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Lirio and Mikey catch the Broadway musical ‘The King and I.’ Mikey has seen autism-friendly performances, such as ‘Lion King,’ ‘Aladdin,’ and ‘Spider-Man’ — some of them more than once!

In the beginning of her journey into autism advocacy, Lirio Sobreviñas-Covey was like some parents whose children had the condition: “I was in denial.”

She and her husband Michael brushed aside unwelcome remarks that their younger son, Mikey, was too quiet, too slow, and a little delayed in his speech. They saw some troubling clues, but as a psychologist and a long-time professor of psychology at Columbia University, she knew individuals develop at their own pace. The Coveys have an older son, Billy, who was precocious as a boy.

A neurologist used the term Pervasive Developmental Disorder to describe Mikey’s condition. It turned out to be the umbrella term for Minimal Brain Dysfunction, a form of learning disability that can mean anything from speech delay to Attention Deficit Disorder. It was the ‘70s. Autism was already a medical term but used sparingly at the time, and Lirio said the doctor wanted to be careful.

“I cried,” she confided when interviewed by The FilAm. “I cried.”

She called her mother in the Philippines and cried some more.

Mikey was later diagnosed with autism around the age of 9. At the time, he was a student at a public elementary school in Westchester County. It was a small class for children with developmental disabilities, and he was one of only six students.

He graduated as a special student from the Thornwood Westchester High School at the age of 21. Recalled Lirio in a published interview, “He sat calmly at the dais through the speeches and went to receive his diploma from the principal when his name was called. My husband and I, his Uncle Ricky, and Inez, his nanny since he was 2, were present. We were thrilled.”

While Mikey lived in the Covey home in Westchester, New York for the most part, he eventually settled in a cottage in Armonk when he turned 23 where he continues to live with five other adults. During the day, he attends a workshop where he performs various clerical assignments and participated regularly in recreational and sports activities with the supervision of adults trained in the care of autism.

Psychologist Lirio Covey. She and her late husband Michael took care of their son until he was 23. Photo: Columbia Psychiatry website

It is this concept of a “family home” that Lirio would like to introduce in the Philippines through the Association for Adults with Autism Philippines (AAAP), an organization she founded in 2011.

The U.S. Center of Diseases Prevention and Control estimated in 2014 that 500,000 children may have autism in the Philippines.

“No reliable epidemiological count has been done in the Philippines,” said Lirio. Also unknown is the number of adults with autism.

The family home being envisioned will be called A Special Place. It is a cluster of cottages spread over 9,000 square feet of land in Alfonso, Cavite where residents can function to the best of their abilities, some by reading, playing sports or growing vegetables. Mikey has been observed to be fond of gardening.

“For a resident in A Special Place, the AAAP is thinking of a monthly charge of P50,000 (approx. $925),” said Lirio. For those who cannot afford, AAAP may need to tap generous individuals or companies for support.

AAAP New York has begun a fundraising project called Salosalo Autismo.

Explained Lirio, “Salosalo Autismo is a movable gathering of friends devoted to helping Filipinos with autism and their families manage the challenges of living with autism.” The project is looking forward to holding a benefit musical concert, and a special production of “SESAR” by Ma-Yi Theatre where part of theater proceeds will go to AAAP.

The goal is to raise funds and related resources towards the first multipurpose living community for adults with autism being developed in Cavite.

It’s a daunting project, and the first time Lirio is getting fully engaged in fundraising. “We have a very good idea, have planned terrific programs but we need to raise money, a good sum of money.”

© The FilAm 2018

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The author and her Ilocana mother enjoying the ocean waves in Sydney

I will never forget seeing the rolling of the forests. It was a sea of green, and as we carved through I realised that this scenery, and this nature, was not foreign to me. When we first moved to New Zealand my parents would take me on countless road trips, and as an only child this would mean hours of this same activity. It was here a wave started to rise in my body.

My intention for this trip was to better understand my mother, from a culture and people and place, different from the one I know. But as I watched the trees glide past me and felt the tension building at my neck, I started to focus on not the differences but the similarities surrounding me. She would have looked out at a view like this many times. Did she also use the time to reflect upon her life and ideas like I do? I thought of everything I’ve felt, and dreamt, when I’m lost in thought, and I thought about the lessons I’ve learnt on my own. The little joys and frustrations that I’ve had as a girl becoming a woman, and I saw my mother with the same laugh and furrow in her brow.

Also, alone. I saw her contemplating her future. Did she also have the same amount of raw determination but equal amount of confusion for the abundance of aspirations she held? When she thought of the family that she might have one day, how much love did she think they would give her? Did she think about the connection she might have had with her mother? I think about my own hopes and expectations for the future, and I imagine they are similar to hers. I desperately want to have been enough for the girl I think of, I wish I could have understood and made her happy, I want to go back in time and give my mother her dreams, but as the wave hits my eyes, I realise I haven’t and I can’t.

‘I want to go back in time and give my mother her dreams…’

Now that I’m home, I look through some of her old photos and I feel so far away. I watch as she explores new countries, gets her first office job, meets the love of her life, and I hope she is happy at how it all turned out. I want to know more, and I think less about wanting to understand her, and more about accepting her for who she is and walking beside her on her journey. She is not an enigma that I need to study to understand. She is a human, she is a woman, she is my mother.

Like finding a rope in the dark, I feel as if this connection to her has allowed me to find the path to a part of me that I had always closed off. On the other side of guilt, shame and wasted opportunity, I find comfort in the laughter that I save for those situations of uncontrollable hilarity, an understanding of the physical touch I am unafraid of, and a home for the parts of myself that I’ve always felt are ‘too much.’

So, for this I thank my mother. A woman who I neglected to appreciate was the woman that fed me, clothed me, that gave up her career for me, gave up her family for my own opportunity, that climbed so much higher and harder for her success, and I am what she has to show for it. It is a privilege, that I’ll never forget again, to be your daughter.

Alexandra Brown is a 22-year-old Filipino-British woman who was born in the UK, grew up in New Zealand and now lives in Sydney, Australia. Her father is from England, and her mother was born and raised in Ilocos Norte, Philippines. She is currently working as an HR Coordinator with an ultimate goal of being as impactful as possible, by realising potential and bringing people together. A recent visit to the Philippines, through Diskubre Tour, inspired her to write this piece about her mother from one “privileged to be your daughter.”

© The FilAm 2018

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Emil as seen by his father: ‘Strong-willed, with a firm sense of self.’

“Mama, can you please look at this and let me know if they’re correct?”

I read the words in pencil written by my 10-year-old son, Emil, on crumpled notebook paper.

dumb – walang imik
mean – ibig sabihin
stupid – hangal

I was surprised and then heartbroken. Emil did tell me that a friend suggested that he make a list of curse words in Tagalog. At that time, I didn’t know what it was for.

I was also surprised at how inaccurate the translations were. If Emil wanted to call a classmate dumb, you didn’t say, “walang imik,” which means quiet. I thought translation sites were much smarter.

Emil looked at me expectantly for a response so I told him to use “gago.”

“Can you teach me some more,” he asked. I didn’t reply. I thought long and hard before answering because I was not sure if teaching my son to curse more effectively in my native language was the right thing to do. It was certainly a decision I never imagined I would have to make as a parent.

I moved from Manila to New York in 1996 to go to graduate school at NYU. My parents, both Filipino, had studied in the U.S. for their masters’ degrees in the late ‘60s, and then gone back to Manila, started their own business, and raised a family. They saved up money so I too could go to grad school abroad; we all assumed that I would return to the Philippines.

Instead, I fell in love with an American grad student whom I had met at school, and we decided to marry and live in New York City.

After Emil was born, our primary reason for staying in Manhattan was his well-being. From the time he was old enough to express a preference, Emil chose toys and clothes for girls. Our neighbor down the hall had a Noah’s Ark play set, while all the other toddlers chose to play with Noah or the animals, Emil always sought out Naamah, Noah’s wife.

Raised in a bilingual home, Emil didn’t talk until he was 3. One of the first things he told us was that he was a “boy-girl.” As the months passed, his feminine behaviors persisted, so we saw a child psychiatrist who told us that for gender non-conforming children like Emil, there was a 75 percent chance that he would identify as gay, a 24 percent chance that he would be straight, and a 1 percent chance that he would identify as transgender.

The author with husband Tony Kelso and their son Emil, who is 11 in this photo.

If such children are not accepted and supported by their families, we were told, they may face depression, even suicide. “What he needs most is a home where he knows he is loved and supported.”

Since New York City is one of the most diverse cities in the world, my husband and I thought Emil would be better off growing up in Manhattan than in Manila. In the Philippines, over 80 percent of the population is Catholic. Although gays and lesbians appear in talk shows and sitcoms, there is still a lot of discrimination against LGBTs. A friend said it will take generations before there are laws sanctioning non-traditional domestic partnerships.

