Turning 59 amid a Pandemic

From age 55 onwards, I have always looked at each additional birthday as a bonus.

This year’s bonus was the most unique. I did not travel as I usually would. I broke bread with nobody. I was unable to do my usual birthday project. The most painful, I was not able to go to church although I was able to hear mass online.

Those of us who lived through this pandemic are bound to never forget our experiences, our misadventures, the challenges, and difficulties. And those of us who celebrated birthdays, anniversaries and other memorable days might consider this a peak experience. Unfortunately, the light at the end of the tunnel is a flicker of optimism, but from a distance, not yet a beacon of hope.

Those of us who lived through this pandemic, made more difficult by natural calamities, had a double whammy. Areas repeatedly hit by several storms on top of a volcanic eruption over just a short period of respite, have, instead of that flicker of optimism, an emergency flare fluttering in the distance – one that hissed and shone for a very brief period and then died.

We have all had lessons. Or at least one lesson. Mine is: should we ever decide to throw all our problems and worries in a communal heap and see for ourselves how lucky we still are, seeing how others miserably fared, we would grab our piles back, swiftly.

Hence, I have never complained. I still have more to be thankful for.

Remembrance and Thanksgiving

Haiku

Twenty-five years passed
I can still see you clearly
Your voice still booming

This is my favorite photograph of my father, taken right before the Lion's Club Induction at the Aklan Cultural Center. It was an opportunity to use the word "isputing" which was street talk for 'dressed to impress'. He was tasked to introduce their Guest of Honor and I, a Grade V pupil, wrote his spiel. 

Though I literally am the spitting image of Nanay, I was closer to Tatay, a World War II veteran and a boxing aficionado who absolutely had no qualms about my being gay.

This was taken after I won my first writing competition when I was a High School Junior.

He always insisted on getting a copy of all my published articles and when I became a correspondent for a Singapore-based publishing firm producing lifestyle magazines exclusively for a major credit card company's Gold Account holders, I had a problem because I only get one copy per issue. Of course he had them. Frustrated that he could not give away copies to relatives and friends, I was compelled to write Entertainment features for Manila Bulletin's Panorama Magazine which came out on Sundays. He bought them by the dozen.  

People are invariably surprised to find out that Tatay served as Chairman of the Poblacion Barangay Council of our hometown, Libacao. And let me hasten to add, he was elected, not appointed, the latter being what people always assumed, because, though he understood the language and it nuances, he could not speak Aklanon.
This is inscribed on the marker of their project, The Cry of Balintawak, a triangular shaped monument at the entrance of Poblacion proper.

Dear Friend (who cannot be named)

When the campaign period began in 2016, we decided to support different candidates but vowed to remain friends. When Digong won, you invited me to eat out. I love that you were magnanimous in victory (but stingy because you did not allow me to have steak). That night, we avoided politics and talked about anything and everything else until we both had to report for work -- no showers, no change of clothes.

Since then we have had numerous impassioned discussions and fiery debates over our body politics. Even if we felt like killing each other several times over, we have remained friends.

Lately, we have not had a chance to sit down for coffee or break bread because of the pandemic. I miss arguing with you.

For almost 2 months now, we have not had a chance to even talk because you are always bushed now that your Mom and Dad’s Alzheimer’s are in Stages 5 and 7, respectively. Good thing you can work from home and your faithful kasambahay is still, well, loyal.

Boy was I shocked when, from out of the blue, you texted to taunt me about the non-renewal of ABS-CBN’s franchise. I did not respond. But we both know I will not remain quiet.

So here goes. Is your life any better now that Congress has slammed the lid on ABS-CBN?

There are a lot of new items I wish to discuss with you, but I know better than rile you at a time when you barely have time to call your very patient and understanding fiancée.

Let me pause and give you time to catch your breath.

I must admit I really am itching to debate with you, but I love you too much to be either a rock or a hard place (or both) when you have been so sleep-deprived. I know that for the first time in your privileged life, you wish you were not an only child.

Do not worry, you will not be alone much longer. And yes, I will still be the program host for your wedding reception next year. I have not done that in over a decade but even if the butterflies in my stomach morph into a stampede of elephants, there is no backing out.

I so look forward to your having children. Your first child, as promised, will call me Ninong. Carla wants 5 kids. Five kids who will have to pay the debts incurred by your Idol Digong.

#TumorYears dear friend. And 7 months as a bachelor.

Love from your friend who is twice your age plus 4.

