why bother?

"You cannot stay at the summit forever; you have to come down again. So why bother in the first place? Just this: What is above knows what is below, but what is below doesn't know what is above. One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer, but one has seen."

Rene Daumal.

an island in your name

Philippine GRAPHIC magazine column for Sept. 12, 2005
What price patrimony?
by Alfred A. Yuson

A report from The Japan Times touts a plan by our Tourism Secretary to pitch a raffle gimmick to woo more Japanese tourists. “Would you like to have one of the 7,107 islands in the Philippines named after you?” the story’s intriguing lead goes.

“As part of its aggressive marketing to boost the country's sagging tourism industry, Philippine officials, with the help of Japanese public relations experts, hatched the idea to raffle off the naming of 25 islands to (sic) Japanese tourists.

“Dubbed ‘An Island in Your Name,’ (sic) Philippine Tourism Secretary Joseph Durano hopes the effort will lure more young and adventurous Japanese tourists to visit the Philippines, a nation considered dangerous by some Japanese.

“The 25 Japanese raffle winners will not own the islands, Durano explained. Instead, the winners ‘will have the prestige of having these islands named after them for a period of one year.’

“The 25 islands are part of 124 islets that dot Lingayen Gulf in Alaminos, a city in Pangasinan Province about 254 km north of Manila.”

Oh, my. Naming our islands AFTER Japanese tourists who can pay for the privilege — what an idea. Now a Mr. Yamashita-san in Sapporo or Kumamoto can boast to his friends after a summer dive in our Hundred Islands: “Hey, you guys go too. My island is right next to Quezon Island. But please, no graffiti from you to add to the brass plaque with my name on it, ne?”

So what’ll they think of next? How about raffling off the street names in Alaminos? Or Lingayen, where the American forces landed over 60 years ago for the campaign to retake Luzon from Mr. Yamashita-san’s forbears? Why not name one bangus after any Japanese patron before it’s grilled for a new Guinness record in the Dagupan fiesta? That clever bit of nomenclature ought too be more fitting, since ephemeral. It won’t take a year to wash the taste off any nationalist’s mouth. Why stop at Pangasinan? Or limit the campaign to Japanese tourists? Each endangered pine tree in Baguio can bear monthly plaques with the names of Korean honeymooners or English-language students. The Chocolate Hills of Bohol can assume multiple, international identities — German, Swiss, Italian, French. Why, the names of such generous sponsors can even be yodeled back and forth across the hills at a special midsummer rite, perchance performed by the Loboc Children’s Choir, the better for European TV coverage. Puerto Galera’s islets and beaches can be up for grabs if the Zobels and Locsins allow it, as well the limestone cliffs of Palawan, so that a Chinese tourist can suggest that the bird’s nest soup a neighbor is slurping might have come from HIS cliff in old Ma-yi, er, the Philippines.

See, like your average Pinoy, I have nothing much against the Japanese in particular, even if their 1940s edition did conduct the unconscionable act of pillage north of the Pasig in February 1945, the month I was born, mercifully, south of the river.

Yet I could only nod in agreement last month while listening to Dr. Michael Tan’s talk at UP, following a lecture by Dr. Lourdes Arellano Carandang on the merits of truth-telling, when he said that a prime failing thus far has been our weakness at memory-keeping. “We forget too easily,” Dr. Tan stressed, citing the ironic quality of the current diasporic urge whereby our women surrender their eyeteeth, and much more, for a chance to work as entertainers in Japan.

“We must disturb, we must provoke,” said Dr. Carandang, when questioned further on our government’s liability re national truth-telling. “We must resist becoming purveyors of myth (lest we indulge simply in) fictive history. We must avoid engaging in dangerous complicity in lies. What is at stake here is the future of our children.”

Memory-keeping, Dr. Tan said in turn, is a partner of truth-telling.

“Powerful forces, including media,” he warned, are often involved “in the infrastructure of deception.” And that is why we now export 120,000 women to Japan, a big jump from last year’s 80,000 despite the supposedly more stringent conditions.

