my acceptance speech - not!

On Mondays at lunchtime, our group of staff people and fellows convene for journal club and more importantly, eat all you can pizza. This Monday just past however, though there was the unmistakably delectable smell of pizza, there was no journal club. It turned out, it was the fellowship's end of the year program. I felt sad in a way because it meant that some of the people I have worked and became friends with are leaving. And also perhaps, they are going and yet I am staying.

Dr. S, our affable and superb programme director, opened the activity with one of his humor laden spiels. "Oh, parting is such sweet sorrow.."

One by one, certificates for having completed the two year programme were handed out. I heard my name and stood up to receive mine. A handshake, a buzz on the cheek, a smile, applause. Not much aplomb at all. So there, technically speaking, I am a graduate. However due to duration of fellowship requirements back home, I am constrained to continue on for one more year.

I sat down again and waited, contemplating on the year yet to come. Other sorts of recognition awards were being handed out. I just clapped along with everyone else. Dr. S was talking about the final award of the year. I heard parts of it. I was chatting with my seatmate, a colleague and now friend from India who will be on her way home soon.

"every year, this award is always lengthily deliberated on.....this year though, the decision from all three sites (i.e. the three hospitals we, as fellows rotate through) was impressively unanimous....this fellow truly is much deserving, and she has come a long way.....and so the trainee of the year award goes to....and then I heard my name...."

I was so stunned. Pat would later tell me I looked like I was going to cry. I admit to a tremedously weighty mix of emotions and could only wish my family was there. I stood up amid applause. Still dumbfounded. As I approached my boss, I said, "You have got to be kidding." And he half seriously replied, "Oh, I thought I was right unless I mixed it up...darn, let me check the name on the plaque..of course, dear, it is yours. We don't joke about a thing like this." He handed me the handsome looking plaque and gave me a big bear hug. He also showed an even bigger plaque, which I have espied in the HSC NICU many times before, to which my name has been added to a list with the names of previous honorees. Now earlier, for the Teacher of the Year Awardee, Dr. S had joked that the envelope he handed over with the plaque does actually now contain the 500 dollar bonus and not a mere promisory note. So, after Dr. S's repartee chronicling my fellowship "highs", as I received my award and envelope, all I could blurt out was, "So, is this also for 500 dollars?" Not even was I able to stammer out a thanks. My mom would have clobbered me. Everyone hollered in laughter and I sat down. More unreal was the line of people making my way and offering their congratulations, and to which of course, I automatically say, thank you.

I still felt bothered about my "acceptance speech" and so to redeem myself (and make my mom..and dad proud), I sent him an email later.

Hi M,

I just wanted to say thanks. I totally did not expect it. Ergo my completely dumbfounded stance. And of all things to blurt out, "Is this also for 500 dollars?" Now, what I really meant to say was, I am utterly honored by your vote of confidence and trust. And no amount will equal to the wealth of the quality of learning and training I have earned (and will keep on earning) from this programme.
I am truly indebted to yourself, all the staff people and my co-workers.

Cheers,
D

I received a quick reply...

Congratulations - hope you found the cheque, anyway!!!
Much deserved.

Best wishes,
M

Ok ba bumawi? He really is a sweet man.

Kayod na naman uli.

Maxine is 10

Here in Toronto, oftentimes I am met with disbelief at the mere mention that I have kids, let alone three of them. Apparently, I look too young and that for me to have three meant I must have started early, like at 12. Well, lately, I have been feeling older. More so because my bigger babies (namely Lomi and Maxine) are not quite that anymore.

Maxine will be 10 this June 10th. She is now formally launched into that wondrous journey of the double digit age. Ngiiii...the tweens! Jun usually comments on how quiet she has become and not quite into rough housing with her cousins (and him) anymore. Our anticipation of her blossoming into a young lady is a mix of anxiety and joyful pride.

I remember the first time I held her in my arms and I felt a surge of happiness overwhelm me. She has the biggest eyes framed by longest lashes that fanned out. Her eyes (and needless to say, the rest of her) are still as beautiful. Though now she is gangly and about to be as tall as I am, I still get the same surge of endorphins when I see and even think about her.

I can only hope and pray that Jun and I will be able to efficiently navigate with her as she further embarks on her life's journeys.

