On Dying

As I read the names of our deceased fellow alumni, I instinctively reflect on my own transience, and ponder on how my life, fleeting as a vapor (James 4:14 KJV) might have had any meaning at all in God’s overall economy. And as I contemplate on my dying day, as some of us may, I ruefully consider how I might be remembered both by friends and foes, and how might those I’ll be leaving behind revere my passing, or how my chapters may just be carelessly piled up and bookended into oblivion.

Looking back at my life, dying is more like coming to the end of a long arduous voyage. Nothing came easy as some may have the privilege of being high born or generously gifted. Dying for those of us who went through the rigors of finding his place in the sun is just mercifully arriving to his haven of rest; letting go the anchor, ringing the engine order telegraph finished with engines, and finally scribbling his last entry into the log.

There may be a few regrets. One could be that of not having fully enjoyed those sailing salad days, and sorely wanting for more.  Another might be at the pangs of having over-enjoyed and being fully sated from much of the ride, but losing his sense of purpose and direction. But the highest of regrets is having only lived a pointless and inadequate life.  Alas, regrets have no place for someone at the pre-departure area of life, at the crossroad to eternity. And as a weary traveler fidgeting with his tourist’s guide book (this time the Holy Bible), he hastily crams with facts and things about his desired destination, his ticket may not even guarantee an arrival thereto.

Steve Jobs before he died, in his commencement address at Stanford University, said the following about death, “No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.”

With the uncertainty of our ephemeral existence, I must do now what I have purposed in writing this note.  I now must ask for forgiveness while I’m still in full control of my faculty, and not at the last stages of my consciousness, before life ebbs into its final cessation. And so, with much remorse and with a contrite heart, I now say to those I have wronged, harmed and offended, particularly to those poor underclassmen, “I beg for your forgiveness.” In like manner, I have forgiven those who have wronged, hurt, and beleaguered me in and after the academy. As I abide in the Lord’s prayer, I no longer harbor any bitterness in my heart. I hold malice toward none, with only charity for all (to borrow a few lines from Abraham Lincoln’s inaugural address).

Finally, to those who worriedly contemplate on what lies beyond the pale, I say without a shadow of doubt that there is hope of a better life for those who have put their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.  Even to the vilest of sinners is forgiveness made available. Consider the thief crucified beside the Lord in this passage in the Scriptures: And he said unto Jesus, “Lord, remember me when thou comest into thy kingdom.” And Jesus said unto him, “Verily I say unto thee, To day shalt thou be with me in paradise.” – Luke 23:42-43 KJV.

On the lighter side, someone says the great thing about the dead is that they make space. Surely, there’ll be more elbowroom for the young and aspiring in our passing - less consumers being sustained by an almost depleted and rapidly becoming inhospitable planet. So lighten up shipmates, there’s not much anymore for those who’ve been there, and done that. But there’s newness of life beyond the horizon. Lets just make sure we do our part in making this world a better place for the next generations, so that they too, ala Louis Armstrong, can sing, “It’s a Wonderful World.”

Clear skies, fair winds, and following seas, ShiPMMAtes!

D E S I D E R A T A

Isinaling-wika ni Kapitan Rey S Trajano

Humayo kang may kapayapaan sa gitna ng ingay at paghuhumangos,

at alalahanin mong mayroong kapayapaan sa katahimikan.

Hangga’t maaari, ng walang pagsuko, maging mabuti sa pakikitungo sa lahat ng tao.

Ihayag mo ang iyong katotohanan ng may kahinahunan at kalinawan;

at pakinggan ang iba,

maging ang mga nakababagot at mangmang;

sila’y mayroon ding isa-saysay.

Iwasan ang mga matungayaw at mapupusok na tao;

sila’y ligalig sa kaluluwa.

Kung ihahambing mo ang sarili sa iba,

maaari kang maging palalo o maghinanakit,

sapagka’t laging may nakahihigit at nakabababa kaysa sa iyo.

Kasiyahan mo ang iyong mga tagumpay gayundin ang iyong mga balakin.

