My Lessons from 4-20 a.k.a. Bob Marley Day 2014

I am an idiot.


There was a time in my youth when I suffered from a severe case of "reggaemylytis" with Steel pulse, Buju Banton, Yellowman, Cocojam, Tropical Depression and of course the late great Sir Bob Marley

Its been eons since I "stomped to the riddim' in a reggae stylee....."


My FB Posts says it all:

Lessons Learned from Bab Marley Day:

1. Everything's gonna be alright

2. No matter how tight security is and there are CCTV and cops everywhere at the concert venue. The stoners find a way.

3. Some idiot dreadhead lit up beside (for "camouflage") the Police Command Post. After a few puffs he was apprehended for not passing after 2 puffs.

4. One love, one heart....but there is still so much hatred in the world. EVEN in Jamaica.

5. Sometimes, when you don't pay attention to detail you screw up an opportunity to meet a gorgeous Goddess or maybe make the best performance of your life as a street comic.

6. In a reggae concert be observant, if a wayfarer wearing dreadlock rasta version of the Wendy's mascot lady approaching you is smiling with some "free pastries" and after taking one she charges you PhP 50 for a brownie....This is right BEFORE you meet a Goddess for dinner.  With some band doing a cover of "Lively Up Yourself".   What she actually said was "Jamacan Brownies, 50 pesos only").

Oh, and please read CAREFULLY what is printed on what you think was a Wendy's shirt"

7. I know this was my first entry to a dreadlock holiday in decades..... it was great.

I just believe so much in the words of my classmate Bob "Deuce Bigalow" Baynosa. "If you will crash. BURN in style..." I add: In a "blaze of glory"

Keep the faith. Everything IS gonna be alright ONE LOVE!

 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh the date? It depends how you look at it.  I was hilarious. Met wonderful lady. Smart, sexy and real.... She was also angelic.....


Again, I sincerely believe Sir Bob when he said-Everything's gonna be alright!

Missing the bus, playing Dad for at day..... at my old school

I had an episode the other day.

At a friend's house where I usually crash something hit me again.  It was like one of ths days like when I wrote:

http://my40somethingadventures.blogspot.com/2013/09/an-introverts-epiphany.html

This time my mind wandered the deserts of time. I could not sleep.  I decided to watch a rerun of the The Cosby Show, one of my favorite show of my teens.  To this day i am still a big Coz fan.

The show I saw from the forst seadon was bout the wife Claire wantig to have another baby after having five (5) children.  Cosby's character and even the other children were against it.  It  wasn't because they did not want a another baby but because of practical reasons.  The show had cameo characters.  In this one, their granmother paid a visit and gave Claire some practical advice.  Hard as it is.  After five kids, it was their turn to have their own children one day.

The show ended with Cosby's wife accepting her mother's advice, realizing the practicality of it and in a nutshell that she was..... old.

In the series, she was 45.  I turn 45 in a few months.  By now I am sure you are getting the flow of what this useless doodling is all about.

I then turn to the computer.  The good old Facebook to waste my time and induce sleepiness without the valium.  Great.  I then come across this article about 100 Reasons not to have children:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/anjali-joshi/100-reasons-not-to-have-kids-that-i-discovered-after-i-had-one_b_5184178.html

I agree to all the reasons.  Strangely. I also agree to the final point the mother made.

Realization:  I missed the bus.

Thanks to companies like Pfizer I can stilly physically produce children.  PHYSICALLY as in the "act" of conceiving using my "ammunition".  It is what comes after that poses an issue.  A kid needs a father and mother in my book.  Not an aging father, not a dead father or an "absentee" daddy. A child needs someone that will help shape this person to a fine, loving, productive human being.  It's like cars, each model is supposed to be a better than the last, not a lemon.  Unfortunately, that is one thing I can no longer do.  Raise a child.

Oh that heavy feeling seems to get really heavy in these episodes.  I lightly sleep at about 7 am.

However, in my years I learned that these "episodes" need not be negative or destructive on my part.  back in the day, I would drink myself to oblivion  to skirt things like this.  What a pathetic coward I was.

I reaffirmed something that I will save for the last part of this writing.

The other day a classmate that also happens to be my Doctor and good friend calls me for a favor.  He had something big to do at the hospital and needed someone to take his kid to school for his basketball clinic.

