Little things mean a lot

There is an elegant store named Dodo on Via de Tornabuoni in Florence, Italy surrounded by glass and black velvet. Inside are gold and white gold dainty bracelets and charms. You could sit for hours making your own bracelets in black, red, brown or white thin leather with gold beads and knots. Dodo is the young sister company of the famous Pomellato. Who is Dodo? I’d like to introduce you to Dodo.

“Dodo’s story started far, far away. Dodo is the name of that funny feathered fellow who used to live happily on the island of Mauritius until extinction caught up with him. But, as happens in only the very best of stories, after many, many years, Dodo has come back to life and now he lives all over the world because he has become a symbol of nature that needs protection and of Pomellato’s sweetest collection of jewelry.”

“The Dodo pendants are a happy company of animals who speak the language of feelings and emotions. Each Dodo reveals a little bit of who we are and what we want to say. It is a gift that can speak for us if we are a little shy. To give as a gift, or to collect, because Dodo doesn’t like being alone and is always on the lookout for new friends.” I’ve become Dodo’s friend.

I sat composing a leather bracelet for an hour and a half with plain and hammered yellow gold beads… and I got a diamond-studded button for my bracelet closure.

I got a present recently with this note: “Dear Mom, I went into the store for a string and ended up with this! A panther… meaning ‘I’m proud of you.’ Thank you for everything.      Love, Mai.”

To own the giraffe means you’re up to any challenge. If someone gave you a lion it should remind you of courage. A bat, that the night is young. So can you still be his date? A duck (what a chatter box). A goose (what shall we play now?) A serpent (you tempt me). A lamb (I’ll keep you warm). And so many more modern gold animals and meanings to them. Tiny, significant presents that you can make yourself. Writing about little things that warm the heart, this anecdote on Ricardo Saludo, then Civil Service Commission Chairman from Director Liza Agamata, a fellow Tarlaquena, warmed mine:

“Typhoon Ondoy caught everyone unaware, dumped rain in the metropolis and destroyed life and property. People wondered what had hit them — why the catastrophic downpour, why the swiftly-rising floodwater, why the raging rivers?

“Officials and staff of the Civil Service Commission (CSC) were surprised to get text messages from Chairman Saludo on that fateful day, providing information on which roads were impassable, which streets had knee-deep or thigh-high floodwaters. This information was particularly helpful to CSC personnel who were on the road at that time. He provided, as well, via text message, help lines of government and private groups that people could call for assistance. Still using SMS, he encouraged the staff to keep tabs on one another, directing CSC officials to check on their respective staff members and to extend needed assistance.

“On the first hour of the first working day after Ondoy’s weekend onslaught, he immediately issued a directive granting special leave privileges to government employees directly affected by the typhoon. The five-day leave privilege would enable affected employees to repair or clean up their homes. He enjoined heads of government offices to ascertain the condition of their respective staff to determine the level of assistance that can be provided. People were touched by his sincerity in helping others and welcomed these simple gestures of concern. Indeed, calamities and disasters can bring out the best in everyone.”

I got this note from Ging Pajaro of Via Venetto, the shoe store: “This is the story of the shoemaker I told you about when you were in Via Venetto. Your bakya wedge heels I sent to Binan to copy because nobody in Marikina could do it. I tried to call you several times but could not catch you. Again, thank you.

“One day, you walked into a Via Venetto store, struck up a conversation with me and made a few suggestions about styles and designs. I though that it was a onetime gesture of kindness and warmth. Days later, you sent me cutouts, torn sheets of different styles from different fashion magazines. Coming home from your travels, you would continue sending pictures and forecast designs cut out from Paris, London, New York and Milan fashion magazines.

“Those were the years of rampant labor unrest and agitation in the country, Tingting. Strikes were looming large not only in the shoe factories of Marikina but with all other different industries whether or not their labor policies were made in heaven. We picked out our highly skilled shoemakers with potential for entrepreneurship. We helped them set up their own little factories. We supplied them with leather, materials, components and equipment payable when able. They were given basic crash lessons on management and accounting.

