Last night's celebration was special to me because it's the first New Year's Eve in four years that I wasn't spending alone (or with my dog) locked up in an airconditioned room. I had good food and good company in the person of my small family, living reminders of what I had to look forward to in the coming year. I know now that there would be no more New Year's Eves spent alone.
I remember how New Year was celebrated in my household when I was young. Manong Snokum would have these little pull-string firecrackers he would attach to our screen doors. He would terrorize our maids by installing these just when the maids were busy going in and out of the house. And speaking of maids, we had innovative and enterprising kasambahays before. Long before there was a "sinturon-ni-hudas" or the so-called "sawa", Melda already devised a way of stringing up labintadors together and lighting them up for a machine gun-like effect come midnight. Oh when the Five-Stars became popular, she stringed them up too, and like bandoliers she'd have them across her chest ready for hanging on our clothesline. Just one light and we'd have a full five-minute, non-stop firecracking experience. Having a long driveway and big double gates also served a purpose - we could always hang our trompillos there and have a simultaneous show with the fountain cones.
As a kid, we were limited to holding sparklers or lusis, but my cousins and I can always sneak a few watusis. You can scratch watusis across the ground with your foot, or scratch them on walls. We didnt know then that they were highly toxic and could poison you if you dont wash your hands. Soon, we graduated to lighting up Baby Rockets to zoom across the sky, and our measly lusis became full Roman Candles, shooting up sparks and exploding as well. Again, we didnt know how dangerous Roman Candles were until one New Year's Eve an accident happened.
We had nailed all the trompillos by the gate, set up the fountains on the driveway, and hung our family version of the Super-Sawa on the clotheslines. we had our picnic table by the coverred garage, and on it laid out our various sparklers, Whistle Bombs, Baby Rockets and Roman Candles. Our assorted labintadors, Five Stars and Bawangs included, were in one big old Graham Crackers can. So we started out with everybody holding sparklers; kids with small lusis and the adults with Romand Candles. One aunt, Tita Vangie, got scared of all the explosions from the fireworks and kept backing up, not realizing her Roman Candle was sending sparks to the picnic table where the whole can of firecrackers were. Before we knew it, it was like World War III and we were all running for our lives. Most of us were able to run to the far end of the driveway, to the edge of our compound where the other apartment doors were. Unfortunately, some headed for the screen door of the main house. In their haste and in desperation, they couldn't get inside because they all piled up, one on top of the other, cringing for protection from the exploding fireworks. We couldn't see with all the smoke, but the last we heard was the poor Graham Crackers can clanking down. And ten minutes before midnight, we had already exhausted our firecrackers. Talk about being premature...
The morning after was always one big mess. Pulbora-residue, ashes and sand were all around. Exploded wrappers were like confetti everywhere. But there is always an un-exploded firecracker in there somewhere. Some people make the mistake of thinking that these can be discarded the same way they do with dried leaves - by simply sweeping them away and burning them. My Dad had the misfortune of finding out for himself one New year's day when he took on clean-up duties. He simply swept them all up together with all the other garbage, plastics and celofane wrappers included. And so another accident was bound to happen...An unexploded firecracker lit up and exploded, sending trash flying everywhere. Plastic, being of light material, flew in the direction of my Dad and it stuck to his arm, burning him. And so he spent his birthday and the next few days nursing a bad wound.
I sit here, watching my little girl play with her Xmas bounty of toys. I wonder what joys and surprises 2013 will bring her, just as each passing year gave me in my youth. I realize all the promise and potential this year can have...And so we begin, for this is the first day of the rest of our lives.
