Golden Week, at least for those who love going out of town, is a rare opportunity in Japan to travel, either within the country or abroad, with a full week’s long vacation at disposal. When we were “young and full of hope,” (as Dr. Manlapaz used to say), we used to travel during GW, reaching farflung places such as Amanohashidate and Miyajima in Hiroshima. But that was before, when we could just pack our things into one tote bag and just go at the spur of the moment. Since Aya was born, our GW holidays are spent mostly at home, or going to nearby places. Children change everything, don’t they? 🙂

A simple way to celebrate Kodomo no Hi

This year we didn’t go anywhere at all, except to Mt. Tsukuba, which is practically within the neighborhood. But to our surprise, even the trip to Mt. Tsukuba took all of two hours going to the top, as there were actually many cars going up the mountain, all moving at a snail’s pace! We took the cable car (of course), and waiting for the next car to arrive took only five minutes or so. We were surprised, though, when we got to the top – there was a long queue of people waiting to get on the cable car going down. It was probably the crowdest time on Mt. Tsukuba that I ever saw, among the times that I went up there. It took us 30 minutes of waiting on that line before we got on the next “kudari” car!

Years ago, GW was a perfect opportunity to catch up on some reading, to do some extra work on research and the like. But that was before, when time was something we can dispose of at our own leisure. I brought home some materials I had hoped to work on during the holidays – but no dice. I have two papers, a patent proposal, and a book chapter to write, on top of that two conferences in July (one in Singapore and one in Kyoto). If I had my way, I would be working full time on those holidays so I could get some tasks finished. Well, as it turned out, I was delusional to think that I would ever get some work done during GW.

We bought Aya a Pooh Bear cake on Kodomo no hi (Children’s Day, May 5), and just to perk up things also poked three candles into it for Aya to blow. Her birthday isn’t until next month, but what does it matter. She was all smiles. She would probably remember it for all the GWs to come.

It’s frozen week at work, but GW resonates true to its name when spent with the family. That’s time well spent. 🙂

Four months ago we were in Manila to attend a friend’s wedding. A few days ago we just got back from Pinas where we attended yet another wedding, this time involving one of the family. I wrote in my personal journal that I’ve attended enough weddings to last me a lifetime and the next time I attend another wedding would be too soon – and yet seeing the smiles on the bride and groom as they exchanged their vows is simply priceless. Probably worth another trip home. But on the other side of the coin, weddings in the Philippines are yet another occasion where disgusting Filipino manners (or lack of it) are displayed at their ugliest.

Topping my list of disagreeable Filipino habits at weddings: dashing for the exit once they’ve had their full. Weddings are a far cry from fiestas or birthday parties, and yet some people could not even manage to show the social courtesy of lingering until the end of the program. In our own wedding, for instance, half the attendees disappeared even before we started the wine-toasting. It took us more than a year of preparation just to make sure that that one special moment in our lives will be enjoyable – and people couldn’t even sit still for more than two hours. Next on my list: skipping the ceremony and just showing up at the reception. Unless there is a very good, damning reason why you can’t attend the ceremony, shame on you if you think that the wedding is just a place to eat! In most weddings that I’ve attended, the number of people at the ceremony was only a handful, mostly involving the direct relatives and the wedding entourage. Other nasty habits, albeit minor ones: social faux pas of not wearing the appropriate attire (one guy at my wedding showed up in a hawaiian shirt!), not making the social courtesy of responding to an RSVP invitation, and not coming on time (typical of Filipinos to make a pa-bongga grand entrance).

I’m not saying that all Filipinos show these kinds of habits at every wedding, but I sure wish that every attendee will remember the reason for the occasion – for the couple to have the most memorable day of their lives, the day that they become known as husband and wife. Would it hurt to show some social etiquette? How often does one get married, anyway (of course it’s a different matter if you’re Elizabeth Taylor)?

Everyday we read about other people’s deaths in the newspapers – but most of the time the news concerns nameless persons we never really care about. We shrug our shoulders and think, well, that’s life. But once in a while, though, perhaps due to the overexposure by the media, the deaths of celebrities make us pause and take more than a moment to reflect on our own mortality. At least in the case of celebrities, the outpouring of grief gets to be seen by millions of viewers – by highlighting their deaths they become larger than life and effectively seal their own immortality, or something close to it.

