Wings Of A Nightingale

What Is It With Valentine’s Day?

February 14 – Valentine’s Day! “So what?”

When you start reading this, perhaps you will simply raise your eyebrows and ask: “Why the attitude?” Well, I just want to state a punch line so you will continue reading.

But before anything else, lower your eyebrows and let’s brainstorm a little bit about this issue. What is so special about this particular day? Why is it that people, young or old, mark this day in their calendar, with a red heart or with two hearts pierced in the middle by an arrow? The resounding answer that you and I will agree is: It is a Special Day of Love! Really?

Let’s see if we can shed light to a lot of questions on facts about Valentine’s Day. Let’s dig deeper…

The two most important iconic characters that stick to our minds are: St.Valentine and Cupid. Ok, let’s try to dissect each one of them.

Who is Valentine?

Thanks to Google, I was able gather some information about the origin of Valentine’s Day, and about this guy – Valentine. There are different stories about the origin of Valentine’s Day. But the one that I could think of as an appropriate scenario, was about a priest named Valentine, believed to be romantic at heart. He was put to death on February 14, due to his defiance to the mandate of the Roman Emperor: “not to perform marriage to Roman soldiers”. Through the years, February 14 has become a tradition as the special day of writing and exchanging messages of Love. There you go, folks…St. Valentine and February 14 has a clear and acceptable link.

What about Cupid?

Ah, Cupid! My own personal vision of Cupid is that he’s that mischievous, chubby, cute little winged boy who wears diaper, and carries a bow and arrows. Again, thanks to Google, I was able to know him more. (Or, have I?)

If I go with ancient Greek mythology, he was the son of Aphrodite. If I go with Roman mythology, he was the son of Venus. He was known as the God of Love. As I followed the Roman story, Cupid fell madly in love and married a beautiful woman named Psyche. They even had a daughter.

Now, I’m getting confused…which bring me to this question: Was Cupid a grown man? Or, was he that chubby, mischievous boy with wings, that you and I conceived him to be? This is surreal, isn’t it?

Myth or not, Valentine and Cupid will forever be the inspiration of Love. As the defiance of Valentine, and as the story of Cupid, we can conclude that Love is a feeling or perhaps a “state of being”, so unfathomable. Falling in love, being in love, and staying in love is mysterious in every way, felt by each and every person. You and I have our own way of experiencing and expressing it. Let February be the month to rekindle Love, and let it dwell within us everyday.

Coming Home (A message to Concordia College BSN Class 1978)

Thirty three (33) years ago, we left Concordia College as fresh and new graduates; with a vision of hope and desire in our hearts, but yet unaware and or uncertain of the kind of world that will be unfolded to us. The five (5) years that we spent together in the protective and nurturing womb of Concordia College, was more than enough for us to carry on, as we strive to grow and be the best of who and what we are now.

Just like the seeds of mustard, we were scattered all over different places. Perhaps you will all agree with me, that we have had our own share challenges; that we encountered so many ups and downs in our journey, as we travelled the road to attain our goals in life. But with courage and determination, and the vision that was instilled in our minds and hearts by Concordia College, multiplied by each and everyone’s innate desire and ambition, brought us to see and experience the bright face of success.

 With but a few of our batch mates who, at one point or another made efforts to be in regular contact with each other, we seemed to lose track of each other’s whereabouts for quite a while. I for one had been incognito for a long time. And that’s understandable. Because we were so much obsessed and engrossed to find a stable place under the sun; to be somebody special, be it on a personal and professional stature.

Every day when I drive to work, I always praise and thank God for guiding and inspiring me through these years. Starting from being a Concordiana, and being with the group – the BSN Batch 1978, that honed me to be who and what I became. I will forever hold this nostalgic feeling in my heart.

The day has come for us (at least those of us who can make it) to come back HOME. HOME is Concordia College, where we are always welcome. Now, we can proudly say that we are the product of an institution that instilled spiritual, moral, social, and professional values that will forever be etched in our whole persona.

We have completed the full circle; we’re back where we started! Enjoy the great company of each other. I look forward to be with all of you in the future reunions. 

My love and regards to everybody.

Mila

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A Drive To Remember

     The sun has not risen yet; only its orange glow permeated the rugged distant mountain ranges, as I was passing through Highway 5 going to Bakersfield, California. “It will be another warm day in July.” I said to myself. I started my drive as early as 5:00 A.M. expecting to arrive at my destination before noon.

     I love taking long drives. I was enjoying the scenery while I traversed the paved, seemingly unending highway that sliced the vast flat non-vegetated land turning into green colored field, then again, turning brown and barren. It gave me a sense of freedom.