Hesitantly, I agree.  I hesitate because I never did anything like this before.  It seems simple to take a kid to a ball game but it is not simple for a guy that lives alone, never had kids, gets really out of place in kiddie parties and such.   I go in the hopes of scoring with some single moms.  Its a long shot but hey, what have I got to loose right?


The day comes and all is set.  My classmate calls me about 10 am to remind me.  I fall back to sleep.  At 11 my classmate's kid calls me and asks where I am.  I thought that game or clinic was at 1pm. I figured that I had more than enough time to collect the kid from his place to laze around my school, cool out at the gym or shoot some hoops.

The kid had a stickler for time and true enough i skipped the shower and sped off to him.  We made it a full 20 minute before 1pm, in the scorching heat.

The kid sped to the gym.  Now I spent 12 years in this school.  The gym was my refuge.  Not because of the sports but being in a dome on top of the world, it was a perfect place to cool out wind breezing from all directins and a lot of places to kick back and cool.


When I got there I got questioned by a school guard for security reasons.  I point him to my "kid" and tell the guard that he's mine.   Call me paranoid but the guard had that look in his face.  It was that kinda look that "This guy is some poser parent look".  I tell Mr. Secret Service here that the mother was a beauty queen.   He then gets that stupid look off his face.  He then sported that that "That's must be why look" on his face.   Ten years ago i would have broke down....and broke one of his knees.

All sweaty and all with about 200 kids dribbling all over the place, I felt like I entered a steam bath.  Global warming turned the gym into just that. An oven. A concrete, high ceiling greenhouse.  This used to be to coolest place to hang out in!

After seeing my "kid" doing his crossover, over under behind the back, under the leg passes I try to escape the heat.

I escaped The Alcatraz of heat and venture into familar and yet unfamiliar territory.  Going around places that I knew yet are not known to me any longer.  the Prep classroom that was not there anymore, the high school building that was not the high school building.  Swinging by my old classrooms,  Grade school and High School offices like the Gudance office where I was a frequent flyer back in the day.  I pass the library where I spent a lot of time sleeping...the clinic where I cajoled the nurses that I had a temperature and had to be home.  By some strange reason I only get that 48 degree temp on Fridays.  By some miracle I do get that pass home fairly conssistently.  I had a few foster homes back then they were known as  Halfway Inn, Greenhills or St. Scholastica's College.
As i pass the halls memories flood my mind and emotions enguld my soul.  That light happy feeling called reminscing that comes when you walk in a park was there.

My "son" was still doing the drills in the greenhouse.

Like some kind of scene for "Back to the Future", I saw a bunch of seniors having their Graduation Ball, some went stag because their dates could not make it but was there with another guy anyway.  There was a kid that loved La Salle so much he studied math every summer for four years.  In places like the bookstore I see a kid buying his Grade One kit, I see a kid rolling down the ramp after being shoved by his twerp classmate.....all the way down. That was a long, long way down.  I see a in Grade 3 kid falling off the higher field straight down the lower field, screamig in pain.  There was a kid smoking at Gate 9 and getting busted thrice.  A bunch of men meeting in a room planning, violently arguing and bursting in laughter about their 25th anniversary in a conference room.

More scenes kept flashing in my mind's eye.   Some kid "shooting" his M14 rubber band gun spot on his classmates neck three rows down.  There was a kid holding this bag with a yelping peacock going into class..... that peacock kicked out a corrupt teacher.  A 40 something kid in full regalia grade school uniform dancing on stage in complete uniform, bat shit wasted.  In the cafeteria, I hear the song "Rumours".... some Brit saying clap your hands everybody was on the mic.... I the field I saw a guy singing "Sweet Child of Mine".  I also saw a chair coming straight at him....

So many of these memories race through my mind. It was all there. In my mind. In my heart. One little boy with a full grown man, funny how time flies.

Surreal.


I usually take a trip around my old school every couple of years.  I found this scribbling I made about one of those times years ago.



Here's something posted in our Yahoogroups 9 years ago:

Guys,

On a whim just today I went to LSGH to have lunch at the canteen. Goo Puyat was with me. Man, it is really strange to be back in school at around lunch time.  So many memories were rushing to my head all at once. Some were lost in time forever. Not too much kids were around at the time. 4th Yea had early dismissal due to exams. The rest o the school was in class.Its also bizarre that the school has this particular smell, Googo concurs on that one.
What a trip. The Gazebo, St. Benilde, Quadrangle, Field. We swung by the Bookstore to buy some stickers. They have some real cool kits for PhP 1,000 complete with groom bags! 