No Leisure Trips ALOUD

 

Herminio Lopez Roque, Jr., more popularly known as Harry Roque, Presidential Spokesperson (with a Cabinet position) as well as the head of the Strategic Communications Task Group of the National Task Force COVID-19, once again figured in another controversy, this time by going on a “side-trip” to Ocean Adventure, thereby violating health protocols to prevent the spread of the China (Wuhan) Coronavirus aka COVID-19.

 

People found out about this ‘misadventure’ when Ocean Adventure posted pictures of Roque’s visit on their social media account, which were subsequently deleted immediately when social media went buzzing with negative reactions. But people were quick to take and save screenshots, aptly called “resibo” (an expression popularized by Joven Laurio of Pinoy Ako Blog [PAB]) as proof of what has transpired.

 

Ocean Adventure, where dolphins, sea lions and various other animals are trained to ‘work for a living’ is a park with a marine theme. Located inside the Subic Bay Freeport Zone (the former US Naval Base), it is operated by Subic Bay Marine Exploratorium, Inc (“SBMEI”).

 

In his defense, Roque emphasized the point that he posed with dolphins, hence no violations were committed. According to him, the side trip was done while en route to his Bataan farm. He avers that he has APOR status (authorized person outside residence) and granted permission to travel to enable him to attend to his agri–business.

 

#CTTO, grabbed from a post on Twitter

However, at the time this happened, unnecessary travel and leisure trips are still banned despite the easing of quarantine measures in Metro Manila.

 

Crafted in response to the pandemic, the current rules have penalized the marginalized, some of whom, including a 72 year old jeepney driver, were immediately jailed, but prominent personalities/government officials such as Senator Koko Pimentel, OWWA Deputy Executive Director Mocha Uson, and General Debold Sinas have violated the same health and quarantine protocols but have not been punished for their infringements. 

Harry Roque just added his name to this list of The Untouchables.

Throttled

Pangungulila is one of those words that is difficult to translate to English. Using google search, dictionary.com gave the word bereavement. But bereavement is too generic, referring to being deprived of a close relation or friend through their death. The definition does not do justice to pangungulila that comes after death.  I tried if melancholy applies but it does not need an obvious cause, so there. Desolation on the other hand is complete emptiness or destruction which does not really cut it even if there is indeed emptiness and destruction combined. Longing does not quite fit even if it refers to that strong, persistent desire or craving, especially for something unattainable or distant, i.e. a longing for home. I would not even settle for yearning which is an intense longing for something—see, pangungulila cannot be placated with an ice cream cone.

 

And then I remembered a Portuguese word, SAUDADE. It too does not readily translate to English but is defined as a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one cares for and/or loves. Moreover, it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never be had again.

 

This feeling has repeatedly overwhelmed me during the lockdown (brought about by the pandemic that the Sino leaders forbade to be referred to as the Chinese [Wuhan] Coronavirus) as the grim reaper took the lives of a teacher/Lola; a cousin; a dear friend; the 15-year-old daughter of a cousin; an erstwhile lover; a fellow correspondent; and the most overwhelming, an Aunt/favorite Godmother.

 

The specter that is mortality was busy, and I was stuck in my crib, unable to pay my last respects. The nearest was Pasig, but I could not possibly walk that far. Three were in LA, my hometown (Libacao, Aklan) and of course I could not fly or alternately swim freestyle and backstroke that great distance nor walk on Manila Bay to Verde Island Passage to Tablas Strait and finally to Sibuyan Sea. Besides, I would have to go on voluntary 14-day home quarantine/isolation the moment I get there, so what’s the bloody ruse, err use.

 

Even among those who had closure with physical presence during the wake and the interment/cremation, the pangungulila still hits them in the gut and messes with their emotions. Compelled to deal with grief from a distance, the pangungulila zaps one’s energy, leaving a depressed Eveready Bunny.

Dilectis in Paradisum

 

When God calls on His faithful, we should celebrate. Although grief and anxiety may be overwhelming, we surrender to God’s wisdom and embrace our faith even more closely, snugly. Our dear departed is with God.

 

However, as it is written: What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived — the things God has prepared for those who love him. — 1 Corinthians 2:9

 

Lilian Aguila Besana Inosanto has entered into the joy of God and death shall be no more. 

Dilectis in Paradisum, our beloved is in paradise.

 

The look of love... (no favoritism [char], jut that in this particular
photograph, she exudes that look of love, appreciation
and bliss beyond measure)

 

When I learned of Maninay Lily’s passing, two things immediately came to mind: firstly, she has finally been liberated from her sickbed, thanks be to God; secondly, I was worried about her children who will, will greater probability, not be able to come home because of the lockdown due to the pandemic.

