THOSE OLD PHOTOS… and MANG PIDOY

By: Abdullah R. Sirad


Man, in nature, has no photographic memory to retain all events that happened to his life. We may recall some events but not fully unless something caused us to remember them. There are too many events of both sweet and bitter that happened in our youth days but it seems to fade away in our memory as time passed by especially when we were hooked to something significant like we have our own family and work to spend much of our time with.

I am a lone boy among siblings. When I was a kid, I spend most of my day times with my friends because it was with them that I found compatibility. In fact, I had repeated my primary grade in school for three times due to abseentism. I always hanged up with my friends. I go for where ever they go. It seems as if I can’t live a day without mingling with them. I found my happiness with them playing all sorts of boy games and more. My buttock was thick enough of being beaten almost everyday by my father for I been invisible in our home the whole day.

Wait. Am not talking about how weird I was but the memories of those moments and the value of those people that took part with it. I am now on my 31st years of age (still young anyway, lol) and I been looking forward to see and meet those old peers of mine. I had tried searching them over Facebook and Friendster but ironically I forgot their names (I can’t even picture out their faces). Every time I used to reminisce how they colored up my life when I need them, I felt seemingly guilty. I don’t know how to exactly describe the feeling but it’s something like regrettable. I used to remember those forgotten things that we used to do every time I see young boys playing in the ground, roaming around everywhere, etc. It’s a heart wrenching of wishing how you can possibly turn back time and share same moments again.

It was to my great surprise when one time I logged in to my Facebook account and receive one inbox message. I really don’t have an idea who’s this person in spite of the visible picture he has on his profile. The tone of his message is hesitant, though he had recognize me on my photo the very first time he saw it, because he thought I might not consider him. We exchange messages to clear vague and doubts and when he started mentioning the foolishness we have like when we were escaping from our classes and went to the farm (bukid) instead to play and pick some fruits, there I confirmed that he is Ali Paca, my boyhood best-close friend. There then I stared to his photos and felt my tears fall down unintentionally. We meet the following day and we enjoyed the moment we were together after such long time.

Seeing old photos really reminds us of the wonder behind it and causes us to either laugh or weep. It reminds us of the whole history that it tells. In fact, we used to murmur as if we are communicating personally with the persons in the photo.

One of my friends, in Capitol University, tagged me of the photos she had uploaded in her Facebook account. The photos were taken in a two different setting but both settings tell so many histories; full of inspiration, passion, courage and love. I don’t wanna spell out every detail in it for I might be censured (lol) but Xena, Tere and Chingkai knows the deeper history. Huhhh… was the first reaction I had as I keenly take a look on those photos. I remember the first night in Camiguin when I was surrounded by angels, the ala-Melason Inlove candle dinners we shared (kay brownout man that time), the ala Derek-Angelica moments in the bayside, and those moments with Mang Pidoy in the conference room. Wooohhhwww!!! It’s really flattering to see poise of pairs in the photos. Those times you feel sky-hi because of the reciprocal feelings you are sharing and those times you feel ambivalent of whom to be with between Babe and Sugar. Hayyyyyyyy seems like a telenovela.

But above all, the cake on the table defines the sweetness of everyone in those photos as well as the value of its message and that’s what I treasured and will treasure the rest of my life.