived in the 1600. Established in the 1600s, these old places have a similar population of about 53,000. Malden’s area of five square miles resembles Manaoag. But the similarity does not end there. The Filipinos in both places have a strong devotion to the Holy Rosary. A Living Rosary precedes the Filipino Mass in Malden while In Manaoag, Filipinos venerate “Our Lady of the Most Holy Rosary.”
The town of Manaoag in Pangasinan province, famous for its “Lady of the Most Holy Rosary” shrine, has seen countless miracles and healing powers attributed to the Virgin Mary. Located some 200 kilometers (125 miles) from Manila, it is about a five-hour leisurely drive. Its Church of the Most Holy Rosary was established 300 years ago; it is older than the churches in Lourdes, Fatima and Guadalupe. The shrine is visited by almost a million visitors during its peak months making it the town’s biggest tourist attraction. Thus, the town is dubbed the Pilgrimage Center of Northern Philippines. It is also known as the “Antipolo of the North.” Antipolo is a town in Rizal province that is a famous Marian site of the “Virgin of Antipolo,” also the site of many healing miracles.
Malden is a suburban city just five miles north of Boston. Once the richest city in Massachusetts, that label no longer fits. Malden has changed a great deal. Old money has moved out. Ethnically diverse, young suburbanites flooded in, drawn to it by its close accessibility to Boston with its two subway stations. Like some American cities, it is a city of contrasts. The slim majority is the early white immigrants while the rest are the fast-growing recent immigrants. The city’s population is 20% Asian. Out of the town’s total population of 53,340, a recent census showed that 157 are Filipinos, about 0.3%. Despite the population change, racial tolerance has long prevailed in the city. Here in this welcoming atmosphere, the Filipinos found a place to gather, meet and worship.
In the greater Boston area, Filipinos can always avail themselves of a Filipino Mass every Sunday, replete with Filipino cuisine and socialization after the Mass. A regular Filipino Mass is held every second Sunday in the St. Joseph Church in downtown Malden. Other Sunday Masses where the Filipino congregation come together are the following: West Roxbury (first Sunday), Boston College (1st & 3rd Sunday) and Quincy and Braintree (4th Sunday). Established in 1902, the St. Joseph Church reflects an international and ethnical awareness that comes from the city’s diversity. Its current pastor, Fr. William Minigan, has welcomed the Filipinos wholeheartedly. He prepared a special place for the San Lorenzo Ruiz statue on the altar.
San Lorenzo Ruiz
Very little is known about San Lorenzo Ruiz. He was born in Binondo, Manila, of a Chinese father and a Tagalog mother. His father taught him Chinese while his mother taught him Tagalog. Both of his parents were devout Roman Catholics.
Ruiz served as an altar boy at the convent of Binondo church. After being educated by the Dominican friars for a few years, Ruiz earned the title of escribano (calligrapher) because of his skillful penmanship. He became a member of the Cofradia del Santissimo Rosario (Confraternity of the Most Holy Rosary). He married and had two sons and a daughter with Rosario, a native. Life for them was generally peaceful, religious and full of contentment.
That’s about to change in 1636. While working as a clerk at the Binondo Church, Ruiz was falsely accused of killing a Spaniard. Due to the allegation, Ruiz sought asylum on board a ship with three Dominican priests, a Japanese priest and a layman who was a leper. Ruiz and his companions left for Okinawa, Japan on June 10, 1636, with the aid of the Dominican fathers. These missionaries will ultimately perform the conversion of the natives by preaching and teaching, not by violence. At that time, Japan was a place of grit, steeped in a history of violence and a legendary aversion to outsiders. Ruiz and his companions probably knew of the danger ahead of them and were prepared to meet the challenge. But nothing, nothing in their past, could prepare them for a future ordeal.
The Tokugawa shogunate had earned the reputation of persecuting Christians by the time Ruiz had arrived in Japan. Tokugawa wasted no time and the missionaries were arrested and thrown into prison. They did not stay there for long. After two years, they were transferred to Nagasaki to face trial by torture. That was a customary judicial procedure at that time. If you survived the torture, then you were innocent.
On September 27, 1637, Ruiz and his companions were awakened at dawn and taken to the Nishizaka Hill, where they were to be tortured by being hung upside down a pit. This form of torture was known as tsurushi (釣殺し) in Japanese or horca y hoya in Spanish.
