IT was a month of passion, erudition and of past times, but mostly politics and government at every turn both here and across the country.

In a trove of bemused reflection, timeless 30 days of follies, tragedies and triumphs that intrigued us, filling our days and troubled our nights, these thoughts gave us pause, pleasure and wonder, that we are grateful for the gift of reflection, consciousness of those days that occupied our minds and commanded our pens.

Literature has been called an art that lasts. Arts, poetry, philosophy science and nature — while all bright and beautiful — promise purity and elegance that transcends all in the final analysis.  All bow to the sovereignty of politics, dominating our lives with fear and distrust, maligning and making all around us wither, like a heap of rotting leaves. In its power to produce a circle of ruins, it doesn’t deserve even a grudging aspect for its capacity for grandeur and delight at its best ideology.

But politics rule and sadly we’re stuck with political tolerance. President-elect Donald Trump’s victory has no historical parallel, but he was credentialed by the American people on election day. This gave the Republican Party a shimmering new popular identity, while leaving the Democrats in shambles.

In the Fil-Am community stage, reporting is nothing you can plan, polish or perfect. Beyond gentle tributes in redundancy, they will forget in due time about the world of charity, music, fashion, cuisine and many splendid things. Polite and soft news are women and men who spoke eloquently about themselves.

With some luck you can be in good company of a swarm of gorgeous people, from one pocket of ostentatious merriment to another.

TV and fashion personalities and beauty pageant producers that knew their business have a lot in common:  endless fundraising for worthy causes, that nevertheless raises donor fatigue.

In the boxing arena Sen. Manny Pacquiao’s retirement after beating Bradley in April was never taken seriously. Mayweather’s appearance at his fight, was taken as a sight of things to come — a call for a second fight with the world champion and senator.

Prof. Camilo Graza launched his book, “Passport to Heaven,” which took three and a half years in the making. It is about people of spiritual wisdom, divine teaching and compendium of information on suffering, struggling, rejoicing human nature. A common understanding of the way to heaven.

The National Union of Journalists of the Philippines (NUJP-USA) on its seventh year of the Maguindanao Massacre, continues their fight for justice for the 32 journalists who were killed (with no resolution yet to the case). The Philippines remains then third most deadly country for journalists next only to war torn Iraq and Somalia.

Moments in November include when schadenfreude never felt so good: the corporate greed, left unmentioned about because its simply there, like writings in the wall or the elephant in the room, announcing itself.

The Movement of Help End Rape and other Child Abuse (MOTHER) imitably took the centerstage and received the support of volunteers, who offered their service through workshop trainings conducted in communities, attended by the less fortunate youth and moms arranged through Bantay Bata staff and ABS-CBN Lingkod Kapamilya Foundation.

The media continues to collectively believe that as long as the press remains more than a corporate vassal — advertisements masquerading as news — there is no hope.  Because the reader is most injured when they have lost their freedom to read what they want, when they  want.

It was perfect time for us once more, members of the Fourth Estate to reflect, measure up to our standards, to always be what we would like to be in our chosen field.

Thanksgiving, came and went…from recognizable goals to grand pipe dreams and everything in between. Toasts were made, dances danced, pictures posted, speeches delivered, oaths were sworn, the reporters scribbled, socializing and politics lived.

On that day of thanks and giving made me think of young soldiers who stood in frozen vigil at some lonely war shores, and I feel the deepest moments of gratitude for these young men and women, dripping with weapons — when they too could be home, sipping cider by the fire..


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