Happy birthday baby.

chinatown finds

I had gone for palengke at Chinatown. My first excursion out since I moved. Since it is a fresh start, I bought all the Pinoy kitchen necessities. Datu Puti Suka, Marca Pina Toyo, Lorins Patis, bagoong. I lingered in the greens aisle and decided on sitaw, bok choi, spinach, sayote, coriander among others. I was tempted to buy golden, juicy looking Philippine mangoes (goodness though they were 5 for 10 bucks!!). Two tilapia (for 10 dollars!!) found its way to my basket and then some pork spare ribs (for barbecue, sinigang, adobo, pork steak). A dozen chicken wings completed the purchase. I did not expect to get so carried away. I stuffed as much in to my own recycled shopping bag (I care for the environment!!). The rest (and I meant the fresh meat) had to go in the plastic bag. Still, it was quite a load to carry. I made my way outside. It is summer alright. The sun was out in its full glory and made sure that everyone felt its warmth, rather, heat. This was going to be quite a trek.. 8 blocks to be exact. Ay-yay. I berated myself for not having brought my rickety shopping cart.
It was not all bleak. A familiar bell ringing out on the intersection called my attention to the street car. I went to the corner and stood waiting for the next car. I eagerly boarded into the airconditioned comfort. I sat in the back of the car and thankfully set my bags down. As I was getting settled, there was a tisay Pinay with bug eye sunglasses (tutubi shades) dressed in a grey jersey knit dress approaching my way. "Hi Miss", she says and sat down beside me. Weird. She then sat sideways toward me,"Hindi mo talaga ako nakikilala?" Even weirder. She took her glasses off. Surprise, surprise. It was Nel, a dear high school barkada of mine. We threw our arms around each other in a warm hug. Had I been more attentive, I would have noticed her hubby, Mario, just tailing her. They were in Toronto, from Chicago, for the weekend. Nel had thought of looking me up but time was short as they were flying out tonight. It seemed fate had wanted us to meet. Armed with a TTC day pass, they were hopping in and out of the street cars, making their own tour of downtown. Mario had spotted me from afar and they went in pursuit. What a happy coincidence. We spent the afternoon re-connecting.
They do say you can find just about anything or in this case, anyone, in chinatown.

nikki's tricks

I have a particular memory of Nikki that gets me all tickled pink.

I had brought Nikki along for a shopping trip at Gateway. No yaya. Just me and her. She would be traipsing right beside me and at times, would even walk, skip, hop right ahead of me and then stop and turn around slowly to check if I was still within her reach. She would flash me back a most impish smile then start running towards me. I almost topple over as she jumps for my arms. I felt so giddily happy. It felt so right, like all the planets in the universe aligned and made that perfect moment.

In a store, I was browsing for tops as Nikki lounged in one of the oversized couches. Perhaps she was getting bored and so she darted in and out the clothes racks, half shouting and coaxing me,"Where's Nikki?" She was going to hide out in one of the racks further in the store but on her way, she missed a step down and fell on her knee, her arms shot straight out breaking her fall. Nikki slowly raised her head and peered sideways, trying to get a sense of who had witnessed her mishap. She looked straight at me and I was already on my way to comfort her. I was pretty sure she was on the verge of tears. But still on bended knee, she stretched out both her arms in a diagonal and with much flourish exclaimed,"Da-dan!!" I gave her a much deserved applause.

old metal box

At this month's start, I moved in to a different apartment. Yes, my roomie and I have divorced (it was amicable, needless to say). I stopped counting the number of times I had gone up and down the elevator in the process of carting my stuff from the 8th floor down to the 2nd floor. It was a good thing that my cousin has a flatbed cart that eased the weight (literally) of relocating. In two years here, I am amazed at how much stuff I had accumulated (now I ponder on how to ship all these back home). The all metal freight elevator I was using is decidedly dated. There were some scratches on the wall, indelible marks left by previous building occupants who have done much the same as I am. On my umpteenth trip, there was a couple already in the elevator who came from the ground floor. I recognized them. They had moved in across the hall to my soon to be old apartment. As the elevator slowly rose, all our heads were heavenwards it seemed, looking at the floor numbers as they lit up. Why do we that? I was thinking this when I saw the number 7 dim and expectantly waited for 8. Instead, we all heard an awful mechanical groaning. Uh-oh. The elevator stopped. Not quite at the 8th but past the 7th. We were stuck. The three of us looked at each other. For a moment there I felt panic that the cables holding the elevator up would snap and we would free-fall. Yikes! Snap out of it. The guy called building security and we were told it would take a couple of minutes. I felt claustrophobic. To ease the nerves, my companions and I made small talk. Oohh...you're from Spain. I am from the Philippines (you colonized us for 300 years..) And then an uncomfortable silence. Just to do something, I tried to pry open the elevator door. It was heavy but then the other girl helped me and we were able to crank it open. Girl power!! Freedom!! The elevator was not quite level with our floor and we half crawled our way out. I was glad to be out of the musty smell of the old metal box. I had never felt so happy to smell Indian curry that one of the neighbors was cooking. It was still fresh air to me.