friendica.world
When I decided to go home after my second enlistment, I really didn't know how much I would miss the sea life. It was a hard life, there was danger every where you turned; but I felt I had a purpose, there was a reason for me to be there, I was respected as a part of a team working for all of America. Life in Illinois seemed less fulfilling than the life I had at sea. So, I went back and I have no regrets.
Most of the places I called "home" in my younger years have changed so much, I probably would not recognize them today and in many of those places, the memories have faded with the changes. When you move around a lot, a move tends to turn a home into just a place you used to live. But there is one "home" that has resisted that change to being just a place, a home that although I miss it, I can never go back to.
That's because it isn't a "place" its a feeling inside of me, a feeling from my soul. That "feeling" is made up of many different things. Its working my butt off for 3 or 4 days with no sleep, when I did sleep it was in my workspace or battle-station in a rickety old chair, kicked back on a workbench with my feet propped up on a stool; it's living on coffee and mid-rats for months at a time; Its bracing for incoming rounds; its standing inspection in the blazing heat on the flight-deck of a carrier; its underway replenishment working parties and 24 hour flight ops; its trying to make your way from one workspace to another during a cat 4 hurricane. Then just when I felt myself wilting to the deck from exhaustion, not caring about anything, a friend shoves a cup of coffee in my hand offers me a cigarette and tells me to take a break on the fantail.
The fantail is a special place on a ship. Especially at night when the stars are out. Its quiet, so quiet you can hear the silence of the sea. The fantail is for thinking and dreaming, sometimes they are both the same. The fantail rejuvenates you like nothing else, after about 10 minutes I was always ready to jump into the chaos of the next catastrophe.
Shipboard life is different from every thing else, it can't be explained, it can only be experienced and once experienced, it never leaves you. You hate it because of the endless work, hard and rough times but you also love it with a love that can not be explained, it can only be felt. Sometimes I think that if I was asked, I'd go back but I know that would be wrong. At my age, I would not be able to keep up with the younger sailors, I would be a burden and I just could not do that to a shipmate. Nothing can compare with being on a warship headed for enemy lines. ... And you haven't lived until you've lived through a WestPac Liberty.
President John F. Kennedy at the commissioning ceremony of the USS Oriskany said:
"I can imagine no more rewarding a career. And any man who may be asked in this century what he did to make his life worthwhile, I think can respond with a good deal of pride and satisfaction, 'I served in the United States Navy'."
I agree.
The Essence of Harana
The harana was more than just singing love songs; it was a carefully orchestrated ritual with a set of protocols, a code of conduct, and a specific style of music. The most trusted instrument was the guitar, whose intimate sound complemented the sweetness of Spanish-influenced songs combined with the poetry and lyricism of the Tagalog language.
The Haranista and His Performance
The haranista (the man performing the serenade) often possessed musical abilities, but even if he lacked singing talent, he could enlist friends and musicians to help him. This made the harana a social event, not just a solitary endeavor. The haranista would sing songs expressing his admiration for the woman, hoping to win her heart and gain her family's approval.
The Response and the Farewell
The woman, known as the dalaga, would either accept or deny the haranista's advances. If she was interested, she would come out to the window to listen to his singing. If not, she would remain inside, signaling her lack of interest. The harana would often conclude with a farewell song, expressing the haranista's gratitude for the opportunity to serenade her, even if his affections were unrequited.
The Decline of Harana
The harana began to decline in popularity as the Philippines modernized and embraced new forms of courtship. The practice is now largely considered a relic of the past, remembered only by those who experienced it firsthand or learned about it from older generations.
The Legacy of Harana
Despite its decline, the harana continues to hold a special place in Filipino culture. It is often depicted in films, literature, and music, serving as a reminder of a time when courtship was more romantic and traditional. The harana also embodies important Filipino values such as respect, courtesy, and the importance of family approval in romantic relationships.
Modern Interpretations of Harana
While the traditional harana is no longer widely practiced, the spirit of serenading lives on in modern forms. Companies like Harana.ph offer serenading packages, allowing people to express their love for loved ones through song, albeit in a more contemporary and commercially driven way.
Conclusion
The harana is a testament to the rich and diverse cultural heritage of the Philippines. It is a reminder of a time when courtship was a more elaborate and romantic affair, and its legacy continues to inspire and fascinate Filipinos today. While the traditional practice may be a thing of the past, the spirit of the harana, with its emphasis on music, poetry, and heartfelt expressions of love, remains a cherished part of Filipino culture.
Disclaimer: I do not own the image presented. The photo is provided for educational and informational purposes only and to enhance visual understanding of the topic. Rights solely belongs to the rightful owner.