 

The first thought was absolute joy; the second, unadulterated misery.

 

Maninay Lily is survived by her nine progeny: Scarlett (Lipa); Suzette (Sue); Roselle (Bebop); Carolita (Bibim); Florence (Flogs); Florencio Paterno (Toto); Lilynette (Lynette, I didn’t know her first name until today); Florante (Nono) and Christine (Ninky).

Maninay Lily conducts an attendance check, but keep your hands off her bag!

 

Anang Lipa, Nono and Ninky are in Toronto; Nang Suzette is in New Jersey; Nang Flogs is in Cebu; Nang Bebop & Nang Lynette are in Quezon City; but fortunately, Nang Bibim and Manong Toto are in Libacao.

 

Being the nearest in proximity, Nang Bibim, who lives in Roxas City, is able to come home to Libacao with ease and regularity. Manong Toto, who comes home as often as he can, got stranded in Libacao during the pandemic. He was supposed to go back to New York by the end of April.

 

As of this writing, there is no interment schedule just yet with travel still restricted.

There are no regular international flights and the Kalibo International Airport is closed. All other airports on Panay Island are closed, except for the Category 2 Evelio Javier Airport in San Jose, Antique which only accommodates propeller aircraft.

 

Another consideration that makes going home difficult is the mandatory 14-day quarantine, which makes no sense in this situation, no offense to the authorities as we submit to the health protocols.

 

This unusual situation confounds and multiplies the already complicated grief that they feel. The siblings are hoping for the best yet are prepared for the possibility that they will not be able to come home for the funeral.

 

I enjoin Maninay Lily’s family, relatives, and friends to please pray, if it be God’s will, that her immediate family be able to come home for her funeral. Let us, altogether, storm heaven with our plea.  

 

The immediate family, those who are not in Libacao, organized a prayer vigil, reciting the Novena for the Dead, organized by Nang Sue’s son Cookie. They also appreciate, and join whenever they can, the 9-Day Novena Masses offered by Amy Villorente Lim in Toronto.

 

She was really beautiful inside and out...

Maninay Lily was 98. She was bedridden for a decade and a half. Nobody might want to openly admit it, but it was definitely difficult for everyone.

 

My sister, who never failed to visit whenever she was home in Aklan, always expressed her appreciation and awe at the excellent and very competent care Maninay Lily had all those years she was bedridden. Louella believed that had it been otherwise, she would have died a long time ago.

 

People who are unfamiliar with such a situation do not understand the physical and emotional demands on those who provide care and comfort at the end of life. May St. John the Evangelist, patron saint of caregivers, intercede for them and grant them special blessings.

 

And may our Almighty Father, source of forgiveness and salvation, grant Lillian Aguila Besana Inosanto, through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, that she may share your Eternal happiness through Christ our Lord. Amen.

 

Come, let us celebrate the life of our beloved Lily. It was a well-lived, inspired, and inspiring life, one that left us indelible memories to remember her by. Let us cherish her love and share it with the world. We should never allow her smile to fade.

English Translation of In Paradisum:

May angels lead you into paradise

Martyrs receive you at your arrival

And bring you

To the holy city Jerusalem

May the choir of angels receive you

And with Lazarus, once a pauper

May you have eternal rest

No bells, no chokers...

You think I need to be married to be whatever you think should complete me?

I am okay. I have a dog. He is an awesome companion.

Argos and I, we never argue.

You, you are married. Why fool around if you are happily married?

Oh, you and your spouse fight every single day.

You are not happy and you want out.

If my dog wants out, I just open his cage. We play.

If I want to be alone he lets me be.

My dog and I, we are happy.

You, you need a dog.

Grief at a time of COVID-19

Struggling with how to begin this article, I only had the title staring back at me, cursor blinking, egging me on. But my mind was shooting blanks, so I had to resort to an old technique, putting in random, disconnected thoughts and ideas that I would then sew together.

 

Frustrated, I gave it a rest, went to Facebook and boom – saw my niece Tweepy’s post that her Lola Mommy, my Auntie/Ninang Lily (Lillian Aguila Besana Inosanto) passed away today, 13 June 2020 at 2:10 pm, in our hometown, LA (Libacao, Aklan). She was 98.

Maninay Lily was the Guidance Counselor of Libacao Elementary School, and much to her chagrin, this imp was a regular in her office.

