April 14, 2012

SPECIAL CENTENNIAL EDITION

Walnut, California

Leopoldo Villanueva Balayon, Sr. (24 July 1912 25 November 1965)

Dad
Five of us --- Lou (Rosario), Boy (Leopoldo, Jr.) and his wife Ana, Neneng (Rhodora) and I --- were in various modes of relaxation in Nenengs living room as Ed (Nenengs husband) showed Dito (Lous husband) his recently finished extension of the sun room that Ed worked on single handedly in the past two days; the sun room had been converted into a playroom for Aiden, Sheyn, Luc and Izaak (Neneng and Eds grandchildren) and Ed figured that the roof of an extension could deflect or absorb some of the summer heat. As Dawn (Phillips wife) watched over Aiden (in the jacuzzi) and Sheyn (in the main pool), Ronald (Neneng and Eds eldest), his wife Celine, Phillip (Ed and Nenengs third child) and Anthony (Boy and Anas youngest) brought indoors the tables and chairs that we had used at lunch. Neneng and Ed, both retired and living by themselves in a four-bedroom house (Ron and Celine are in Pasadena; Leslie in Portland, Oregon; Peejay, Dawn, Aiden, and Sheyn in Corona; Liza, Richard, Luc, and Izaak in San Francisco), have their empty nest warmed during schooldays by Sheyn while Aiden is at preschool. Ed and Neneng organized this Sunday lunch so they could welcome me with Eds steaks; Lous stew of pork legs with cadios, and paksiw na tuna; Nenengs tinolang manok and green salad with Italian dressing, and Anas refrigerator cake. The night before, Ed and Neneng collected me from Los Angeles airport following my flight from San Francisco; earlier that afternoon of March 31, Dr. Marvie M. Abesamis (a pediatric oncologist and chief of staff at East Avenue Medical Center in Quezon City) and I had conducted a symposium on Health Care Approaches to Survivors of Abuse in Intimate Relationships in a Tertiary Public Hospital in the Philippines at the National Conference on Health and Domestic Violence. My trip (the second since my visit in November 2011 to receive the Global Community Advocacy Award from Avon Foundation for Women in New York City) was so fraught with uncertainties that Marvie and I decided to make a go of it only eight days before our non-revenue flight (courtesy of Philippine Air Lines) at 10:30 oclock p.m. of Wednesday, 28 March. A consequence of our severely abbreviated preparation time was cancellation of some of Marvies appointments; in my case, I couldnt move my presentation on Justice and Healing that had been scheduled less than seven hours before our flight. Another consequence was the unfinished photo-copying of our presentation (despite Manang Lettys [WCCs devoted all around office assistant] skipped lunch that Wednesday); a third consequence were missing skirts and mismatched malongs and tops (thanks to Mamang Cookie, my self-appointed wardrobe manager) which I belatedly discovered as I unpacked in San Franciscos Hotel Bijou.

l-r: Inday Terry at six, Neneng Rhodora at four in front of Dad and Nonoy Leo (+) at two held by Nanny. Nonoy Leo holds a dahlia plucked from Nannys garden because he was scared by the red and black mantle used by photographers at that time to cover the camera. Nanny is holding Nony Leos feet which were ubshod because childrens shoes were not available in Tupi and Marbel. Shoes worn by Inday and Neneng were sent by Tatay Cards all the way from Manila.

In the midst of my (high stress) preparation, I managed to squeeze in a visit to Edmund Leo (Momon --- Dito and Lous eldest), April (his wife) and their children Eicyd Timothy (Cyd), 5 years and 4 months old, and Eithan Theodore (Thanthan), seven months old, at the campus of International Institute for Rural Reconstruction (IIRR) in Silang, Cavite; a remittance to Wayne Aldrin (Toto Wayne --- Manay Vilmas only son) for her medications; instructions to Edros Michael (King --- Dito and Lous youngest) and Karen Mae Noelle (Ken, our late sister Nazareths --- Tings eldest) regarding the Apo ni Polding and Anak ni Polding t-shirts that I was to bring to L.A.; instructions for Leo Nikolai (Lai --- Nazareths youngest) to get an appointment at the Research Institute for Tropical Medicine (RITM) for treatment of psoriasis; phone calls to Laurence Leo (Eboy --- Bings son) and his and Roenas son, Czar Andre Roel (Andre), 2 1/2 y.o. Only when I was with Lou in Glendale that I was able to speak with Ednell Matthew (Theo), 3 y.o., Michael and Nellyns son. I wasnt able to speak with Pauline Anne (Pau --- Boy and Anas only daughter), Almeera Sophia (Leo), 5 years and 6 months, and John Paul, Jr. (Lolek), 2 years and 6 months (John Paul and Jocelyns children). It was while I was packing tubs of ubeng halaya (made by Good Shepherd sisters) --- the preferred poison of diabetic Rey Rivera (who owns our preferred shelter in New York City --- an apartment along 16th Street East, between 6th and posh 5th Avenues) that the idea came to me: maximize my visit with Neneng, Boy, and Lou in Los Angeles and Bing in New Mexico with a commemoration of Daddys birth centennial on July 24 with a soft launch in April.