That’s their way of investigating at that time. The method was supposed to be an extremely painful and slow torture. Though the victim was bound, one hand was always left free so that victims may be able to signal a recantation of beliefs. In such cases they would be freed. Ruiz and their companions were hung upside down with their heads inside the well.
Their temples were slit open to let blood drip slowly until they died from blood loss and suffocation. It was a painful, slow death. Despite their suffering, Ruiz and his fourteen companions refused to renounce Christianity to spare their lives. Their body was cremated and their ashes where thrown into the sea. Before he died, he reputedly said:
| “ | Isa akong Katoliko at buong pusong tinatanggap ang kamatayan para sa Panginoon, kung ako man ay may sanlibong buhay, lahat ng iyon ay iaalay ko sa Kanya. | ” |
(English): I am a Catholic and wholeheartedly accept death for the Lord; if I have a thousand lives, all of them I will offer to Him.)
San Lorenzo Ruiz was the kind of man who could die for God and religion a thousand times if he had to. Canonized by Pope John Paul II on October 28, 1987, San Lorenzo Ruiz holds the honor of being the first Filipino Saint, the “most-improbable of saints,” as Pope John II described him during his canonization ceremony. Why the most improbable? I have no idea and I won’t try to guess. It remains a mystery to me.
To mark the arrival of the San Lorenzo Ruiz Statue, a solemn Tagalog Mass was held at St. Joseph Church on Sept. 9, 2007. The Mass was preceded by a praying and singing procession that took place in the church grounds. The statue brought up the rear of the procession, which was the place of honor. Some parishoners were just glad to spruce up the statue. Cely C and Paz M had decorated it earlier with a lei of sampaguita flowers and rosary beads. It stood on a platform borne by Nards G, Peping V, Jose C & Danny T. The attendees solemnly prayed the rosary together during the procession to show unity in prayer with Christ. The procession ended in the church where the statue was carefully carried to its special place on the altar.
The church was full of devotees. Fr. Celestino P, the spiritual director of the Boston Filipino Apostolate, concelebrated the Mass with six other Filipino Jesuit priests from Boston College. The popular Malden Filipiniana Choir, led by the versatile pianist Evelyn D, sang the stirring Filipino religious music of Fr. Eduardo Hontiveros, SJ, the Father of Philippine liturgical music. Special prayers to San Lorenzo Ruiz were recited before the recession. To mark the end of the Mass, the lively San Lorenzo Ruiz hymn was joyously sang. After the Mass, there was a fun-filled reception in the Parish Hall, where food, camaraderie, stories, entertainment and picture-taking were shared. A participant was heard to say, “I am so glad I am here. I wanted so much to join in the prayers of the installation ceremony.”
This is just one of many examples of how the religious spirit continues to thrive in the Filipino community in Massachusetts.
Editor’s Note: A second Filipino saint, Blessed Calungsod of Molo, Iloilo, has been approved for canonization. Molo is a Chinese town in Iloilo where the famous pancit molo originated. This article was originally published in MabuhayRadio.com.
Fred Donaire (with wife Florie), Director, San Lorenzo Ruiz Association of America, Inc.
This is not the pancit Molo I remember from Prince’s Kitchenette or Fatima on Calle Real in Iloilo City but it was good. I used store-bought wonton wrappers and they worked just fine. I processed the filling in my ancient Cuisinart, a mixture of pork, shrimp, garlic and yellow onions and made stock from a whole chicken I boiled with slivers of ginger, Italian parsley and celery stalks. I found out that adding surplus filling that I dropped in half teaspoonfuls into the boiling broth made the resulting soup taste closer to what I remember. Then I added my own emendations: baby bokchoy and a few drops of sesame oil. Photo and article by Orlando.
RESTAURANT REVIEW
The New Formosa Seafood Buffet, a Review
In the Philippines, Chinese restaurants were everywhere and were, outside of the mercado, often the only choice for dining out. The situation is changed now. Restaurants offering native Filipino food but spruced up for the modern palate are sprouting as expression of a reborn nationalism, especially among young, educated Filipinos. My nephew even opened a traveling kiosk selling various flavors of guinamos, that lowly, smelly, native counterpart to the Western European anchovy!