     I was just leisurely driving, sitting comfortably behind the wheel of my comfortable sedan, not even mindful of the other cars zooming past me. Then, when I checked my rearview mirror, I noticed a restless red car, hastily changing lanes, and closing up on me. I stepped on my gas pedal to accelerate, but like a raging bull, the car kept coming closer and closer. When I checked my speedometer, I realized that I was already travelling over the required maximum speed limit of 75 miles per hour. So, by my calculation, this car was running at 100-120 mph. I got scared…I thought I will be rear-ended, and the impact would throw my car and me to who knows where. “What are you doing? Are you out of your mind? This is not a NASCAR race track, you moron!” My thoughts went into its soliloquy; perhaps to compose myself and focus my mind on the road ahead.

     Just before it hit me, the car changed lane and sped up past me. “Dang! A Corvette!” So, what was the driver doing? Playing a game that might cause a life-threatening outcome? I hoped it slows down.

     Not long after the red car passed by me, another black and white car was on its tail; red, orange, and blue lights blinking. “California Highway Patrol! Got Yah!” I said out loud, and for some reason, my instinct told me that it was that red Corvette that was being chased by the law enforcement officer. True enough, half a mile down the road, both cars pulled over the side of the highway, and as I was passing through, I got a glimpse of the police officer talking to the driver. For sure, he will be cited, pay for a ticket, and will be required to attend traffic school. But, the most important thing was that, a possibility of a fatal accident was averted.

-Mila-

August 20, 2010

To Me, From Me

After staying for 5 years in her rented apartment, my friend eventually was able to purchase and invest in a town house. She took the opportunity of upgrading her status from being a renter to an owner of a cozy, brand new home. I was happy for her.

One month before she was to transfer to her new home, we began packing up her things. I don’t consider her as a “pack rat”, but, Dang! she had accumulated lots of stuff; personal and non-personal items, important and not so important things, or even (maybe) junk. We used up at least 10 big boxes to put all the things that she wanted to take with her; the rest was donated to Salvation Army.

The last closet that we tackled was in her bedroom. She stored so many boxes, in different sizes. As I started to check out and sort out the contents, I became curious and surprised. Every box was labelled with names of the places where she had travelled. She really is a travel bug! Rummaging through the various souvenir items, I noticed that she had a collection of at least 1-2 postcards of each and every place she had been to, and, to my amusement, mailed to herself! My first reaction was: “She’s nuts!” Who, in their right mind will mail postcards to themselves, when they’ve been there and saw the place firsthand?

One postcard that she mailed to herself was postmarked Paris, France. The picture was a beautiful snapshot of the Notre-Dame Cathedral. The professional photographer who took the shot, captured the exterior beauty of this imposing Gothic structure. While I was looking at this fascinating photograph, I felt that I was drawn towards the front of the facade, and was dwarfed by its magnificence; a glorious feeling to behold.

Centuries ago, perhaps this was the same feeling that Victor Hugo experienced when he quoted:

“Each face, each stone of this venerable monument is not only a page of the history of the country, but also the history of knowledge and art…Time is the architect, the people are the builder.”

     That was also exactly what my friend felt when she got hold of the postcard, and according to her, writing the notes while she was there, captured the essence of this historic monument. And, in the years to come, when she sees this postcard and the others that she sent to herself, she will be transported back in time, re-visit those places in her mind’s eye, and treasure them in her heart.

-Mila-

July 31, 2010

White Streaks

     Unlike any other evenings, this particular time, it took me longer than my usual routine bathroom escapade before going to bed. It could be that I’m in no haste to slip between the sheets and enjoy the comfort of my bed, and grab that most needed sleep. After all, I don’t need to wake up early; it’s my 2 days off from work.

     While I was leisurely brushing my hair, I suddenly paused , as I saw something different… in-between my raven-colored tresses, there were few strands of white sticking out. My eyeballs almost popped out from their socket. “It’s white! I have white hairs. When did this happen?” Not that I don’t want to have white hairs…eventually, I would have. But, this discovery came to me as a surprise.

     “Oh, well… no big deal.” I told myself as I went to bed. As I was dozing off, those white hairs came back to my mind, and just like an ignition key, it triggered to fire up the engine of my imagination. Suddenly, my whole life flashed: my past, my present, and my future. Where was I four decades ago, and where would I be in the next three or four decades? As I traced the road that I traversed; my personal and professional life had gone through a myriad of events: successes and failures.

     But, if I would be given a choice on how to live my life again, I would never change any bit of it. Those past experiences that I went through, honed me to be who, what, and where I am now. And the future? Well, I’ll just let it take care of itself, as I know I’m on the right path.

     I pulled my bedcover, snuggled between the sheets and had a peaceful, restful sleep.

One Child At A Time

     Ever wondered how twenty dollars can make a difference?

     In 1994, I mailed my first twenty dollar check to Fr. Flanagan’s Boys Town, in Nebraska. Every now and then, I receive letters from this non-profit organization, with a “Thank You” card to acknowledge the amount I sent. I felt good every time I read an enclosed success story of a young boy or girl whose life was changed, from being an unfortunate “street kid” abandoned and abused, and now living a good decent life and facing a bright future.