“Nick Astillas dreamed of having his own little factory too but could not seem to make the grade. He was not daunted nor discouraged by the fact he had already submitted close to 30 prototypes, all rejected and was tactfully advised that he should ‘sample’ elsewhere where standards were not as demanding and as stringent as Via Venetto. Nick said he would persist trying with Via Venetto.

“With sympathetic admiration for Nick’s determination and perseverance, we gave him the Audrey Hepburn ballerina, one of the cutout pictures, sent by you, Tingting. Like the real ballet shoes, the design did not demand exact unwrinkled finish and the fit on the foot could be adjusted with drawstrings that also served as a decorative bough.

“He came back a week later with the first of thousands of pairs in 27 colors he made of the Tingting Ballerina through the years, among many other designs, with his much-improved skills.

“A year after Nick made the Tingting Ballerina, he renovated his cramped cloth partitioned house with plywood. The following year, he added a second floor and the first floor became the factory.

“Nick has since been featured on TV Negosiete.

“A few years later he built a four-story concrete house with a roof garden and a four-vehicle garage. The first floor still became his factory. Emblazoned on his carved entrance door is a Tingting Ballerina replica, stock No. VN 1.

“Nick has passed away. Though Nick knew you, Tingting, only from the pictures we showed him and what we told him who you were, he truly would have wanted to thank you personally but he was intimidated by your stature and fame.

“A son is now running his factory, his two other sons and only daughter have their own factories.

“Little did you know that your kindness through the photo of the dainty ballerina flats was going to change the fate of a man you did not even know. Little did you, Tingting, know that your generosity of spirit had given the first break for a laborer who had dared to dream of a better life. Little did you, Tingting, realize that the cutout picture you gave paved a series of fortunate events that made the future brighter and filled with hope the tomorrows for a family.

“For Nick, his children and grandchildren, THANK YOU, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

Boboy Syjuco of the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority (TESDA) has been continuously helping my college graduates, civilian employees at the Philippine Public Safety College who are wanting to earn a second degree. I didn’t know that my three best personnel had planned to take the TESDA course in order to take off for Saudi Arabia. One day they said their good-byes — I don’t know whether to thank Boboy, or pine for what was not to be: three excellent computer operators — but I know they’re remembering him. Passing thoughts that mean continued family support and a better status in life.

Tokens of love — usually tiny but meaningful, unless they’re fresh flowers that fade away or chocolates that fatten us.

John Burnham (in Love Tokens) wrote: “ When a man falls for you, he wants to express it with the perfect present… The first gift I ever gave out of romantic love, I gave to my wife. This sounds like a line, but it’s true. She wasn’t my wife then, and my status as a gift virgin wasn’t due to any great virtue on my part, but rather to the fact that all of my previous relationship ended so precipitously as to make the issue of gifts irrelevant. And while successfully starving to death any number of romantic entanglements in my early 20s no doubt saved me quiet a lot of money.

“It was December 1992, and I was walking home in the wintry cold. Christmas was around the corner, and I had no idea what I was going to give my girlfriend. We’d been together six months, which was two months longer than my most enduring previous relationship. And as it seemed to me that we were going to remain together well past Christmas, I was faced with the fearsome prospect of finding a gift that would both satisfy and surprise her…

“A shoulder bag? A pair of red boots? A leather-bound edition of To the Lighthouse? I saw it, a simple necklace made of disks of polished jade. Standing in that little shop, I had a simple but inspiring vision of those round circles of dark green lying flat against Aleksandra’s pale white skin.

‘What I remember is Aleksandra’s smile. I helped her to put the necklace on and stood behind her as she admired it in the mirror. When she turned from the mirror, she stepped into my arms.

“One night last summer as we were dressing for dinner, I looked across the bedroom and saw her wearing the jade necklace that I’d given her 10 years ago.

“’Remember this?’ she asked, smiling.

“How could I not remember it? Some gifts are vessels, carrying more than we imagine when we give them.”

Little things mean a lot.