New Eagle stamps

Philpost recently issued many bird stamps, including the P50 and P100 Eagles shown here. As usual, the quality and artistry are much better than those of the definitives issued by other countries.

Peonies and stamps from Japan

This stamp was issued in 1996 by the Fukushima prefecture (equivalent to district, of which Japan has 47). It features a peony from Sukagawa City, famous for its Botan En, or Peony Garden, and its Torch Festival. Fukushima is now in danger because its nuclear plant suffered serious damages in the 3/11 earthquake and tsunami. The peonies, along with the water and vegetation there and nearby districts, have been contaminated by the radioactive emissions from the power plant's reactors.

 Peaches from Fukushima. Stamp issued 1990.

The stamp below shows a scenic view of Miyagi prefecture, where Sendai is located. I was scanning this stamp yesterday when I noticed a white scratch on the upper left portion. Having collected Japanese stamps for years, I have acquired a bit of taste for their symbolism. The scratch, or flaw, on the beauty of Miyagi, is it a portent of events to transpire?

1994 Stamp showing Matsushima in Miyagi.

I can remember seeing live on TV the 10-meter waves as they approached the shore of Miyagi. I suppose the boats were first to be crushed, followed by the huts and other edifices. The water and mud devoured the cars and planes in the airport, trains, people, pets, trees. The death toll will eventually surpass 20,000.

Zelkova Trees on stamp issued by Miyagi Prefecture in 1995.

Holstein Cows in Chiba, 1995.

Milk from cows and vegetation in Chiba and neighboring districts are reportedly contaminated with radiations. Japan's poultry and fish industries have slumped too.

Cranes in Hokkaido, 1990.

Hokkaido was also affected by the tsunami, which flooded several areas there.

About 10 years ago, in October 1991, a stamp commemorating the summit conference on Earthquake Disaster Mitigation was issued. I think what had been learned in that conference is in effect now.   

New stamps from Japan.

Yesterday I received this sheetlet and other stamps from a friend in Japan. The parcel from Kosaku, 75 years old collector and dealer, bears postmarks dated March 10, a day before the earthquake hit. My friend used to live in Tokyo; months ago he moved to nearby Chiba, where a huge fire broke out in an oil refinery minutes after the killer quake struck. So far attempts to reach my friend by phone have failed. I hope he is safe and well.  

 

Children playing in Tokyo, 2000. May the good days return. Bless Japan and its people.

  

Alone

Every man is an island...

Billions of snowflakes have fallen since the first one was formed millions of years ago, still I tend to doubt the scientists’ claim that not one is identical -- every flake is invariably six-sided but unique.

It’s easier to believe the uniqueness of humans, in spite of the existence of identical twins. Homo sapiens has a much more complex structure than condensed water: small physical quirks and difference in personality make it impossible to duplicate me, for example. In the vastness of time and space we are not to be repeated. We are alone.

My father succumbed to pancreatic cancer in 1995. Three year later, I was taking snack with a friend in a Chinese restaurant in Binondo when, on another table across ours, I saw facing my way a man who looked exactly my father, the way I remembered him when he was much younger. The man, obviously talking in Chinese to his companion, had the same build, height, even the haircut my father preferred when all his hair was still black. Strange day.

I could not take my eyes off the stranger. Is his voice the same as my father’s? How old is he, what is his name, he lives where, could we in some way be related, how could he not know me? After the man left, it finally sinked in – my father was gone, never to return.

When young we think we will live forever: death happens to someone else, outside the circle of our friends and relatives. Then we grow up, to be jolted by the indifference of this world. Life is precious but subject to the whims of fortune –- an accident or disease can easily wipe out our schedules.

Thirty-six years ago, in UST, a graduating medical student was in class doing laboratory work, then he collapsed and never regained consciousness. I was 19 then, and I thought: He spent most of his time assiduously to get high marks in high school so he can enter the prestigious premed course in the university, only to drop dead in his graduating year.

That incident turned my life. I decided to spend what’s left of my years to at least have my share of fun. If I ever reach, say, 40, at least I would have had 21 years of fun through the obstacles and vicissitudes life will hurl in my path. I may be wrong, but it is better than being dead before 20.

