Joey Villarama…Who?

Call me an ingrate, but I don’t seem to care whenever there is a UAAP match
between Ateneo and La Salle, or when there is a grand event sponsored by that "school up the hill."  In the same way, I don’t even pick sides when it’s Ateneo versus UP, of which I am an alumnus of both.  Sure, my blood was royal blue for 12 straight years until I received a four year "transfusion" and turned it to bold maroon.  But somehow, I never seemed to have acquired the stereotypical characteristics, the external traits, that students of both schools are supposed to possess. To be sure, I don’t have that "Araneo" twang, though I can fake it; I don’t possess that fighting spirit that Isko’s have though I can invoke it given the situation. I may look dumb and silent at times, not playing the part of someone who has benefited intellectually from the training and education of two of the most prestigious universities in this country.

I have nothing against showing one’s "colors" and overtly expressing allegiance to the institutions that  have made a difference in one’s life. Sure, it’s nice to brag once in a while about my being an Atenista or a UP Maroon at some point in my life. But I believe what matters more is if we are living the values that these schools have very much tried to instill in us. My dear Atenean, when was the last time you were a man-for-others?  My dear Isko, have you done anything lately to improve the quality of life of your countrymen and the beloved country you are committed to serve and represent?

Before any eyebrows raise, no, I don’t claim to be a mover or shaker in any of the key playing fields of society. But somehow, in my small way, I am trying to do what I can to make life a bit better for  those around me, without having to show "those colors."

Maybe you and I can’t do great things
We may not change the world in one day
But we still can change some things today…
In our small way
(- In Our Small Way, Michael Jackson)

My sister and my brother-in-law commemorated their 7th year of marriage today. We went to a Japanese restaurant for a simple dinner to celebrate this "milestone." Contrary to the saying that couples who are married for seven years start to get bored of each other (ie, the seven year itch), my sister and her husband are a picture of a happy family, with their 2 year old son, Vigo Sebastian, to complete the package.

I am not a picky eater. Whatever is served before me, I am sure to eat it.  Raw food is no exception.  Although I did not use to eat sashimi, I’ve come to discover the simple, distinctive, delicate and delightful flavor raw fish imparts on the palate.    I’ve always been a big fan of seafood, so eating Japanese food is such a treat for me.

After several glasses of iced tea, some tempura and a medley of raw and cooked seafood combinations, my perky mood suddenly turned sullen, when I felt my left eye was beginning to swell and itch.

As a child, I was asthmatic; not just the quiet-wheeze type of asthmatic, but the huff-and-puff, chronic kind of asthmatic.  Since birth, I had been allergic to 85% of all known common allergens. Being admitted to the hospital for asthma was like going to church on Sundays. But thanks to 4 years of weekly allergen-desensitizing injections and Mama’s care and patience, I was able to outgrow my asthma in the mid-1990s. Or so I thought.

Since 1996, I have been allergy free. Even if I eat shellfish or become exposed to pollen, acacia trees, bermuda grass or dust, I never get hay fever or suffer wheezes or bouts of cough.  Recently, however, if I eat too much shrimp or a small dose of a potent shellfish extract, I get the hives.

Well, so much for the 11-year hiatus from allergy.  Fortunately for my sister and brother-in-law and unfortunately for me, the "itch" evaded them, but it found me.

This may be a bit of an exaggeration but the 2 "almost accidents" I experienced last Sunday were probably the closest I could get (so far) to having a near death experience.

Before I leave the house for work everyday, my father would usually ask me where I am off to and would end our conversation with "Ok, ingat ka." I know it’s soooooo like a paracetamol commercial but don’t you just appreciate it when somebody wishes you off with some sort of a blessing or an invocation to stay away from danger? Well now, I do.