Now, far be it from me or anyone to lecture any of these women that it isn’t right or proper to seek wasabi-green pastures in sushi country, the same whose soldiers had turned many of our “lolas” into so much fresh sashimi as so-called comfort women. But a line has to be drawn somewhere — between pragmatism and patriotism, between PR campaign brainstorms and a sense of patrimony. It may be all right to allow shrines for the Japanese war dead to sprout
all over our islands, as that might even help preserve the memory banks ofboth or all nations. Yet only feeble protest greeted the recent unveiling of a statue in tribute to the Kamikaze pilot in a field in Mabalacat, Pampanga.

Sec. Ace Durano should be a little more circumspect in assessing “inspired ideas” to boost our tourism prospects. Methinks he’s going too far in raffling off and renting out our islands to Japanese tourists. The fact is, the truth is, our Hundred Islands off Alaminos is a national
park. Let’s keep it that way. We have enough of world-class dive sites and brothels for international pleasure-sharing. Our own truths and our own memories we should keep for ourselves.

Be A Hero: Be A Filipino!

Commencement Address
by Eduardo Fajardo
Doctor of Humanities honoris causa
Dedicated to My Mother, My Hero
Natividad Galang-Fajardo (1910-2004)

Not too many people know that this is the third time I have tried to be a Lasallian. Back in 1964, I was desperate to get into college on scholarship because I knew that my mother, who was raising all nine of us by herself, could not afford anything else. My only options were to get a scholarship or to work by the day and study at night as all my older brothers and sisters had done before me.

One day, somebody told me De La Salle University had scholarships for poor students. So I walked from our home in Tondo, near the railroad tracks of Tutuban Station, through Abad Santos Avenue, along Bambang St. through Magdalena, then Avenida Rizal, through Plaza Sta. Cruz, over the bridge spanning the Pasig River, through City Hall, along Taft Avenue, through Isaac Peral, through PGH, and finally La Salle Taft. There, I was told I needed to pay a P3.00 examination fee.

Since I did not have the money (which explains why I had to walk in the first place), I walked back to Tondo, reversed myself through Taft, Isaac Peral, etc., until I got back home. My mother confirmed my fears but she referred me to my married older sister, Ate Sylvia, who managed to save the money for me after three weeks. I walked back again to De La Salle where they told me that they would schedule me for an exam a month down the road. In the meantime, I heard about another school, went there, took the exam and, miraculously, won a full four-year scholarship. After the celebrations, I remembered the P3.00 so I went back to La Salle, again on foot, to reclaim it. There, I was told it was non-refundable. So, I walked the streets again but, somehow, the trip felt longer than ever before.

Today, I am honored to receive a doctorate, honoris causa, from La Salle for my work for the last two decades with scholars. Pardon my pride but I think I deserve this degree: I walked to La Salle and back 3 times and I paid P3.00 for this, 41 years in advance!)

Seriously, I would like to thank De La Salle for granting me a doctorate degree in the humanities, honoris causa, and for giving me the privilege of addressing this gathering today.

May I have the honor of being among the first to congratulate the De La Salle University Class of 2005 for a job well done. You have earned the right to call yourselves with pride Lasallians, a name that evokes the excellence of your academic traditions and holds the promise of your future as leaders of our country and educators of the poor. May I now ask all the parents and loved ones of the graduates to please rise and remain standing. Graduates, let us give your parents and your loved ones a big hand in gratitude for their love and support throughout your years of study in La Salle. They are your heroes, the first ones in your life. Thank you. (Parents and loved ones, you may now sit down. Thank you.)

May I also acknowledge the presence among you today of a special group of teachers. Will the 30 joint scholars of the Natividad Galang-Fajardo Foundation and De La Salle University please rise and remain standing. They are teachers from 17 public schools and the Philippine Normal University who will receive their Master of Arts degree in Education with you today, five with Distinction and two with High Distinction. They will go back to teaching jobs in public schools with lower salaries and longer work hours than in most of the private sector jobs but, I assure you, they are committed to, even passionate about, teaching the deserving poor. Indeed, these 30 Bravehearts, are true heroes of our country. Let us also give them a big hand. Thank you. (Scholars, you may now sit down. Thank you.)