Ms. Galang is the Lower Year principal while Ms. Ella Samia heads theScience Department. Mr. Ochave is just teacher in English. Herman Rochester is gone.  We had a chat with the upper year Assistan Principal. Let's just say he was extra proud of his accomplishments (getting a Phd., kicking out seniors etc.) using the power of mathematics. I bet he also used th subject to squirm all the way to the top... Paul Gureng, 2nd Year Math, a.k.a. Ung-gawa.  On our way out there was a mommy with her problem kid on the way in. I chatted with her a bit coz she was fine, in a MILF way..... 

By the auditorium, going out we passed Ms. Gorayeb. We introduced ourselves as '87 grads. She said "Oh, that recently". Wow she must be getting senile or something.


Oh about the canteen food? It sucked big time! 

'till Friday, at sunset!
 
The ever friendly tingting


The point of this writing is my realization.  The years have passed.  i am home and yet It is no longer mine anymore.  It is a magical place and i have to be an escort to a kid that will one day ply these areas and possibly experience something like what I did now....

Done with basketball, I locate my "kid" and saddle up for home. I asked a  high school kid ask him to take the pic.  His name plate revealed something.  I knew this kid and decide to include him in the pic.  He was one of ours, just a better, more "sosyal" version of his dad that may one day make this country even stronger.

It was a great pic to cap the day.


We meet the real kid's dad.  I buy his son ice cream.  the heat, slam dunking and crossovers made him famished.  I just wanted to faint.

It was such an honor and privilege for me to do what I did that day.  I kinda wish my own Dad did something like that for me back in the day...... He was too busy driving a boat or getting shot at.

So what did I re-learn, realize and accept again?

Some things were never meant to be and their is a reason for it. ALWAYS.   But that don't mean its a punishment.  It is just His will for reasons beyond us.  There are other things that wait for us, for me.  It may not be what I want but probably just what I need.

A family, a child. I guess my prayers were answered and that is fine.  My purpose is for something else.  An old word was reused in my vocabulary; discernment.

At 45, I learn again. Some things, if it is to be, will be, if it should, it would. Simple.

Maybe some of the purpose for my life are:

1. to be some kinda quartermaster for each organization I belong to
2. be a part time Dad to my closest buds.
3. help others especially those close to my heart
4. make people laugh at their lowest moments
5. Be myself.
6. to end a legacy wrong parenting practies in my family.

Maybe.

I missed the bus for having a family.  There is another bus that I am supposed to take.

It kinda makes sense.
I thank God for that day when I was at my friend's place reflecting on what I am and where I am headed in the days to come.  The acceptance of my discernment.   My dharma.

While I relished the old memories for a day, I also look forward to the new memories to be made.

This past couple of days were memorable.  Realizations. Reflections. Playing Dad for a day was a blast.....at my old school.

Thank you Leo.

A Celebration of Life

​I just came from a wake. I must say is by far one of the happiest wakes I have ever been to, ever.

The wake was for a scooter club friend of mine's father, lets just call him Cheffy.  Cheffy's father passed on last week. He was about 74.

Why was the wake 'happy'? 

Well for one thing the atmosphere was festive. Pictures adorned the parlor. Chef's dad was in all of them-trips with his family, the many happy occasions, his adventures in life.  There were simultaneous slideshows depicting the departed's colorful life and though no words were spoken the theme was definitely one of celebration.  The casket was flanked by his riding gear and one of his bikes....a BIG BAD ASS (pardon my French) Harley Davidson. 

And then there was the music.  Being a music buff myself.  I was taken aback as the melody of the Beatles, Sergio Mendes and other artists of the period serenaded the air via a real live turntable!  If there were cocktails being served, it would have been a full blown party!  The food was tasty and flowing. I particularly enjoyed the freshly brewed coffee.

With other club members I sat and chatted sympathizing with Cheffy and his family. Though the whole time, I was in total awe of the droves of mourning guests that kept on coming.   

Clearly here lay a man, loved by many family and friends alike.

Though Chef is an acquaintance I can see the love he received from his father and his entire family.  More than the finer things in life that they enjoy, they were a loving family that is loved by many others as well.  The material things did not define them. 

I already went there a few days ago to pay my respects, I had to go again because of message from Chef was relayed to club members that he really appreciated the support of the club in his family's dark times and that he was comforted by the club members presence. 