More than the death that necessarily punctuates our existence on this planet, it does make one wonder what in life would be worth remembering by others. Surely we all have our own tastes of immortality, albeit at different scales. Sometimes I wished I had taken a different career – something in line with social service, perhaps, or something in line with the arts. Artists, like my Dad, can leave their works and legacies behind. Who cares about scientists? Unless you were someone like Sir Isaac Newton, inventing calculus while yet a teenager – it seems pretty difficult to leave a lasting imprint that would be remembered by many. Heck, I wonder if somebody who doesn’t have an interest in science would even “know” who Newton was. At least Einstein and Galileo were popularized somewhat.

I remember how often Daddy would tell us about the books that he was writing. At one time he boasted that he was writing three books simultaneously. The books never saw print, but one thing was impressed on me – leave something behind, no matter how big or small it is. I wonder if I will ever be able to write a book in my lifetime – although right now I am planning to write a chapter in a scientific volume. It is a start.

Not everybody can write a book, nor produce a painting or any work of art – but there is a far more enjoyable and thrilling way to leave your legacy behind. Can you guess it?

Children, of course. Passing on your genes to the next generation will be your best bet to sealing your immortality.

Last week we were shocked to hear about the death of an acquaintance in church. She was just an acquaintance to me, someone I nodded to whenever we meet. But she was a very close friend of my youngest sister.

As relayed to us, she was in the middle of a “Praise & Worship” rehearsal in church when she suddenly collapsed. She was immediately rushed to the hospital, but there was virtually nothing else they can do for her. When she collapsed, apparently three veins in her brain had burst. She was barely forty years of age. Her time was up before she knew it. I keep wondering, if she knew that she would die the following day, what would she be doing instead? Knowing how committed she was to her faith, she probably wouldn’t have deviated from her usual routine of practicing with the praise and worship team. She was doing something valuable to her.

Life is as limited as the sand in this hourglass

Three months ago, another acquaintance at the Physics alumni group was rushed to the hospital immediately after landing at NAIA. He was diagnosed with acute myelogenous leukemia. We were alerted in our mailing list about his condition, asking for volunteers to donate blood. He died within a few days. He was a brilliant scholar, a graduate of UP and Stanford University. We mourned his loss. Indeed, there is no knowing when death knocks at the door. Stories like these shoot like an arrow to your soul, alerting you of your own mortality.

It has been almost a year since Daddy died, but images of him in his death are as vivid as yesterday. But in his death I learned as many lessons as when he was alive. Among these lessons is to value life above all, and to accept the limitations of life. We can plan our life the way we want it to be lived, but we will never know ahead when we will breathe our last. As with the fate of our dearly departed church member, I wonder how exactly my last moments would be.

It is with this constant reminder of the fragility of life that I trudge on day by day, savoring each one as if it were my last. It is with this ever-present acknowledgment of my limited time on earth that I eat, work, study, read, and play with my daughter.

After Daddy died, I became aware that if I were to do something valuable, there is no better time to start than NOW. I realized that if I were to do something at all, it must be something that I value and enjoy. For instance, I love making websites – so I revived the website which I started five years ago for an organization here in Tsukuba. I don’t really care much if other people appreciate what I do or not – the thing is that I am having fun doing it. Whereas before it disappointed me very much that people did not seem to appreciate it, nor even bothered to visit the site, now I just do it because it matters to me. This is the time given to me, and damn if I will not use it to the fullest. When you think of it that way, it seems very difficult to get mad at anyone for anything they’ve done, whether intended or unintended – they’re only doing what they can with their limited time, too.

The clock is ticking, and the race is on.

This picture dispels any further arguments as to whom Aya took after.
Of course, now we have to deal with the argument regarding who is trying to “outcute” whom.

1973 and 2003 versions of the same loveable munchkin. 🙂

Every year, every first week of February, I make it a point to send home a birthday card. I had been sending birthday cards to Daddy ever since I came to Japan. At first, having only enough to sustain my day-to-day living as a student , I only sent bare cards (no inserts). When I finally got myself a stable job, I started inserting what my sister calls “goodies.” Just something to perk the day.

Birthday card given to Daddy on his 44th birthday

This year, no card was sent. There will be no more cards to send from now on.