When Emil was 3, we took him to a neighborhood dance party. While the other children bobbed up and down on the dance floor off and on, Emil bounced and twirled non-stop for almost 30 minutes.

The following year, we signed him up for ballet class. As he grew older, he was awarded scholarships at several ballet schools. Last December, he was chosen to perform a small part in New York City Ballet’s production of the Nutcracker in Lincoln Center. He was in 24 shows, some scheduled during school days.

My husband and I were so proud of him. We told all our friends and relatives. And because he had to be absent from school on some days, we also told Emil’s teachers. Those performances, I now suspect, were what led to the harassment. That, and the essay he wrote for his 5th grade English class.

For his essay, Emil chose to write about why marriage equality should be legal in all of the U.S. I was both scared and proud of him–scared because he was implicitly outing himself to his classmates, but proud, that at such a young age, he was so sure of himself.

Emil got a 3 out of a possible 4 for the essay– in the heat of composition, he forgot to include a bibliography. A week later, the mom of one of Emil’s best friends texted me that Emil got into a fight with one of the kids in his class and the boy had tried to choke him. She added that many of the boys in Emil’s class verbally abuse him but he usually ignores them.

My husband and I were surprised. Emil tells us about his day every night at dinner. He’s complained about his teachers who punish the class by taking away recess and about members of his reading group who don’t want to read but he never said anything to us about being bullied.

My husband wrote the principal and guidance counselor. But when the counselor met with Emil and the boy who tried to choke him, both children did not say a word.

Fifteen-year-old Emil is a sophomore at the Professional Performing Arts School High School in NYC, and a gifted ballet dancer.

I was furious. I was angry with the other boy, but also with Emil and the counselor. I wanted the other child to be suspended! But without a detailed accusation, nothing could be done.

When I calmed down, I told Emil I would talk to the other boy’s mom. “Please don’t, Mama,” he said. He said he wanted to handle it himself.

He said his best friends in school knew that I spoke Tagalog so they suggested that he learn some bad words from me. He could use them as a comeback against the bullies. Emil said he liked the idea, adding that it was a chance for him to learn more about my culture.

“Follow his lead,” my gay co-worker concurred. “He is the one who has to face the teasing.” He also suggested, I sign up Emil for martial arts class. He said that when he was in middle school, he stood his ground and fought bullies who were his own size, but felt no qualms about running away when the bullies were bigger.

My husband has taken all this more calmly than I have. He says because Emil is strong-willed and has a firm sense of self, he will be fine. And my husband is definitely opposed to any Tagalog swearing lessons: “People do not teach their children curse words.” Besides, he says, “because it’s in another language, what is the point? The other child won’t even understand it.”

I am still conflicted. On the one hand, I think that teaching Emil some Tagalog curse words can’t do any harm precisely because the other boy won’t understand them; it would also give Emil a way to express his frustration. On the other hand, I worry that I would be handing Emil some kind of weapon that might backfire.

Then again, isn’t teaching him Tagalog curse words just like having him go to Martial Arts class, a way of me helping but letting him take the lead?

I spoke to Emil in Tagalog every day until he was 3. When he was delayed in speaking, a speech therapist advised me to stop talking to him in Tagalog. I later found out that speech delays are normal for bilingual children. I thought this could be a way for me to re-introduce the language.

At the end of the school year, Emil reported that he had shouted “Gago!” to one of the boys who was bothering him. He said the boy just shrugged and walked away.

“How did you feel when you said it?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he replied before rushing off to do something else. Clearly, he didn’t want to talk about it.

My co-worker warned me, as Emil gets older, even in New York City, he will continue to face harassment. And I certainly cannot be there to protect him all the time.

But then I thought, whenever he fights back verbally with a “Gago!” a part of me will be right there at his side.

Author’s Note: I wrote this essay in 2014 but waited until Emil was older so we could discuss sharing this story. This school year, Emil will be 15 and a sophomore at the Professional Performing Arts School High School in NYC.

Tricia J. Capistrano’s essays have appeared in Newsweek and MrBellersNeighborhood.com. She is the author of “Dingding, Ningning, Singsing and Other Fun Tagalog Words.” Her essay, “Inadequately Asian” which appeared in this publication, was chosen as the Best Personal Essay by the Philippine American Press Club in 2017.

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By Ludy Astraquillo Ongkeko, Ph.D.

Just weeks after this year’s spring term had concluded, topped by commencement trimmings, a FilAm mother of five, contacted me, saying between sobs: Her oldest child had just moved out of their Los Angeles home because she needed “space.”

Lilly — affectionately called “Nanay,” by her household — requested me to talk to Gracia, her 24-year old daughter, to find out why she wanted to leave her home of 22 years. The departure seemed in haste because her graduation gown was still waiting to be serviced at the cleaners and a family picture-taking is yet to be scheduled. “That could wait,” Gracia stressed.

The mother, still sobbing, emphasized how Gracia served as the role model of her younger siblings. Lilly touched on the exemplary conduct her oldest child has shown among her younger siblings.

Gracia, far from displaying any resentment, agreed to come to my house to discuss her so-called desire for “space.”

She explained she had worked part-time since her senior year in high school, applied for a scholarship at a local nursing school where she earned a bachelor’s degree. The young girl talked about how significant it would be for her to maintain a sense of independence while she awaited responses from her applications for a nursing position at medical centers. She readily explained how she was feeling “suffocated,” because of her parents’ constant demands about helping them out, although they didn’t need any help. Her scholarship funds came to her rescue.

Gracia further stated how she wanted to go for a graduate degree without having to be “quizzed” every so often by her parents.

The desire to be independent, away from ‘suffocating’ parents, is that a need for space? Stock photo

“All I craved for when I was still home, was an atmosphere where I could work and study in peace, on my own schedules,” she told me. “All I craved for while at my parents’ home, was their understanding that at 24, I wanted to be on my own, thinking on my own, no prodding from anyone who had little or no understanding about what lies ahead when one has a bachelor’s degree and finds a job in line with her future. When I was with my parents, I felt suffocated.”

An incident stood out which Gracia underscored took place during the close of the recent semester.

“An evening after our graduating class had a celebration of would-be degree holders, I gave a ride to a classmate who was an unwed mother. The barrage of scolding came immediately. Both my parents’ reaction seemed so cruel. According to them, I had exposed myself to questionable behavior and I could end up to be like that classmate,” she shared.

That very evening, Gracia moved out.

Her classmates were only too happy to welcome their friend. All three of them are Philippine-born, and knew one another since high school.

From talking to some parents who are “Philippine originals,” they volunteered stories about their own children who expressed their wishes in terms of “being on their own.” One couple in their early 50s firmly stated how a same, exact occurrence altered their lives away from the homeland.

“Children raised here are not within nodding knowledge of the value system we were familiar with from our childhood,” both remarked.

It was my turn to reflect on the practices in the homeland: How girls would continue living with their parents until they are ready for marriage. This writer can relate to the mind-set of the younger generation who left their family homes.

I distinctly remember when our only son moved out of the home where his father and I raised him and his two sisters. My son had just been admitted to the California State Bar that same year he received his Juris Doctorate from Boalt Hall, University of California, Berkeley. When he brought up the subject of moving out of his childhood home, he did not attribute his move to his desire for space. Perhaps, in the late ‘70s, “moving out of one’s home” was not a popular theme. Without any hesitation, our son informed his parents how he is now had a professional, and he needed to look out for himself.

Although his parents assured him he would be free to remain home, which would enable him to save rent money, he disagreed with his parents. When our son moved out with the few items he wanted to take with him, what stood out in particular, was how he wanted to include his desk from his Loyola High School years. Unconsciously, I found myself in tears. I informed our son he could “take whatever he needed.”

To this date, when that “departure” of our son comes as a reminder, tears never fail to come. And yet, he had moved only six miles away. It felt like he had moved to another continent.

Looking back, was that the transparent definition of “space?”

© The FilAm 2018

Khrys and Dima during the Explore Islands Philippines dinner gala at Cipriani’s.

Some diplomats fell in love with the country they were sent to, the culture and its people. Consul Khrys Corpuz just fell in love. Period.

Khrys is returning to Manila, after six years in New York City, with her Ukraine-born American husband Dmitry Popov. She’s put in her time, made a lot of friends, carried out some novelty projects, and earned a promotion. Not bad for her very first diplomatic assignment.

When she learned she was going to NYC, Khrys recalled she almost could not believe it.

“New York is a coveted post, and I did not consider myself as a standout. I did not come from a high-profile office in the DFA, I was a ‘long shot,’” she said while sitting on an exercise ball behind her desk.

She remembered being interviewed for the position of junior female officer in charge of Public Diplomacy by then Consul General Mario de Leon Jr. sometime in March 2012. On their wedding reception, Ambassador De Leon, who stood as one of their Ninongs, revealed she wasn’t his first choice but the post dropped on her lap anyway because his favored candidate was on study leave and unavailable.