 

The worst timing for it to happen, during this lockdown caused by the Chinese (Wuhan) Coronavirus. The lockdown already caused grief beyond the common experience. I have had relatives and friends who have died without me being able to physically pay my last respects.

 

“Dying is like the ocean, sometimes the tide comes in gently with soft, delicate waves quietly working in the background. Other days, the waves violently crash into explosions, demanding to be noticed but regardless of how it chooses to do its job, the tide will always come in.” – Sarah Riad, The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

 

My late mother, Dolores Bolivar Inosanto Jereza, always made it a point to condole with the bereaved and would make time to do so. It is a duty she etched, no, seared, in my character. And I have always tried to oblige.

 

But these are trying times made even more so by the lockdown to control the spread of the pandemic. Travel is restricted, and so, the death of people we love (and there is quite a long list during this pandemic) leave us compelled to deal with our grief literally from a distance.

 

Complete family, save of course for Maninoy Pater who has since passed on. From left: Ninky, Nono, Lynette, Toto, Flogs, Bibim, Bebop, Suzette and Lipa. #CTTO: Manong Toto's Facebook.

There is an altogether different level of frustration and disappointment in this particular instance because Maninay Lily’s children: Anang Lipa, Nang Sue, Nang Bebop, Mare Bibim, Nang Flogs, Manong Toto, Nang Lynette, Nono, and Ninky, and their respective families, have been with us in the best and worst times. The fact that I cannot be with you to somehow, in some way, assuage your pain, is frustrating and heartrending beyond words.

 

I visited her in January when I came home for the Ati-atihan. She was, as usual, very sweet (and funny).

Maninay, may you rest in the arms of the Lord who formed you from the dust of the earth, May Holy Mary, the angels and all the saints welcome you now that you have gone forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you, bring you freedom and peace. May Christ who died for you admit you into his garden of paradise. Amen.

Houston, the problem has been resolved...

Could not log in to this blog for a long time because of an email address associated with this that I no longer had access to. It took a while to regain control... the anguish of a frustrating wait. But now that I have sway over this once again, yes, I really am taking control and will readily, eagerly scratch that itch to write. My fingers are ready to dance on the keyboard.

Of Swallows, Bells, and Fond Memories

Nanay in Lombard St., San Francisco

Tomorrow, the 28^th of December 2013 will be Nanay’s 11^th Death Anniversary.

I still mourn her passing and miss her so, though I am no longer that sad, especially because this year, I was finally able to make one of her most ardent wishes come true.

I went on a pilgrimage for her, one that served me well as a catharsis.

This is my first ever pilgrimage story.

“When the swallows come back to Capistrano” by Leon René is one of Nanay’s all-time favorite songs. She never revealed to anyone why this is so, though I have an idea, or at least a suspicion.

This song has been recorded by several famous singers, including: Pat Boone, Xavier Cugat, The Ink Spots, and Glenn Miller among a host of other artists. Note that if you check the lyrics online, they all repeat the second stanza. 

Nanay’s favorite cover of this song is by The Lennon Sisters who may have added a unique third stanza:

When the swallows come back to Capistrano

When the swallows come back to Capistrano

That's the day you promised to come back to me

When you whispered, "Farewell," in Capistrano

That’s the day the swallows flew back to the sea

All the mission bells will ring

The chapel choir will sing

The happiness you bring

Will live in my memory

When the swallows come back to Capistrano

That's the day I pray that you'll come back to me

While the altar candles burn

My heart is burning, too

If you should not return

I will still be waiting for you

And the swallows come back to Capistrano

That's the day I pray that you'll come back to me

Note: There is a link to this song at the end of this article.

Nanay sang this often, and every now and again, would request our friend Jun, a broadcast colleague in IBC-DYRG to play it for her on his defunct popular afternoon broadcasts.

She was able to visit my sister in California and went to several places there, including parts of Orange County where Mission San Juan de Capistrano is located. Although she wanted to and could have, she did not visit Mission San Juan de Capistrano at that time, because she has promised me we would visit the place together. Unfortunately, as fate would have it, she passed away and we never got to do it.

When I attended the wedding of my niece Liezel in San Francisco, I just had to go. I did not even have to ask twice.

With my host and guide, Grace Magdaluyo

I left San Francisco in the early morning, return tickets and pocket money courtesy of my sister Louella and Manong Louis, on 12 June 2013. I was met by my friend Grace Magdaluyo and her husband. We went straight from the San Diego airport to Mission San Juan de Capistrano. In our collective excitement, we passed by the ruins without noticing it, and, with a fluke from our online Google map, ended up in the new Mission Basilica San Juan.