    Being named as an Honorary Citizen of Boys Town, and although I have not been there, I felt a strong bond connecting me with these children. A meager amount I had been sharing, is nothing compared to the hard work and dedication of Fr. Flanagan since 1917, and when he died in 1948, his successors continued his legacy.

     “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother”: the motto of Boys Town, depicts a picture of love, caring, and responsibility. That, if we help one child in need, it makes a big difference in his/her life… and ours.

Reaching out… to California’s HeartLand

One week ago, very early in the morning, together with my friends Marie and Brenda, we took the long stretch of highway going to the central valley in Northern California. Meeting with the other volunteers from Kaiser Permanente, we will be a group to participate in providing outreach services to the residents of Sanger City, in Fresno County. Marie was so nice to drive us there. While the music of Journey kept us awake, the three hours of travel was enjoyable. When the scenery in Interstate 152 changed from mountain ranges to a vast, flat farm land, we knew, we were approaching our destination. Thanks to Brenda’s ever-faithful driving companion: Magellan, the GPS Navigator, for directing and re-directing us to the right way.

The event was set up in the park. Though is was a sunny and warm day, we did not feel the heat because it was neutralized by the gentle breeze. Benches and tables were arranged under the shade of big trees. It was a festive event, enhanced by the music with a Mexican cumbia beat. Volunteers from both government and private sectors mingle with the residents.

Raj, our event coordinator, was busy directing the flow of the group’s activities. Although all of us were nurses, we still took part in sorting and packing food stuffs, to be distributed. Our group, all Filipino nurses from San Francisco Bay Area, brought out that distinct Pinoy spirit of “Balikatan”.

The residents of Sanger City, mostly farm workers, take pride in what they do. Every time I hold their hands and prick those calloused fingers with a lancet while doing a diabetic screening, I could not help but admire them. Yes, we are nurses who take care of the sick, but these people are the ones who farm to provide us with food. It is indeed a fact, that we are all inter-dependent with each other.

Tired and weary, we headed back home. The long drive even made us more physically exhausted, but in our hearts, we carry and hold on, that energized feeling of self-fulfillment. We reached out, and touched the hearts our fellowmen.

-MILA-

May 9, 2010

Just Like Everyone Else

     I have heard and read about a neurological condition called Tourette’s Syndrome, but I actually have not seen anybody who is affected with it, until one Saturday afternoon, at the mall.

     A little boy, about 8-9 years old was frantically pacing in one of the aisles in a bookstore. I was observing him from a corner where I sat. He was looking at some books, took one from the shelf, scanned the pages, then returned it. While doing this, he was repeatedly clearing his throat, and made “barking” sound. By the look of him, he seemed excited to see those children’s books in front of him, and wanted to read all of them. I also could see jerky movements of his head. Sometimes, he puts a piece of stick in between his teeth, and bit it.

     It was not only me who observed him, but most of the people inside the bookstore were looking at him, some, throwing an irritated glance because of his pacing and the noise he made. His mother, who was following him, felt so embarrassed, and guided him out of the bookstore. I called out: “No! let him find his book.” And then, I asked: “Tourette’s?” The woman looked at me, her lips bore a smile, and nod. Then, she whispered: “Thank you.”

     I don’t know if the people around will check out what is Tourette’s Syndrome, but for sure, it is something to know about and understand. Because of people’s judgmental attitude and being insensitive, this condition is oftentimes misunderstood as a disruptive behavior.

     It is just unfortunate though, because there is still no cure for this disorder. The person affected will have to live with it, and be emotionally strong to conquer the difficulties he or she will encounter. What we can do, is to be compassionate, because what these people need is to be accepted and should be treated just like everyone else.

-MILA-

April 17, 2010

Code Blue

     April 2, 2010  – Good Friday, was no ordinary day at work. My exciting day started as soon as I put down my briefcase and purse on my table, I heard from the over head paging system: CODE BLUE, to room 22, three times. This is our signal for a medical emergency: somebody is in distress, or stopped breathing, or a cardiac arrest.

     I ran towards the said location, and so did the nurses on duty. Each one responded with precision, knowing what to do in case of emergency. While I was at the bedside assessing the patient’s condition, I called out: “Code Status?” Somebody answered: “Full Code.” The Emergency CPR Cart was already wheeled near the bedside, someone was checking the vital signs, another nurse started Oxygen inhalation, and while I initiated CPR with another nurse, yet another nurse called 911. The patient resumed breathing and cardiac function was restored when the paramedics arrived.

     Three days later, we received the patient back from the acute care hospital. Yes, she is already old, but she surely deserves to be given the chance to live, she deserves to have a quality of life as everyone else.

     With team work among professional nurses who have the knowledge and ability to respond in case of emergency, a life was saved.