MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD

 

Enjoying the cool early evening breeze at the terrace brings back so many childhood memories; with the clear silhouette of the volcano drenched in the pale moonlight and the stars on a cloudless sky I remember the tales I read from books lent by my Auntie Goly or narrated by another spinster aunt, Helen, or by older cousins who are good storytellers, Salvador and Fernando Jr. which we call Aton. 

 

The tales of fairies and elves dancing at Mayon’s slopes during full moon nights are still vivid in my mind, including my mother’s admonition that if the girls do not use lice comb (surod) regularly, the lice will carry them to Mayon.

 

Life then was so simple, a handful of telephone connections mostly in key government offices, no television, a single radio station that “broadcasts” through wires, similar to cable TV, and of course the luxury of silence that one will hear at night the mournful horn of ships leaving the port 2.5 kilometers away, the rumbling of the train to Manila, and the sound of the electric generator at the nearby electric company plant named LEALDA.

 

Only the rich have the “Batmobile” or the oversized Volkswagen Bettle. But never mind if we have to take a ride on heavy backyard assembled buses. Nobody complains of what we do not have. But friendships and family relations was far deeper, that there's no reason to "unfriend, block, or unfollow".

 

Of course the regular 6:00 pm bells for Angelus and another at 8:00 pm which was used to scare me to be home by that time if ever I go out after dinner. My mother said the bells ring at 8:00 o’clock to herald the coming out of ghosts.

 

People then would clean the rice of stones and unhusked grains before cooking, which is usually done at the time of angelus. 

 

I remember asking my mother about the 6:00 o’clock bells and she told me it was to commemorate the Archangel Gabriel visiting the Blessed Virgin Mary to announce that she will bear the child Jesus. For so long my impression was that the Blessed Virgin was also cleaning the rice to be cooked for supper when the angel came, just as my mother did every angelus.

 

Those born in the 50s may not have much but we are rich in living our life for which privilege we became better persons. That era was so good that memories last and I don’t want to re-check or edit this.

 

As a kid, Regardless of the weather, our dinner time was at 7:00PM and bedtime was 9:00PM. Eating out at a restaurant was a huge deal, and usually to celebrate a special occasion.

There was no such thing as fast food every other day, and having a bottle of soft drinks or large ice cream from the local shop was a real treat. Boy oh boy! Pass your final exams and then you may get a new pair of shoes or a set of clothes! 

 

You took your school uniform off as soon as you got home and put on your ‘home’ clothes. There was no taking or picking you up in the car, you either boarded the school bus or rode on public transport! Or simply walked back. You got home and did your chores and your homework after dinner. 

 

We didn’t have, cable TV, wi-fi, or Netflix and we had only a few channels to watch in the early 70s, and they're not available 24/7.

 

We played tumbang preso, Hide & Seek, marbles, jackstones, and any other game we could come up with..... At home, we stuck to chess, scrabbles, Chinese checkers, snakes, and ladders.  Only very much later that we played electronic "ping-pong" from a gadget we built following instructions from an electronic enthusiast magazine.

 

Staying shut in the house was a PUNISHMENT and the only thing we knew about "bored" was --- "You better find something to do before I find it for you!"

 

We played music via records, magnetic tapes, or listened to the radio, especially of adventure, action, or horror soap box operas.  "Mga Kwento ni Lola Basyang", "Gabi ng Lagim", "Aninong Bakal", Kapitan Radyo" were among the favorites in the 60s.

We went to the local shop for groceries, and candy used to be a few cents or at the most one cent.

 

We ate what our mother prepared for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Even snacks were homemade. Bottled water was unheard of. We drank tap water. At home, it was boiled and cooled. While playing outside straight from the tap.

 

We weren't afraid of anything. we played until dark... the sunset was our alarm. We hung around with real friends not virtual. we rode our bicycles or walked to meet our friends at their houses like they were extensions to our home.

 

If someone had a fight, that's what it was and we were friends again a week later, if not sooner.

 

We watched our mouths around our elders because all of our aunts, uncles, grandpas, grandmas, and our parents' best friends were all extensions of our parents, and you didn't want them telling your parents if you misbehaved! Or they would give you something to cry about.

 

We respected the Police, Firemen, Ambulance workers, Teachers, Doctors, and Nurses. We never answered back..... ever!! 

 

We got detained at school for not doing homework, being late to class, or being naughty. Our teachers spanked us when we deserved it, and our parents did not complain about it.

Those were the good days. So many kids today will never know how it feels to be a kid the way we used to be. I loved my childhood and all the friends I hung around with. Good Times.

 

Perchance nobody is exempt from wishing for something that others may have. But later we will come to realize that we are better off without the things that we may have wished for. Many wished that the family they have grown up with had been more financially well off, that they can go to exclusive schools.  To this, I am not exempt.

 

To have been born rich may have altered my behavior, to be insensitive, arrogant, and carefree.  This I have long ago been aware of.  But very recently I am thankful that having been raised in a middle-class family, I had my primary education in public schools and luckily in some Catholic Order-run institution.  And luckily, being not filthy rich, I did not get to attend classes in this elitist school run, to my perception, by an equally elitist religious group, which ever since I do not really like.

 

Even when I, without compulsion, was "asked" to lead a religious life, I was contemplating joining a small congregation of Missionaries. Well, not even the religious Orders whose schools I’ve attended had attracted me, though I find nothing wrong with them.