Who says all men behave badly?

I don’t know why, but in the course of any female social gathering, stories about men behaving badly somehow find their way into the stream of conversation. It could be a fleeting mention or it could take up hours of animated exchange. Whether it is about an erring husband of one of the ladies in the group or some stranger’s neighbor’s cousin’s batch mate’s callous husband, or something as remote and removed as Henry the XIII and his eight wives during the early 16th century, men’s wicked ways are always a favorite topic.

 Could it be that men simply get themselves into trouble too often and too much? Is it because they are inherently bad? Is it because good deeds don’t make for interesting copy compared to debauchery? Is it because women are incorrigible chatterboxes or is it because we simply need things to talk about other than ourselves? 

The day after typhoon Pedring hit Manila and at the height of the PAL ground crew strike, I was foolish enough to insist on flying to Hong Kong. There was a 13-hour delay, and the first three hours of this long, drawn-out airport ordeal was spent standing up in a queue that was inching its way through to the newly hired check-in crew at the counter. People took to chatting each other up to pass the time in line, while others lost their cool and erupted in random flare-ups of impatience and frustration.

I was lucky to have been behind a handsome Filipino couple in their 60s. They introduced themselves and explained that they had just planed in from San Francisco. They did look tired (bloodshot eyes and all) after having been on the road for close to 24 hours but I was surprised at how their disposition remained pleasant, not only to me and others, but especially to each other. 

 Husband and wife were very solicitous; their conversations laced with the occasional “Please” and “Thank you.” The husband periodically admonished the wife to take a seat somewhere while he stood in line for both of them. Occasionally, he stroked her hair and offered his shoulder for her to lean on.

 It got me to thinking: These folks are in their 60s, so they must have been married a while; yet they remain solicitous to each other. Why? A jaded thought, admittedly, but considering that 50 percent of marriages now end in divorce, it is remarkable to see an older couple that remains very much intact.

 I learned that they had migrated to the US some 40 years ago, had three children and, through hard work, were able to send all of them to reputable universities. They said they hadn’t revisited the Philippines in two years and, unfortunately, it had to be in the thick of Pedring.

 “If you had flown in from San Francisco to come home, why are you flying off to Hong Kong on the same day?” I asked them.

 This was when the wife’s already bloodshot eyes started to tear up. The husband spoke for both of them: “Our oldest daughter, she is 39, was recently relocated here by the multinational she had been working with for many years. She was in Hong Kong with her husband and four young kids for a family vacation. On the second day she complained of fatigue and fever. She got so weak they had to rush her to the hospital. They said it was some kind of swine flu. Her decline was fast — too fast. By nighttime the virus had spread to her kidneys and her liver. The next morning it went to her heart and then her brain. She was in ICU the whole time. We booked the next available flight but while we were boarding we got that call from my son-in-law. We lost her. My son-in-law had to fly the kids home to Manila and go back to Hong Kong the same day. They won’t even allow the body to be flown back. She has to be cremated there.”  

Shame on those passengers who threw temper tantrums left and right! As though missed business trips or hotel bookings, dinner dates or shopping opportunities in Hong Kong were worth making a scene over, compared with this older couple! 

 During the flight, I was seated beside a female OFW who was returning to Hong Kong after a two-month vacation. She was eager to get there because her boyfriend was waiting for her. He had been so worried about the long delay, she said, and was anxious for her to get back. When we finally touched down in Hong Kong at around 3 a.m., I asked her if the public transport system was still open so she could get home safely. She said, “Oh, no worries, my boyfriend is picking me up.”

“Really? At this hour?” I asked, a little surprised.

She smiled and said, “Yes, of course. He always picks me up no matter what.” It seemed like a throwback to the 1950s, when real gentlemen routinely did such things. In this post-millennium era, I’d thought such gallantry had vanished. Any boyfriend would rather be snoring away in bed than pulling a red-eye to pick up a girlfriend from the airport at 3 a.m. He’s a keeper, I thought.

 I came back home a couple of days later and during Sunday Mass, I noticed a family of three men in the front pew: a father, clearly with some kind of infirmity because he moved slowly, gingerly; and two grown-up sons, who looked very much like him. Throughout most of the service the son to the left was holding hands with the father in that finger-locked, intimate way. I pointed this out to my 13-year-old son who was seated beside me.

At the far left of the church, I saw a man who looked exactly like an old high school friend. I couldn’t be certain though, because I didn’t have a frontal view.  He was with his two children and his wife, who looked very thin and frail. Her head was wrapped in a scarf and she had a medical mask over her nose and mouth. The husband had his arm around her, and adjusted a big shawl across her shoulders every so often. During Holy Communion, he cradled her as they walked to the foot of the altar. I pointed this out to my son as well and he said, “Should men only be doing those things when family members are sick because the rest don’t really mind their families? Look around, Mom.”

 I was surprised. I took a breath and told him, “No, they don’t have to wait for someone to get sick to do that. In a perfect world they would do it all the time. But let’s be glad that a few even bother to do it at all.” That sounded pathetic, I thought to myself, but left it at that.

 Last night, at the 70th birthday party of my uncle, Eddie Lopez, his daughter Ton put together a slide show of photos taken at key points in their life as a family. There were shots of my Tito Ed as a child, a teenager, a college frat boy, a groom, a father and finally, a grandfather. It was a poignant several minutes and all eyes were glued to the screen, taking in snippets of the dignified life of a 70-year-old patriarch.

 I was talking to my cousins Nikki and Ton after that presentation and we couldn’t help but notice that he had been present at every momentous occasion in each of his five children’s lives. Ton said she had been crying over the three days it took to assemble footage and pictures for the video. She and Nikki pointed out that, however busy their dad was, he had never missed a single religious, academic or civic ceremony in each of his children’s lives and now his grandchildren’s. Nikki said: “Mom has been so strong for us and Dad has always been there.” All those photos told the story.

 Just before the evening ended I sat down with another cousin, Val, who had just arrived from a quick trip to the US where she had met up with our other cousins including Nikki and her youngest brother, Kit. She mentioned what a gentlemen Kit was, always at the ready to open doors and help out. She said, “We were shopping and every time we lined up for the cashier, Kit was always on standby behind us without being told, anticipating our need for assistance with the bags, with everything. On top of that, he’s a great husband and such a hands-on father.”

 From now on, every time I hear women talking about men behaving badly, I shall think of these examples of goodness.

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 Thank you for your letters. You may reach me at cecilelilles@yahoo.com.