LIKE THE WEATHER

(FROM A WEEKEND NOTE, THE EDITOR'S LETTER IN STYLE WEEKEND, A LIFESTYLE MAGAZINE PUBLISHED EVERY FRIDAY IN MANILA BULLETIN, 4 JULY 2008)

Nowadays, the weather is often bad news.

BLURB
What a cold and rainy day! Where on earth is the sun hid away? —“Like the Weather,” 10,000 Maniacs, 1988

On a particular day in the aftermath of the sinking of MV Princess of the Stars off Sibuyan Island in Romblon, if I remember right, it was 28 degrees in Paris, a lovely summer day, but it was all that was lovely on the CNN Weather Report. In California, a lightning storm triggered forest fires, but there was zero wind in most places, so thank God for that, as we cannot bear a repeat of the Malibu wildfire that set California in flames barely a year ago. Elsewhere in the United States, the weather was exacerbating the worst US Midwest flooding in North America in 15 years, with the Mississippi River submerging up to two million hectares of farmlands and sweeping away entire towns across the north-central states. Among the neighbors of France, the weather wasn’t as friendly. In Vienna, it rained on the Euro 2008 parade, dampening spirits particularly at the Germany-versus-Turkey semi-finals, whose viewers across Europe were denied television coverage, as the storm, unleashing lightning, high winds, and heavy rains, caused massive blackouts. In Asia, the typhoon that caught the Philippines unawares two weekends ago, leaving hundreds dead and thousands homeless, was now wreaking havoc over parts of China, having just left a trail of wet misery in Hong Kong.

How strange that, as of this writing, we are supposed to be well into the rainy season, but the sun heated up the day as though it were the height of summer, interrupted only by the briefest of rainshowers. Thank God for that, too, as at this point, so many days after typhoon Frank caused yet another tragedy at sea, rescue squads are still hoping against hope some survivors would still emerge somehow, while Sulpicio Lines, on the other hand, is digging its own grave, forgetting that sympathy, rather than appropriation of blame and more than monetary compensation over lives and limbs lost, is indispensable at a time like this, particularly to their survival as a corporate entity.

But as of late last week, even as Sulpicio announced the release of P200,000 per victim to the bereaved, whether or not there had been a confirmation of death, government officials in areas where bodies were being found, such as in Masbate and Camarines Sur, were still irately and desperately calling the attention of Sulpicio officials toward what should have been their key role in the search and retrieval operations. To think that during the crucial first days of the rescue operations, spokespersons, mostly rude, unemotional lawyers, at Sulpicio kept saying the focus was on the search, leaving the victims’ families, already burdened with worry and grief, to their own devices. During a maritime disaster involving one of their ships, WG&A, some years ago, made it a point to care for the victims’ families, flying them to the vicinity of the tragedy to help identify—and claim—their dead and taking charge of their hotel accommodations and meals through their darkest hours.

I used to love the rain and, yes, even the howling winds, when I’m tucked in bed, warm beneath the sheets, safe in a perilous world. After a shower, there used to be romance on wet, slippery roads, with the grey skies reflecting off silvery puddles and raindrops sliding off leaves or otherwise launching themselves like teardrops off the eaves.
Now it’s all guilty pleasure. If only we could return to kinder times, when the girl group The Toys was a major hit, we could still, without guilt, hum along as Barbara Harris with Barbara Parritt and June Montiero rhapsodizes, “How gentle is the rain/That falls softly on the meadow/Birds high up in the trees/Serenade the clouds with their melodies (“A Lover’s Concerto,” 1965).”

But life is more complicated now. When Madonna muses, “Wash away my sorrow/take away my pain (‘Rain,’ 1993)” or when Fleetwood Mac’s Stevie Nicks laments, “Thunder only happens when it’s raining (‘Dreams,’ 1977),” there is a chance a boat is sinking somewhere or a family is being buried alive in a mudslide or the old and homeless are cold and dying on the pavement.

A
post me at aapatawaran@yahoo.com.