My family's new addiction

My family and I have a new addiction — YouTube!

Every weekend that I go home to Laguna, everybody — and I mean Nanay, Tatay and my nephews and nieces — comes camping and cramping in my room (which my brother Rod and I have always shared) to surf the Net and listen to the songs being played on YouTube.

What songs do we listen to? Old English songs. Kundiman, too, most especially.

So, from 7 p.m. until we all fall asleep, I play the role of a DJ. Always, always — as everyone is settled comfortably on my brother’s bed (which I get to share with him during the weekend that I am home) — my fingers would automatically type onto the computer’s keyboard the first most requested song from my mother’s list: No Other Love, Jo Stafford.

The first few notes of the song will make Nanay swoon over her husband whose hands and back are being massaged by his grandchildren. Nanay knows No Other Love by heart. It was one of her lullaby songs to us when my four brothers and I were still small. It is the love song that binds her and Tatay. To this day, she still sings the song to her husband, with loving feelings at that.

From time to time, she duets with Jo Stafford with fainted bravado, even closing her eyes while singing: No other love can warm my heart/ Now that I’ve known the comfort of your arms/ No other love/ Oh the sweet contentment that I find with you/ Every time/ Every time/ No other lips could want you more/ For I was born to glory in your kiss/ Forever yours/ I was blessed with love to love you/ ‘Til the stars burn out above you/ ‘Til the moon is but a silver shell/ No other love/ Let no other love/ Know the wonder of your spell.

At the end of the song, she will melt in my father’s embrace. No words are spoken between them. But the spark flies all over the room. And I always get electrocuted.

“Click mo yung replay ulit (Please play it again),” Nanay says after Jo Stafford photo fades away from the computer screen. “Click mo ulit,” her imperative tone calls for immediacy. The excitement on her face never wanes. It’s as if she’s hearing the song for the first time again after a long, long while of not listening to it.

So I play the song again. And again. And again. The three black speakers on top of the computer rack are now trembling. The kids now get to sing with their Lola. Yes my pamangkins — Nikko, 15; Nikki, 13; Paopao, 11; Gabby, eight; Nikkelle, six; and Alex, three — can sing old songs as they are exposed to “oldies music” at home. Tatay remains his quiet self as he holds his wife’s hand.

“O, iba naman (Play other songs),” my father says, breaking his silence. I immediately know what he wants to hear. So I type “Lumang Simbahan, Larry Miranda.” Then I hit the Search button. The song begins with the sound of pealing bells. This prompts Tatay to gesture his hands, as if conducting an orchestra.

If Nanay gets to “sing” with Jo Stafford, Tatay gets to “duet”, too, with Larry Miranda.

Sa lumang simbahan/ Aking napagmasdan/ Dalaga’t binata ay nagsusumpaan/ Sila’y nakaluhod sa harap ng altar/ Sa tigisang kamay may hawak na punyal./ Kung ako’y patay na ang bilin ko lamang/ Dalawin mo giliw ang ulilang libing/ At kung maririnig mo ang taghoy at daing/ Yao’y pahimakas ng sumpaan natin./ At kung maririnig mo ang tugtog ng kampana/ Sa lumang simbahan dumalaw ka lamang/ Lumuhod ka giliw sa harap ng altar/ At iyong idalangin ang naglahong giliw. 

Like Nanay, my father will not be content hearing the song only once. So I, their dutiful DJ, play it again. Of course, my nieces and nephews hum with him. Claiming that it is now his moment to shine, my father sings the song with bravado. His lilting voice produces poignant reverie. Yes, he surely cannot hit the high notes anymore but his raspy yet rusty voice still registers so much passion. The song transports him to the days when he was courting my mother. It brings him joy listening to it perhaps because it is the kundiman song he sung and strummed to his future wife as the latter planted rice in the middle of the field. This time around, as Tatay sings, Nanay wraps him around her arms. As usual, I am again electrocuted at the sight of a 73-year-old man and a 64-year-old woman unabashedly displaying their affection for each other. 

In this moment of bliss, I play our family’s many favorite old songs to the delight of my parents most especially. Our play list always includes National Artist Nicanor Abelardo’s Bituing Marikit, Mutya ng Pasig and Nasaan Ka Irog?; and Dr. Francisco Santiago’s Anak Dalita and Pakiusap.   

“Paki-search mo nga yung (Please search for) ‘Dungawin Mo Hirang’ ni Ruben Tagalog,” Nanay requests.

Then after, Tatay will butt in: “Yung ‘Bulong-Bulungan’ at ‘Prinsesa ng Kumintang’ ni Diomedes Maturan.”

“Yung Carmen Rosales, ‘Ang Tangi Kong Pag-ibig’,” an excited request from Nanay.

“Isunod mo yung ‘Sarung-Banggi’ ni Rogelio dela Rosa,” Tatay eagerly says.

Then they will request for the songs of Cely Bautista and Conching Rosal. This time the kids in the audience are at a loss. But they enjoy listening to their grandparents anyway. Since listening to old songs is like being kissed and caressed by sweet, sweet breeze, I find it not surprising at all that Nikkelle and Alex, the youngest of my parents’ audience, fall asleep and head off to dreamland.

More songs are played: Maalaala Mo Kaya, Ibong Sawi, Dungawin Mo Hirang, among others.

By the time I play Sylvia La Torre’s Kalesa and Sa Kabukiran, Nanay and Tatay are already dancing albeit still sitting on the bed. As they slowly sway, it’s evident that love moves between the two of them as their hands momentarily move in the air.

After each song, both my parents become excited and excitable as they share memories of yore to me and their grandchildren. They become reflective in one moment and giddy in another. They know what they want to hear and almost memorize what old songs the YouTube has for them.

Music indeed is our family’s old time binder. The YouTube now becomes my parents’ newest craze, our family’s latest collective addiction.

Now, you may want to get high with us.

(My heartfelt gratitude to those who uploaded those old songs on YouTube. To my readers, thank you very much for all your letters. For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. Have a blessed Sunday.)