The change in the U.S. is even more marked. Until the 1980s, ethnic restaurant meant Chinese restaurant, and Cantonese-American at that. Now, of course, we have Indian restaurants and sushi joints at every corner and Mexican groceries and restaurants are appearing even faster to serve the fast-growing Mexican expatriates. These are usually families with many children (Catholics, you know).
The new Chinese restaurants are no longer your familiar Cantonese. Insular Americans, even here in the Midwest, are finally getting their palates tickled by the rich variety of regional Chinese cooking. China is a gigantic country and its culture bespeaks the gigantic diversity. Surely this is the global village social gurus have been predicting and that we’re now in ferment of comprehending, fighting off (xenophobia is universal), and, for some of us, appreciating!
8 China Buffet (eight is a lucky number among the Chinese) used to be my go-to place after the now defunct Forbidden City (that in its day was the first to offer a Far East, not just Chinese, menu). Forbidden City is gone and 8 China has been floundering since The Journey opened in Fishers. Now the owners are trying to recapture their cutting-edge position riding the new popularity of seafood (yes, even among native-born Hoosiers) as our population think “healthy” and “cholesterol-friendly.”
Formosa Seafood Buffet opened today. When I called at eleven this morning the guy who answered the phone told me there was already a long line of people trying to get in. When I got there shortly before noon, the parking lot was full. Yes, it may just give TJ a run for the Chinese-food-lover’s money.
New uniforms outfitted many of the same people I knew from 8 China Buffet but the place was bustling with new staff, too, each cadre distinguished by their distinctive uniform. Maitre d’ staff had white and gold blouses, waiters rich maroon jackets, busboys had plain white shirts, and wandering from table to table were largely Caucasian (they spoke English!) manager surrogates in long white jackets. The latter asked the diners if they needed anything, anything at all, and if we did, the need was quickly taken care of! This is unheard of in two-dollar-sign restaurants!
Five long rows of steam-heated dishes line the central room whose stadium-like spaciousness was not mitigated by pillar, wall or partition. I was reminded me of an Asian market, lines of vendors under an open sky. Close to a half of the offerings were the old standby from 8 China but there were more than a handful of new dishes. At the top of my list were: pork rind in a rich sauce with veggies, spinach buns (the wheat pastry was thin like wet napkin, unlike the Middle Eastern spanokopita), crispy squid (thin pieces so they were tasty-crisp through), steamed white fish (tender and just the other side of mushy), fried “spring” chicken, crispy pork ribs and beef sticks (thin fillets of marinated beef still hot from the grill). One of the front desk staff who knew me from 8 China told me that the weekend brunch include wandering dim sum carts!
Formosa (recalls the old name of Taiwan, meaning “beautiful”) has some ways to go to seriously compete with The Journey but the new dishes were wonderful and all freshly cooked. It certainly has promise and the price, same as that charged at 8 China, might mean the inevitable demise of the older restaurant.
Part of my interest in the new restaurant hinged on how the owners designed a new restaurant. There is the choice of food to serve but beyond that, what other choices do a business owner take to separate himself from the competition? FCB tried to go for elegant. The booths were Chinese rosewood, the napkins were thick cotton oversized hankies matching the waiter’s jackets, the chopstick were long, lacquer-like black heavy plastic sticks. The dining areas were spacious but more people-friendly than the buffet room. You should see the bathroom with OVOToilet fixtures in gold against black faux-marble countertops. Instead of the goop most buffet offer as ice cream they had nine flavors of real ice cream and in addition to the restaurant-supply Chinese cakes good Bundt cakes. (The lemon cake was terrific.)
The staff was perhaps the big difference. The Chinese staff seated the patrons but the waiters and wandering quality-control staff were Caucasian or Hispanics who spoke English. The busboys, of course, were Mexicans. I was most impressed, after the food, by the incredible number of staff floating around. I congratulated the new manager, a former veteran waiter at 8 China. He was decked in ill-fitting Mao jacket but beaming with pride.
Just having a floor manager seemed to me a most unusual feature. Several members of the Chinese family that owns the new restaurant were also floating around, not interacting with the diners (unlike at the old Forbidden City where the owner herself went from table to table) but checking to make sure everything was running smoothly.