My biggest hero is my mother, Natividad Galang-Fajardo, Ima as we called her in our native Pampango. Her family was her life. In 1955, she had a double-crisis. My father had a massive heart attack and was bed-ridden and jobless with big medical bills to pay for the next 12 years. If that was not enough, she had nine children, the youngest being only 1 year old at the time. Things were so bad that her relatives offered to adopt some of us but she would have none of that. My mother drew on her faith and focused her energies on keeping her family together. She cooked champorado by the tub and sold it in a kariton beside the Quiapo church daily before the crack of dawn. She fried lumpia and turon by the hundreds which we then peddled all over Sta. Cruz district in the afternoon. She bought piglets in January, fattened them with our neighbors table scraps and sold the pigs in May for our school expenses. As poor as we were, she always had a coin or two for Mass, a mandatory weekly event for all of us when we had to wear our best clothes.

What sustained her was a vivid vision of a better life through education. Thanks to the free public school system, all nine of us reached high school. Thanks to scholarships, three of us finished college. She inspired all of us to believe in ourselves and to excel in anything we were doing which happened to be academics for me. In her 93 years with us, she never complained, never asked for anything for herself and always encouraged us to take care of others around us.

Growing up poor in Tondo, you develop a sense of stages in your life and your role in each. In the first stage, people take care of you. You have met two such heroes so far, your parents and your mentors, who taught you loving kindness and compassion, critical thinking and a sense of mission. In the second, you learn to empower yourself by learning a trade. Here, you take care of yourself as you become your own hero. You look for either a scholarship to college or, failing that, you get a job quickly and study at night. In the third stage, you take care of others. You look after your younger siblings’ education, you take care of your own family, you support your parents in their old age and you care of anybody else who comes along the best way you can. The stages overlap, the years fly by so fast and life repeats itself as you become a hero to others.

Today, you have become full-fledged members of society, in the second stage of your life. From this day forward, you will take care of yourselves and learn a decent trade. You will learn to excel in whatever it is that drives you with a passion for that is the only way you will achieve anything important in this world. Consider yourselves lucky, very lucky, that you are Lasallians. Your parents have the means to get you to the best school where you can get the best education along with the best minds and talents in the country. But, even now, you must be aware that, soon enough, you will have to take care of others around you. Because you have been gifted with so much, you will be responsible for a lot more.

Let me now show you who you are responsible for.

I am told that, in 2004, there were 7.7 million Filipinos working abroad, roughly 9.3% of our total population. If you add the undocumented ones, the percentage figure can easily rise to 10% of our total population. One out of every ten Filipinos is working outside the country! If each such Overseas Filipino Worker (OFW) has even only two dependents, that means nearly one out of every three Filipinos today depends on OFW remittances for their livelihood. For you to get a better appreciation of this diaspora, 2,378 Filipinos left every single day of 2003 to work abroad.

This exodus is the single biggest mass movement of workers in our century. It has and will continue to have major economic, social, political, and moral ramifications on the future character of our country and our people.

For some time now, OFWs have been carrying us on their shoulders. To begin with, our economy is totally dependent on OFW jobs to keep unemployment down and to maintain economic growth at a steady pace. The earnings of OFWs are probably the only thing keeping our economy afloat at this time. $8.55 Billion of annual remittances go a long way towards supporting families back home and shoring up the governments dollar reserves to help service maturities from our $56 billion of foreign loans. The major growth sectors in our country today are principal beneficiaries of substantial expenditures by OFW dependents in housing, clothing, food and education. Clearly, OFWs are modern-day heroes of our country.

Like all else, there is a price to pay for all these.

The Filipino family system is at risk. Almost one-third of our population is growing up without at least one parent: the absence of a mother or a father against the backdrop of available cash has strained our traditional family structure and values: we see broken marriages, second families, prostitution, out-of-school youth, drug addiction, among others, on the rise in the OFW sector.

It is no bed of roses either for the OFWs abroad: the women are the most vulnerable to human trafficking while the men take on some of the most dangerous jobs. If they escape these, many OFWs are forced to accept entry-level jobs because the quality of public school education back home has so deteriorated that they lack the professional skills to compete at higher job levels. Thus, every time a bomb goes off in Israel or a truck driver is kidnapped in Iraq or a maid is beaten up in Singapore, we hold our collective breath as a nation, fearing that yet another Filipino has been abused or, worse, that another Filipino is going home in a casket.