Khrys was hard to bypass. She was in her early 30s, smart, exuberant, willing to learn, polite and pleasant. I first met her when she was still learning the ropes. At a book launch for former President Fidel Ramos, she was supposed to open the program. Her voice quivered a bit. In time, opening an event has become a breeze. She was cracking jokes and knew to keep her audience in stitches. She has become confidently in charge.

“I became comfortable over the years,” she said. “Just comfortable, not confident.”

Corporate job
After graduating from UP Diliman with a bachelor’s degree in Tourism, Khrys took her MBA at De La Salle University. While in school, she worked for a travel management company and earned a badge from the Australian Tourist Commission as an ‘Aussie specialist agent.’ She traveled to Australia once or twice a year to upgrade her knowledge about the travel industry.

“I like the travel, the perks,” she said. “After about five years it dawned on me that corporations are really just for profit. I wanted to do something else.”

Top photo, in 2012, she was welcomed as a new vice consul by the Philippine Consulate, led by then Deputy Consul General Theresa Dizon-De Vega. Consul General Mario De Leon Jr. not in photo. Below, attending her last Philippine Independence Day reception in 2018

In New York, Khrys became the consulate’s point person with the millennial community.

“I dealt primarily with young FilAms. The millennials, they excel at doing things on their own. It’s so hard to attract them to join the mainstream community. That has always been the issue,” she pointed out.

Less than one year in, Khrys garnered the friendship and cooperation of some young community leaders and together they organized the Philippine Graduation (PGRAD) on the East Coast, in June 2013. For the next six years, they would make more collaborative programs, such as the Leadership and Mentoring Seminar Series, Dual Citizenship initiative, and the Innovators Network.

In July this year, Khrys pioneered a heritage tour for the young Filipino-Americans called Diskubre. She led a group of millennials traveling around the Cordilleras for 11 days, trying their hand in farming, preparing a boodle feast, sharing in the rituals and traditions of the communities while learning about their homeland’s history.

“It is one of my proudest accomplishments in New York,” she said.

She met Dima, an IT professional from Brooklyn, on a dating app she tried on the suggestion of a friend. Their first dinner was during Filipino Restaurant Week at Purple Yam. (Dima is Dmitry’s nickname.) “It wasn’t instant connection,” she recalled.

Living abroad
While they were dating, she asked if he was willing to live abroad. Around this time, her recall to the home office was on schedule. Dima said he did not like the idea.

“He said ‘no’ right away. I said ok. I just let it simmer, I just sat on that information,” she said. A week later, she told him why she had to go back home.

A photo-op after administering the oath of allegiance to Dual Citizens. Photo by Art Romua

Dima’s idea was for the two of them to get married and for her to live with him in Brooklyn as his wife. Khrys’s preference was to continue to “live the diplomatic life.”

Where to live, how to proceed became an unsettled issue but the two got married anyway. When he saw the Philippines – they had a second wedding in Tagaytay — he felt an instant connection with the country and the people.

She said, “He loved the country on the get-go. We were biking in Intramuros during Diskubre, we were biking around the slums with kids playing in the streets, and he said, I have a weird feeling about this place. I feel so at home. People are so warm.” Dima is now open to the idea of working remotely or finding a job with a local IT company.

Russians similar to Filipinos
“What I found early on was that Russians are very similar to Filipinos. They’re very close to family,” she said.

Dima grew up in Ukraine when it was still a state within the Soviet Union. He was 9 years old when his family fled to the U.S. and settled in Brooklyn.

“His first language is Russian,” said Khrys.

“The Russians are very close to family. I have noticed this about his friends too. Within three weeks of dating him, I already met his grandparents.”

Khrys and Dima look forward to start their new life together in the Philippines. Another new beginning.

© The FilAm 2019

Showing her parents around NYC. Her father Edgardo is an engineer, and her mother Lolita (now retired) was a sales director at Pocketbell.

Merit with daughter Abigail, the youngest of three siblings. Photos courtesy of Sajara Gonzalez

Emerito Flores Salud was known in the Filipino-American community as a devoted and patriotic community leader, lawyer, and advocate. He worked tirelessly on various initiatives governed by different associations, including the National Federation of Filipino American Associations (NaFFAA) and Filipino American Legal Defense & Education Fund (FALDEF).

He loomed large, and he lent his voice to those who could not speak for themselves. He loved his beloved Philippines unwaveringly, even after he immigrated to the United States in 1992. In the company of others, he spoke his mind freely, not one to mince words, and he stood firmly behind the principles for which he championed. He offered counsel, encouragement and support to people he knew, whether brief acquaintances or long-time friends.

In many ways, his public persona didn’t differ much from the role he played as the head of our family. He loved his family resolutely, he was principled in his disciplined parenting, and he continuously gave us counsel, encouragement and support.

Dad was a proud family man. He promoted family history and traditions through telling and re-telling of stories from days of old. His family experienced the turning wheel of fortune, from having great wealth to having barely enough. As difficult as times may have sometimes been in his youth, he only spoke of his experiences with his family with pride and love. When he got together with his siblings, the rest of us often joked that they told the same stories so many times, even we could finish the stories for them. They laughed at the same jokes and chimed in on the same tales. They stayed up until the early morning hours, only to repeat the scene the next day and the day after that until it was again time to part ways.

La Familia Salud on Facebook: From left, children Emeritus, Sajara and Abigail; and wife Norma.

Despite being the youngest boy of 12 siblings, only second youngest to my aunt, Dad was a father figure, not just to me and my siblings, but also to many of my cousins in the Philippines whose parents had passed away. He tried to keep the family together by hosting family get-togethers and reunions. When there was a family problem, relatives from the Philippines would call him for advice and assistance. Whenever we had a problem or an issue, he always had a solution; he knew the right things to say and the right things to do. He encouraged and promoted education among all of us, rewarding with tokens of appreciation those who had graduated from school. He believed that completing our education was the biggest stepping stone we could give ourselves to achieve personal success. Dad was so proud of each of us when we graduated from college.

He had little tolerance for self-pity and for laziness. My siblings and I worked on various domestic projects, on some of them working long after the sun had gone down (and we had to use spotlights to complete our work). He wanted things done right the first time around. At the time, it seemed extreme. Looking back, this became the basis of our work ethic, which is steadfast no matter how challenging a task may be. We are not afraid of hard work and of difficult times, because we know we have what it takes to get any job done.

As tough as Dad was on us on certain aspects of life, he was also warm-hearted and generous with his affection and praise. I grew up with an abundance of displayed affection – hugs, kisses, high-fives and pats on the head, shoulder, or hands were the norm. He would tell us he loved us, sometimes out of nowhere, stating it so matter-of-factly, he could have been observing the time of day or the weather. He celebrated our successes, big or small. The attention felt embarrassing at times and occasionally it seemed unwarranted, but now, I see that he was simply proud of us. He was so proud, he couldn’t keep it a secret, and he just had to share it with others.
Dad was always larger than life, and his death leaves a big void that cannot be filled. He may be known to most as a community leader, but to us, he will always be Dad.

Abigail Salud is the daughter of recently deceased NaFFAA leader Emerito ‘Merit’ Salud and Norma Salud nee Aquino. She is the youngest of three siblings, namely Emeritus and Sajara. She lives in the UK where she works in corporate giving for a pharmaceutical company.

Attorney Merit Salud passed away in the Philippines on December 17th at 12:36 p.m. His remains were cremated and brought to New Jersey where his family is based.

© The FilAm 2019

With his grandchildren: A proud family man

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The author with younger sister Isabella and brother Georgios.

On March 27, a fundraiser for The Nephcure Kidney International took place at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Academy (SFACA) in Astoria. It is the school I graduated Valedictorian from, and where my two siblings Georgios and Isabella still attend.

The fundraiser for the Nephrotic Syndrome Awareness Day is meant to shed light to those suffering from kidney diseases such as Childhood Nephrotic Syndrome, a condition that my brother, Georgios, endures.

Georgios was first diagnosed at the age of 3. He was to start Preschool at SFACA, but when he was diagnosed, my parents made the decision to keep him home. Thank God he was in remission and started attending Prekindergarten at age 4. Sadly, at age 6, he relapsed three times, consecutively. We were all devastated, but through our faith and prayers, he overcame and currently he’s almost four years in remission. Every day he’s tested. There are times we are worried he might relapse again because of escalating protein numbers, but thankfully Georgios has overcome. It’s not easy and the stress it brings our family does take a toll. He is now a thriving 4th grader who plays basketball, baseball, flag football, and soccer. He also just won the Middle School Math Bee and will be going to the Regionals.

‘My brave brother.’

I was 11 when my brother was diagnosed, and I always knew that I wanted to do something for him and all those who suffer from this rare disease. As I watched him take the heavy doses of steroids which changed him, I knew in my heart that I wanted to help in any way I could. It’s because of my parents, Maria and Theodore, who have guided me when I had the idea of wanting to raise funds and awareness of this terrible condition. They have taught me that I can accomplish anything I work hard for and the importance of young people to take action and help those in need.