Here once again we see the Chinese showing us how they do business! Big and elegant they know how to do but now they’re borrowing a thing or two from American restaurants, like providing staff who speak the language and can explain the dishes and address diners’ needs. Viva diversity and the new global economy! (Written by Orlando G).
Tiny Violets Photo by Pete Calope
Santa Maria de Guadalupe “The Virgin of Guadalupe”
Photo by LynneOn December 9,1531, Our Lady desired to have a church built on a hill in Central Mexico.
Juan Diego, an Aztec indian was a recent convert to the Christian Faith. He was chosen by our Mother Mary to relay a message to the Bishop of Tenochtitlan , Fray Juan de Zumarraga.
On Tepayac Hill , our Mother Mary , appeared to Juan Diego on three occasions.
The reluctant messenger had to produce evidence to the Bishop that his story was not a figment of his imagination.On her third appearance to Juan Diego, our Lady provided proof of the veracity of his account . A tilma is an apron made of cactus fiber , which peasants wore back then. Juan used his tilma to carry the roses back to show the bishop as proof of Mary’s apparition. It was cold in the mountains , not the season for roses, and yet , there were beautiful roses on the hills .
Following the instructions of Mother Mary, Juan gathered the the roses and used his tilma to carry the roses back to show the Bishop. Juan opened his tilma and let the roses drop to the floor. The bishop and his companions, fell to their knees .The image of our Lady of Guadalupe was imprinted on the tilma exactly as Juan described her to the bishop .
Mary, as Santa Maria de Guadalupe is the God- bearer . This image shows that she was with child , carrying the son of God, Jesus.She actually looks Hispanic in this image, with her dark hair and olive skin, like a Filipina .
Our Lady of Guadelupe is the Patroness of the Americas and Filipinos abroad .
Her feast day is celebrated on December 12. To this day,the miraculous tilma can be viewed at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Tepeyac ,Mexico City, Mexico.
The tilma with the image of Mary remains intact . It is a mystery how the image was imprinted . It’s creation is unexplainable . The tilma shows no sign of deterioration after more than 4 centuries .It survived a bombing, fires , constant exposure to the elements and flash photography. It is indeed a miracle.
This Marian Apparition attained Holy See approval on May 25, 1754 during the time of Pope Benedict XIV . In 1987, Juan Diego was declared venerable by Pope John Paul the ll
And was beatified on May6, 1990 by Pope John Paul ll. He was canonized in 2002 as Saint Juan Diego Cuahtlatoazin.Our Lady is known as “the protector and advocate of the indigenous people “.She is the “one who crushes the serpent”. “The Queen of Mexico”
Lynne
My Hometown, Virginia Beach
BOOK REVIEW
Morning after another last week I woke up wanting to get to the computer to start writing. It’s all because of Jewish-American writer, André Aciman, whose first feature book, Out of Egypt, put me under his spell.
Aciman had given a talk on his latest book, Eight White Nights, at Washington, DC Jewish Community Center on March 14, 2010 and I listened to the recording several days in a row while working the treadmill at my gym. Hearing him talk about his writing had me hot and bothered and ready to go: do my own writing!
I found Eight White Nights (published Feb. 2, 2010) at Half Price. I read four pages then dipped here and there throughout the book. I knew I wouldn’t read it through so I returned it. What happened?
I love reading memoirs when they are written to evoke that certain quality we have as children and that consummate writers alone can recreate. Out of Egypt was such a book. More than any other book I’ve read before or after, the book is the very incarnation of a book on nostalgia, that quality of remembrance so sweet to many of us maybe because nostalgia is our first experience of love. The sum of vivid memories from our childhood—the fragrance of flowers, the trees and foliage outside the door, the aroma of cooking food and the feast days of our childhood, the look and texture of images like cloth woven from our richest store—on this we model love long before we’re old enough to know what love is.
Love here is not love that is the biological basis for relationships that grownups mean when they conjure up the word. Love here is something more fundamental, something closer to the soul perhaps, the basis for everything we are that as adults we forget in an avalanche of grownup understanding. To evoke nostalgia is to go back to that first love we had when love was like food or breath of air or thoughts incandescent.
Reading Out of Egypt I not only entered Aciman’s childhood world of Alexandria; I entered into my own childhood in La Paz on the banks of the Iloilo River in the Philippines. Reading Aciman’s description of his family and what they all did in those days I met my own nostalgia for those things in the past that are forever lost to us and that we seek not in life again but in art or literature or the highfaluting philosophies or religions of our adult years.
