The mail service was slow and I wanted to surprise my grandmother, Juaquina, and Fernando, so I did not let them know I was coming. The trip by bus and boat took almost the entire day. I arrived in Naujan, Mindoro, early in the evening. I did not have any trouble finding my aunt's general store because most everyone in the town knew her. I recognized all of the grown folks immediately, but they had to point out to me Salud and Fernando among all the boys and girls in the house. My aunt had five children, three of them about the same size as my brother and sister. I had not seen them in over ten years and we all had grown much during those years. It was a tearful but very happy reunion.

     Grandma Modesta could not believe the odyssey of my life. I showed her my seventh grade graduation certificate. How proud she was of my achievement!

     During my short stay of about a month, certain events happened. These events might be considered trivial and inconsequential by others; but, in my case, they were factors that guided and influenced me to reject a couple of habits. Habits which medical science proclaims to be deterrents to good health and many religious groups reject as morally unacceptable. They are the habits of smoking and drinking alcohol.

     It was also during this visit, the only visit I made to Mindoro, that I heard from my grandmother the story of my mother's life and the reason she was totally rejected by my father's people.

     In my childhood days, we were taught complete reverence and love for our parents and grandparents, and unquestioning obedience to their wishes and commands. I believe the Catholic ritual of the children kneeling before their parents and kissing their hands after the daily prayers inculcated us with these abiding fundamental traits. For a boy to disrespect or disobey his parents or grandparents was unthinkable.

     On the other hand, Filipinos of adolescent age are no different from youngsters in other countries. Out of curiosity, they experiment with the unwholesome vices of smoking and alcoholic drinking. I had met some boys in Naujan and we decided one day that we would smoke.

     The three of us went in the backyard of my aunt's house. Before I could take a second puff from the only cigarette we had, my grandmother saw us. I stopped at once, but it was too late. My sin had been discovered; and to hide the cigarette was futile. Grandma approached us without saying a word. She asked for the subject of our transgression. One of the boys handed her the cigarette; and she, in turn, handed it to me with the command for me to chew and swallow it. Without a word of remonstrance, I obeyed her command. When she was sure her mission was accomplished, she returned to the house, still without a word of rebuke.

     One can only imagine the discomfort and sickening feeling, physical and spiritual, that I endured following my first smoking experiment. This ended for life any desire I might harbor to succumb to this universal habit.

     Shortly before the end of my visit, I went out to the countryside with the same two companions to where one of the boys' relatives lived. They owned a large coconut grove and one of their products was "tuba", a very pleasant and refreshing drink when not fermented. This beverage, once fermented, becomes a potent and intoxicating drink. Many American GI's and sailors can attest to its potency and effect.

     My companions must have drunk this often, for they were less affected than I after drinking several glasses full. Its effect on my young and unseasoned digestive system was devastating. Hours after I drank this new and strange liquid, my equilibrium was still adversely affected.

     When I returned home, I could not hide my discomfort from my folks. That night, at prayer time, Grandma departed from the usual Catholic ritual of Hail Mary and implored God to guide me in my life and to keep me away from sin and from becoming a drunkard. I am sure she was choked with tears when she ended the prayer.

     When I knelt to kiss her hand for her usual blessing, I resolved fervently that I would try my best to be the kind of man she had prayed for me to be. To her, in her particular supplication to God in my behalf, can be attributed the total absence of these habits of smoking and drinking from my life.

     Outside of the cigarette and "tuba" episodes, my visit to Naujan was a very enjoyable one. My sister and brother were living normal lives. My aunt's business, though not very large, was giving them ample income.

     Grandma was very unhappy over my story of how her relatives had treated me. It was in one of our talks that she related to me the story of my mother and who she was. Many of the questions in my mind about Mother were answered and the mystery of her ostracism by my father's people was solved.

     My mother, a beautiful woman, was born out of wedlock: the consummation of a love affair between a Catholic priest and a pretty woman. A priest usually came from a rich and influential family, and my mother's father belonged to one of the richest in Taal. Their name was mentioned by Grandma and I recognized it at once.

     Mother was born during the Spanish period, when Catholicism was the state religion. A priest in that era held the highest esteem of the people. In his capacity as the spiritual leader, he was regarded as beyond sinning. When he got involved in carnal affairs with a woman like my mother's mother, the woman invariably carried the onus of the blame and censure. She was the temptress the Mary Magdalene. She became an outcast and the object of general condemnation. Such was my maternal grandmother's lot for her indiscretion with a Catholic priest.

     It could be assumed that her punishment, justified or not, caused her early death. Mother was cared for and raised by her only aunt, whom we called "Nanang", meaning grandma. Mother grew to be a very pretty woman. Had she been born of a normal married couple, she would perhaps have been the most sought after bride in her day. Her beauty, in the words of Grandma, "was uncommon".

     During my father's student days, before he was twenty, he met my mother. Grandma Modesta, her people, and most of my late Grandfather's relatives, knowing of my mother's family background, strongly objected to the marriage. My mother was "a priest's daughter": a term of derision and insult of the day. Father and Mother were married during their teens sans my father's family's blessing and consent.

     Somewhere in the Bible, there is a passage saying that the sins of the parents are passed on to their children. Mother really paid the price for the sins of her parents in her hard and unpleasant and sad life after Father died.

     And, so, during my only visit to Naujan, I learned who my mother was.

     In one of our talks, Grandma mentioned her niece Melicia, sister of my Godfather Roman, who lived in Manila. Melicia had an embroidery and hats factory and she catered to American visitors. Grandma gave me Melicia's address and suggested that I look her up, for she might give me a job.

     The sad moment of parting came. After renewing my promise to be a good boy, I kissed my Grandma's hand and hugged my sister and brother. I was never to see any of them again.