We did not realize we were in the wrong place until I noticed the predominantly Hispanic colonial-style modern structures that surrounded us. I walked straight into a cul-de-sac which led to the Mission Basilica School and asked for directions from a man who likewise seemed lost, and only spoke Spanish, the mile-a-minute variety that got me discombobulated and invariably lost in translation. To my chagrin, I realized I was no match to a Mexican who spoke andale andale with such a frenzy. So I went back and pulled Grace along, literally, dragging her inside the school administration building. The ladies there were not at all surprised that we lost our way and readily gave us instruction, with hands flying to indicate directions, in English.

It was a very short drive back, powered by peals of giggles. We entered the gates and found ourselves in a very quiet, introspective and awe-inspiring place.

Established in 1775 and re-founded a year later, Mission San Juan de Capistrano is a living piece of history and culture with religious significance. Unfortunately, this great stone church collapsed when an earthquake struck in December 1812. Today, it is run by a non-profit organization that preserves these ruins of a bygone era. Without a doubt, it has become famous for “The miracle of the Swallows” which takes place March 19^th, St. Joseph's Day.

While we were merrily walking around and taking loads of pictures, I chanced upon one of the lady volunteers, who was pruning a hedge of flowers. Spur of the moment, I asked her what her favorite version/cover of the song “When the swallows come back to Capistrano” and she flashed me a winsome smile, eagerly whipped her mobile phone out of her pocket, and showed me her collection.

I told her about Nanay, and why I just had to visit The Mission. As I was talking, I did not notice that I was already in tears. She asked if she could give me a hug, and we did. I was bawling and she held on to me for as long as I did.

As the flood of tears stopped, she asked to be excused, and much to my surprise, she gave a stern warning asking me to stay put.

With Josh, whom we met again on his way back from lunch.

She came back with Josh, the Director of the place, who, having heard my story from the lady volunteer, expressed appreciation for our visit and then walked with us to The Mission Store and gave me a candle, for free. Next thing I knew, I was in the Chapel.

I do not know what perception Grace had of me at that point, but she left unobtrusively to give me my private moment. For a couple of minutes, I just stood there … basking in my very private moment well spent in solitude, thanksgiving and closure.

Inside the "Serra's Chapel" at The Mission. Candle to the lower left was the one I lit, courtesy of Josh.

It was a time of reckoning, as a new realization came to me: I was named Josephus because of this awesome place. Yes, that is my first name, Latin for Joseph. And it was not the late Fr. Rago who added this, as if on a whim, on my baptismal certificate. It was Nanay who really wanted it, hence my nickname, Jojo.

I did not notice the swallows that day of my visit, neither did I hear the bells. But it was one of my happiest moments (to think I could have been named Juan, or even worse, Swallow … kidding!).

It was a peak experience flying with the swallows … and hearing bells … in my heart.


NB: You can listen to The Lennon Sisters' cover of "When the swallows come back to Capistrano" by clicking on this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GYxrydmTXRI

.

Two Voices: One Shrill; The Other, Silenced

She wanted so much to be a VJ and auditioned for MYX for three consecutive years. During her 3^rd audition in the summer of 2012, she was asked “what has changed since you auditioned last year?” Her reply was: “Mahaba ang buhok ko” (my hair is longer).

Such profundity was consistently manifested in the interview during which she feigned familiarity with the channel but failed miserably when she appeared to not have known and have been caught by surprise that OPM mix became PinoyMix way back in 2007. To think that she purportedly watches regularly and even named her favorite shows.

When asked to deliver a sample spiel, her lines included “This is me behind this camera and off this camera” and “I am fans with them” (referring to the group Callalily).

You could read it in her eyes and body language, the longing, the intense desire to become famous.  She tried to appear knowledgeable, eloquent and intelligent but failed miserably on all three counts.

Yesterday, she finally had her axiomatic 15 minutes of fame … and instantly gained notoriety by alarm and scandal.

That was quite a scene that she created in an LRT station with thousands of people coming and going. She was giving a lady security guard a severe tongue-lashing allegedly because she resented the manner by which her attention was called for failing to have her bag go through a security check.

Unknown to her, the scene she created (showcasing what she thought was her superior English language skills complete with ‘accent with an attitude’), and the condescending treatment she was giving the lady guard, attracted the attention of another passenger who took a video of the confrontation.

The video inevitably went viral on social media, with shares and retweets fueled by negative reactions to Amalayer’s apparent lack of self-respect.

