Celebration

As in previous years, I celebrated the last day of the Christmas season yesterday, the Feast of the Three Kings, by finally opening my holiday gifts, and sharing them with my relatives and household members.

Some folks still mark the Feast on the traditional date, Jan. 6, the 12th day after Christmas, when the three Wise Men visited the Baby Jesus. Others, myself included, follow the newer observance, which makes the Epiphany a moveable feast marked on the first Sunday after New Year’s Day.  

I reserved some stuff as gifts to be opened by the toddler in our household. She was born on the moveable Epiphany day itself, three years ago on Jan. 3 as COVID-19 was rampaging like a turbocharged Grim Reaper across the planet.

Her mother refused to name the girl Epifania or Covida (a popular name at the time for newborn girls, believe it or not, according to health officials; Pinoys truly love laughing even in the depths of tragedy). The mother joked that she didn’t want her daughter to be bullied in school because of her name.

During the pandemic, as infections and deaths surged out of control and the lockdowns devastated livelihoods, driving up the suicide rate, the mood in many households was funereal. I stopped singing or playing any musical instrument – first in sympathy with neighbors who might be going through COVID ordeal, and later because of my personal tragedy.

On the eves to welcome 2021 and 2022, with millions dead of COVID worldwide, merriment seemed almost obscene.

Others, however, thought the noise and lights were all the more needed to drive away the vile spirit that brought the Wuhan virus, and to make the incoming year a better, healthier one. So the noise and fireworks were still there on the eves of 2021 and 2022, though considerably more muted,  but still shooing away bad luck and celebrating the miracle of survival. There was some improvement on the eve of 2023.

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This time, the noise and lights were back on New Year’s Eve – not quite with a vengeance, since fewer people now dare to use the anaconda-sized coils of firecrackers whose blasts left craters on the pavement and set off car alarms, which were hugely popular in holidays past. But this time the noise was louder and the revelry started earlier and lasted longer than in the previous New Year’s Eve.

As of the traditional Epiphany day last Saturday, the Department of Health said its tally of fireworks-related injuries from Dec. 21, 2023 to Jan. 5 this year was 50 percent higher than in the same period in the previous holiday.

The Philippine National Police attributed the intensified revelry (and surge in injuries) to the online sale of pyrotechnic devices.

Whether purchased online or from brick-and-mortar outlets, however, the extent of the revelry was a good indication of economic recovery, considering the prices of pyrotechnics. For many households, there must have been genuine reason for merriment.

Malls are seeing the unrelenting Pinoy love for boisterous celebration of the New Year, and feeding the growing demand. Several have started offering New Year’s Eve countdowns similar to the ball drop in New York City’s Times Square, of course featuring dazzling fireworks. A total fireworks ban is going to be a hard sell in this country.

And like in Times Square, New Year’s Eve is also becoming date night for younger Pinoys, with the stroke of midnight a moment for kissing.

The fireworks left a dense haze in Metro Manila. My dogs and cats hated the noise and smoke; the seven-month-old puppy could not be coaxed even with food to leave the hiding place she found in a remote, dark corner of the kitchen.

Still, it felt good to see the return of the exuberant revelry that nearly disappeared during the New Year’s Eves of 2021 and 2022.

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Pre-pandemic, my favorite joking response when someone greeted me a merry Christmas was, lilipas din ’yan – that, too, shall pass.

This year is wasn’t a complete joke; for the first time in my life, I didn’t have Media Noche.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion that comes with age, or I was simply too lazy to cook. Or perhaps because with my partner who loved to eat gone, I had no more reason to stay up till midnight for a celebratory meal. I normally don’t even take supper.

The household members celebrated with food, karaoke, dancing and vuvuzela noise with my mother at her house. I stayed home with the dogs and cats, all hiding from the noise and toxic fireworks fumes.

For the first time ever, I opted to spend New Year’s Eve alone, just to find out what it would be like. Bad idea; New Year’s Eve is meant to be celebrated with the rest of humanity.

At 11:30 the revelry noise intensified, so I took a break from watching K-drama on Netflix and went out to watch the fireworks.

As the clock struck 12, I missed giving everyone around me a big hug, blowing the vuvuzela and shouting at the top of my lungs, “Happy New Yeeeaar!”

There’s a reason people celebrate New Year’s Eve together, with bright lights and noisy merriment. I swore that next New Year’s Eve, I will be celebrating with human companions again, and eating Media Noche even if the food keeps me awake until 4 a.m.

 The New Year’s Eve just past taught me that human company is like air; you realize how valuable it is when it’s no longer there.