A year ago, I sent my last and final birthday card to Daddy. He had just been discharged from the hospital after a stenting operation on his kidney. His body was battered and weak, but the fighter in him somehow rose to give him strength. They threw a party for him at my Aunt’s house. They sent me pictures taken during the party, and while Daddy was all smiles, his eyes hinted of deepening shadows ahead. He told everybody that it would be his last birthday.

Nobody believed him.

My mom told me that one time, during the dark weeks that followed after his birthday, and in-between bouts with delirious pain and physical weakness, Daddy managed to go upstairs by himself and took out two things that he had kept all these years. One was a birthday card, dated February 18, 1983. The other was an exultant letter from my kindergarten teacher, telling them of how adept I was at school (that letter was dated “1978”). Those were his only treasures.

My mom told me how he sat there in our living room, reading the card and letter over and over again, crying his heart out. He longed for those days when we were yet children, and how he longed to hold us in his arms again. That birthday card was the first ever that we bought for him, the money culled out of our daily allowance. Without his knowledge, my sister and I skipped riding the “tricycle” home, and walked all the way home. More than the card, I suppose, was the thought of how we sacrificed just to be able to give him something on his special day. I forgot all about the card, and was surprised that he kept it all these years. The scrawly handwriting on the card was mine, then barely 10 years old.

Three months later, he was gone, just like he told us.

While sorting through his office table at home, my sister found neatly stacked in one drawer, all the birthday cards that I ever sent him since I left home. He kept each one of them. Seeing those cards sent another avalanche of tears for my sister.

Yes, indeed our dear ol’ Dad was a sentimental fool. And we, his daughters, grew up exactly like him.

Sounds like cliche, but all day long I’ve been thinking about how science and technology changed the way we think and regard things. Everyday I work with lasers and x-rays and all that “hi-tech” stuff, subjecting each hypothesis to rigorous experimentation and careful measurements. This is my world, my own sphere where observations can be made by controlling and varying parameters. But for me science is more than a subject; it is a way of life. Thus it is inevitable for me to “think” science in virtually every aspect of my existence. Perhaps the very reason why I am such a skeptic.

An agent to fend off SUDS?

Imagine my surprise, for example, when somebody told me that the reason why she kept a glass of water near her bed was because she believes that this was a charm against “Sudden Unexpected Death Syndrome” or what we Filipinos call “bangungot.” Sometimes bangungot is also used to refer to incidents where one becomes gripped by bad dreams or nightmares and could not seem to wake up. What powers the water held, I could only guess. Perhaps it may come in handy when the person in question undergoes bangungot and could not wake up – just splash the water on his or her face. Politely I suggested that we put this to test by removing the glass of water and see if she gets any bangungot or bad dreams. Or the one time when my mother told me not to go back to the house when we were already packed into the car and ready to leave for the airport. “Masama raw.” As to why, or how, it could be bad for me to go back and retrieve that which I forgot to bring with me, I could only wonder. Maybe I’ll trip along the way or maybe I’ll forget to re-lock the door on the way out. That would be the real disasters. But I believe that most superstitions can be easily resolved by simple tests. Science works that way. The problem with superstitions and the propagation of such beliefs or any kind of faith is that the hits are noted, not the misses. In the provinces, such beliefs still hold strong and most people could not be dissuaded otherwise. “Sabi raw ng matatanda…” and so on and so forth.

Granted, science alone cannot explain everything, as with so many matters in this world. Maybe some superstitions have grains of wisdom in them, maybe not. But therein lies the challenge – that of breaking free from long-held bonds of thought through careful rational analysis.

Am I right? Only one way to find out. Prove me wrong.

When I was a kid I would often go to our backyard to play with soil. Using an old tin can, I would pour soil inside it and turn it upside down – a make-believe soil “cake.” Since we didn’t have enough money to buy toys, we usually improvise with whatever we could find around the house and area.

Little hands busy at work

When I saw the “nendo” or modeling clay for kids sold at the department store a few weeks ago – I thought of how fun it would be to play with it, both for myself and for Aya. I can’t say that I missed a lot during my childhood by not being able to afford expensive items – my Daddy made up for it by giving us things to do with our hands, may it be sketching, drawing or playing with soil (however unhygienic it turned out to be). Anyway, Aya and I were both excited with this new playtoy (I was a firsttimer, like her!), and pretty soon our working table was filled up with vegetable and fruit-look-alikes and various shapes of animals and other things. More than the activity itself is that wonderful time where both parent and child discover the simple wonders of creating something.