Manatiling may hangad sa sariling gawain, gaano mang kaaba;

Ito’y tunay na ari-arian sa pabago-bagong kapalaran ng panahon.

Maging maingat sa iyong mga kalakalin,

sapagkat ang mundo’y puno ng panlilinlang.

Subalit huwag mong bayaang ito’y bumulag sa iyo sa kabutihang naruroon;

Marami ang nagpupunyaging maaruk ang mga matayug na adhikain,

at saan mang dako, ang buhay ay puno ng kabayanihan.

Maging tapat sa sarili. Lalo’t higit, huwag magkunwari sa pag-irog.

O ‘di kaya’y mag-alinlangan sa pag-ibig,

sapagka’t sa harap ng lahat ng kahungkagan at kawalang-pag-asa,

Ito’y patuloy na sisibul tulad ng damo.

Tanggapin nang may kagandahang-loob ang payo ng mga taon,

buong kahinahunang isuko ang mga bagay ng kabataan.

Pag-ibayuhin ang lakas ng loob upang maging kalasag laban sa biglang kasawian

Subalit huwag ikaligalig ang mga madidilim na haka-haka

Maraming pangamba ay dulot ng pagod at pangungulila.

Higit pa sa ibayong pagpigil ng kalayawan,

maging maamo sa sarili.

Ikaw ay supling ng sanlibutan

hindi hamak sa mga puno at mga tala;

may karapatan kang narito.

At ito ma’y maging malinaw o hindi sa iyo,

walang alinlangang ang sanlibutan ay bumubukad ayon sa nararapat.

Kung gayon, maging mapayapa sa piling ng Manlilikha,

anuman ang iyong pananaw sa Kanya.

At anuman ang iyong mga pagpapagal at mithiin,

sa maingay nakalituhan ng buhay,

pamalagiin ang kapayapaan sa iyong kaluluwa.

Sa kabila ng lahat ng mga pagkukunwari, kabagutan at mga gumuhong pangarap,

Nananatiling maganda ang daigdig.

Maging masayahin. Pagsumikapang maging maligaya.

Why We Continue To Lose Ships

A ship sinks for causes other than an "Act of God" that captains on the dock readily blame on the Lord Almighty. The following observations may be worth looking into in the light of recent sea tragedies, before we loss more lives and ships at sea:
1. Some of our domestic shipping companies operate second-hand cargo-passenger vessels that have been refitted with additional decks to accommodate more passengers. The original architectural designs of these ships have specific constants that determine their stability and trim. Any major alteration on a ship's construction will have a critical effect on her seaworthiness.
2. Most of the inter-island ships we have lost were cargo-passenger vessels. When cargoes such as container vans and vehicles are not properly lashed and secured, they can move around in the cargo hold below. The cargo movement can tilt the ship, thereby capsizing her. Excess passengers on these large cargo-passenger vessels can hardly cause them to sink, but the mishandling of cargo can. It may not be feasible for some of our shipping companies to operate passenger liners that do not serve as cargo vessels as well, but they can have separate schedules for passengers and cargoes, especially during peak seasons. This may seem costly, but what could be more costly than lives and property lost, and how much would it cost to remunerate their survivors?
3. Allowing a cargo-passenger vessel to sail merely on the captain's oath - that is, a Master's Oath of Safe Departure (MOSD) - is like riding one of those dilapidated buses driven by a tricycle diver who, before starting the engine, looks into his rearview mirror and assures his passengers, "You're safe, trust me."
4. Unlike the Philippine Medical Association, the associations of deck officers and marine engineers do not have the power to sanction a member for malpractice, incompetence of immorality. And, as it is, the Philippine Coast Guard, through its Board of Marine Inquiry, can only investigate a sea mishap and submit its recommendations to the Professional Regulations Commission for the suspension or cancellation of license of an officer found liable. So far, from the numerous sea disasters we have had, we have yet to hear of a captain or a deck officer whose license has been suspended or canceled. (this article was published in the Opinion Page of the Philippine Daily Inquirer on 13 October 2009)

Homecoming and Senior Moments

The din inside the function room on the second floor of the World Trade Center was thick with lounge music crooned by an unenthusiastic Diana Krall wannabe whose renditions were drowned by the colorful banter from inebriated merchant mariners. Occasionally these salty tars would momentarily pipe down as a matter of courtesy to some brave souls who would venture into the riser to address the alumni with what seems like valedictory speeches that no one would bother to hear. It seems these speakers were unaware of what usually transpires during these annual events when the suggested attire, being semi-formal, would set the demeanor. Apparently, they're just predisposed, as always, to discourse on some trivial matters only they would care to deliver on such rambunctious occasions.