And still Filipinos continue to brave dangers and endure loneliness away from their families for a simple reason: we have collectively failed them. We have failed to create enough decent jobs to save them from a life of grinding poverty back home. We have failed to create a fair and just society, respectful of the rights of every man, woman and child and protective of our environment.

Every generation has a defining challenge. My generation was asked to reclaim democracy from a cruel dictatorship and to restore justice. We did get democracy back but we have utterly failed so far to make it responsive to the needs of the people. The challenge for your generation today is to create enough decent jobs for a fast-growing population and to promote a better quality of life for all in a fair and just society. The personal challenge for you, of course, is to stay home, forego the American Dream of material comforts and cast your lot with our people. Your response to these challenges will define you and your generation; it will be the story of your life.

You need to prepare to move up to the third stage of your life wherein you begin to take care of others. This time, others will include not just your immediate family, not even just your La Salle family.

You need to be a special kind of hero: you need to be a patriot, someone who loves an entire country, someone who takes it upon himself to be responsible for an entire people.

At the first level, patriotism is simply the awareness of and compassion for all of our countrymen; it is to be one with all Filipinos. It is a celebration of a common history and values with all people within the same shared space. It is an identification with an entire people, an affirmation of being part of a transcendental spirit animating all Filipinos so that we feel each others pain and we rejoice in each others triumphs.

Ateneans and La Sallites should not weep when they lose to each other in basketball games. They should weep, instead, for Christians and Moslems who are casualties in and refugees from the continuing conflict in Mindanao. We should raise funds not just for the annual Ateneo-La Salle athletic tournaments but for scholarships for the children of our neighbors right here in Leveriza who today are separated from the rich of La Salle not by the short distance of a few street meters but by the wall of poverty.

For a just society, we should teach our children at an early age that the poor and the ethnic minorities were not created by a lesser god but by the same God we worship. We should tell them that God is in our employees our drivers, our gardeners and our maids who, therefore, deserve the same respect and support as we give our own family for the blessings they give us in our daily lives.

The personal challenge for you, of course, is to stay home, forego the American Dream of material comforts and cast your lot with our people. Your response to these challenges will define you and your generation; it will be the story of your life.

At the second level, patriotism is creating vehicles of hope for ones countrymen. It ennobles the national psyche. A poor man with a job is a happy leader and willing provider for a family. A bright student with a scholarship is a person with a future and a stake in our society.

Lasallians, do not to leave for work abroad. I can understand why poorly-educated Filipinos have to look for jobs abroad but not you. You are in the best position to start a business here or to start a professional career of your own with your La Salle education, your family finances and your personal connections. Do not just take a job, create a job! There are many business opportunities here for the bright, the hard-working, the creative and the patient: just ask the Koreans and the mainland Chinese businessmen who have been settling here in droves in search of a better life. Create jobs so that our OFWs have an option to stay home, be with their families and strengthen our institutions and values as a nation.

Lasallians, donate scholarships to the deserving poor and set to motion infinite circles of goodwill. The scholarship Mr. Jose B. Fernandez, Jr. gave me to the Ateneo de Manila University in 1964 has since grown, through the Natividad Galang-Fajardo Foundation, to 329 scholarships, 56 funded professorial chairs (of which 31 are in La Salle), several scholarship funds and one graduate school of mathematics education, among many others. Imagine the next circle. Right in your own home, provide scholarships to the children of your household staff. They, too, are your responsibility.

Better yet, donate a professorial chair. Adopt a public school teacher, buy her books, help her source a computer; make it your personal apostolate to encourage and to support her as she serves God and country in the trenches of public education. A typical teacher touches the lives of at least 5,000 students in a 25-year career. Her inspiration to our young, however, is forever. At 57, I still carry with me today values and lessons about life I learned from my teachers at F. Balagtas Elementary School and at Arellano (Public) High School half-a-century ago.

At the third and highest level, patriotism is sacrificing ones own time, ones career, and, if necessary, even ones own life for love of country. Lasallians, trace a non-traditional path: pursue a service-oriented career.