As we sat there, mindful that Manay Vilma was in Iloilo, Bing in New Mexico, and John Paul in Quezon City, we firmed up plans for the launch: (1) on April 14, a gathering (in Neneng and Eds home at Trotter Court) of Dajays and Bugantes (Nannys cousins --- Auntie Virgie, Inday Ron, Auntie Cel, Uncle Oscar and his wife, Auntie Juliet); additional Sino-Cruzes (Les flying in from Portland) and Naridos (Liza, Rich, Luc, and Izaak driving down from San Francisco); and Balayons (Bing coming by train from New Mexico; and Leo III, Judy, and Abby driving from Cerritos); (2) recollections through a video and a photoessay leading to a possible event in Tupi, South Cotabato on Dads 100th birthday --- Tuesday, 24 July 2012. Expectedly, we reminisced about Dad: his forthrightness; his being a single parent after Nanny passed away on 6 September 1955 (until his marriage to Nene Ling in June 1963); his demise on 25 November 1965 at age 53 after a three-year battle with liver and lung cancer. Our reminiscences brought us to the realization that all of us outlived Dad by more than three years (Lou, the youngest among us gathered, is 56) but none of us could out-score him in his self-defined delicadeza (sensitivity to shared ethics and values) and sentido comon (common sense) --- traits that were the hallmarks of his moral and intellectual standards. Dad, this one is for you from all of us: Inday Terry [for Inday Vilma, Neneng, Nonoy Leo (+), Nenet Bing, Nonoy Boy, Nene Lou, Nene Ting (+), and Toto Suerte] Wednesday, 4 April 2012 Trotter Court, Walnut California

1951. Daddy and Nanny pose for a picture after Toto Joses wedding.

[Type a quot

My Memories of Dad
Although Ting and I did not grow up with Dad the way Nonoy Boy, Nenet Bing, Neneng, and Inday did, I am certain that Ting and I were Daddys favorites. I can vividly remember how a bus (of Cotabato Bus Company) would stop in front of our house along the national highway in Bo. Dajay in Surallah, South Cotabato. [The house that I considered our house was owned by Lola Tali (Catalina Mosquera Figueroa) and Lolo Ano (Laureano Miranda Dajay), Nannys parents. A man would come down the bus, leave a loaf of American bread (pan Americano, Lola Tali called it) or a box of Alpine evaporated milk, and leave again with the bus. At first, Ting and I wondered who the man was because the stopping of the bus with the man who left bread and a box of Alpine milk happened many times, as often as twice or thrice a month sometimes. Pressed for answers, Lola told us the man was si Daddy ninyo. Eventually, Ting and I would watch out for the CBC buses and look forward to when a bus would stop; we would run down the house because Daddy would surely leave us PAN AMERICANO and Alpine milk again. When Lola and Lolo explained that Daddy was English for Tatay, Ting and I felt very sad by then because we were old enough to realize this meant that Lolo and Lola were not our parents. When we were in Grade Three, Daddy would visit us during weekends; Ting and I would show off what we learned from school. I loved it when he praised me, for the nice butterfly I could draw in the sand or for the songs that Ting and I learned from school. One song goes: may gamay nga damang saka kag panaog sa sanga pag-abot sang ulan Dad was also amused by our mastery of Kinaray-a, the vernacular that Ting and I learned from Lolo and Lola. Kamaan tamon ni Ting mag karay-a; tanda, indi, hay man, Hiligaynon tanda. Dad was not only amused, he was amazed by how Ting and I would speak Kinaray-a fluently. I remember occasions when, upon Daddys request, Tatay Cards (Ricardo F. Dajay, Nannys younger brother) would fetch us from Bo. Dajay and take us to Tupi where a big party to which many relatives were invited, awaited us. Ting and I later realized that the occasions were to mark our birthday as well as the anniversary of Nannys death. We were born on Sunday, September 4, 1955 and Nan died two days later. There was a time when Daddy took us with him to Tupi without Lola Tali or Lolo Ano. Ting and I enjoyed the trip with him but night time would be a disaster because we would ask for Lola and Lolo. And that meant two children crying throughout the night. To appease us, Daddy would promise us something the following day. He would bring us to the national highway, the busiest (!) part of town. One day he took us to Mr. Quirinos barber shop for a haircut (bob cut) then bought us halo-halo at Lacsamanas place. Everything would be okay during the day, but again, night time would be another disaster. Now that I have my own kids, I can imagine how hard it was for Dad then. On our fourth grade, we transferred to Tupi Central School where Dad was the Principal. I always wanted him to be proud of me, so one Monday morning my class adviser (Miss Mayor) asked me to lead the Panatang Makabayan. I never recited it at home, so Dad was surprised to see me lead the Patriotic Pledge. When I went to see him at recess time, he hugged me and said, Ti ngaa waay ka gid magsiling nga ikaw gali ang ma-lead sang Panatang Makabayan? Kanami gid sang pag-lead mo. Haaaaaay, how I loved to hear that from Dad. Of all of us, Ting and I spent the shortest time with Dad. Nene Lou, a.k.a Maria Rosario Balayon-Rico 2462 Bywood Drive Glendale, California 13 April 2012