Above the babel of ports of call, sundry of cargoes, gross tonnages, latest regs, and thingamagigs, some would crossover into maintenance medicines, wonder hair growers, urine therapy, the blue pill, and umbrella girls. At intervals, these buoyant exchanges on such profound subjects were disrupted by dance numbers presented by scantily clad chorus girls, whose sinuous undulations never fail to attract the undivided attention of the now rowdy masters mariners and chief engineers, all suddenly rushing toward the dance floor to get a better worm's eyeview. Surely, some things never change, and boys will always be boys, even in their graying years.

The best part of the evening was to meet old familiar faces last seen more than a score and ten years ago. The difficult part was to recall the names that would match the faces; a nagging reminder that senior moments have caught up with me, that no amount of mnemonics or mind mapping can deal with. But thanks to the ubiquitous calling cards that would materialize to save the day. I had to apologize that I didn't have any, which is to say, "I'm unemployed and currently not engaged in any economic activity."

The ribbing and camaraderie lasted well into Cinderella time, with some senior citizens still on the dance floor executing their salad days' boogie and cha-cha numbers that used to make them instant hits during their Ship Wreck Parties. Next year they'll be whirling again on the dance floor, maybe with more bones clicking, but who cares. Homecomings will almost always be the same, as it will most likely be next year. But I intend to be there, the Good Lord willing, and for as long as I can, with the fervent hope that it'll be, "all present, all accounted for" during that imagined formation on the quarter deck.

We attended that December 4 Homecoming and Fellowship Party for many reasons. I came just to relive the days when we could be ourselves again, jesting here, spinning yarns there, and dreaming of sailing into some exotic places. Ah, what we'd give away just to be young and to be in those dungarees once more.

Note In A Bottle

I had the good fortune the other day of receiving a letter from a long lost bunkmate and friend from way back in the seventies. It was like getting a note from a bottle, awashed into the shores of my computer from the land of the Deutsche, famous for Beethoven, for Nietzsche, for the BMW and Mercedes Benz, and other precision engineered machines.

Leo John Quiachon was a newly recognized Fourthclassman when I graduated from the academy. He was reed-thin but a smart midshipman, quiet but academically proficient, and of average height but a dead shot on the basketball court. I knew then that he would amount to something, given his attitude and aptitude for seagoing. And I was right. He is now a retired captain, having served most of his seagoing years on board German ships.

Considering his humble beginnings, he has reached the pinnacle of his career, and is now enjoying the fruits of his labor with his lovely family. Many young men like Leo who have gone through the portals of the academy have made their respective niches in the local maritime industry and in other countries as well. The names Joe Gallego '69, Eddie Berueda '70, Tony Espiritu '71 (deceased), Odie Santos '78, and the list goes on, are graduates who have distinguished themselves overseas in their chosen career. These are some of the men who have trail-blazed the road to European shipping companies in the '80s for other Filipino seafarers to follow, now by the thousands and counting.

Its unsettling how the alumni association has been niggardly in giving recognition to these graduates. Hopefully, the newly elected officers of the PMMAAAI will undertake a special project to gather the names of outstanding graduates already living abroad, and to herald their achievements.

Enough said. Time to toss back the bottle into the waters of cyberspace with this note, in the hope that some familiar tars will fish it out and respond to this old pmmariner.

Still Nursing a Sea Fever

Perhaps the biggest influence in my career choice was that first ride on an outrigger in Manila Bay my father brought me to in those balmy days when steam ships of Madrigal shipping and Compana Maritima proudly sailed these waters. Next would be my high school teacher in literature who made us paraphrase poems; serendipitously assigning me to do Sea Fever by John Masefield. I was immediately smitten by the poet's spirit and passion for adventure on the high seas, and begun dreaming of seafaring with only 'a star to steer her by'.