Teach in state universities yourself, especially in the provinces where there is a scarcity of good Ph.D.s. Work for the government and be a model of an honest, efficient and motivated civil servant for the sake of the masses who desperately need social services. Join NGOs to protect the environment, uphold human rights, teach population control to the poor, or safeguard the environment. In short, donate yourself to your country. Be a hero to the rest of us.

La Salle parents, please do not tell your graduate to become yet another Wharton MBA selling Citibank private banking products to already rich people in Asia. Allow him, instead, to make a meaningful career here. If he is good in Mathematics and if he loves teaching, why not grant him Ph.D. scholarship so that he can teach the poor? Forget the pay; by the mere fact that you have a Lasallian son, God has given you enough blessings already. Donate your son to the poor, as the Father gave us His Only Son. If you wish, hedge his bet: give your own son a huge professorial chair so that he can better concentrate on his apostolic work. Encourage him daily. Affirm his decision.

For me, all three levels of patriotism come so naturally. They are ingrained in the three stages of life in Tondo as we start with heroes who help us and become heroes to others later on. Patriotism begins with my mothers love for her children and expands into her children sharing her love with all Filipinos through our Foundation. Inang in Tagalog and Ima in Pampango represent to me all that is caring, loving, noble, and worth sacrificing oneself for. The Philippines, our country, is my Inang Bayan, my mothers land, my motherland. It is the home of my heroes, my mother, and my teachers. Now, it is the home of my own family my wife and my two sons.

Everything that I am, I developed here; everything that I have, I earned here. Why should I be selfish? Bakit ako magmamaramot ? And so I expand my mothers love for me and my love for my mother to my love for my own country. Thus, I am responsible for all my countrymen. I am a Filipino. I am responsible for all Filipinos.

And so are you, too, my dear graduates. You are not Lasallians, you are more than that. You are Filipinos. Therefore, love your country as you love your own mother and as your mother loves you. And so, my dear graduates, go forth into the world. Write a good life story. Be a hero. Be a Filipino.

My mother be with you. La Salle be with you. Our country be with you. God be with you.

Maraming salamat po sa inyong lahat. Pagpalain tayong lahat ng Diyos.

De La Salle University-Manilas 143rd Commencement Exercises, June 18, 2005

"FILIPINOS DO NOT LOVE THE PHILIPPINES"

A Must Read for Filipinos.

In introducing the article, Mapa noted: "As you know, we have plenty of Koreans currently studying in the Philippines to take advantage of our cheaper tuition fees and learn English at the same time. This is an essay written by a Korean student we want to share with you."

I am reproducing it-unabridged and unedited-in this column because of the author's keen insight about us Filipinos.

Filipinos always complain about the corruption in the Philippines. Do you really think the corruption is the problem of the Philippines? I do not think so. I strongly believe that the problem is the lack of love for the Philippines.

Let me first talk about my country, Korea. It might help you understand my point. After the Korean War, South Korea was one of the poorest countries in the world.

Koreans had to start from scratch because entire country was destroyed completely after the Korean War, and we had no natural resources.

Koreans used to talk about the Philippines, for Filipinos were very rich in Asia. We envy Filipinos. Koreans really wanted to be well off like Filipinos. Many Koreans died of famine. My father's brother also died because of famine.

Korean government was awfully corrupt and is still very corrupt beyond your imagination, but Korea was able to develop dramatically because Koreans really did their best for the common good with their heart burning with patriotism.

Koreans did not work just for themselves but also for their neighborhood and country. Education inspired young men with the spirit of patriotism.

40 years ago, President Park took over the government to reform Korea. He tried to borrow money from other countries, but it was not possible to get a loan and attract a foreign investment because the economy situation of South Korea was so bad.

Korea had only three factories. So, President Park sent many mine workers and nurses to Germany so that they could send money to Korea to build a factory. They had to go through a horrible experience.

In 1964, President Park visited Germany to borrow money. Hundred of Koreans in Germany came to the airport to welcome him and cried there as they saw the President Park. They asked to him, "President, when can we be well off?" That was the only question everyone asked to him. President Park cried with them and promised them that Korea would be well off if everyone works hard for Korea, and the President of Germany got the strong impression on them and lent money to Korea.