In fact, after Out of Egypt, André Aciman’s next book was Call Me by Your Name, a book about first love. For me, this second book fulfilled the promise of the first. It was not as richly larded with details of memory but “trailing clouds of glory” still, not yet cut off from the naïve love of our childhood when as Wordsworth wrote we were closer to our beginnings, to God “that is not now as it hath been.”
Did he perhaps exhaust his store of nostalgia, that primordial energy seeking its source in divinity, writing Out of Egypt, then Call Me by Your Name? One would hope not. Novelists often find the seeds for their first book or two in these pregnant memories and those that become writers must find other sources within themselves. Eight White Nights is not the book that establishes Aciman as a fiction writer.
What were missing were the trailing clouds of glory. And admittedly, for me, the setting. As much as I love New York City, my first home town after coming to America, the Big Apple does not evoke the powerful attraction close to the soul that places around the Mediterranean hold for me. We can’t go home again but in a world that turns like a ball we can go to another part of it that is like that source home we came from yet different enough that we can be “a child” again with what we have learned along the way to becoming an adult.
The settings that appeal to me have bougainvilleas and oleanders, palm trees and mountains that lie not far from beaches kissed by briny breezes or stalk the shores with towering cliffs and over everything sun and sunshine. Out of Egypt was set in Alexandria, a little bit of Greece on the southern shore of the Mediterranean, Call Me in Italy across the Roman Sea.
We are the products of our past, the adults that grow from the children that we were. Writing on nostalgia can be indulgence in feelings unless writers can couple them with artifice, the craft of altering intent to suit the needs of the moment. Through these natïve emotions a man reaches back into his childhood for that forbidden fruit he was once privy to—when the world was Paradise and he was Creator of the little known world, the secret world of procreative energy.
Recommended books from our USTMD70 classmates: The Help, The Elegance of the Hedgehog, Still Alice, Call Me My Name, Out of Egypt
CARTOONS FROM SIR CHARLES
SEPTEMBER: Fred Donaire (Sep 2), Marietta Lozada (Sep 3), Johanna Valencia (Sep 7), Art Jurao (Sep 10), Jose Robles, Alice Lachenal-Dijamco, Freddie Custodio
OCTOBER: Luzbella Marcelo (10/1), Luz Bunuan, Gil Marasigan, James Zipagan, Charles Dunifer, Glo Montinola, Yet Dizon., Suzette Correa-Miclat (10/20). Boy Margallo, Evelyn Villena, Dado Castillo, Raffy Poblete, Florante Lomibao
NOVEMBER: Joe Leoncio, Connie Arceo, Erlinda Santos, Noel Guanzon, Charlie Capati, Mirla Manito, Mags Tiamson. Evelyn Basco, May Capati, Herminia Gayos, Vivien Gamo, Carmelita Mirabueno, Angie Espinosa, Cora Golez, Gani Laurencio, Greg Aglipay, Rod Polintan, Max Basco, Ronnie Jariol, Dulce Dungo
DECEMBER: Rancie Ragon-Tolosa, Deng Sitjar, Ed Quiros, Roger Liboon, Jessie Navarro, Evelyn Austria. Vicky Co, Seth Policarpio (12/25), Efren Regio
RECOGNITION:
Real Money: Should I Invest Retirement Savings in a Variable Annuity?
To view the entire article, go to http://www.kiplinger.com/magazine/archives/invest-retirement-savings-variable-annuity.html?topic_id=37
Lynda Baquero of NBC did a video interview of Norman San Agustin on December 1, 2011. As published in People Magazine over a decade ago, Norma and Biba’s only child died of a head injury from a ski accident. over a decade ago. Since then, they went on a mission to promote helmets for children in ski slopes and for a well-equipped and well-staffed medical emergency plan in ski slopes. Because of their efforts, New Jersey became the first state to impose helmets on children and teens below the age of 18. Nowadays, kids skiing without helmets is history. Watch the video on this link:http://www.nbcnewyork.com/video/#!/on-air/as-seen-on/Finding-The-Right-Helmet-For-Ski-Safety/134872768
Congratulations to Charlie Capati for being the Gawad Kalinga (GK) guest speaker during the GK Thanksgiving dinner hosted by the GK of Hampton Beach, VA. He was the recipient of the Most Outstanding Award for Community Service from the UST Medical Alumni Association of America.
