Marathon Man

Our family knew he had it in him. He had a perfect athletic training as a child, dark-skinned, lightfoot, long-legged, running after the other kids, chasing them away for no reason. Ped was the bully with a side kick namely his younger cousin George! Boy, did they get into a lot of trouble, using other kids their age as punching bags, then running away as fast as they can, climbing up trees to hide... It's always fun to hear about their escapades, but I'm sure they got some spanking from my brother.

They’re good little nephews just too “playful” or mischievous? If running errands for the uncles and aunties, (and they had plenty - of uncles and aunties and errands too), count as sports training, that too helped him prepare for this.

This time, it is no "bull__it", rather was a serious goal. Ped’s marathon debut, the prestigious 26.2 mi. about 42.19 km or 385 yards (for the metrics in some of you) Chicago Marathon 2008, finishing in 4:08:50 and ranking 7956 out of over 40,000 deserves a gold medal from the family.

Woohoo!!! He had been training for just a year and doing all the local half-runs in NYC but what a record for a novice! Carol's family and friends in Indiana lined the course starting in Grant Park, not to mention Marc's buddies who also cheered on for Pop.

Guys, I heard you had pre and post-run parties, goodbye to runner's grubs for a while, ha Ped? For shlepping them to and from La Guardia Airport, Carol and Ped had a bagful of chestnuts for me from the backyard of the Samalios. Thanks Jun-Jun, for roasting them already, there's nothing like homegrown nuts, easy to peel too.

Our Marathon Man, number 18601. Watch out Boston!

Red Storm homecoming

SJU was hosting Villanova in men's soccer, at the same time we were in campus for the alumni homecoming. There was no red carpet rolled out for us, none of my grad school classmates were there, most attendees looked young enough to be in the roster of recent grads and it was a bit cold for me to enjoy the outdoor Italian feast.

No trumpets were blaring either as we signed up for registration; the band was playing I guess for the home and visiting soccer team. Boohoo! Where is everyone? Was it because of the Columbus day weekend or did all of my 20 classmates find CEO-paying jobs and settle outside NY? How about the rest of the school? Maybe they skipped the food part and came to watch the soccer game instead. Too bad we couldn't stay for that, my less than cooperative stuffy nose spoiled it all, we even had to eat inside the car it was too cold for me outdoors. It was disappointing.

The only consolation is that we picked up freebies of sorts that'll probably just end up hidden in the drawer: sports shirts, seat cushions, mouse pads, mini flash light, the usual giveaways at these functions, all in SJU colors of blazing red. A coincidence that my other alma mater MIT's color is also cardinal red. Driving around the campus, we found most of the familiar halls still standing, reminders of the countless hours spent pouring over books in the Library and then fervently praying in the chapel for more than just a passing grade.

Fond memories of my SJU days 25 years ago when I was still hungry for more advanced learning, also when my brain was still made up of live functioning cells successfully connecting to one another. Now my brain is tired, I can feel it hurts even if it's not supposed to. Where have all my classmates gone? Adam? Mary Skelly?

The Road Not Taken 10.10.70

“Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference”

*** Robert Frost***

At about noon, on October 10, 1970, at the old Manila International Airport, I boarded a Japan Airlines 747 bound for Newark, New Jersey. Filled with fear and anxiety, hope was also there for the start of a new beginning. Met by family at Newark Airport, it was a crisp, colorful Fall day when I arrived.

Something almost made me want to pass up this great opportunity to come to the US. But I didn't. When I arrived in October 1970 I had buried all hopes of fulfilling the other part of my dream. New challenges faced me - the struggle to start a career on foreign soil and to cope with a recent loss. Somehow, we need to make these leaps of faith in order to survive and I did.

I'm no longer interested in searching for answers that justify all.

If life is a series of destinations, I guess I didn't do too bad for my part.

Men at work

No, these guys are not learning how to crawl, mining for loose change or praying to "the one and only God". Year-end repairs and improvements have been going on for the past weeks in the complex and these are the hard-working construction workers who are rebuilding what they have just been told to demolish!

These men must have one of the most challenging jobs – imagine if you screw up laying the bricks and realize it after the cement has settled? You’re dead, break it up and start all over again or finish with stucco? Despite all the barricade and caution signs, paw prints and footprints would have permanently decorated our sidewalks if they didn’t fix it in time. I’ll stick to crocheting or knitting. If I mess up, one tug and the whole sweater is undone, yet I get to reuse the same yarn.

My neighbor Philip has ushered me to the male-dominated world of construction, not Lego blocks or Erector sets, but that field where some of the terminology I can’t even pronounce. Philip knows his fascia, overhang, lintel, expansion joints and that sort of thing which I try to learn thru his “show and tell” teaching method. Yesterday, we walked over (he actually bribed me with some pastries from the bakeshop of his girlfriend Susan) to one of the construction sites in the complex, where everything to me looks like cement, bricks, limestone and debris from the demolition. I'm thinking our poor lawn suffered much from being trampled on. In details he explained the purpose of this and that, making sure I understand that it is “slurry” not “silly putty” and you say “gauge” not “thickness”.