Outgrowing my ignorance later, I realized that billions of lives, like snowflakes, just fall and melt away, most in serious pursuit of financial stability -- in other words, people are spending their lives to have much money, not the other way around!

Everywhere, I see people getting old in dark hardware stores, auto shops, insurance firms, government agencies, small stores and big supermarts, etc., exchanging their life-years for money, which in old age will be useless to retrieve the excitement and enchantment of youth. Billions are not even aware that there is an alternative to the drab existence they lead, that a struggle is even necessary to attain the beneficence and joy of existence.

In one of his novels Raymond Chandler once expounded on the nature of clerkship: “You go in through double swing doors. Inside the double doors there is combination PBX and information desk at which sits one of those ageless women you see around municipal offices in the world. They were never young and will never be old. They have no beauty, no charm, no style. They don’t have to please anybody. They are safe. They are civil without ever quite being polite and intelligent and knowledgeable, without interest in anything. They are what human beings turn into when they trade life for existence and ambition for security.”

The greatest waste in this planet is human life. Until we understand it, we can’t appreciate the uniqueness of this gift. We are together, but each of us is alone, in birth and in death.

New Bird Stamps

Philippine stamps are beautiful

Philpost has issued three new Bird issues -- P1, P2, and P7. As usual, the quality and artistry is top rank. Unfortunately, philately is not so strong here as in other countries in spite of the beauty of our stamps.

We will catch up when our citizens become more literate than technical in their educational and personal pursuit. I will not see that development in my lifetime. The tragedy of the Philippines is that since it was colonized by Spain up to now, we have not had a single leader who really loved the people.

'Nuff said.

Rambling about stamps

Philpost released this week the Philippine-Korea Diplomatic Relations set. I bought many sheetlets, each containing five horizontal-pair sets. Or what we Philatelists call se-tenant sets. A se-tenant set is composed of two stamps with different designs paired together. Anyway, my point is that our stamps are beautiful, even when compared to those of other countries'.

I will admit our literacy rate is comparatively rock-bottom, but this is offset by the fact that we are a nation of artists. We excel in the arts -- music, painting, sculpture, anything that is fun. Well, reading and learning is fun, too, but that's for people of limited talent like me.

If you are blessed with talent, you can have fun all your life -- playing billiards for 50 years or more, holding your own against the best poker players in the world, having your painting auctioned for millions of bucks, drawing blockbuster heroes in comicdom, etc., and not worry about money.

As usual, my thoughts wander. Basta! Our stamps are admirable. 'Nuff said!

Deaths in the countryside

The bird

One morning, in a small hut in a small farm in the countryside, a boy was dreaming of the glory of war he had seen in a -- particularly of the scenes, in black and white, where the good guys shot the bad guys -- when he was roused from his reverie by a noise outside.

The noise was caused by a branch heavy with coconuts cracking and crashing to the ground. As the boy went out to clear the debris, he saw among the coconuts the scattered straws of a nest, three bird eggs, their shells cracked open by the fall, and one baby bird.

The baby bird had its mouth open in the silent scream of one who had been born too soon, its eyes still closed to a world it was unprepared to cope with. The soft, tiny flesh, nestled in the boy’s small hand, quivered.

The boy gently touched the wide-open mouth with his little finger and a small feeble beak softly closed upon it. It didn’t hurt, but somewhere deep inside, the boy felt a spark of pain.

“Are you hungry?” the boy thought. The eyes remained closed, the mouth was still open – trusting, waiting. Then the boy realized the bird was dying.

Where is your mother!” It was the boy’s silent scream. “She doesn’t know…”

Quickly he wet a little finger from a small tin of water and gently let a drop into the bird’s mouth.

“Live!” he whispered. “Live…”

With a fingernail he cut a sliver from a grain of rice and turned to feed the pulse of life in his palm. Then he knew that it was too late.

He plucked a leaf and covered the lifeless body. He left it under a mango tree just starting to grow, its parted seed still clinging on to the stem that served as its trunk.

