Footnote To Youth

by: Jose Garcia

Dudong,17, is impatiently waiting for his father to return home so that he can tell him of his love for Teang and his desire to marry
her. He feels that at 17 he is a grown man and is ready for the next important step in his life. When he tells his father that he has asked
Teang to marry him and wants his blessing, there is a long and cruel silence. His father asks if he must marry her because Dudong is very
young. Dudong resents his father's question, and finally his father gives his consent.
Nine months later, Dudong is waiting outside while Teang gives birth to their first son, Blas. He feels young and inexperienced, a
contrast to how he felt nine months ago. Dudong did not want any more children, but they came anyway. For the next six years, Teang
gave birth. Seven children in all.
Teang did not complain. However her body was now shapeless and thin from bearing so many children and from the hard work
of caring for them and the household. Even though she loved Dudong, she cried and wished that she had not married so young. There
had been another suitor, Lucio, who was nine years older than Dudong. She chose Dudong because he was so much younger. Lucio had
married after she married Dudong, however, he was childless. She wonders if she had married Lucio, would she be childless? She feels
that would have been a better lot in life. But she loves Dudong, even though life has made him old and ugly.
One night Dudong goes outside and thinks about his life. He wants to have the wisdom to know why life does not fulfill Youth's
dreams. Why did life forsake you after love? He never finds the answer.
When Blas turns 18, he comes home and tells Dudong that he wants to marry Tena. Dudong at this time is only 36 years old, but he is
portrayed as a much older man. Dudong does not want Blas to marry so young. He asks the same question his father asked him. Does
Blas have to marry Tena? He does not want him to make the same mistake he did. Blas also reacts with resentment. Dudong realizes
that he is dealing with Youth and Love, and they will triumph over this situation. After that, comes real life. He gives his consent, feeling
sad and sorry for his son.