July issue’s baby photo was of Ted Mariano
L-R: Jing, Jing’s wife Vangie, Mila, Mon; Photo by Mon
Seated: L-R:
Clockwise: sitting: Max, Pepot, Rechie, Rita, Luz C, Jun B
Seated: L-R: Luz B, Puring, Rose C, Bene Balagtas, Phoebe Lim, Butch G
Greg Aglipay and Butch in the Chicago Mini-reunion; Photo by Yet.
Seated: L-R: Ando, Ismael, Rod Polintan, Roland, Robbie &, in the foreground, Ralph, Max
L-R: Seated:Roy, Gally, unknown, Monet
L-R: Mila, JunB, Gally, Monet (standing), unknown, Butch; Photos by Roy G
L-R: Joey, unknown, unknown, Marife, May, Angie, Charlie, Noel
L-R: Carlos Albert (deceased), Greg Aglipay, Erlinda Aguilar, Soledad Bernaldez, Teresita Camaya, Evelyn austria, Ramon Abragan, Brenda Caparros, Amy Briones, Melba Abadilla, Lito Atienza, Wilfredo Alarcon
L-R: Seated: Willie, Lito, Carolos, Greg, Monet
To the class of USTMD70,wishing you all wherever you are, a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. From Joey (St. Joseph) and Marife (Blessed Virgin Mary) |
Perception, Our Unique View of a Slippery Universe |
A friend who has moved away used to visit in the summer bringing me her herbed vinegar in long-necked, amethyst-colored bottles with simple garland and fruit designs. One does not usually think vinegar when remembering someone fondly but somehow those bottles have come to iconize the brief times we spent together.
How I perceive events, how others too appear to perceive events especially events we’re privy to together and divergently describe them, endlessly fascinate me. Not that by dwelling on the observable nature of perception understanding would necessarily purify its objects for me because nothing approaching human seems powerful enough to be its alembic but because the faculty of perception itself seems so at the core of what we call experience that any attempt to see it in action feels somehow right, even a responsibility for anyone interested in what makes us human.
To purify perception is antithetical: by its nature perception is subjective, a phenomenon of the inner self, mind sailing into its native harbor, its home port, its own part of the sea where it naturally belongs.
Mentioning those summer gifts to my friend, I heard back from her: “Oh, if I’d known you loved my purple basil and garlic vinegar, I’d have kept you supplied!”
Friends, mirrors of our different worlds, provide tiny escapes from perceptions that bind us in ignorance. Relationships are so beautiful because they add to our otherwise hermetically closed worlds that we can glimpse other worlds outside it, beside it: we don’t have to live alone as we do; we connect.
Awareness of the operation of perception may be end in itself. It’s not necessary to rid ourselves of experience. Imagine life stripped of perception and it’s life without meaning! For perception infuses an impersonal world momentarily with our presence and presence is, like it or not, what creates meaning.
I raise herbs on my tiny deck facing the lake so concocting herb-infused vinegars is no great feat but my vinegar would not be anything like my friend’s. Perception would have been so far from the icon I remember. It’s the old lila of Hindu philosophy, so is nothing new.
As humans we are immersed in the sea of our own making and perception is one of its creators. To be human is to live immersed in our unique “seeing,” our own karma-mediated perception and intoxicated we identify appearance as reality. Should we avoid intoxication?
Without the intoxication of perception would life still be the delight (and terror) it is to live?
So we take the entire spectrum of experience as it is, consoling ourselves when we’re located on an unpleasant point to see we’re moving endlessly on a slippery slope, now down but later up again, motion that distinguishes us for being alive, being human.
“It won’t be the same,” I wrote my friend, “but I’ll do it anyway. For the sake of our friendship, for the sake of what is gone.”
Indeed we might like to keep our friendships where they were when they showered us with grace and abundance but letting go too is human. Letting go we turn the carousel round: what goes up comes back down, what is gone returns. Maybe not in the form we recognize at once but it all comes back.
Merry Christmas to all and to all friendship, love and return!
Many thanks to the contributors of our e-magazine. Without them, this
taboc 
