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I remember May as one of the memorable months when I was younger because this was our summer vacation and we were involved in so many extra-curricular activities that we chose for ourselves- mostly just goofing around and playing any kind of game we could think of. 

 

During this time of the year, we celebrated an annual tradition called Santacruzan.  But it was not the Santacruzan that we were excited about, to be honest.  I would probably talk about it some other time and dish out dirty deets regarding the event.  But it’s fun to reminisce the joys of youth as I approach my mid century mark.  Damn, I feel old.  My joints are now telling me that I am.  And the gray streaks in my hair concurs. 

Anyway, during those summer years, we looked forward to the moment after the nightly Santacruzan wraps up for the evening.  This was when we would dole out our play clothes consisting of raggedy-ass shirts and shorts and the staple flip-flops as foot wear- the essentials to get coverage for our frail bodies but at the same time, served as props for a specific game we liked playing.  We also had an excuse to stay as late as we could because we were carefree and damn, we were on vacation (and school was about to start in a few weeks). 

During those years, it was safe to be outside in the evenings without any adult supervision, as the streets were usually empty and the shady characters of the night were mostly non-existent.  These creatures would only start manifesting themselves with the advent of mobile devices.  Go figure. 

 

We would play games like hide and seek and its Pinoy version- Taguan, and a modified version called Taong Paniki (literal translation, Batman), in which the whole mechanics I did not understand.  We would also play Patintero, Moro-Moro (or Agawang Base),  Luksong Baka or Luksong Tinik, Tumbang Preso, or Shato- I don’t think there are any corresponding American version of these games.  Some of them does not even have any direct English translations.  That ones that do, have very interesting meanings.    Now that I contemplate about it, Luksong Baka and Luksong Tinik translates into Jumping Over The cow and Jumping Over Thorns literally.  Tumbang Preso means, Prisoner Falling.  I can see how Jumping Over the Cow or Thorns are named as such, since kids would jump over a hunched player as the height goes higher and higher, like limbo rock in reverse; or kids jumping over outstretched hands and fingers topping each other for the thorn version.  But Prsioner Falling, I don’t know why it is called as such when in fact , it uses a beaten can that you try to hit with your flip flops.  I don’t think any prisoners were harmed during these games. 

There was also the very famous Chinese Garter, which is usually played by girls that showed off their gymnastics skills- getting over an elastic line from one side to the other in whatever way possible. 

 

Goodness, we enjoyed those games so much.  We would always argue and fight because most of us were sore losers.  But we still looked forward to playing against each other because it was so much fun.    Our anger and hatred for each other would reset every night, as if nothing had happened.  Coalitions were toppled because of bad decisions, like picking one teammate over another. New alliances and friendships were born daily.  Bad decisions were forgotten and everyone was forgiven and given a second chance.  Even a third and a fourth. 

 

I remember an old TV commercial about kids playing.  It went to say that for adults, children were just being themselves- blithe and cheerful, while playing those games that hold no meaning.  But for kids, it was more than a game.  It was their passion, their struggle, and their whole life.  I really believed that what the commercial said was true.  When we cried, we shed real tears, when we hurt ourselves, we bled real blood.  The friendships and alliances that were forged maybe short-lived but they were real, true and sincere.  There were no pretenses in our relationships, what was said was really meant.  We might have hurt each other’s feelings but we forgave each other without any if’s or but’s towards the end of the day, or the night for that matter in that month of May.    

 

I wish I was still good friends with my childhood playmates.  But we outgrew each other.  We moved beyond the tradition, and eventually the tradition changed, and it was somehow not the same again.  If only as an adult I have the same mind-set and feelings as when I was a child… imagine, the world would probably be more tolerant of me and I could probably say the same thing to the world.  The feeling will be mutual, true and sincere. 

 

Do you have a favorite childhood memory?  Tag! Your turn to share. 

 

Copyright December 2021