My Dads Junior
My recollections of Dad are the only ones I know of parental and filial relationships because I was only 15 months old when Nanny passed away in 1955. In a photograph after the funeral Mass for Nanny, Dad can be seen holding me in his arms; it is an image I conjured often when, growing up after Dad, too, passed away in 1965 when I was eleven, I needed to feel safe and secure. Today, as a grandfather to Abby, I hold her in my arms as I think Dad held me: sitting (or lying) on the crook of my left arm, Abby has the added security of my right arm on her back as I hold her close to my heart. I was asthmatic as a child so from family lore, I learned how Dad would stay up all night holding me and singing lumabay-labay nga daw asu or eres tan pura nina hermosa --- songs that he also sang to my elder sisters --- Inday Terry, Neneng Rhodora, and Nenet Bing, during their time. In my minds eye, I could see Dad on his custom made, oversized rattan rocking chair reading the days newspapers, a lighted Tabacalera cigar dangling from his lips. It was from his rocking chair that he would call me, Noooooooy, or Nenet Bing, Neneeeeeeet if he had errands for one of us. (Nenet Bing and I are the Hansel and Gretel of another time and another tale.)

practically everyone in Tupi knew our family and were Dads friends, indeed ---) who saw me running toward the highway, reported the matter to Dad.] Although I was afraid, I came out of my hiding place crying, Ari ako Daaaaaaad! (I am here, Dad!) because I could sense distress, not anger (of which I was very scared) in Dads voice. When he saw me, he gathered me in his arms and hugged me tight saying, Palangga ko gid ikaw Noy, indi mo ako panagu-an. (I love you, Noy, dont hide from me.) On weekends, Dad would require us to clean the yard or plant flowers and fruit trees. Ever the teacher, he was concerned that Nenet Bing has not mastered her maths so one weekend, when Dad decided to teach her about feet and inches. With a ruler and trowels in Dads hands and papaya seeds in a can in mine, the three of us went to the front hedge. Dad told Nenet Bing and me to dig holes three feet and six inches apart. I must have done my measurements right because Dads attention was on Nenet Bing. After a while, exasperated, he stormed back into the house telling me, Ikaw tudlo sa magulang mo! (You teach your elder sister!). I have many more anecdotes about Dad, about how he always introduced me as My junior, but like my sisters who wept as they wrote down their reminiscences, I am overcome by repressed emotions. I would like to be that 15-month old boy held by Dad in his arms again; I would like to feel the safety and security of Dads embrace. Nonoy Boy a.k.a Leopoldo Dajay Balayon, Jr. Miramar, Los Angeles 13 April 2012

When I was in Grade 1, I took a fancy to my classmate, Winnie Javier, whose right index finger I slashed with a Gilette razor blade that I had filched from Dads shaving kit. As Winnie screamed over his bleeding finger while being treated at the school clinic, I decided to run away and hide in our farm in Tabul, a good two kilometers away from Tupi Elementary School where Dad was principal. My escape involved traversing the national highway which, when unaccompanied by an adult, was off limits to us kids living on the street (now named in Dads honor) in front of the school. Before long, I realized that my crime must have been discovered because in no time at all, the long arm of Dads law, which meant Dad himself, was about to catch up with me. There he was, all 200 pounds of him, huffing and puffing along the highway, shouting Noooooooy, Noooooooy, diin ka Noooooooy ? Si Daddy ini Noooooooy. Pauli na Noooooooy. (Where are you, Noy? This is Daddy, Noy. Come home, Noy.) By then, I was hiding under the house of one of Dads friends. [I found out later that people (Dads friends --- because

