Life and Death

ROCHESTER, NEW YORK - It is remarkable listening to elderly people talking about life and death. Every time I have the opportunity to visit the nursing home where David volunteers or at an elderly housing apartment where some of his friends live, I take time to communicate with them. They are delightful to talk with. They listen to what you are saying, watch their manners and give insights on life. Everyone has a story to tell.

For a number of times David and I attended dinners hosted by a church in the city. The dinner is being held once a month and most of the attendees were elderly people. It is one of the events they look forward to attending as they meet other elderly folks. I am delighted that they never fail to include me in their conversation. Some of them, I am glad to know, have visited the Philippines or have Filipino in-laws. They would ask about a particular island or if Imelda Marcos is still alive. Others are curious about our weather, which is a typical element in American conversation.

These folks, whose ages range from their early 70s to 100s, would talk about death. One lady would open up about someone whose name she saw in the local daily’s obituaries, and that will spruce up the discussion. They treat death as a friend, not an enemy. One lady would tell the group as to where her ashes will be put into after her body is cremated, while another would say that she has her tombstone already placed at the cemetery where she will be buried. Sounds creepy, isn’t it? But these folks talk about death in a passionate and lively manner that you’d feel that dying is not a terrible thing.

One time, I heard one person say, “Don’t ever let her sing in my funeral. God, I would get out of my coffin if that happens,” referring to a lady who sings in church where he goes to.

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One person whom I admire and have come to know is Frieda Neubert. At the age of 102 she still can do household chores on her own. Her mind is sharp and alert. She can tell the names the more than 10 stuffed toys her grandchildren and great-grandchildren have given her. She can also tell you what you talked about the last time you met.

Frieda was born in the Province of Prussia (not Persia as I have written earlier). As an immigrant she is a witness to America’s history. Whenever we get the chance to talk, I never fail to ask her about her insights on life.

One time she talked about being alone. She said she has been alone for more than 25 years after her husband died, but she doesn’t feel lonely. What is there to be lonely about when you have friends, she said. She has never whined about making it on her own after her husband passed away because nobody, she said, will help you.

She said, “You can be alone but not feel lonely. You have friends to turn to. Enjoy their company. You can be in a room full of people and still be alone.” Another time she told me that I can choose whoever I want to listen to. It is up to me how to do it. She said in order not to get into an argument with some people whose views are different from hers she turns off her hearing aid.

What a marvelous idea.

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Last May 30th, I attended a mass of remembrance for Dr. Leo Yballe held at the Linehan Chapel in Nazareth College.

I don’t know Professor Yballe nor was I aware that a Filipino had taught at the college since 2000 until I saw the news and read the press release from the college’s Web site. Nazareth is just a walking distance from David’s house so we decided to attend the service in honor of the educator.

Yballe, according the college’s Web site, taught undergraduate and graduate courses in the school’s Management Department. He died of a motorcycle accident while visiting his family in Cebu, the press release said.

In his eulogy, Nazareth History Professor Tim Thibodeau said Yballe was an unassuming man who was passionate about his profession. Yballe had a broad welcoming smile, an infectious laughter and keen intellect, he said.

After the ceremony, friends, colleagues and former students shared cheers and tears while talking about their beloved professor. Yballe had taught in various colleges and universities in the Philippines and in the US.

To the family of Professor Yballe, my sincerest condolences.

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At the reception after the Mass, I met two Filipinos who have been living in Rochester for many years. Mr. Genaro Felix, a native of Manila, was cordial enough to introduce me to the other Filipinos living in Rochester. After exchanging pleasantries, I came to know that Mr. Mar Doromal, president of the Filipino-American Association of Rochester, is from Bacolod City. Baw, grabe ba.

After learning that I am from Mansilingan, he opened up that their high school reunion (NOHS) in 2008 will be held somewhere in Mansilingan. Will it be at the Panaad site?

It will not be the last that we will be seeing each other. Both are active in the association and have invited me to attend one of their functions.

Surely, it is just a small world. You’ll never fail to find Filipinos in every nook and corner of the globe.

(Published in Sun.Star Bacolod June 02, 2007 under my column, The Mango Generation)