It is possible that she may have had a legitimate grievance. If so, she could have gone to LRT management to complain. Indeed, there are security officers who are so full of themselves, rubbing their bloated egos off people they purportedly serve if only to emphasize that they are persons, or at least agents, of persons in authority.

In the video footage that I saw, it was apparent that she was bent on raising hell and calling attention to herself. She appeared to look around as if asking for sympathy from people who were either surprised, curious or shocked but had no wish to get involved in the fracas.

What was most telling was when she said she studied, ergo educated, as if security guards themselves do not have an education.

The condescending attitude towards security guards is not uncommon. The fact that they have a voice in Congress through a party list representative did nothing to address their plight, primarily that of being overworked and underpaid.

Their job is to ensure the safety of people and property. But most of the time, they do not even have job security. More often than not, they get automatic deductions for government-imposed contributions such as Social Security, PhilHealth and Pag-IBIG but their contributions are not remitted by their agency.

It is such a crying shame that security guards will not be able to send a legitimate voice in Congress, with Ang Galing Pinoy having been disqualified by the Comelec because it failed to meet the requirements for representing marginalized sectors in the House of Representatives.

Two perspectives, one sorry situation.

Death Knell for the FOI Bill

14 November 2012

Dear Mr. President:

I am very disappointed with what appears to be the death of the FOI Bill in Congress. I am very disappointed that after you said you were supporting this bill during the height of the Corona Impeachment, nothing has been heard from you since then on this subject.

I am very disappointed that you sat this one out. You might say you do not wish to interfere with Congress because it is a co-equal branch of government. But then again I know that when it was convenient for you, there is no way for you to deny that you did, too!

I sat still and kept my peace during those other times when I was of the impression that your Excellency failed, in the bar of public opinion, on certain issues. This one I shall sit out, too, Your Excellency. But I have to let you know that I am very disappointed. Very disappointed, indeed.

Respectfully yours,

Glenn Inosanto Jereza

Brilliance, beating deadlines and having your cake and eating it, too

Voter registration for the 2013 Midterm Elections ends today, Friday, 31 October 2012 at 5pm … and this being the last day of registration; people are expected to come in droves, especially in the late afternoon as the deadline approaches.

When we think in terms of how far we’ve gone as a nation, this prevailing attitude of waiting, albeit beating the deadline, is one nasty attitude that keeps on holding us back. This is worse than the mañana habit or putting things off until the next day. In this instance, things are put on hold until deadlines come around.

Subsequently, chaos ensues, initiating the start of the blame game. Fingers are pointed like guns sans bullets, and sparks fly off mouths that brew contempt. Thing is, when registering at the last minute, people should have reasonable expectations. Unfortunately, those who register at the last minute have expectations that are anything but reasonable. When pressed for an explanation as to why they had to wait until the deadline, they will come up with a battery of excuses, every single one of which is lame, if not downright derisory.

Pathetic excuses notwithstanding, most of these wannabe/feeling VIPs will be so demanding they feel their rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are being violated. It will both be egregious and outrageous to say that they are expecting the queue to part like the red sea so that they can be done with something they should have done months ago. With slighted feelings and stifled egos, they will complain their lungs out and hurl invectives at Comelec officials and personnel as if it were not their fault that they held on until the last minute, never mind if voter registration has in fact been ongoing for the last year and a half. That they opted to wait for the very last day only shows a tragedy of character rather than a tragedy of fate.

Then comes Sixto Brillantes, current Chair of the Commission on Elections, with a statement that is a foot-in-mouth rather than mere tongue-in-cheek situation: “The Comelec would be keeping an eye on hakot (bused-in) registrants brought in by politicians to add to the chaos that usually attend the last day of  voter registration in Comelec offices nationwide.”

Ouch, the shoe is now on the other foot … it turns out that the brilliant Brillantes is wary of the fact that he might find himself at the receiving end of his inspired and dazzling tactics as an election lawyer. Talk about a blast from the past with ghosts of previous misdeeds manifesting on the eve of Todos Los Santos, complete with the bunions of conscience pressing on one’s toes.

“On the last day, we would cause a stir in election offices”, recalled Brilliantes. “We would bring in registrants-supporters of a politician so the others won’t be able to register.”

Bwahahaha! The brilliant Sixto Brillantes wants to have his cake and eat it, too.

As a child, I was given the impression that working for the Commission on Elections was the best career move, considering that its employees literally only had to work during election season. This type of job actually fascinated me quite endlessly that I even asked my father if I could take up ‘electioneering’, thinking that it was the requisite college degree.