Paul Cuenco, click
here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.
Blogs by Paul Cuenco
Small Memories 12/7/2011 11:10:41 PM
I don’t recall it anymore, but what I could remember when I was a boy of eight or nine, my Tita Dimple always recollected days when I was far younger. And it was not that she told me what age I was, but rather what I said. Tsa-mo-milk (Some more milk). And then she would embrace me and dote on me. This gave me a warm feeling for being the center of her attention at the age of eight or nine. She would tell this story to my mom and anyone who would listen, as she would give this gleeful laughter.
On another occasion, I truly can remember answering questions with “the Othe house” (the other house).
Where is your shoe? Othe house.
Where is your toy? Othe house.
Where is your milk? Othe house.
Everything, it seemed, was at the other house. It was one of my first sentences. I was dress up in shorts, shirt and bowtie and patent leather shoes as I declare, “the othe house.”
When I was five, I saw a movie about Adam and Eve. My titas would boast that I knew the story of Adam and Eve. And whenever they have a visitor, they would ask me to tell the story. And I would.
My grandfather would tell his audience that I would grow up to be a lawyer and he called me attorney. I was not taken to liking it or not, for I was perhaps only three. But certainly, the people all around were enamored with what I say or do. At eight or nine, this attention affected me positively. I was a very inquisitive boy. Every weekend we would visit our Papa (grandfather) Eriong. He would give us a quarter and while my sister and other cousins would disperse to play outside on the street, I would lay down on my Papa Eriong and Mama Vic’s bed and read Time magazine, or Newsweek; not everything, though, for I haven’t matured enough to understand or taken a liking to reading the political or economic pages of the publication. But certainly, a boy of eight or nine reading a foreign publication and then discussing it with my Papa Eriong was impressive. It would take us hours in scrutinizing and analyzing the different stories.
My other papa, Papa Trining (the husband of my Papa Eriong’s sister) took me to task of answering random questions. It was much like Trivial Pursuit. For every correct answer, I got ten cents. Of course I got most of the answers correctly. But it was not getting the answers correctly and collecting the ten cents. Rather, it was plainly answering the questions correctly that stoked me. I felt pretty proud of myself.
Boy, all of these and many more made up my early years, years that prove to be positive and uplifting; for growing up certainly had its ups and down. Sometimes, I felt the weight of time – its frustrations and failures. But recalling these small things where I was truly made to feel loved and appreciated that the weight of time can easily be managed.
Available in AuthorsDen.com
amazon.com/author/paulcuenco
www.BooksNovelsPoemsJournalsByPaul.com
