Nostalgeek Part II

Ten years from now, my brothers and I might not be able to come home as often as we would want to. By that time, my nephews and nieces would already be calling our house in Bataan (if it would survive the next few typhoons) an "ancestral home." 

When that time comes, we would need a good reservoir of memories to tell the kids whenever they visit. The solution: a nostalgia room that I'm trying to fix, with my own hands. 

A tour for my pamangkins would be like this --

Back in Grade 2, Tita Vicky (how they would call me) was scolded by Lola for looking at her bag of old love letters. For being such a snoop. What Lola didn't know was that her dork of a daughter was only after the stamps. And well, yes, but only incidentally, to take a peek at the love poems Lolo wrote.

They used to call our town &*()^*7%#! On June 10, 1955, the name was changed to "Morong", it's lovely current name. (Alternative, since it's Year 2020: Before some megalomaniac clan named the town after their apelyido, our lovely town was called "Morong.") 

This page off your grandparent's high school yearbook got the RA number wrong. It's really Republic Act No. 1249. But it's okay, there was no Google yet during the yearbook editing of the first graduating class of Morong National High School. Chan Robles wasn't even a law firm yet.

Si, hijos y hijas. We used to receive letters written in Spanish. Especially if the letters' authors happened to be Spaniards.

See, an afternoon of scolding turned into something beautiful two decades later.

A September issue of Asiaweek, printed after Ninoy's death. Lola's still a big fan. Tita was born four days before his death. The birth was a month delayed, because Tita the Fetus loved intrauterine life so much. If she were born the day Ninoy was assassinated, Lola might have had a miscarriage or something.

Ninoy, beside a horse from an old jeepney, decades-old plates and bottles. Tazo was iced tea before it became a city in that country called "Starbucks." The angel figurine's from the owner of an apartment in Baguio City, where your Daddy/Tito Jeri studied. The owner gave it to Tita Vicky when she spent a short vacation there. (Here, there's no need to mention to the kids that the giver told her she's like an angel. Heehee.)

This is a tapayan. Someone *wink, wink* painted it over with acrylic to ward off the undin and other halimaw spirits. Undin? You better ask your parents for bedtime stories tonight.

Tita's can collection started in June 1999. Some of the cans here were given to her by friends. The others, she kept from her at-least-twice-a-week visits to SM North during her freshie days in UP Diliman.

Coke Christmas designs were a favorite.

Shandy or rootbeer, the next best thing.



The Iced Team.

Team Citrus.

Kulay was a band. Tita lost her F4 Pepsi can. No, not Formula 4.

How they curse in Francais.

Old fashioned and a bit damaged by Ariel powder. Tita had this silly idea of washing the cans like laundry one lazy Sunday afternoon.

When we were kids, your Lolo had the walls of our room painted white. Your Daddy/Tito Jeri and I were free to draw crayon figures taller than us. Your Daddy/Tito Juk had tons of bond paper and cartolina. So there, I leave you with the aqua wall. Enjoy.