Humbly, the Chef mentioned that he had fewer friends as time passed and that the club effort was such a boost for him. "Few" is relative.  It sure was not a few in my book.

What humility he displayed. Admirable.

It was then resolved that we go again and in full force we were there. True enough, Chef showed that appreciation again.  I was glad to be there for him at that time.

Coincidentally, (Then again I do not believe in coincidences, only co-incidents.) Four years ago today I said goodbye to a sailor that went to sail his final voyage to great ocean beyond. My own father.  As when my mother passed longer ago, the wakes were photographic to my memory. I never forgot who were there for my family and myself.  Amazing how good that felt.  Long time friends and family being with us when we really needed it.  

Let's just say I know how it feels for Cheffy.

Chef I am happy to witness how you celebrated your father's life and how you showed him all the love for his last ride to the great highway beyond. The same place we will all ride to - in God's time. Your Daddy must be so happy and proud of you all. Riding so high he will never die, in your hearts.

I can only dream that when my number is up that I have a farewell like Cheffy's dad.  A celebration of life. Something fitting for a man that lived his life, loved his family and was loved back.

Here's one for our fathers Chef:

A Carpet Ride:Turkish cuisine at Bricks & Copper

I started last week with a magic carpet ride that brought me to the Middle East or at least a taste of it.  Meeting with a classmate I was treated to authentic Turkish cuisine at Bricks & Copper at the Ground Level of Dumlao Gym on Shaw Boulevard, Mandaluyong City.
 
Hungrily, I tried the shawarma and some hummus.  Deliciously authentic minus the excessive spiciness.  Both filled me for the day but I did know there was even more to come.  I was treated to Turkish BBQ and pizza that even got me more going on my gastronomic carpet ride.
 
I capped my meal with rich dark roast of well Arabica coffee that was  irresistibly flavorful prompting me to have another.
 
With what I had,  I can understand why the Turks were big, lean and strong since time immemorial. Their diet is grilled, simply in a roast pit with flavors and spices that are filling and makes you grow with all the protein.  At one time, during the meal, I imagined the Shah of Iran dining on something like what I was having.
 
 In a word, the food at Bricks & Copper is, as I said,  authentic. The place is quiet, the staff was friendly and the pricing was friendlier.  A platter of BBQ cost PhP 1,200 but it would be good for at least 8 people! 
The shawarma was bigger than usual and only cost PhP 90.
   

What a way to start a week. Meeting a high school classmate, meeting his friends, and making new ones of my own while literally breaking bread.
 
The restaurant is another hidden treasure in the metro, hidden in the heart of Shaw Boulevad worth finding via a magic carpet ride. They deliver too.

Another One Bites (The Bachelor's) Dust

Once of my closest and dearest of friends George is marrying his long time girlfriend Cristina in a couple of weeks.

I am happy for them.  They have seen the world.  Spent so much time and grew so much together as a couple.  This is as close to a fairy tale or a movie like "The Notebook"  that I can really say actually happened.

As I said, I am happy for both of them.  They finally made that decision.   The "plunge".  Something that though a lot of my friends are fortunate as well with their spouses, many have sunk to the depths of failure.  The global statistic for a marriage to last is 50% and rising.....More call it quits after tying the knot in this day and age.

Yet I am also sad.   This is the selfish me talking.  Another brick in the wall goes up (or down) depending on how you look at it.  Another buddy lost to his own family along with responsibilities, problems and yes....time.

I fear the future for I have lost many to their new families.  Such is the life of a perennial bachelor.   Another friend won't be there to hang with when I need someone to hear me out.  Someone to joke around anytime and act plain  stupid with just for the heck of it.

My closest friends have this sort of "tradition" with me.  I never took notice of it but I did after the second or third guy got hitched.  This is way deeper than the wild stag parties or "donkey shows" that girls think are the highlights of pre-marriage for men.  Before D-Day, my friends would spend extra time with me.  Out of the blue they would knock at my door to hang at my place, kidnap me to some faraway place for a cup of coffee, call me at random times just to hang or even just grab drinks anywhere.  Now back in the day when I drank like a whale, I was the one asking them out for out booze nine times out of ten.  For once, it was them that were asking for the spirits.

I guess this is just their way of saying goodbye to me as a bachelor.   I know we will still be friends somehow.  Maybe I can even be Godfather to their kids once day.  One thing is for sure, this is one ride that they go in with someone else by their side.