So, President Park was able to build many factories in Korea. He always asked Koreans to love their country from their heart. Many Korean scientists and engineers in the USA came back to Korea to help developing country because they wanted their country to be well off.

Though they received very small salary, they did their best for Korea. They always hoped that their children would live in well off country. My parents always brought me to the places where poor and physically handicapped people live.

They wanted me to understand their life and help them. I also worked for Catholic Church when I was in the army. The only thing I learned from Catholic Church was that we have to love our neighborhood. And I have loved my neighborhood.

Have you cried for the Philippines? I have cried for my country several times. I also cried for the Philippines because of so many poor people. I have been to the New Bilibid prison.

What made me sad in the prison were the prisoners who do not have any love for their country. They go to mass and work for Church.

They pray everyday. However, they do not love the Philippines. I talked to two prisoners at the maximum security compound, and both of them said that they would leave the Philippines right after they are released from the prison.

They said that they would start a new life in other countries and never come back to the Philippines.

Many Koreans have a great love for Korea so that we were able to share our wealth with our neighborhood. The owners of factory and company were distributed their profit to their employees fairly so that employees could buy what they needed and saved money for the future and their children. When I was in Korea, I had a very strong faith and wanted to be a priest.

However, when I came to the Philippines, I completely lost my faith. I was very confused when I saw many unbelievable situations in the Philippines. Street kids always make me sad, and I see them everyday.

The Philippines is the only Catholic country in Asia, but there are too many poor people here. People go to church every Sunday to pray, but nothing has been changed.

My parents came to the Philippines last week and saw this situation. They told me that Korea was much poorer than the present Philippines when they were young.

They are so sorry that there so many beggars and street kids. When we went to Pasangjan, I forced my parents to take a boat because it would fun.

However, they were not happy after taking a boat. They said that they would not take the boat again because they were sympathized the boat men, for the boat men were very poor and had a small frame. Most of people just took a boat and enjoyed it. But my parents did not enjoy it because of love for them.

My mother who has been working for Catholic Church since I was very young told me that if we just go to mass without changing ourselves, we are not Catholic indeed.

Faith should come with action. She added that I have to love Filipinos and do good things for them because all of us are same and have received a great love from God.

I want Filipinos to love their neighborhood and country as much as they love God so that the Philippines will be well off.

I am sure that love is the keyword which Filipinos should remember. We cannot change the sinful structure at once. It should start from person. Love must start in everybody in a small scale and have to grow.

A lot of things happen if we open up to love. Let's put away our prejudices and look at our worries with our new eyes. I discover that every person is worthy to be loved.

Trust in love, because it makes changes possible. Love changes you and me. It changes people, contexts and relationships. It changes the world.

Please love your neighborhood and country. Jesus Christ said that whatever we do to others we do to Him. In the Philippines, there is God for people who are abused and abandoned.

There is God who is crying for love. If you have a child, teach them how to love the Philippines.

Teach them why they have to love their neighborhood and country.

You already know that God also will be very happy if you love others. That's all I really want to ask you Filipinos. Now I will second her/his curiosity. Is the Philippines worth crying for...

Who will shed tears for the Motherland?

Who will lend a hand to lift her spirit, to hold the lonely Flag that symbolize her name?

Can best friends become lovers?

SAVOIR FAIRE By Mayenne Carmona
The Philippine STAR 08/06/2005

Most of us have friends of the opposite sex, exceptionally close friends. Friends that we can confide in, commiserate with, double-date with and get drunk with during good times and bad. Heartache, heartbreak, loneliness, financial and job problems, health problems “these are the usual things we share with a close friend of the opposite sex. That is why those of us who have not paired off permanently take solace in these friendships that have endured through the years. It is so heartwarming to know that when the going gets tough, there is a warm shoulder to cry on.

