Table for 19 please...

Last April, my brother was in town so we organized a 'little' photo shoot. Didn't turn out so little, of course. When you have a big family, you can never quite find a space to get that perfect photo with all of you in it. So we decided to book a studio and my niece, Yanyan, got a friend of hers to take the photos. Had loads of fun going in and out of the dressing room, trying out different poses and just goofing around. One of the best Sunday mornings I've ever had.

This is the whole caboodle. 3 generations of it.

Sunday Bloody Sunday

I know it sounds lame, but I have always been iffy about donating blood. I mean, come on, I know you produce the thing every how-many-whatevers, but can’t they just wait for my next nosebleed or when I nick myself shaving again?

Even back in college, when you can get a day off from military training by simply volunteering to donate blood, I, unthinkably enough, opted to stay under the sun and do my marches and push ups. (Sounds pretty dumb now, thinking about it)

There have been many instances when blood donors were needed, even for my own family. But I guess my family knew I was a wimp, so somehow nobody looked in my direction. Before I could muster the strength to even say “oh alright, I’ll do it” there would be enough friends or relatives who would volunteer. Of course, I always felt guilty. I’m AB+, royal blood, they say, because it’s pretty rare. Royal chicken, more like it.

Anyhow, for some reason, when my friend texted me that her dad needed blood donors, I just said I’d go. Don’t know why but thanks to my fingers thinking faster than my brain, “send” was clicked before the alarm bells rang.

It wasn’t directly for my friend’s dad, it was just replacement for the blood bank to replenish the stock he took out. I didn’t tell my friend the idea scared the bejesus out of me. I tried to be cool and nonchalant about it. Little did she know I had to swing by church to muster the courage to drive to the hospital and not back out.

The blood bank staff gave me a really long checklist – with questions ranging from whether I had any known health problems to whether I had a drink the night before to whether I knew what AIDS is (like, duh). Then there were all these tests: weight, urine, blood check. Secretly and guiltily, I wondered if I would actually be relieved to fail something.

Had to wait an hour to find out whether I was eligible to donate at all. My friend was with me so we had coffee and chatted for a bit. All that time I was trying to keep my nerves at bay.

Finally, it was time. I was supposed to just find out whether I was eligible or not, but before I knew it, they asked me to wash my arms and lie down. It was all so quick my nerves weren’t able to go into overdrive. In about a minute I had to lie down and pretend to be texting as they stuck a needle on my right arm. Busy man I am. Texting a grocery list to myself.

After that, time seemed to stop. I felt the constant sting of the needle but stopped myself from looking at it. The TV was on, but it felt like an eternity (or was it just the show I was watching?)

And then, that was it. I was 430cc lighter and was told to just lie down so I don’t get woozy. Then I got bored, stood up and, apart from the tape on my arm, it was a normal Sunday again for me.

Ok so, this is a long blog entry for something that’s just about as groundbreaking as a tooth extraction. But it’s a huge enough deal for me. I guess the reason I didn’t get light-headed at all is because it was a big sigh of relief. The guilt is gone and somehow I know now that I can do this again and again (hey, it’s supposed to be good for you even physiologically). At the end of the day, I am just happy to do so while I’m still on the giving end.

Goodbye FM

People call him many names: Kiko, Master Rapper, The Man from Manila… but I know him as FM. It was during Philippine Idol that we decided to call him that. At the time, I was with our host, Ryan Agoncillo, our production consultant, Sheldon Bailey, and our judges Ryan Cayabyab, Pilita Corrales and of course him, Francis Magalona. It was before the live performances, I think. We were deciding how our host Ryan would address the judges. Ryan Cayabyab was already known as Mr. C, and Pilita was most comfortable with Mamita. But we felt calling Francis “Kiko” would be too informal and won’t command as much respect.

He was the youngest of our three judges. But, an accomplished songwriter and producer and an icon of his generation, he was as worthy a judge as the other two. True, he had critics. But so did Mr. C and Mamita. And so do Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson and Paula Abdul, for that matter. And even then, at the age of 41, Francis was already a legend among his peers and commanded the respect of all the young artists. (And somehow he did that and not look a day over 20.)

So, we were thinking of a name that somehow captures that respect that everyone has for him. One that was at par with Mr. C but didn’t seem forced or didn’t feel awkward for a “Master Rapper” like him. Not sure who it was that said FM. Maybe it was Ryan. Or maybe it was Francis himself. But it was the perfect name. And for the rest of the season that was what we called him.

Tonight, I said my farewell to FM. It was the last night of his wake. I was one of the last to see him before they moved his coffin to the church for the mass. There were so many fans, friends and family there. I was with some colleagues from Idol. Nobody there knew who we were and that was ok, because we were just in a little corner. Francis, after all, had been part of many shows and had become a friend to almost everyone in the industry. A lot of people there knew him and had been working with him for over two decades. There were big celebrities and famous personalities. Stars were preparing for the eulogy and had so many stories to tell. Fans were watching outside the church (the organizers set up a huge screen and sound system so they can watch the ceremony). News crews were everywhere. Press photographers were taking pictures of everyone.

But in the midst of it all, among the countless people he has touched, I felt lucky. Lucky that even for just one season and for just one show, I was able to work with him and knew firsthand what a great guy he was. Lucky that I too have memories with him. And lucky that though he was a very close friend to many, I was among the few who got to call him FM.