Sadly, ce'st la vie.  That's just how it rolls.  I just thought that as I age that I won't be as affected and by now be totally inured by it.  Boy, a 44 year old dinosaur does still have some sort feelings after all.....

I can go on and write about the horror stories of my friends that took the chance and regretted it immensely.  For some, the second time around was much better.  Some vowed never again to be chained by matrimony.  

Funny, but when  I ask  along time married male or female friends of mine a hypothetical question like "Take out the kids, would you marry the same person?".  I am astounded by the neutral to mostly negative responses I get.  Rarely do I get a resounding "YES" to these questions.

These horror stories make me cringe and reaffirm my acceptance that I am not of the marrying kind.  It sounds like a job that you can not get out from, forever..... 

I may write in detail about my other reasons for being unmarried in the future but for this one let's stick to George and Cristina, the soon to be newlyweds.

The holidays have just passed and I managed to skirt the usual "holiday blues" I get dring the Yuletide season being alone and all.  This marriage may just punch me a bit.

People change after they get hitched.  Whatever happens.  It is not necessarily negative though but nonetheless, that vow they take, the lifestyle and the new life they seek changes them.

I, on the other hand remain to be.  The loyal friend.  The perennial excuse for the wives when they get caught being not so good.  The third wheel.  Maybe that is my dharma, my purpose.  I was built for that reason.  Maybe. 

I actually believe so myself.

George and Cristina's day approaches.  I got my invite today, hand delivered with my name in an ornate hand written calligraphy.   It is on. Only one gear on this train, GO.  My heart feels heavy.

Though I am sad, I am sincerely more happy for a my friend George.  His happiness infects me.  I am proud to be part of this life event of his.  My sadness will pass.  Another one bit the dust but life must go on.

To George and Cristina,I wish you a fruitful life together filled with love and happiness.  Unlike the rest, I just know you will weather any storm that passes your lives, together. 

As Luca Brasi once said "May that first child, be a masculine child".

Congratulations!  It is a wonderful world!

Smitten

1.smitten

To be really taken or pleased by someone.

After a few dates with Rob, Sarah was smitten as a kitten.

2. smitten

the feeling of total happiness around someone you are falling in love with or, someone you are already in love with.

Sherrie was smitten with Johnny sitting next to her on the bus ride.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=smitten

I was smitten.  

I don't really use such words but yes, that is what happened.

Shy....

Hanging out a bar owned by a classmate, minding my own just cooling.   My classmate, the ever gracious host introduces me his crew at the place.  The last one I met was this woman called Katherine (maybe her name but maybe not)

Katherine had that magical aura, the kind that posses a gravitational pull.  Her smile lit up the place.

Boom. Angels DO fall from heaven.

We chat. I compliment her to high heaven (and mean it).  Katherine emits that radiant smile and get to know more of her.  She floats among her friends and all share a laugh.  

I am smitten.

Poetry was in motion (that guy "dancing by himself" was certainly  not).

The admiration poured.  Never have I in recent memory been so charmed like some kind of voodoo. Her figure was perfect, she felt fat. She sure did not look her age and was completely elegant.  Her hair simply short but still looked magnificent.   She was a mother.  A hot one.  Her smile was bright.  An angel.

In my age, it's gloves off for this rodeo.  No more of that suave, swashbuckling, sideshows. HONESTY. Lay it down and lay it straight.

So I did the cool swashbucklingly desperate middle age ninja maneuvers.  I  "swashbuckingly":

Cut her a line for the toilet, politely off course. Took pictures of her and myself, repeatedly reminding her of her beauty that she modestly denies. And the "crem brulee".....

I ask her out for coffee.  I even "swashbuckingly" asked permission from her older sister AND her husband to take her out.  I figured it would be the best thing considering an earlier incident where I was in the toilet and her older sister bangs the door calling Katherine, and was there all alone taking a piss.  

All attempts were in direct violation of the reference material "Debonaire for Dummies".  Pathetic.

I am smitten.

Together with another fine lady I met at the place celebrating her birthday I openly admitted to Katherine that she was the type of woman that will make me break in a pawnshop at 2:00 am to get a ring and its Viva Las Vegas if she actually asked me to marry her that instant.

Strange thing is I would have done it. In a heartbeat, maybe even twice on Sundays.