Last Sunday was my first day back on the Sunday deployment. For more than a year now, I only had to work one weekend out of 5 workdays.  But for some reason, the big boss decided to put me on the Sunday deployment. Of course I hated it because it would mean that I may or may not be able to do my other "broadcasting job," that is  as  a lector at our parish.  I cannot emphasize enough how my  Sunday service as a lector and commentator keeps me grounded.  But  I guess giving me a Sunday schedule is some kind of a test, to see  if  I would still hold true to my commitment.  (Sad to say, I wasn’t able to read at mass last Sunday, but I was able to attend mass nonetheless.)

Well last Sunday, I was deployed to the Pope Pius XII Catholic Center (at least the assignment was still church-related hehe) to stalk the bishops attending the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines’ Annual Plenary Assembly. At this gathering, the Filipino bishops were to elect their conference president, discuss the more pressing issues concerning Filipinos and come up with a statement summarizing  the direction in which they want to take the Church in the Philippines, in light of the matters they have discussed during the assembly. 

On our way to the venue, my driver decided to take the Timog-Quezon Avenue route to Manila. It being a Sunday, my driver was relaxed and kept a leisurely, safe speed to get to our destination.  As we were approaching Quezon Avenue from Timog Avenue, the car on the opposite lane turned left  without warning, cutting our path and prompting my driver to hit the breaks abruptly.  Had we been going any faster than our speed, we would have smashed into the right side of that  car. Of course, my driver and the cameraman on the backseat threw invectives at the driver of the car who was, by then, already out of sight. 

Perhaps a bit shaken by the incident, the driver absent-mindedly took a longer route to Manila than what news teams going to that area would normally take. This didn’t pose a problem since we were in no rush (an insider at the plenary assembly told me that the bishops were still locked up in the conference hall.)  We passed through the Liwasan Post Office and Intramuros without traffic and simply maintained that leisurely speed.  As we were going through the Lagusnilad tunnel (the one that gets submerged in floodwater during the rainy season), our crewcab suddenly went into a 390 (360+30 more) degree turn.  Although our pick up truck immediately screeched to a halt, I was afraid it would turn to its side, the side were I was at, and get crushed.  Thankfully, the crewcab remained upright and no vehicle was closely following us.  Otherwise, it would have been a mess.

My instant reaction was to laugh. After all, we had 2 near-accidents only 20 minutes apart.  But as the driver pulled to the side to check on the wheels and take a breather, fear suddenly crept in.

I used to say death did not scare me. That is why I was or I still am willing to go to an out-of-town coverage no matter what danger it entails. But then, that Sunday, I realized I was not spiritually ready. Come to think of it, all three of us in the crewcab were not ready to die. All of us still had unsettled business, whether these be temporal or spiritual. As if on cue, the three of us made the sign of the cross and kept silent for a while, digesting the experiences of the last 20 minutes.
Afterwards, I texted some friends to tell them what had happened.  Those who replied told me to pray. And that was what I did.

As I share this with you, I cannot help but laugh at how similar my experience is to  the story being told in Carrie Underwood’s song, "Jesus Take the Wheel":

She was drivin’ last Friday on her way to Cincinnati
On a snow white Christmas Eve
Goin’ home to see her Momma and her Daddy
With her baby in a back seat
Fifty miles to go and she was runnin’ low
On faith and gasoline
It’d been a long hard year

(Chorus)
Jesus take the wheel
Take it from my hands
‘Cause I can’t do this on my own
I’m letting go
So give me one more chance
Save me from this road I’m on
Jesus take the wheel

It was still getting colder when she made it to the shoulder and that car came to a stop
She cried when she saw that baby in the back seat sleepin’ like a rock
For the first time in a long time she bowed her head to pray
She said I’m sorry for the way
I’ve been livin’ my life
I know I’ve got to change
So from now on tonight
(Repeat chorus)

My life hasn’t exactly been that straight, that upright.  Indeed, I’m sorry for the way I’ve been living my life. I know I’ve got to change. But I know that change won’t be overnight, but I hope it will be soon.

God help me now. Please take the wheel.