I have a cousin who was sent to Iraq. His name is Cedric. Growing up, I remember him as being a very quiet, shy sorta kid. We never really got to hang out; among my cousins, who were all about my age, Cedric seemed a bit too young for us older cousins, and a bit too old for the younger ones. I remember that my brothers and other cousins would kid him about a table he had made for carpentry class, the joke being that Don Bosco was the School Where You Learned To Make Tables. It lasted for years. (Although I secretly wished that I had carpentry class in high school. No such luck in the all-girls school I went to.)
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Greece has been in the news lately for several fires raging Athens and nearby cities. I’m really concerned about this because Greece is such a beautiful country! I got a chance to visit around two years ago and I promised myself that I would return someday with my family (I only got there through the generosity of my friend, PR master and ultimate tour guide, Keren Pascual and Ben Chan).
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“Save me!” cries the hapless maiden (kilometrically long-haired and locked in a tall tower, or tiny-footed and relegated to a life of servitude and sweeping cinders, take your pick), eager to finally exclaim “My hero!” when she is put out of her misery by The One Who Will Take Her Away From All This.
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A hero is generally portrayed as someone with super being characteristics, mounted on a pedestal to be adored. This perceived image changes as a result of one’s own experiences. I have learned that my personal hero is not from a comic book, but instead the people around me who inspire and lead me to the meaning of my existence.
Helping me define my chosen path and actively pursue it is the gift of inspiration from my heroes.
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Back when I was a kid, I thought Andres Bonifacio was The One True Hero. In many ways, he still is. The textbook image of him figuratively flipping the proverbial finger to the colonizers will forever be etched in my mind. Never mind if Gardo Versoza, the very same actor who played the title role in Machete 2, played him in Jose Rizal. (Come to think of it, the reel version Rizal, Cesar Montano, starred in the first Machete flick.)
But I digress.
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I was asked for a name, I’m giving three—personal heroes, that is, since that is the catch blog of the week. So here it goes…
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Many women would automatically say that their mothers are their heroes, and I am no different. Mine is a hero in the obvious ways that mothers are: She is selfless, tireless, and is just an endless spring of unconditional love. But there are so many other reasons that I consider my mom my personal hero—most are intensely personal, and it’s not possible to write about them without touching on a bit of my family history, something I’m not entirely comfortable blogging about at this point. This is, after all, the blogging equivalent of a second date, so you’ll forgive me for not laying all my cards out on the table just yet!
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