When I was living in New York, my best friend was a man named Charles who called me his "friend-girl," the only way to describe me since I was not his girlfriend. Charles and I shared a lot of things in common, like going to Broadway plays, watching the latest movies, going to "in" places to gawk at celebrities like Brad Pitt, and most importantly, we loved the same baseball team, the New York Yankees. We confided to each other our hurts and angst, our latest love interests, our shopping sprees, our successes and failures. We called up each other daily and reported our whereabouts. It was like being married to each other without the day-to-day commitment: in love without the sex. All his girlfriends had to accept me, otherwise he would not even consider dating them. The only thing he ever asked of them was never to be jealous of me. Today, he is married to a wonderful woman who is never jealous of me “not even when Charles goes off for a week to visit me in Manila” and that’s why Charles adores her. She knows how to give him his space and she understands my position in his life. She is also very confident of his love as he does not give her any reason not to be.

But the question is, during all the years we were "best friends" and did so many things together “sometimes with other people, other times just the two of us” did Charles and I ever consider becoming lovers?

I explicitly remember the night that he took me home after spending the entire day hanging out together. I asked him to come with me to the optician to help me pick out the color of my contact lens, then we shopped around for his golf outfits, went to a movie, then decided to meet some friends in a hip restaurant in Soho. It was close to midnight when we called it a night.

He took me to my doorstep and gave me his customary two kisses on both cheeks. Then his hand lingered on my face as if wanting to tell me something. I gave a nervous laugh and brushed his hand aside and bid him goodnight.

That night I could not help but think about Charles and me. We found each other attractive, spent a lot of time together, had a very strong friendship, but why were we not pairing off? We even found dates for each other but we never considered dating each other. Strange but true. But tonight, Charles acted funny at my doorstep. What if I had actually responded when his hand lingered on my cheeks? Would that have been a catalyst for a romance that has been simmering in our faces? What does it take for two best friends to become lovers?

For starters, a man has to overcome the difficulty of the all-important first move. On a normal date with a stranger, if he tries to make the big move and it is unwelcome, he can apologize or make a joke out of it. The humiliation is minor with someone he might never see again. Not so with his best friend. If he crosses the line and blows it, the friendship is ruined or altered.

But suppose Charles and I crossed that line and went to bed? Here are two friends who have heard all about each other’s exploits, romantic triumphs and embarrassments. I literally cracked up when he told me about his beauty queen date who wore her crown to bed with him. And he saw me quivering over a heartbreak with a dashing Romeo. We just knew too much about each other. With so much history revealed, could we jump into a sexual relationship without qualms about our past? Were we going to start to write our own love story? In theory, I would say yes. We were both consenting adults and if we did not have the chemistry in the past, so what of it? I reasoned out that it was not important to explode like a keg of sexual dynamite on the first encounter! Today the chemistry is there, so on with the show. Thanks, but no thanks.

This is my rationale. When friends become lovers, jealousy enters. I would drool over a handsome hunk in my gym, and Charles could listen while I described every ripple of his muscle. If he became my lover I am sure he would be so jealous if I salivated over a donkey. And so would I if he as much looked at some sex bomb in the street. The pitfalls of best friends becoming lovers are numerous. The greatest risk of all: If the romance ends, you could never come back to becoming the friends that you once were. Another important factor: Charles and I spent a thousand nights telling each other our dream image of our ideal mates. Now we both must live up to our expectations. The stress could drive me nuts!

We have spent so many years nurturing the trust that made us such bosom buddies. Do we really want to put that relationship in jeopardy? I guess not.

The next day, I invited Charles to meet me for drinks at our favorite haunt. I wanted to talk to him about what happened the night before. Just to set the record straight, I asked him why his hand lingered on my face after his customary two kisses on the cheeks. Was he thinking what I was thinking? He unabashedly confessed that he had been toying with the idea for some time and last night he mustered some guts after one drink too many. We talked for hours and dissected the whole scenario. We both agreed that we would make marvelous lovers; that all that was missing from our friendship was the intimacy and romance. We even savored the idea for a brief moment. But in the end, we both nixed the whole idea and laughed our lungs out. How could we even think of ruining our great friendship by falling in LUST? We loved each other dearly as friends. We were not willing to risk that love by giving in to our basic instincts.

To this day, Charles and I have never regretted the decision that we made that night. We are still the best of friends even if we have moved on and now live in two separate continents. When we see each other, we never fail to put ourselves on "rewind" mode and replay very funny moments in the past like a broken record while his wife listens happily. Â Â Â Â Â Â Modern Living