Daddys Little Girl Grows Up:

Special Moments with Dad
When I was a junior at the General Paulino Santos Memorial Institute in Tupi, South Cotabato,, I represented my class in a declamation contest with my piece, Rizpah. I had been staying with Nonoy Gener and Auntie Lillian that week of our schools Foundation Day celebrations because Dad was in Dadiangas, (now General Santos) for some teachers conference. The night before the declamation contest, there was a cadets ball where I was cadet sponsor to Perry Sales. I half expected Dad to be back for the declamation contest but I guarded myself against disappointment so I focused on the competition for which Dad prepared me through nightly practice: walking in and out of an imaginary stage, delivering my piece with the proper stance and posture (not too stiff, not dowdy); correct phrasing and pronunciation; stage presence. Before I delivered my declamation piece, I scanned the audience and to my surprise and delight, I saw Dad standing by the hollow block fence at the schools entrance. From my vantage point on stage, I could also see the tall bita tree that marked the spot of Nannys tomb at Tupis public cemetery. Inspired and challenged by Dads presence and Nannys memory (in my imagination, I had wanted her to watch me as I declaimed), I gave it my best and won first place. (I won first place since sophomore until senior year; during my freshman year, Inday Terry, a senior, won first .) Dad was nowhere in sight when I received my prize so I hurried home to share my happiness with Dad. As my sisters, brother, and I were wont to do when we got home, I called Dad as soon as I reached the door; not finding him in his rocking chair in the sala downstairs, I rushed to his room upstairs where he was resting. When I asked him why he left early, he said he was confident I would win so he went home after hearing me declaim because he was tired after the conference. . As I kissed Dad good night, he said he was so proud of me and that I can be the best of what I wanted to be in the future. It was one of many occasions when Dad made me feel so loved and so special. Dads coaching to make me a prize winning declaimer gave me the confidence that I carried with me even when times were hard during my growing up years. Looking back now, I know Dad is waiting for me at home somewhere and I hope I make him proud not only with the family I raised, but also because my brothers, sisters, and I have remained as close as he and Nanny wanted us to be. Neneng Rhodora, a.k.a Dordie Balayon Sino-Cruz 778 Trotter Court Walnut, California 13 April 2012

Dads Princess
My vanity was inspired and supported by DAD, ha!ha!ha! Dad ALWAYS made me feel I am a Princess. Needless to say, I ALWAYS believed him! When Dad, courtesy of Toto Lening, took me to V. Luna Medical Center for surgery of congenital hemangioma on my left leg, he said, "Be brave. You will be given the best medical attention here. After your operation, I will buy you a beautiful dress. Nenet, he told me, you will always be my Princess! In one of our trips to Manila (from Tupi, South Cotabato), the boat stopped over at Cebu City. We went to White Gold department store where I wanted Dad to buy me a petticoat .. .ha ha ha. I was 9 years old then. Dad said to me, Petticoats are not nice for girls like you. Instead, he bought me a pair of red overalls and another pair for my cousin, Nene Grace Dajay Benzonan, who is a year younger than me When I was in 4rth grade, I asked Dad if I could lead the singing of the National Anthem during the morning flag ceremony. Ha, ha, ha, ha! Dad told me, Net, sa flag retreat ka lang karon sa hapon. .And I DID!. During flag retreat, ti, naka beat guid ako That was all I needed to make me self-confident! Dad made me a strong person. When I formed keloid on my lip after Boy pushed me down the stairs at our home in Tupi, his mantra to me was:. Indi ka guid mahuya sang imo SAMBIL kag sa scar sa imo legs! PALANGGA KO GUID IKAW, NENET! BE GOOD! Ha!ha!ha! The keloid on my left leg failed to prevent me from wearing mini- skirts. The scarred leg and the "sambil" took me to Cambridge University in England . . . and beyond. When Dad got very ill, he told me to be BRAVE, to be SMART, not to be afraid to face people and to be confident. Most especially, Dad told me to always THINK ABOUT NONOY! I was twelve years old. To this day, more than four decades later, Dads exhortations remain with me. Where ever I am I always act as if I am Dads Princess: brave, smart, confident and always thinking about NONOY!!!! Bing Navajo, New Mexico April 2012