Not only am I proud of my Filipino/Greek heritage, but I also want to bring Nephrotic Syndrome Awareness to light.

My brother is the main reason why I chose to study Pharmacy. I have received acceptances in 12 colleges throughout the country with many giving me Merit scholarships. After much discussion with my family, I will be attending The University of Buffalo, which is one of the best colleges for Pharmacy, in the Fall. With God’s grace, I will accomplish my goals of becoming a Pharmacist researching for a cure for Nephrotic Syndrome. This is all attributed to my brother and all those who suffer from this terrible condition. It is my goal to find a cure.

Thanks to the SFACA Principal, Ms. Anne Stefano, staff, and students, they raised $1,275.00! NephCure Kidney International is the only organization committed exclusively to support research seeking the cause of the potentially debilitating kidney disease Focal Segmental Glomerulosclerosis (FSGS) and Nephrotic Syndrome, improve treatment and find a cure.

Natalia Kyriakopoulos is a senior at Fiorello H. LaGuardia High School.

© The FilAm 2019

March 27 was Nephrotic Syndrome Awareness Day at SFACA. The school principal, staff, and students were able to raise $1,275 to benefit George’s Crusade for NephCure.

KNOW YOUR RIGHTS: Are you paid for overtime hours?

By Sarah Eden Wallace

My mother and I were chatting after I’d stopped by for tea (and to check on her — she still lives on her own at age 93). Then she made an announcement: “Did you know that June died?”

My jaw dropped. Not because my mother’s close friend had died. Because two weeks ago, I’d called and told her June had died.

This is …

1. at first, weird. It could be an example of what I view as my mother’s aloofness. This, I know, is how first-generation Japanese-American parents do feelings. As in, they don’t do them. It could be relatively normal that June’s death hadn’t really
2. to be honest, wounding. Not recalling what I’d told her feels like yet another way she disregards most anything I say. A daughter is not an authority on any topic. Now, a son or grandson, that’s another
3. and, for sure, troubling. When I call my brother the Harvard- and MIT-educated molecular biologist, we agree Mom’s forgetfulness is worrisome. Does spacing out something as momentous as the death of a friend signify a slide toward dementia? Yet most days, she’s sharper than we are, attending university lectures, making art, clipping newspaper articles for her grandchildren. Ever the scientist, he hesitates. We need more.

Snow on the roof

When my mom’s reactions confound me, it helps to talk to my cousin. Her father, now 89, is my mother’s youngest brother. Mom and my uncle grew up in a family of six kids, the only Japanese in a tiny mountain-rimmed mining town in eastern Washington state. My grandfather said it reminded him of Japan.

It’s the Asian thing, my cousin often says. They won’t admit they have a problem. They don’t want to impose or, God forbid, ask for help. They are off-the-charts stubborn. They were taught to endure. Japanese-Americans have gritted their way through a lot since my grandparents came to this country in the early 1900s: the Asian Exclusion Act of 1924, the Great Depression, World War II incarceration camps, not to mention thermonuclear devices used against civilian populations in Nagasaki and my family’s native Hiroshima. Their strength was called gaman in the camps – “the grace to endure the unbearable.”

Stoicism-as-secret-weapon is well and good, but it doesn’t ease my obsession about another threat: floor coverings. Every aging-with-dignity article says throw rugs are a no-no. They’re like booby trapping a senior’s living space. My mother lavishes them around her apartment. When I point out the danger, she insists “I like them” and changes the subject.

Actually, this apparent lunacy might be in her DNA. Our family laughs now remembering how Grandpa, who worked on the railroads when he first came to America and lived to be 102, would shovel snow off the roof well into his 90s. After you’ve survived the death-trap conditions of dynamiting tunnels through mountains, climbing a ladder with a shovel in a snowstorm is no biggie.

Prizing her perseverance

What to do? Do I lock the throw rugs away? Glue them down? Or leave her to any consequences? Social scientists use the term “mismatched goals” to describe this intergenerational conflict about safety versus autonomy, explains gerontologist Allison Heid in a recent New York Times article.

Having a clinical label is little comfort when it comes to what alarms me most: my mother’s driving. Early this year, she ran a red light, hit two cars and totaled her car. Thankfully no one was hurt. The next morning, she went out and bought a new Prius. Experts warn that letting go of driving can be the most fraught transition for seniors. My pleas that she give up her license were met with stony silence.

I called my brother. “Sarah,” he said in his seen-it-all professor voice, “She’s going to do whatever she wants to do.” And I know he’s got a point. Even though she was born in America, my mother was banned because of her race from attending the University of Washington during World War II. That did not stop her from getting two master’s degrees and going on to work in the Asian art department at the world-renowned Cleveland Museum of Art. Perhaps when you’ve pushed back against prejudice your whole life handing over the car keys feels too much like admitting defeat. Gaman.

What to carry

The rugs, the driving, the forgetting – it’s frustrating and, as I confess to my brother, frightening. But perhaps I can see this latest lapse as yet another lesson in our attempts to support an indomitable, independent, intelligent 93-year-old Nisei woman in the twilight years of her accomplished life.

My cousin says if my mom doesn’t remember me telling her of a friend’s death, maybe it’s that she’s so busy going to museums and movies, reading mystery novels, getting massages twice a month and making dinner for her grandchildren that it slips her mind. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t care or didn’t hear me. Instead, she might need space to make the mental adjustment to this loss, as though her heart lags behind in accepting yet another friend’s passing.

Maybe, instead of condemning her choices, I could honor my mother’s perseverance. I could hold it as the gift of an inner fortitude she’s passing to us at the end. Something to prize, not push back. Her strength is my strength. My cells come from her cells.

When 120,000 Japanese-Americans were sent to the World War II incarceration camps, each person was allowed to bring only what they could carry in a single suitcase. My mom knows she can’t take her life’s accumulations into old age — but for now she wants to pack in all the driving and throw rugs she can. She’s crossing a threshold into inevitable ebb and wants to go there on her own terms. By listening and not lecturing, I can help — and love — her the most.

Sarah Eden Wallace is a Japanese American multimedia journalist who lives in Bellingham, Wash. She has no throw rugs and would rather ride a bike than drive a car any day.Her essay won first prize in the Asian American Journalists Association Caregiving Contest, with support from AARP.

By Jessica D. Bolandrina and Gretheline Ramos Bolandrina

Many flight attendants love flying. Some say they have jet fuel in their veins. Others follow in a parent’s footsteps; the profession runs in the family.

For Christine Angel Calicdan, becoming a flight attendant like her mother is one of the best decisions she ever made. She and Jessica Liwag Calicdan, who has more than 25 years of flying experience, get to work together up in the sky.

“I really look up to my mom, she is one of my greatest inspirations, and a reason, for this new career,” said Angel. “Starting this new journey was not easy, but with the guidance of my mom, it was smooth sailing. It still feels surreal that I get to see the world with her and that we have the same office now, 25,000 feet above ground!”

The 27-year-old from Manila started working as a flight attendant this year. Although Angel is a bachelor’s degree holder who majored in Advertising at the University of Santo Tomas, the lure of adventure and the friendly skies was strong. Now, she’s a member of the air crew on Cathay Pacific, the stewardess who serves up coffee, offers a flannel blanket, and makes sure every passenger has a pleasant, comfortable ride.

“I was surprised but at the same time ecstatic when my daughter Angel decided to follow my footsteps,” said Jessica. “I was excited for her to finally experience the wonderful world of travel, especially meeting people from different parts of the world and learning from their cultures as well as having that self-satisfaction of making a difference and creating a good travel experience for a lot of people.”

Mother and daughter have been on the same flight a couple of times, to India and Italy. When asked how she felt about working alongside her mother, Angel laughed and said she was lucky when she got to work on the same team.

Angel said the responsibilities can be so spread out that the crew works in smaller teams to ensure everything gets taken care of. But, when she’s on a flight with her mother, she jokes that her fellow attendants are a little nicer to her, knowing her mom is looking out for her as well as the rest of their crew.

The Calicdan family lives in Fairview, Quezon City. Father Angelo George Calicdan is from Bacolod and mostly recently worked with Walt Disney Imagineering in Hong Kong. Jessica is from Nueva Ecija. Angel has two younger sisters: Alyssa, a civil engineer, and Caitlyn, a grade 9 student at the School of St. Anthony in Quezon City. 

Angel’s already been to South Africa, Milan, and India in her first year. She just made her first Manila-Hong Kong-Boston route in early December of this year. She relished her role in ensuring passengers’ safety while providing excellent service throughout the 17-hour flight. 