Some of the boys in class were equally lured by that poem and joined the US Navy. I had a more romantic take of Masefield's verses and decided that I'm cut for the less rigid merchant marine until I entered PMMA. I've been nursing a sea fever since then, and now in my post meridian years still wish I could 'go down to the seas again, to lonely sea and the sky....'

Today's young men are apparently more into the financial rewards of seagoing than for the love of sailing. Sadly, most of them, if not all, missed the opportunity to appreciate those elegant poems brimming with the beauty of the sea and the sky. I am told these poems are no longer the staple in today's high school prose and poetry.

If I had my druthers, I'd require our first year midshipmen to memorize by heart (in addition to boxing the compass) the works of John Masefield and Alfred Lord Tennyson about the sea and seagoing. That way, they might consider the sea not just an avenue over which to move trade and commerce, but a beautiful part of God's Creation that must be preserved and protected for succeeding generations. Maybe there'll be less oil spills and dumping of toxic wastes over the side when a healthy respect and love of the sea become part of a seafarer's set of values.

This set of values if ever, may keep the temperature of that sea fever ever burning for some captains and chief engineers on whom it has lost its appeal, what with the mountain of paper works and strict IMO and marine environmental laws being implemented in some countries. I'm told some have lost their shirts in U.S. ports, not to mention bringing their ship owners to bankruptcy.

I could only sympathize with these fellow seamen whose sea fever has turned into a dreadful malaise. Maybe the eloquence of John Masefield and the other poets of the sea had their appeal only on those who are truly mariners at heart.

Academy Days On Dewey Blvd

At times when I get to pass by the busy environs of the Department of Foreign Affairs along Roxas Blvd will images of the past rush in. The old Thomasite model building of the academy would materialize, serenely secured from the outside world by a white picket fence behind trimmed bushes broken only by a narrow gate punctuated by a guard post and a brief wall that serves as a marquee for the academy's brass logo, which has consumed gallons of Glo and Kiwi metal polish, being the bright works for the Fourthclassmen.

Two relic 40mm navy gun mounts adorn the entrance, giving the academy an impression of having a military structure. Sweaty forthclassmen in dungarees would be running across the grassy yard from the classrooms to their quarters, to the quarterdeck, carrying out arduous orders with no other purpose but to cram and make miserable their already regimented training.

A Friday afternoon in 1965 would normally feature these events until taps when the 'Probies' would just drop into their bunks out of utter exhaustion, all in preparation for the dreaded spit and polish Saturday morning inspection.

If I hung around much longer, I'd see these midshipmen in their smart Liberty Blues marching with their seabags on a 'liberty boat' heading for Williams street for the much awaited weekend liberty. I would then see myself still aboard on account of excess demerits, now perspiring while counting push-ups. "....47, 48, 49, 50, orders complied with, Sir!", would I be shouting those familiar academy jargon as I stood at attention while gasping for breath before an indifferent upperclassman. I remember the strains of the once popular song, Down Town by Petula Clark providing a momentary escape from the torments of what seems an eternity.

Nostalgia has a way with details that makes me painfully miss the cool breeze from the sea by the old Dewey Boulevard with its postcard picture-perfect "Sunset of Manila Bay", before it was reclaimed and turned into a circus of a commercial area. Nothing remains the same as you might say. Only the graying images in our minds are the moorings that link us to that far and distant past called academy days on Dewey Blvd.

But connection to the past also connects with people with the same narratives to tell. Nothing could be more moving than remembering these vignettes of our yesteryears in the academy, which this entry log (if it didn't bore you yet) would initially attempt to do - connect with fellow PMMAriners. I say, initially, as I'll try to connect with other seafarers with whom we have much in common.

I pray to our eternal Father in Heaven who compasseth the seas that all may be well with the elder PMMAriners as this blogger, who are still up and about, even as we dimly remember those who have sailed away ahead of us into that great sea yonder.