The boy turned his back, his eyes stinging with tears of indignation. He knew that along with the bird, he had lost something valuable.

The man

One afternoon, a burly man crouched behind a boulder in front of a hut in a farm in Tucaan Balaag, Davao del Norte. His companions had already spread out, their camouflaged uniforms blending with the bushes and trees nearby. Their M-16s were pointed at the hut.

Inside the hut nested four rebels -- one pregnant woman and three men -- who had just come in from the rain the night before. They left their wet clothes and shoes outside to dry, a mistake that would cost them dearly.

Unknown to them, a comrade they had sent to get some supplies in the poblacion was caught by the military. He was “persuaded” to lead the soldiers to the hut. The rebels’ clothes and shoes outside the hut betrayed their presence inside.

The soldiers opened fire.

Inside the house, the rebels took cover and assumed battle positions. Their commanding officer stood by the door and shot it out with his AK-47.

After the shooting stopped, the bodies of the CO and one other rebel lay dead amidst the scattered debris in the hut. Barrio folks carried them to Tagum town.

The pregnant woman and the other guerilla were wounded but alive. They were taken outside: they huddled under a coconut tree while the soldiers deliberated on what to do with them.

They decided not to bring anyone back alive.

The woman was shot first, her unborn child and her body left under a coconut tree.

The remaining guerilla was led to a nearby tree where a big burly man shoved a .45 in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The bullet shattered the back of the rebel’s skull and, exiting, scarred the trunk of the mango tree that was just bearing fruit.

“He was a sparrow, you know,” one of the soldiers told the executioner.

The burly man merely turned his back and walked toward the hut.

That night, in a hut in a farm in the countryside, a man thought about the gory war in the countryside, where the red blood flowed when the good guys shot the bad guys.

“I shot the bad guy,” he told himself, “but I don’t feel much like a good guy.”

But he was not thinking of the dead sparrow at all. In fact, nothing much had moved him since that day a long, long time ago, when he was a boy, when he saw a little bird die.

It was a bitter lesson he had learned that day. He knew that when he gained the wisdom of the world, he lost his innocence.

Birds Mini Sheets

Last year, Philpost issue two terrific Birds mini sheets: one for the Taiwan Stamp Exhibit event, the other for the Jakarta event. Hip-hip, hooray!

Astronomy in stamps

I love this terrific sheetlet, issued in March 2008, celebrating the 100th anniversary of the Astronomical Society of Japan. Photos of the planets, which could not have been possible a century ago, are now taken for granted by schoolchildren.

There's a fabulous site for Astronomy buffs: http://www.astronomy.com/asy/default.aspx

Doraemon stamps from Japan

In 2004, Japan issued as part of its anime series a set of Doraemon stamps on a set of sheetlets. This set is very popular among young collectors everywhere.

For everything about Doraemon, go t0 http://www.google.com.ph/search?hl=tl&q=doraemon&btnG=Maghanap&meta=

Juan Luna Painting on stamps

A complete set of Juan Luna stamps and souvenir sheets featuring some of his paintings was issued by Philpost in 2007 in commemoration of his 150th birth anniversary.

Everything about Juan Luna and his works online are at http://www.google.com.ph/search?hl=tl&q=juan+luna+paintings&meta=&aq=4&oq=juan

Stamp addict like me? The best site about Philippine stamps is at http://www.philippinephilatelist.net/index.html

Astro Boy stamps

This set of Astro Boy stamp sheetlets were issued in Japan in 2003.

Hundreds of Astro Boy images are available at http://images.google.com.ph/images?hl=tl&q=astro+boy&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=-telSam4K5yA6gOXxLS8Cw&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=4&ct=title

Hello Kitty stamps from Japan

Last year Japan issued two awesome mini-sheets of Hello Kitty stamps. I have asked a friend in Tokyo for 10 sets. One set is shown here.

Crazy about Hello Kitty? Go to http://images.google.com.ph/images?hl=tl&q=hello+kitty&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=kdulSbD2L9W4kAXomN3XDQ&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=1&ct=title