Upon landing, she enjoyed a bit of culture by checking out Boston with her extended family, the Bolandrinas of Douglas, who were delighted to welcome her in Boston. Boston is a fascinating city and Angel experienced and learned much during her short layover. From her first time seeing snow, to learning more about the historical Boston Tea Party and the Freedom Trail, to viewing landmark Fenway Park to visiting nearby Harvard University with lunch at the Harvard Faculty Club. To Angel, it felt very much like spreading her wings!

Angel hopes to return to Boston again soon but she knows there are many other stops and cities to look forward to and explore.

“I feel a series of emotions: happy, challenged, beyond blessed, motivated and so many more but most of all, grateful. Grateful for the opportunity to see the world and touch people’s lives and grateful to be able to follow the footsteps of someone I really look up to,” she said.

© The FilAm 2019

By Cristina DC Pastor

The Summer of 2019 was a time of a profound grief for Dr. Emilio Quines.  He lost his wife, Felicisima, to deadly pancreatic cancer on June 26. Through years of treatments and a determination to hold fast, she passed away at the age of 75. Emilio lost his best friend of 43 years, a fellow physician, a nurturer, and a dreamer.

Last Christmas was especially aching, almost unbearable. It was Emilio’s first holiday alone. Their three children together with their families kept him company — a concert at Madison Square Garden, a stroll by the Rockefeller Center, and dinners — all of which he thoroughly enjoyed. Yet he missed Fely’s presence, her gentleness, her affectionate way with words, her quick wit.

“She’s a dreamer,” he reminisced while trying to cope with the emptiness he felt in his heart. “She enjoyed her dreams very much and implemented the doable dreams. I’m the practical guy.”

While it has not exactly been a mourning of closed doors and windows, so to speak, it has been a reflective several months. Emilio has stayed in touch with friends and relatives. Someone wrote to say hello, and his reply was a laconic, “Accepting the WOG (ways of God).Alone again.”

Fely was born in Cabanatuan City when it was still the capital of the rice-producing province of Nueva Ecija. She finished her Doctor of Medicine at the University of the East Ramon Magsaysay (UERM) in 1968 and migrated to the United States the same year. Emilio was born in Baguio City and grew up in the town of Tagudin, Ilocos Sur. He too finished his Doctor of Medicine at UERM but two years ahead of Fely.  

College chums, aspiring medics

They met in medical school. So did Conchita Patricio, Emilio’s first wife.  They were all college chums and aspiring medics. Emilio and Conchita, a pediatrician from Batan, Aklan, wed in 1969.  She passed away five years later from a crippling connective tissue disease.

“Fely, our long-time friend with my first wife, was always there, helping my first wife who was very sick,” he said. “We fell in love after the passing away of my first wife.”

That was in 1974. Emily, his first-born with Conchita, passed away too in utero from Placenta Prévia.

Emilio and Fely have three children, all accomplished professionals:  Emilio III is an executive director of Asset Management at JP Morgan. Alan is an Information Technology manager and consultant at Allscripts Co. Lisa Hulse was a vice president at Goldman Sachs. They are blessed with three grandchildren.

Careers

After training at Brooklyn Veterans Affairs Medical Center, Emilio passed the board exams in the 1970s. He specialized in Family Medicine and Internal Medicine, and the couple opened their private practice.

“We treated practically everyone, parents, grandparents, and children, also performed gynecological exams and minor surgery in the office,” he said.

They found running a private clinic to be “stressful and demanding,” he said. “We had limited family time.”

They decided to take on salaried jobs where time was more structured and manageable. Fely worked for the Veterans Affairs Hospital, while Emilio became an Attending Physician at the Good Samaritan Hospital Medical Center at West Islip, where the Quineses ultimately established residence. He became a Medical Director at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Health Center in Wyandanch, New York for five years, and an HIV Specialist until his retirement in 2011.

Meanwhile, Fely cut her own career path in the field of Adult and Geriatric Psychiatry working as a physician at Downstate SUNY and Kings County Hospital in Brooklyn. She retired in 2016.

Despite their productive medical careers, the couple found time for the community. He founded the UERM Medical Foundation, Inc. and is currently its advisor. He joined the Knights of Rizal and established a chapter on Long Island. They have participated in annual medical missions to the Philippines since 1992.

“The last medical mission we did was in 2018. It was in Tondo, Manila. It most probably will also be the last,” he said.

The couple are charter members of the 9/11 Memorial and Museum, as well as the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island Foundation and Museum.

Emilio fills his time joining friends for small get-togethers. Lately, he finds himself getting involved with stocks and the financial markets.

“I used to have it done by a financial analyst.  I decided to do it on my own. It’s a challenge, but so far, doing ok. Allows me to support charities and groups that do community services,” he said.

Emilio is on Facebook where he sometimes writes of his life’s “ups and downs.” The radiant good humor is still there, so is the robust health. Memories of Fely are never far behind.

“Our life together was an immense one,” he said. “We complemented each other.”

© The FilAm 2020

By Cristina DC Pastor

The FilAm: What is the effect of mandatory lockdowns on married couples? Has it led to a rise in divorce and separation cases?

Jhanice Domingo: It depends on the marital relationship. I am sure that some married couples are enjoying the extra quality time, and being home with their spouse. But for others who were already in troubled marriages before the COVID-19 outbreak, the significant increase in time together due to a mandatory lockdown is likely to cause increased tension and stress at home. Stressors caused by the pandemic — health issues, disagreements regarding the children, financial stress due to layoffs or reduced wages, etc.– can create problems in a healthy marriage. All the more if there is already a breakdown in communication and lack of trust in a strained marriage, these stressors can cause spouses to become even more estranged and decide to separate or divorce.

TF: How is the COVID-19 pandemic affecting divorced parents who are essential workers?

JD: Courts now have to find the right balance between: (1) ensuring that a parent and child continue to have meaningful parenting time; and (2) protecting the child against the risk of exposure to the coronavirus. For divorced parents who are essential workers, especially those serving on the frontlines, parenting disputes with former spouses are especially contentious.  As an example, many Filipino Americans work in the health care industry as physicians, nurses, medical technicians, nurse aids, etc. Because these jobs impose a greater risk of exposure to COVID-19, the other parent may want in-person parenting time suspended.  If a dispute arises where one parent wants to enforce an existing custody/parenting time agreement, and another seeks modification due to COVID-19 related health and safety concerns, divorced co-parents can seek the assistance of a mediator to settle the dispute or file an application in Court.

TF: Aren’t couples ideally supposed to live together harmoniously under any circumstances? You know, for better or for worse?

JD: Ideally, yes. I don’t think anyone gets married with the intention to one day get divorced but the reality is that relationships are complex and it is not always “until death do us part” for everyone. I also think that there is a (false) assumption that every divorce is bitter and ugly. It is not always. In my nearly 20 years of practice, I have seen a wide spectrum of divorce cases. I have handled very amicable “un-couplings.” I have settled and mediated divorce cases, and I also have tried complex, high-conflict divorces. I think in the Filipino-American community, there is still a stigma attached to divorce and there is significant pressure to stay married at all costs, which can be problematic especially in cases where there is domestic violence. To this day, the Philippines is still the only country other than the Vatican where there is no legal provision for divorce.

TF: As a Family Law attorney, what do you usually tell  people who are looking to get out of their marriage?

JD: If you are contemplating divorce, take the time to schedule a legal consultation with a divorce attorney. Divorce is a life-changing decision, and you can’t make such an important decision without first educating yourself about the legal process and without knowing what are your legal rights. Just because you consult with a divorce attorney doesn’t necessarily mean that you ultimately have to decide to get divorced now or even ever. I have done legal consultations for people who thereafter decided to stay married. Some decided it was not the right time for them and then they came back to me months or years later when they were ready.

TF: Is it easier to get a divorce nowadays? Are the courts open to conduct in-person hearings?

JD: In some respects, it’s easier because there are no in-person court appearances right now so uncontested divorce hearings are being conducted telephonically or by video conference. Some Family Court judges are even granting divorces “on the papers.” For litigants who have settled their divorce by way of a marital settlement agreement, they don’t even have to make an in-person court appearance to put through their divorce. Family Courts remain open in New Jersey so those who want to initiate divorce proceedings can still file their complaints. The Family Courts, at least in New Jersey, have made tremendous efforts to minimize delay of ongoing divorce proceedings and to utilize video conferencing if circumstances permit.

Atty. Jhanice Domingo, a partner at Einhorn Barbarito Frost and Botwinick PC, has nearly 20 years of experience on family law and litigation. She handles high-conflict cases as well as alternative dispute resolution of simpler family law matters. Due to her cultural background, she brings an added level of competence to family law issues within the Asian Pacific American community.  She has a B.A. in Psychology, Minor in Women’s Studies from Boston College, and earned her J.D. from Seton Hall Law School. She speaks Tagalog fluently.