The Legend of Pineapple

by: Jonathan Josol
There was a pretty little girl called Pina who was pampered by her mother as an only child. Everything that Pina asked for, Pina
got. Everything that Pina scoffed at was taken away. No one in her village was ever so spoiled as Pina. No one was ever such a snobbish
child. She was so lazy, and she had never stirred a finger to work in her life. Pina’s mother was perfectly happy that way, for Pina remained
dependent on her as a spoiled child. But one day, Pina’s mother fell ill and there was no one to take care of Pina. She resolved that she
would get well immediately for Pina’s sake – but she knew she would need help.
"Pina, Pina," she called weakly, from her cot. "Come here a moment. I have something to ask of you." Pina had never been asked to do
anything in her life, and she was quite prepared to refuse, but she said anyway, "What is it, Mother?"
"Pina," said the doting mother, "I am too sick to make you anything to eat. I am too sick to eat anything solid. I need you to cook lugaw for
me, Pina. It is very easy: just put some rice in a pot, pour some water in with it, add a pinch of sugar, and leave the mixture to boil for a
while."
"Oh, that’s too hard! I won’t do it," Pina said firmly. "You have to, Pina!" her mother pleaded. "What will your poor Nanay eat?" But
Pina was immovable. At length her mother resorted to shouting if only to catch her attention. Moping, Pina dragged her heavy feet down
the stairs to gather the things she needed to make lugaw. She managed to find the rice, the water, the bowl, the sugar – but she could not
find the ladle anywhere. How was she supposed to cook lugaw without a ladle? "Nanay, where is the ladle?" Pina shouted. "It is beside the
other kitchen utensils, Pina, you know where I keep them," her mother weakly shouted back.
But the ladle was not anywhere near the other kitchen utensils, and Pina was too lazy to look for it elsewhere. "I can’t find the ladle, mother,"
she complained. "I guess I won’t be cooking without the ladle." "Oh, you lazy child," Pina’s mother wept. "You won’t even look! I hope you
grow a thousand eyes so you’ll be able to find it!" After saying these words, Pina’s mother noticed that the house had fallen silent. Pina
was no longer griping downstairs! That was a marvel. Perhaps she was already cooking. Pina’s mother would be happy if the child would
cook her anything, even if it were burnt.
"Where is Pina?" Pina’s mother asked at once. "Where is my child?"
"Oh, you know that girl," they assured her, "she must be in some friend’s house, having a good time. She hates responsibility. She may
only be a little angry at you because you had asked her to work. It will pass, and she will come home."
Pina’s mother rested easily with that thought, and she recovered quickly. But she was up and about and asking all around town
for her precious little child, and still Pina had not returned.
One sunny day, while Pina’s mother was cleaning their back yard, she saw a strange yellow fruit about as large as the head of a
child that had sprung up from the ground. "How curious!" she thought, and bent to examine it. The strange, spiny yellow fruit, she saw, had
a thousand black eyes.
"A thousand eyes...!" she gasped, remembering a mother’s curse carelessly let out. "My Pina!"
But there was nothing to be done. Imagine a thousand black eyes and not one of them seeing, and not one of them being able to shed a
tear. Pina’s mother, who still loved the child more than anything in the world, decided to honor her memory by taking the seeds of the
strange yellow fruit and planting them. When after a while there was more of the fruit, Pina’s mother gave her harvest away to everyone
she knew. Thus Pina, in another form, became generous to others.
 I’m Glad I’m a Little Guy Carlos P. Romulo
One day at a United Nations sessions in Paris, I found myself in a heated debate with Andrei
Vishinsky, chief of the Soviet delegation. I had strongly disagreed with a proposal he had made.
Suddenly, Mr. Vishinsky insulted me. You are just a little man from a little country,‖ he said.
For him that answered the argument. My country, spared with his, is just a dot on the map.
And I stand only five feet, four inches in my shoes.
Even in my home, I’m a little fellow. My four sons all look down at me from a vantage of
two or three inches. Even my wife is an inch or so higher than I am when she is wearing high heels.
Once she was interviewed after our marriage, she made the modest remark, ―I prefer to glow
faintly in my husband’s shadow.‖ An acquaintance jested that this didn’t leave her much room to
glow in. My small stature has often been made conspicuous in my relations with famous people.
During World War II, I was aide-de-camp to General MacArthur who towered eight inches above
me. We went ashore together during the Leyte landing, and the reports stated: ―General Mac
Arthur waded ashore in waist-deep water. General Romulo was at his side.‖ A columnist wanted
to know if this was true , pointing out that if the general was waist-deep in water I would have
drowned. In my lifetime I have given much thought to the problem of littleness and bigness. And
I want to say that I’m glad to be a little fellow. That may surprise you. Many little fellows feel a
sense of inferiority because of their stature. I must confess that in my younger days I once
experimented with wearing elevated shoes. But the lifts made me feel I was trying to appear
something I was not. I threw the shoes away. These shoes were weakening one of my great
natural advantages which is this: the little fellow is generally underrated in the beginning. Because
he is small, little is expected of him. Then when he does something well, people are surprised and
impressed. In their minds, he has done a great deed. I first became aware of this when I was on
the debating team at Columbia University. My smallness made me seem more like a schoolboy
than a college student. Right from the start, the audience was rooting for me. To them, I was the
underdog, and most people were expecting so little of me. We little fellows have another
advantage, We usually have a special gift for making friends. People feel protective over us. They
find it easy to confide in us. Most of us learn in life that friendliness is as great a force as physical
strength. Small size is no barrier to personal effectiveness. Many of the greatest men in history
were not tall. Beethoven and Admiral Nelson were both five feet, four inches. But they were
giants like the poet John Keats and the philosopher Immanuel Kant, who stood a bare five feet
high. Saint Francis Xavier, one of history’s most inspiring religious men, was reported to be only
four feet and six inches tall. Then, of course, you have the celebrated short man of them all,
Napoleon I. Napoleon proved to the world what a great man he really was. Today, a period in
history is called Napoleonic Era in his honor. I mentioned that Mr. Vishinskyinsulted me because
I dared to criticize Russia. But that did not mean that I did not answer him back. I bounded to my
feet and told the assembly that Mr. Vishinsky was correct in his description of me. But I added:
―It is the duty of the little Davids here to fling pebbles of truth between the eyes of blustering
Goliaths --- and make them behave!‖ Mr. Vishinsky frowned and said nothing.