How lovely it is to be a child again – with no other concerns in the world, molding things just because you want to, not because you have to.

Roughly five years ago, I started working for a research institute called “Electrotechnical Laboratory,” or “ETL.” ETL was founded sometime during the end of the 19th century in Tokyo (I have to verify my information regarding this one), but towards the end of the year 2000 we were informed that ETL, along with the other research institutes in the area, would be merged into one national institute, AIST (National Institute of Advanced Industrial Science and Technology). We got a souvenir glass paperweight in commemoration of the “100th anniversary” of ETL since its founding. The next fiscal year ETL was history. And no, I didn’t see anyone doing demonstrations outside the building protesting this change of name, nor did I see anyone raising a ruckus about the impending change in administration.

Since then everything changed so fast I could not keep my business card up to date with the reorganizational changes – at one time, our group was part of the “Energy Electronics Institute.” I got a “saggyou fuku” or working jacket with the initials “EEI” embroidered on it. A few months later the energy-related institutes were merged into “Energy Technology Research Institute.” Wadduh? I don’t see any announcements or any open fora for people to discuss these organizational changes. It seems to me that these changes were handed down from the top. I don’t suppose that there is absolutely no kind of protest coming from the constituents, but I do admire their seemingly docile submission to all of these. It seems to me that a very significant factor in the Japanese progress is their ability to propel themselves forward through changes with the least amount of hassles. The head makes all the decisions, the rest of the body obey. No questions asked.

I can’t help but compare how it would be in the Philippines. People would take to the streets to express their anger and protests. Clearly it is ingrained in our culture, our mentality. We don’t take these things sitting down. But freedom of expression has its dangers: we end up just discussing and arguing in cycles and in the end accomplish zero progress. Is it really worth it? What AIST had accomplished in 5 years would probably take 5 decades in a Philippine setting. For progress to happen, people must learn how to subject themselves to the authority imposed by those on the top. And yet another problem that must be addressed is when the authorities themselves are questionable in the first place. It’s ironic that a country which claims to be the only Christian nation in Asia is among the toplisters for graft and corruption in the government. The cancer that Jose Rizal described still pervades our country, more than a hundred years after his sacrifice.

I love the days when all I do is sit in front of my apparatus while growing thin films–the extra time affords me the opportunity to catch up on my reading. This week I found myself re-reading “Cosmos” by Carl Sagan. I think I was halfway through this book sometime or the other.

In Chapter II, entitled “One voice in the cosmic fugue,” Carl Sagan described the events from the Big Bang which gave birth to the universe as we know now, then to the possible events which sparked the existence of the first living things on earth, the Cambrian explosion which led to the eventual proliferation of life on this planet. “Evolution is a fact, not just a theory,” he wrote.

Why dost thou exist, o platypus? Is it to baffle us or is it to expose our folly?

I encountered the theory of evolution way back in high school, in our Biology class. I remember asking my Daddy one day about his thoughts on evolution, and of course I got the usual discourse on why no other theory is acceptable other than the creationist view propagated by the Bible. I think it was from him that I got this book which discusses the major flaws in the theory of evolution, and why the creationist view IS the true interpretation of how life on earth began. I cannot remember all the details in that book (I can’t even remember the title), but there are a few salient points that I do remember–among these is the odd animal which exists until now: the platypus. What’s an egg-laying mammal which still retains some reptile attributes doing here on Earth? And who has ever found the remains of the missing link, anyway?

Sagan, however, does bring up some challenging questions as well. If there was a great “Designer,” so to speak, then why are thousands of flora and fauna extinct? If the grand design was carried out such that each creature was “created” at the start, it seems like a big waste because natural selection is an irrefutable fact of nature. Everything follows a simple law: survival of the fittest. It seems like a very inefficient way of doing things, so to speak.

Still, it bothers me to think that the whole of mankind “evolved” out of accidental mutations along the way. In the creationist viewpoint, each creature was created special–and it sure does make me feel better to think that my whole existence was planned. Religion tells me that I have a purpose for being; science tells me that I was just a statistical probability.

Sagan asked questions an intellectual being like him is expected to ask. Questions that he probably didn’t get the answers to within his lifetime (he died in 1996). Questions that we will be asking for the next hundred of generations, and probably questions that will never be answered. We are indeed like butterflies that flutter for a day and think that it is an eternity.