By Danielle Vania Bonus

A little over a year ago, I went on an exciting trip to Siargao, Philippines for my best friend’s wedding. In writing the story for The FilAm, I left out all the romantic details of the trip. The romance continued and transferred itself over to Hawaii where he is from and the adventure eventually led to my next article entitled, “Reckless in Oahu.”

A few months later, I found out I was pregnant with my first child.  Yup, I know what you are thinking: That was quick. I was living in New York at the time and the uncertainty of my future lingered in my head.

Time passed and what seemed like a blink of an eye, nine months went by.  My baby girl was born. I was a mother at 34. My editor reached out to me with a request for an article on my pregnancy. The task seemed emotionally challenging due to the countless angles to consider and reflecting on some of those moments seemed daunting. However, I was not going to let a mere request for an article rob me of my joy.  I went through a whole year of spiritual toughening and to revert to silly thoughts seemed counterproductive. But I will state this: there is value in the traditional customs of dating and marriage. My hardships are my own doing, and for those affected by my choices, I am sorry. Nonetheless, there is still a story to be told and lessons to be learned from my experience.

Once a woman becomes a mother, her world begins to change from the inside out. Her perception of life begins to shift as her heart gears toward protecting herself and her baby, leaving what once was important by the wayside. The first trimester goes by, and if she is anything like me, she has already spilled the beans to her closest friends and family. Then the kind and unsolicited advice begins. They all have an opinion about mommy and baby. Mothers, let me save you some energy and say that if this person does not have a vagina, is not a medical professional or does not have any children, don’t even consider what they have to say unless they are backing you up 100 percent. Protect your maternal space. Of course, we have the friends that think they are looking out for your well-being, but when a child is involved, everyone needs to respect mom.

Motherly instincts are designed to benefit and protect the mother and her child. Mothers need to listen to their hearts. I get it though, during these nine months a mother is only doing the best she can to keep it together. That is why when all else fails, you get down on your knees and pray.

My pregnancy was the dream pregnancy. No morning sickness or cravings. Maybe some leg pains here and there during my 3rd trimester, but nothing major. One time, I had unbearable stomach pains that turned out to be just gas. Luckily, my mother was there to diagnose the problem and burp me. My baby girl stretching towards opposite ends of my stomach was probably the most uncomfortable feeling, yet I found it overwhelmingly satisfying to know she was alive and well. At times I thought to myself, I am completely undeserving of such an easy baby, but that is what made my experience incredibly powerful and beautiful- I was walking to the rhythms of God’s grace. Comfort in my pregnancy flowed out in abundance. Considering the battles, I had to face, I knew someone up above was fighting them for me.

A few weeks before my due date, I found out that my baby girl was growing at a much slower rate than most babies. Her movement and heart rate were evaluated for abnormalities and fortunately, everything was normal. There was a huge possibility that my placenta was not giving the nutrients my baby needed to grow, so, the doctor scheduled me for induction on my 38th week. The news came at me like a pile of bricks.  I was already mentally managing so much; I did not need the excess weight, but the unsolicited advice came as hard as the comfort and support.  Once again, I had all the power in the world to choose how to respond and that time, I chose to worry.  For nothing! From the time I started pushing up to the time my baby girl came out was 36 minutes. She was itty bitty weighing in at 5 lbs 2 oz.  She was perfect — so perfect that any pain or exhaustion caused by over 24 hours of induction and labor combined was depleted. I named her Emmanuelle, meaning, “God with us.” She is my constant reminder of God’s grace upon my life.

I want to acknowledge my biggest supporters all the way down to the one person who offered to keep me balanced as I struggled to put my shoes on. It really did take a village.  Thank you.

© The FilAm 2020

Alice Abasolo, a resident of Woodbridge, New Jersey, is the portrait of a fervent supporter of Donald Trump. A conservative Catholic and pro-Life advocate, she is the third child among four siblings, all of them born in Ozamiz City, the hometown of their father. Their mother hails from Loay, Bohol. They came to America when they were young children.  All the siblings — Carmela, Cristino III, Alice, and Gary  — are American citizens; Alice is the only dual citizen.

Nowhere is the polarizing effect of the current political contest more felt than in the Abasolo family. The two brothers are Democrats, the elder sister is Independent, and Alice is Republican. Occasionally, the family debate spills out on social media with Alice and Gary, a lawyer, engaged in testy exchanges, to put it diplomatically. Friends of the two try to humor them to introduce a truce. Sometimes it works.

While she writes about being at odds on occasion with her brother, in the end Alice, who works as a packaging administrator, said the siblings are close regardless of their ideological differences. ‘We try to encourage each other to do our best… God made us siblings for life,’ she said. It will always be family over politics whatever the results of the election.  – Cristina DC Pastor

By Alice Abasolo

Yes, I am voting GOP, because their mission and ideas for America is right for America.  I always vote with my moral conscience.  As a Conservative Catholic, I am Pro Life which means I am Pro Woman, Pro Man and Pro Family.  What catapulted President Trump to the highest office in the nation is the Pro Life issue.  I am happy to see that many Americans still have good morals to vote for the helpless, voiceless unborn, who have no voice.

President Trump made promises which he kept.  Before COVID-19, America’s economy was the best in the world.  Unemployment was an all-time lowest in decades for all races and gender.  The stock market hit an all-time high.  Majority of Americans’ outlook was optimistic.  Thus, President Trump succeeded in making America great again #MAGA, and he will do so during COVID times.  

Forgiving each other

I look younger and more youthful than my brother Gary, but actually I am older.  He and I have a rule not to comment on each other’s posts, so we stay out of any heated debates/arguments.  Occasionally, we’ll break this rule, and later regret it.  Forgiving each other and letting go of each other’s differences of opinions are key to keeping our relationship.  As practicing Catholics and family-oriented Filipinos, we don’t let our difference of opinions in politics end our relationship. God made us siblings for life.  Morally, it would be wrong if we did end our relationship, just solely on differences of political views.  I always say, “What would Jesus say?” 

We always gather together on Thanksgiving and Christmas, as well as birthdays.  Our older brother and his beautiful wife always are the hosts.  It was touch and go the first Christmas after President Trump was elected in 2016, because our older brother is also anti-Trump.  He later came to his senses and invited me as well, as our sister, who is an Independent in politics.

We are grateful to have loving, nurturing parents who gave us good moral values.  We both had good childhood, growing up mainly in the Midwest at the time.  We always try to encourage each other to do our best, regardless of the situation in our lives.  

This election is divisive.  Emotions come to play.  At the moment, I have a fear that our older brother who is anti-Trump may be a sore loser if Trump wins.  Currently, he is not talking to me.  However, I am confident his gracious Filipina wife will invite us for our annual holiday gatherings.  She calls on me and our sister to see how we are, which we appreciate.  

(C) The FilAm 2020

By Cristina DC Pastor

As the dust of the November 3 election settles – whether the president is newly elected or reelected — Americans will soon dive into the  next most important debate: How to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Dr. Anthony Fauci has provided a preview of how some families will be celebrating the holidays: apart from each other. He, for one, is skipping the traditional Thanksgiving dinner with family gathered around a well stuffed turkey, concerned about his children traveling in a time of public health crisis. Their children are worried about his health as well. A decision was reached, according to reports:  Fauci’s daughters said, “We want you and mommy to have a nice, quiet dinner…Maybe have a neighbor next door that always comes over the house that you know that’s negative, and we’ll send our love via Zoom.”

Thanksgiving dinner via Zoom

L.A. County Program Manager Cecile Ochoa had her family’s Thanksgiving feast all figured out. Keeping health protocols in mind, the Ochoas plan to still gather their brood of three sons and two daughters-in-law in their North Hollywood home “socially distancing within the big room divided by dining, den and living rooms,” she said.

“The brothers may later bond at the porch of our 1947 home probably sharing a beer or two, maybe a ‘tagay’ of Jameson.”

Socializing may be limited to two to three hours, she continued.

“Some (family members) work outside the home and thus we’re ensuring no one is bringing possible contamination at home. Both Dante (Cecile’s husband) and I are of age with underlying medical conditions and so the kids are always extra careful. We always wear masks when seeing each other but of course at dinner time those masks are removed. That’s the plan so far.”

The plan is a work in progress as the Ochoas await inputs from the in-laws. “We haven’t heard from the wives’ families who of course would want to spend some time with my sons’ spouses. It could be staggered visits between our home and the in-laws’ places,” she said.

Cecile, the editor-publisher of The FilAm L.A.,  feels “weird” that she is not feeling especially festive at this time when the pandemic has claimed several thousands of lives. With vaccines still under development, there does not seem to be any reason for celebrating.  But the family tradition will go on.

“The boys are used to these get-togethers and I hate to dampen their spirit,” she said. “I’m seeing them more often during this pandemic and I guess it’s because either they want to be assured of our wellness or this isolation is getting to them.”

Retired corporate nurse Corazon “Corge” Reyes sees the family Thanksgiving will be scaled down and possibly celebrated apart from each other — the Fauci way. “What used to be a happy occasion is now curtailed due to COVID. We’ll now just go to Zoom from wherever my children are,” she said.