If you knew Philip you can guess how long we were standing in front of all this mess, admiring how straight the lines are, the pitch just perfect for water drainage and all that jazz; then just like a nutty professor he summarizes what was said to reinforce everything. He’s one compulsive lecturer, nothing wrong with that, he’s very smart, but I’ll freeze my butt if he doesn’t get to the point quick! I just realized the word “pitch” can mean so many different things, look it up if you don’t trust me, and if you already knew this, then my excuse is hey, English is not my mother tongue, so shush! I doubt if I can do better in my native language.

If he’s looking to me to inspect this project while he is at work, he’s in for disappointment, all I can promise to do is ask stupid questions or take lousy pictures of the wreckage. No one expects me to do this; I’m just a volunteer here but I’m sure my brother would be so impressed if he hears me using these big words Philip taught me.

What have I learned from all these? First, hats off to all mason workers - their job is not a piece of cake. Secondly, Philip knows his stuff and is an excellent teacher. So long as he doesn’t make me climb the roof to learn all about "pitch" and "pond", we shall remain good friends.

O'Cello

Ignore the post date, this took place on Friday, October 3rd.

The scene was the shuttle station from Grand Central to Times Square. Rose, Chong & I just left the Grand Central area where Ped treated us to huge bowls of sizzling hot Peking duck soup. Three pieces of shu mai, noodles , strips of bok choy leaves and what looked like quarter of a duck swimming in a tasty broth (I'm sure MSG-rich) filled our hungry tummy. Holy cow, or maybe holy duck, duck was so good! What was Ped thinking - we just had a Wall Street hungry man's meal!

Next stop is the South Street Seaport where I'll take them to see Olafur Eliasson's NYC Waterfalls. Huffing and puffing after a heavy meal, we decided the best way is to take the S shuttle to cross town. By this time Rose is dragging her feet already since it's almost her naptime. With all that MSG, that made it even worse, but she plans to go back for more of the same, with her sister Rita who cooks the best shark fin soup. What's wrong with this picture? You're treating her to fast food Chinese restaurant cooking? That'd be a big letdown for Rita.

Beautiful sounds filled the underground - my head turned, I walked a few steps, then took a second look. It's not a conventional cello this young fella was playing. I walked back to watch him play and gentle nod was his cue to "Go ahead, it's okay to take my picture".

It turned out to be a homemade stripped-down electric cello. Did you ever see one of this? This guy Sean Grissom calls himself The Cajun Cellist, and like many of the Julliard School grads takes this as the first step. As part of the MUNY (Music Under New York) program, he plays his music underground and hopes to collect a dollar here and there from music-loving commuters as their note of thanks. As soon as we got home, I looked him up and he's quite talented it seems. He's done a few performances including once at the Kennedy Center, one other show he did was entitled O'Cello.

As if we didn't have enough of Peking in the duck soup, we were greeted by a tall ship named Peking docked by the Seaport. Tourists made up most of the bystanders and the picture-taking crowd trying to get a last look at the Waterfalls before the artwork is taken down next week. Walking around we spotted the Sedutto ice cream stand and don't be so shocked these three little women are also three hungry ones! You got it, those few blocks we walked from the station burned all the calories we had for lunch, one wonders what kind of metabolism we have even at this golden age. (We're not revealing our age.)

A large waffle cone pistachio ice cream, (who knows where all this appetite is coming from), was what I had, and so did Rose while Chong had the espresso. I said Rose should have that instead so she could keep her eyes open. I felt sick after eating all that, really it's a sin if you saw how much of that soup I gulped down! What a pigout!

I conked out on the cold subway seat on the way home, darn MSG must still be working. Even the quick stop at Brookstone didn't interest me anymore, I just wanna be in bed. And yes I finally did, right after checking out Sean's cello music on YouTube. Ah, Cello!

"Dance for me, Salome!"

Karita Mattila a soprano from Finland, sang the title role of Salome. What an explosive voice, act and dance performance, although I would have preferred the traditional stage set .

There are traditional and updated interpretations of the The Dance of The Seven Veils, choose which one you feel suits your belief, but for me the actual sensual dance is just as complicated and mystical as its meaning. Richard Strauss' music picked up every subtle movement and the artistic climax yet I couldn't bring myself to accept this change to a contemporary stage set especially as Salome sheds each of the seven pieces of clothing from her modern-day pantsuit. Creative as it was, it seems that the flavor of the dance in the Salome spirit has been lost in this variation.

No question about it, the music and the singing superb. All the elaborations on this biblical tale of the execution of John the Baptist made up this new production of the Salome by the Metropolitan Opera and is another success story. Joined by our friend Dorothy and her friend Mildred, we enjoyed the performance.

Tickled pink

This pretty baby named Christina Maria born on August 18th, 7 pounds, 3 ounces & 21 inches belongs to Spiro and Angeliki.

"Help me out of these Ugg boots, the fuzzy stuff tickle my feet, gimme my pink booties".
"This sucks, I don't get to pick my own wardrobe! "
"Who are you and why you bloggin' 'bout me?"

Easy girl, I guess Daddy didn't prepare you for this ha?
I think you look like Spiro.
Grannies on both sides are just crazy about you, they don't know when it's time to go home!

Isn't she cute?