#Philippines #PhilippineCulture "PhilippineSociety #PogiAmericano
Each year Filipinos commemorate the anniversary of the first Catholic Mass celebrated on the island of Limasawa in Southern Leyte.
According to Vatican News, “On Easter Sunday in 1521, Father Pedro de Valderrama celebrated the first Catholic Mass in what is now the Philippines, specifically on the island of Limasawa in Southern Leyte.
The date was March 31, and the Spanish priest was part of an expedition to the so-called ‘East Indies’ led by the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan.”
The Mass was celebrated on an “improvised altar” and the congregation included local inhabitants.
The past few years have seen several jubilee celebrations, celebrating 500 years since the first Mass. Those celebrations were postponed during COVID in 2021, but were held successfully in 2022.
John Burger also adds in his article for Aleteia that, “Since 2013, Filipino Catholics have been observing a nine-year preparatory cycle to prepare for the great anniversary. With a particular theme assigned to each year, the Church in the Philippines has sought to deepen and reinvigorate its missionary character, with programs tailored by each of the country’s dioceses and archdioceses.”
#Philippines #PhilippineHistory #PhilipineMass #PogiAmericano
Wars are started by rulers and politicians. Ordinary working men and women do the fighting and killing. It is also ordinary working men and women that do the dying, along with the poor and innocent children. There are no two sides to a war, there is only one because all of mankind suffers. Whether you willingly participate, are forced to participate or are just an innocent bystander, you suffer. Rulers and politicians do not understand all will suffer when they start a war.
Through the smoke and ruin of Intramuros, he saw her—a young Filipina girl, barely a teenager, clutching a lifeless infant wrapped in a bloodstained cloth. She was barefoot, her dress tattered, her eyes hollow with grief. Calloway rushed to her, but she did not react. She simply stared ahead, as if she had already accepted death.
Gently, he lifted her into his arms. She did not resist, but her lips trembled. “Nanay… Tatay… nasaan sila?” she whispered in a weak voice. ("Mother… Father… where are they?")
A nun rushed past them, cradling another child, her face streaked with tears. The convent had been bombed, and the orphans she cared for were either missing or dead. The girl in Calloway’s arms had been one of them.
As he carried her through the wreckage, stepping over bodies and smoldering ruins, Calloway felt the weight of war crushing his soul. This wasn’t victory. This wasn’t liberation. This was tragedy.
Reaching a makeshift medical station, he laid the girl down. A medic checked her pulse and gave a solemn nod. She was alive, but barely. As Calloway turned to leave, she gripped his hand.
“Will you find them?” she asked.
He wanted to promise her, to tell her that her family would be waiting. But he had seen the massacre at Intramuros. He knew the answer.
Instead, he knelt beside her and whispered, “I’ll stay with you.”
She smiled weakly before her eyes fluttered shut.
Decades later, Calloway, now an old man, still remembered that moment—the war, the girl, the broken city. He never learned her name, but in his heart, she remained the Angel of Intramuros, a symbol of the innocence lost in war, and the reminder that some wounds never heal.
Photo credit: John Tewell
Can’t Live Without Coffee? Thank This Pope.
Coffee is one of the most consumed drinks in the world, second only to water, enjoyed by millions every day. The drink was not always so ubiquitous, only becoming popular relatively recently during the 16th century. If you can’t start the day without first having your morning cup of coffee, then you should probably thank Pope Clement VIII.
Coffee was first introduced around the 9th century when Muslim shepherds noticed wild coffee beans were having a stimulant effect on their flocks of sheep. Clerics learned the techniques to cultivate the beans, and the drink quickly spread throughout the Muslim world.
When it inevitably found its way to Europe, the majority of Catholics treated it with a great deal of suspicion because it was the popular beverage of Islam, which Catholicism had been at war with for centuries. Because of its reputation, it gained the moniker “Satan’s drink.”
As the saying goes, all roads lead to Rome, and coffee was first brought to Pope Clement VIII around the year 1600.
Initially, the pope’s closest advisers tried to get him to ban the drink, proclaiming it was “the bitter invention of Satan.” However, the pope wished to try it himself before issuing a papal decision.
After tasting it, the pope enjoyed it so much he declared that “This Satan’s drink is so delicious that it would be a pity to let the infidels have exclusive use of it. We shall cheat Satan by baptizing it!”
Allegedly, he formally blessed the coffee bean because the drink was deemed less harmful than alcohol. After his blessing, it quickly spread throughout the rest of Europe and eventually the world, becoming a chief crop and the most popular beverage. Next time you enjoy your favorite brew, thank God for Pope Clement VIII.