For the Reyeses of Manhattan, Thanksgiving used to be a “big” event with sons from New Jersey and a daughter from California – and their families — coming together for a weekend at their Upper West Side home, grandchildren sprawled out all over the house.

“My daughter usually cooks the turkey. I never learned how to do it,” she said.

Much of the food is catered but the most important thing for Corge was the entire family joined at the table saying grace and giving thanks for the year that just passed.

“Life has changed so much in this pandemic but I like it in a way,” she said as if in meditation. “Subdued, relaxed at home, a walk in the park with no make-up, there’s a time for everything and no need to hurry. Parang 1950s.”

(C) The FilAm 2020

By Karen Joy Pangantihon

It felt like I traveled through three flights over 22 hours in the air, in the course of over 40 hours just to hug my mom and dad.

As soon I got off the last plane on the way to Cabadbaran, my mother’s hometown, in Agusan del Norte province I knew I couldn’t do this trip often, especially if it wasn’t going to be first class. I arrived sick, stiff, smelly, and fatter it seemed. I was in a car with my father driving from Butuan to Cabad. It was nice. Being in the car with my father driving was the meat of my childhood. As temperamental as he is, my faith in feeling safety under his care has not faltered. I missed that feeling.

As soon as I arrived in Las Pilipinas there’s one thing that aggressively hit me. It’s called “Pasalubong” which I understand to be a tradition and form of respect that involved bringing small gifts,  be it makeup, money, food, clothes, anything, for people in your family. And I mean whole family, including extended, and that rare person you met once when you were little and have no recollection of ever knowing them. I had no idea this was a thing. I felt embarrassed and so unprepared. I was angry that my parents didn’t tell me about this, being that this was one of my first times visiting them in the Philippines since they’ve moved from the States. I was responsible for being a considerate human being and respecting the culture and my family, but I wasn’t prepped.

There was a conversation after a party with my cousin Apple. My cousin who is the oldest of my generation of the Alaan clan, has always been like an older sister to myself and my other sister, Ate Mavis. She lived with my family and I in Miami for a bit in the ‘90s when she came from The Philippines. After all these years she’s been somewhat like a bridge between me and my parents because she spoke the language of both worlds and was acclimated with both cultures.

Believe it or not, there are still barriers that make me feel so far away from my parents culturally, and the older I get the more I am realizing what they are. We were on the couch in the sala after everyone was asleep and all of a sudden she drew me into this very deep, intense conversation. She basically gave me a harsh reality check and reminded me that everyone is getting older. Suddenly I was releasing a flood of emotions and tears to clean off all the sweat and dirt off my face.

“Do you have money to fly back to the Philippines on a moment’s notice if anything happens?” “Do you have money for a funeral?” “What’s going to happen to this house and who is going to take care of it years from now when your parents are no longer here?” “Do you know if your parents want to be cremated or buried?” I sat there and just cried, listened. Relieved and anxious.

On top of that, my other cousin, who identifies as a Christian Libertarian, and I had a very long heart-to-heart another night. Our heart-to-heart included the state of the country, the world, an escape plan, a plan of action, civil war, nuclear war, the idea that if we do not have children we have no legacy to carry on, my argument that at this point my offering to the world would be those that come from my creative endeavors, and why all these things lead to who we choose as a partner in life. In fact, I found myself having to defend not only my weight,  my size 6, but also my lifestyle which in my eyes seems to be something to be proud of.

I’m a young, independent woman living in New York City that works extremely hard to survive on my own while pursuing a career as a multi-disciplinary creative artist and performer.

I am pursuing to have romantic relationships that reflect partnership, respect, and love. God forbid I wait to marry for love, and really believe I can take care of myself.

How dare others make me feel like I’m not living correctly? Mind you, if I put my two cents in about how I feel the way others’ lead their lives being problematic, I’m being aggressive or insensitive. Anyway, being in the Philippines with all its beauty, reality checks, and deep conversations made me think about my lifestyle and the life I was leading.

It was my intention to spend as much quality time with parents and family because when you fear that you may count the times you have left to see your parents, you see the value in the time you have with them. I’ve witnessed breathtaking views, but some of the most precious memories of this trip was the stuff unworthy of your average basic Instagram traveler —  learning to make a mango desert with my mom and Auntie Listine, taking a nap with my parents in Cebu, hearing my father deliver his speech as president of the Rotary Club, and my mother and cousins helping me tape an audition to send to L.A.

I’ve come back from Las Pilipinas realizing how tiresome it is to explain how my “vacation” was. I can’t casually talk about it because it wasn’t a vacation really, it was the death of so many ways of thinking, being, and existing. Realizing the evolution of the roles we play in family means you’re ready to usher in the change you need to become an adult. I wasn’t just a cousin, a daughter, a granddaughter, a sister, an Apo, or Ate, anymore, I was given more responsibility, and I’m okay with that, because that’s who I want to be.

Karen Joy Pangantihon is an Equity actress, singer, dancer, born and raised in Miami, but is currently based in New York City. She is a co-founder, and co-host of the podcast “Cinema Therapy” and has published a collection of poetry “Bright Young Woman.” This essay originally appeared on her blog http://kjpangantihon.com/ and is being republished by The FilAm with permission.

2 kidneys? I’ll take them!

By Menchu De Luna

Whew! What a journey!

When my transplant did not push through in the Philippines in August of 2019, I thought that I was done! When the doctors told me that they cannot do my transplant anymore, I felt that the world fell on me, and I lost all hope. Thank God for my husband’s quick thinking to come back to the States and continue on this journey.

I had been on dialysis for five months, getting up at 4:30 a.m. three times a week, sitting on that dreaded chair for four hours with a rosary in my hand reciting it over and over until the nurse unhooked me from all those dialysis cables. I would be all worn out after dialysis, and the following morning I would still have to work. I never stopped praying.

Then one afternoon, I got a call from the transplant coordinator, that I might have compatible kidneys available. All I could remember was that the four of us were all jumping for joy and I could not stop crying, thanking God that hopefully this is it.

“We are giving you two kidneys! Do you like that?” That’s what my transplant coordinator said! I exclaimed, “Oh yes!”

My husband was all alone in the waiting room the following day, January 26, 2020. He waited by himself for 10 hours praying and informing my family and friends near and far about my condition. My daughter Michelle had been sharing the news and keeping our Facebook friends and family updated, doing all our errands, taking care of our house and daily necessities, as well as driving us everywhere. My son Jude has been so strict with people wearing masks around me. Our dog Moana has been my forever companion, always staying by my side and checking in on me even when I went to the bathroom. My plan is not God’s Plan. God has the best plan ever!

Lolo Eddie died in a place he adored: A casino

By Julian Santos

My grandfather, Eduardo Alonso, has been laid to rest alongside my grandmother.

He was an extraordinary man, having made it to the age of 98 years old. Having raised five wonderful sons and daughters, including my mother, he left behind a huge family with many grandchildren and even great grandchildren.

There’s always the assumption that all old people grow weary and tired towards the end of their lives; not Lolo Eddie who was energetic right up to the end. He loved going on long walks, socializing at family parties, and visiting nearby casinos. Even calling him this last Christmas, I never got the sense that he was any less animated than usual. An eternal optimist, he always had a loving, composed attitude: one which I’ll always seek to emulate.

A year ago, he was awarded a Congressional Gold Medal for his service in WWII. He was one of the few Filipino soldiers still living at the time who served us in the Pacific. He didn’t often talk about the war, but he did his duty.

He passed away peacefully — not in a hospital or medical facility— but with his family at Cache Creek casino, a place I must reiterate he really did adore with all his heart.

One of the worse things you encounter as you get older is losing people. Lolo Eddie was the last of my grandparents and I will miss him. But 98 years is a long time, and I’m thankful for the 23 of those that I got to spend with him.  

(C) The FilAm 2021

Find the person who will ‘sit with you in the dark’

By Ness Bantog

I remember the morning after my son was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. I woke up with eyes puffy from the night before and immediately started crying. I just could not imagine how we would figure this life out. I was so sad. And so mad. Why did this happen to us?

It’s been a year since.  A lot changes in the year following a diagnosis. Changes in routine. Changes in relationships. Changes in expectations. Changes in emotional strength. We are one of the families on this journey lucky enough to see progress on the first year. Our son is slowly meeting his therapy and IEP goals. And we are so grateful for the support of our school district!

If your family just received a diagnosis, I see you and feel for you. Take one day at a time. Find your strength and fight for your child, even if you are sure that everyone around you knows you are scared. Know that eventually the shock and resentment will wear off. But don’t rush this important stage of grief. Don’t let others try to rush you out of it either. Allow yourself to feel that sadness until you are ready to step into this world and be the warrior parent your child needs you to be. Think of Alice in Wonderland and find that person who will “sit with you in the dark” until you are ready. We took our time to sit in darkness and when we were ready, we stepped into the light and began our transformation into the parents we were meant to be.