That was slick.  Whatever works right?

My classmate is hammered. We hang out at his place after taking his friend home. He even somehow directs traffic on the way back.   At his place, I stare at the pictures earlier.  It was real.

She was real.

And again I am smitten.

This experience is wonderful.  I learned more about myself.  At my age there are still women like Katherine for me.  The ideal. Maybe unrealistic to even dream of pursuing but definitely worth the shot.  I made mine,  I don't regret it.

I am glad to know that I am still human, capable of being attracted, and instantly at that to such cool women like Katherine. They actually exist.


All the words I spew, I meant them all.  Katherine feels that.

My bud the bar owner saw it and he believes it, plastered and all.

She is Heaven and I am Earth.   I gave her my contacts, I added her on FB.  Hell, I gave my contacts to her older sister as well.  I pleaded with her to let me see her again.  Pleaded.

I never got her number.  I sent her the pictures via email.  Sadly she leaves in a few days. I hope she answers.  I hope to see her again.

I wait.  I can't sleep.  I write this piece.  I miss her already.  I wait with a smile.  I gave it a shot, sans gloves.  It was worth it.

I thank God for this glorious day.  As my FB status read: "There is a reason for everything.  Angels DO fall from Heaven.".

Last night I met one.

A Lotta Love for Felizardo

A couple of weeks ago we found out a classmate had a bad case of lymphoma.   By coincidence, a classmate of mine, my doctor gave me a book on the dreaded disease.  All I can say is that the disease - Cancer, even with today's technology is a dreadful, scary thing to acquire.  Sadly, it can happen to anyone and at anytime.

My classmate, let's call him Felizardo has been a friend to me since we were in second grade.  I distinctly remember that his late mom Luwalhati succumbed to leukemia at that time, just  a few weeks prior to our first communion.  The school we went to took the entire class to the wake and we sang our communion songs for Tita Nini's wake. 

An 8 year old remembers those kinds of things.

As we were growing up, my own mother would periodically ask about Felizardo up to our college years.  Thanatophobic herself, my momma was so sad for Felizardo losing his mom at such a young age.

Sadly tragedy struck again Felizardo's family in our senior year. His father was a lawyer and active in politics.   In cold blood, he was gunned down after attending a convention.

I went through a lot with Felizardo.  We went to parties.  Met with the girls.  Did a lot of stupid things pubescent juveniles would do.  He was so generous, he would let me hang out with him at his crib back in the day.  Felizardo was loved.

Felizardo grew up to be a fine man.  He married in our freshman college year.  raised a family and is now one of the youngest grandfathers I know.  His eldest son had his own kid a few years ago.  Despite the trials he faced, Felizardo is complete.  Endeared by his family and by his many friends.  He is successful business practitioner and entrepreneur as well. .  

Truly he was the kind of guy the Irish refer to as a "branigan", a true chum to all..

When our class found out about his condition, the core group sprung into action.  They organized a fund raising concert with Felizardo as a beneficiary.  Aptly entitled A Whole LOTtA Love, the show had Felizardo's cousin, schoolmate and former Kundirana member Ogie Alcasid with his wife, Asia's songbird performed as the main act, gratis.  Felizardo's brother in law was with this band Shamrock and they opened for Ogie and Regine belting out classic tunes from back in our day.

I hosted the show with this veteran DJ, the very lovely Tina Ryan.  The house was full, about 80 classmates showed up.  Even more just bought a ton of tickets for the cause.  The show was a blast.   

As host we kept it light and we were on  a roll citing other classmates like the highly decorated Army Col. Demy Zagala, our war hero from Zamboanga that just came back from the front lines and Eddielou Arellano, one of our biggest classmates that head honchoed the whole thing.

The touching part of the evening was right before the main event.  A classmate that recently celebrated his birthday made it his birthday wish for all his friends to go to the show or donate to Felizardo's cause. Being a cancer surgeon, Leo Ona explained that there is much hope for Felizardo and that prayers are essential for his full recovery.  
 
Felizardo's wife Eileen, his mother in law and some relatives also said  a few words on Felizardo's condition and took the opportunity to express gratitude for the effort our class took to organize such an event.

The show went on. 

In full force, friends, family and classmates partied on for a good cause.  Felizardo's wife's pretty classmates were there as well. 

 It was so much fun I kinda wished it would last forever. Truly a memorable experience.

Now ain't that a lot of LOVE?