It was a gift from Lolo and Lola. It was 1933, the 8th of October. It was her 8th birthday.
The day was beautiful. The sun out from behind blue clouds. Birds, butterflies and bees busily courted every flower and shrubs. The old church bell reverberated all over town.
Inside the house, the kitchen was abuzz with culinary activities in preparation for her birthday party. Pancit (rice noodles) with shredded chicken and vegetables. Morcon (stuffed flank steak simmered in red sauce). Michado (pot roast in savory red sauce with potatoes and sweet red bell peppers). Chicken and pineapple chunks in a buttery and creamy whole milk sauce. Ham with crunchy specks of crystallized sugar on top. Chicken macaroni salad with bits of green apples and served with buttered toasts.
A month earlier everyone was talking about some sweet and cold dessert they called ice cream that was discovered in some far away place called Coney Island in New York City. I wonder if something similar was sold locally. I wonder if Lolo and Lola served some at the party together with the chocolate cake with the buttercream icing, her favorite.
Aunts and uncles, cousins and friends arrived and shared in the delicious feast laid on the dining table. To the singing of the proverbial song, eight candles were lit and blown right after she made her wish, the cake sliced and served.
Then came the moment everyone was waiting for. There it was. The glossy, dark stained upright piano sitting in the far corner of the room. Lolo Casimiro, rogether with Lola Doring, presented their gift to her and asked if she might delight them by playing a song.
Sitting on the piano bench in her frilly dress she began to play Baa Baa Black Sheep. Or was it Ode to Joy? Or perhaps Jolly Old St. Nicholas ? The guests were delighted with the impromptu show. It was one of the happiest days in her young life.
Through the years, the piano went where she went, through milestones and celebrations in her adult life. Married with four children and with one more on the way, they moved into their very own bungalow in the outskirts of the city, in a town called Pasig. The subdivision was an open field of grass kissed by a panoramic horizon of peace and serenity welcoming her brood home. In the distance numerous house frames were going up. The long stretch of gravel road just outside her front gate was long, bumpy with stones and dusty with dry sand.
Inside the brand new house, the piano was situated against the wall on the left hand side as you walk in past the double sliding glass doors. Just like her, her children delighted many unexpecting guests with many impromptu shows of timeless pieces she herself once played.
Years went by. Everyone had grown up and moved on. The gravel road outside is now a long stretch of concrete road. Where fields of grass used to be are now houses standing shoulder to shoulder. Through it all, the piano stood like a precocious child welcoming everyone who entered the house. It had remained silent for a long time. Its ivory keys no longer white but yellowed with time. Its tonal quality definitely needing some major tuning.
Lolo and Lola have gone to their rest a while back. Their 8-year old daughter, Rosario, my Mom, is no longer with us either. However, her memories, her love, her passion, her music, continue to rule our hearts. Always. Forever.
On a recent trip to Manila about four weeks ago, I saw the piano and imagined how my Mom dressed me up in my frilly dress and how happy I was playing Baa Baa Black Sheep. Or was it Ode to Joy? Or maybe even Jolly Old St. Nicholas?
I remember how my Mom stood behind me as I practiced for an upcoming piano recital. I remember playing for an Aunt who would dole out a peso for my performance. I remember playing for a group of friends on one my birthday parties.
Before I left Manila, discussions about restoring the piano to its glory days earned positive responses and support from Rey and my two Sissies. As I write this blog, I am waiting to hear back from Manila if a professional restorer and tuner has been found.
If Mom was alive today, I know she would be very happy. She might even delight us with a tune or two…for old time’s sake!
“A mother is the truest friend we have when trials heavy and sullen fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness and cause peace to return to our hearts.” ~Washington Irving