Eating with my face shield on

By Roberto Villanueva

Generally, I do not leave my apartment because of the pandemic. But I had a couple of, maybe, rigid rules. One was me wearing a face shield and propping a portable divider on the table for additional protection while eating out with a friend. None of my other friends will eat out with me because of that. Another one was after my surgery. I had a visiting nurse and visiting physical therapist. I told them they had to be in full PPE from head to toe and have disinfectant if they plan to enter my apartment. If they didn’t have any, I provided them—shoe cover, robe, face mask, gloves, alcohol wipes, etc. the same rule applies to my friends, so nobody wants to visit. Also, several friends have invited me to their homes for meals, I told them I would only visit if their home had an outdoor patio for dining. So, I no longer get invited.

Finally felt comfortable enough to have a restaurant meal outdoor for lunch. Thank you Donghwan Kim for tolerating my hypochondria and paranoia. I had to eat with my face shield on. I did practice at home beforehand. I also brought with me an unused grease splatter guard to protect our food from each other while eating. I know it seems over the top, but I live alone. My closest immediate family members are eight hours away. I don’t feel comfortable putting myself at risk for any chance of something terrible happening to me medically. I also don’t want to put my friends at risk. And, I wanted to show off my fifth self-haircut since the March lockdown.

(C) The FilAm 2021

Missing my courageous travel partner

By Vicky Perez

My mother, who died this day two years ago, was my best travel partner. She was inquisitive, knowledgeable of history, courageous when it came to new experiences. She was the one who trekked into jungles to find wild growing papaya, hiked through valleys to find the elder in a village to learn their history, hiked across terrain to find semi-precious stones, or had a taxi drive us through a politically tense area prone to violence to find the restaurant that had epic crab. She was an adventurer, a woman of the world, and loved gatherings of people to discuss ideas, art, history, projects all over a nice tea. I made tea cakes in her memory today.  

Only bright red lipstick for my Nanay

By Muloy Luib

My Nanay, former public school teacher Lolita Tabayo Luib, 73, died in her home on February 21, 2021.  I forgot to remind my relatives to make sure the mortuary makeup artist applied on my mother’s lips her preferred shade of red. My Nanay didn’t have in her vocabulary of lip colors what women these days call ‘nude.’

A few days before she passed away, she gave instructions on the dress she wanted to wear for her wake and burial. She joked about wearing that same dress on a vacation she’d take to another country, I was told. That was typical Nanay.

Raising all four of us siblings as a single mother, she’d sometimes complain that she could no longer buy herself new underwear. But I suspected she always managed to put away some cash for her lipstick. She had it bright quite often, in different shades of red. Nanay applied lipstick as if to signal she was ready to go to school and face her students. She was passionate about her career as an educator at the elementary school of what was then named East Visayan School of Arts and Trade in Dumaguete City.

If anyone of you viewing her remains spots the wrong lip color, blame the mortuary makeup artist for not asking family members. Nanay fought hard and we wish to remember her in her cheerful years. I, for one, wish to look back to those years when she had the energy and enthusiasm to paint her lips red.

(C) The FilAm 2021

By Ludy Astraquillo Ongkeko, Ph.D.

Hello Sweetie,

Myriad thanks to a story from the “Dog Trainer.” A description of the New York-based band of “singer/songwriter/producer Nick Broman (25) and guitarist/songwriter/producer Lucas del Calvo (26) who had originally titled their new album “Every Word Is True.”

Your Lola would never have known the heights you’ve undertaken in the world of music without reading the story you passed on to me.  As the written piece has indicated “Every Word Is True,” I firmly believe that same piece would not have ventured into emerging in the manner it has been described, weren’t it the truth. My fond congratulatory wishes to Nick and you.

It is most interesting to note how you and Nick commenced work on the aforesaid record to “create together in an unprecedented way,” just as the COVID-19 pandemic started to reach this country’s shores.  The same story tells about how both of you “created together” despite the fact that you were physically separated by hundreds of miles: Broman “working from his NYC apartment,” and you, “from the basement hundreds of miles of an Airbnb rental in Vermont.”

I was greatly interested in how you met Nick: How you first met as “rival jazz guitarists at The New School for Jazz,” your choice of university education after you were accepted with scholarships by all the Ivy League schools and how you made the major decision to go to New York instead, and to take up music as a teen-ager, just straight from having graduated with honors at a private secondary high school in Santa Monica, California.  Your having earned and graduated with honors at The New School continue to attest to your hard work and consistency.  Indeed, all these constants have been present in your adult life that so much pride has engulfed your Lola.

It has been a great pleasure for me to read how “Dog Trainer” did describe your work: how you and Nick both drew lyrics entirely away from your “lived experiences — the good and the bad, the interesting and the mundane.” How “Dog Trainer” evolved as a “work of sincerity that explores the everyday realities of millennials and Gen Z-ers,” has been so aptly described.  As Nick has elucidated: “I think the one thing we really strived for on this album was to be more honest about ourselves and the way we feel about our lives and music careers.”

Again, I just love your forthrightness: “We’re not on a label yet but have been in contact with many, including Atlantic Records, and Artist Partner Group, both pretty big names in the industry.  Honestly, I’d guess if we end up signing with someone though, it will be a smaller label than those, as those seem to be a bit too big to be interested in a band of our size (we have something like twenty-two thousand listeners per month, whereas big artists can have listeners in the millions).”

I recall how you did join as a jazz guitarist with Grammy-winning bassist and singer, Esperanza Spalding, on the same stage as Esperanza who at that time, was already at the height of her career.  That particular performance was at the auditorium of your Lola’s alma mater: The University of Southern California which drew a very large and responsive group that admission was strongly based on ticket holders who had to appear on time.

Yes, you as my youngest grandchild, have always been one of thoughtfulness and concern for your Lola. I have loved how caring you have always been a part of your demeanor.  When I’d inquire from you about how you were faring in your musical career, you would humbly state: “Always feel free to mention I’m your grandson.  Would be an honor.”

Indeed, since you started as a youngster in school, you have always been the soul of heedful thoughts. So exemplary of you to state: “Glad to hear you’ve recovered from the second shot!  I’ve definitely heard it can be quite intense, and that seems to have proven true.  It must be a relief though!  Finally, not having to live in fear! Can’t wait till I’m vaccinated and come out West and see you, the cousins, and the kids!”

As a grandmother, of course, it does go without saying that we do follow members of our younger generations whenever we can.  I am overjoyed to be on the receiving end of many an act of generous thoughtfulness from you, and each grandchild is engraved in my heart and well-remembered to cheer me as the years come by. 

Passing on my views to you as usual each time an opportunity is around. As long as I can recall, you might be the youngest among my grandchildren, but you’ve likewise, since you could talk, been full of commonsense reflections that are truly yours and yours alone. Needless to state, I’ll continue to be proud of you.

Loving you, prayers always,

Lola

© The FilAm 2021

Papang, the family tenor

By Rochit Tañedo

Papang, Eliseo Del Mundo Tañedo, was a beautiful tenor, and sang amazing duets with his favorite sister, Auntie Nena Wijangco, a contralto. They had a “panata” in their youth to be Joseph and Mary in the annual “Salubong,” and in their adulthood sang the 1930s Kundimans beautifully. My fave was “Pakiusap” which he serenaded my mother with from time to time up to when he was 90. (His being OC and super seloso gave Mamang a hard time.)

By 94, he had begun to lose his hearing and that was the most heartbreaking for my mother. Still, he could recount many things in his youth, and WWII, and his ‘compadres’ whom he was looking for in the last months of his life. Alas, with a diet of pure Liempo Taba for the last 50 years, he had outlived them all, the Class of ’33, Tarlac High School. When my sibs come over in July or August, definitely, you all should be there with us to celebrate Papang’s life with Ihaw-Ihaw and lots of music!

Papang succumbed to pneumonia last May 24. He was 98.

No shame in being second

By Mauro Feria Tumbocon Jr.

This was my mother and myself, when I was younger. Carolina Feria then, was already in her thirties when she bore me. She had married a year earlier a teacher-politician almost 30 years her senior. My father, Mauro Sr., immediately uprooted her from her native origins in Manila and Zambales, and they would take root in Ibajay, Aklan. She would then learn the language, Aklanon, post-haste, and then got to teach in both high schools in the municipality.

Having been “madrasta,” she would never imagine the resentment she withstood in silence from the first family — except for very few of our kin — even up to this day. Typical you may suggest of second families among Filipinos. Even though I got my father’s name — this was part of the first family’s hostility — how come, of all the 13 children in in the first family, I got my father’s favor. I got my mother’s curly hair. If at all, she spared us the “ignominy” of being second — by being our steadfast mother.

Mama, you would have turned 100 today.