A break from politics and natural disasters.

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On January 8, 1974, hoping for a fresh start, the King of Rock and Roll finalized his divorce papers with Pricilla Presley on his 39th birthday.  At the same moment (but in a different time-zone) on the other side of the planet, tens (or maybe hundreds) of thousands of Filipinos gathered to commemorate another type of King, the Christ.  And as the crowd marched around the streets of Quiapo in praise of the town’s patron saint, Jesus of Nazareth, a new hope was born.  A humble and loving mother from Tondo gave birth to her 8th child.  The family says that this baby boy was so beautiful and refreshing that groups of children would gather around him and say that he looked like the Santo Nino (Infant Jesus). And with renewed faith, hope, and love, his mother named him JESUS….yupp! ME!

This year, my wife and children reminded me that I turned 36 (gee, thanks).  But this day will always be more than about me getting old.   It is never about the presents or the special events or places.  January 9 will forever be about my relationship with my mother. 

As far as my memory can take me, I remember braving the mob-filled Quiapo church and the streets around it to celebrate my birthday and the Divinity that I was named after.  I remember getting woken up at dawn then rushing to beat the crowd.  We’d arrive early enough that we would have enough time to pay pilgrimage to the different stages of the Black Nazareth and rub our handkerchief on the “miraculous” statues.  As my mother listened to Mass, she would always say the rosary at the same time, while I struggled to stay awake.  Afterwards,  she would take me to the safest location away from all the insanity and close to a Chinese restaurant.  And once we saw Big Bird at the parade, I knew it was time to go indoors and eat.  She would always order siopao (steamed bun with meat and sweet sauce) and some type of noodle dish like palabok (rice noodles with variety of meat and vegetable garnish and shrimp sauce) or mami (similar to the Vietnamese pho using mikki noodles).  The noodle dish is a must for “long life.”  After that, she would take me shopping for a new pair of shoes as we mostly walk our way back home because the traffic was impossible.

This Mother-Son tradition continued until my teen years—a period when we all attempted to rebel and fight for our own identity.  And once, she told me that she dreamed of me one day becoming a priest, but puberty ruined that, too.  Then we migrated to the states and away from Quiapo.  She would still ask me to go to church on my birthday.  And most of the time, I went with her.  But it wasn’t quite the same as our experiences back home.  Then I moved out, got married, and now have children of my own.  My aging mother went back to the Philippines, in Bulacan.  Quiapo is now just a memory for both of us.

This year, my 5-year old told my wife that a good surprise for me would be taking me to a Filipino store (my sons are so “cultured”).  So with his suggestion, we decided to eat at a Filipino restaurant, Cebu.  This restaurant is ”fancier” than most Filipino turo-turos in the area.  This one actually has a menu and cooks only what you order so it’s fresh.  It doesn’t double as a retail store also, so the place has a relaxing atmosphere.  And most of all, this restaurant is much more expensive.  Anyway, I had pancit noodles for long life.  And the host gave me a free scoop of mango ice cream with a trick candle on it. 

I spent the rest of the day just having fun with my family.  They began it by bringing me a waffle topped with whip cream, chocolate syrup and sprinkles, with a singing candle on it for breakfast in bed.  After lunch, we went to Olympia to enjoy the weather (reminicent of my memories of Luneta Park).  We went window shopping, kind of hoping to find an old statue of the Nazarene.   Then, I went to church with my unwilling children (reminded me of when I was their age).  Later, we planned on seeing the musical “Tom Sawyer”, but it was sold out.   My 7-year rubbed my back and said, “Daddy I’m sorry we couldn’t go to the play,” as if consoling me for my unsuccessful idea.  We ended up playing laser tag that night instead, and it sure gave us the adrenaline rush we wanted.  At the end of the night, we stopped for fastfood and ice cream cake. Again, I had to blow a candle and make one more wish.  The next day, we went sledding in Snoqualmie.  The whole birthday weekend was about having  fun and time with my family… just like how my mother and I used to do it.

And as I tearfully try to write about all the nostalgia that she and I shared, I wonder about her health or if one day she and I can go to Quiapo together again.  And most of all, I wonder, after thirty-six years, if  I still make her proud.

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And as it is most important to provide basic needs like food, water, shelter, and medical care to the victims of natural disasters (most recently in Haiti), my Mother would also say that they are also equally, if not more, in need of our prayers. 

May God bless the victims and the heroes.  I know my Mom is praying for them right now.

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MrNonsense is Jesse. He was born and raised by two solid parents in Tondo, Manila. He came to Iowa when he was 17 and is now raising a family in Washington, where a group of Filipinos adopted them as their own. Mr. Nonsense can often be seen in the Tacoma-Seattle area carrying a camcorder, accompanied by his two sons and his personal chauffeur, his wife. He uses his Tondo upbringing to nurture his children and to survive in a mental institution, where he currently works. He enjoys basketball, cooking, singing, cartooning, producing short movies, and making his own furniture out of junked wood because he's so cheap. He is a self-proclaimed "Man of the House,"...when his wife is not home.