Ruth is a full-time writer. Foodie. Happy camper. Wanders a lot. Used to have the worst taste in men. A reformed swipe-a-holic. Reviving her blog after its death.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Love and praise
One of the many reasons why my friendship with Pat flourished was because we always shared keema with eggplant and jokes and conversations with Norman.
I remember the first time Norman ate at Mr. Kabab. Pat suggested that he try the shawarma plate because it’s the “safest” meal in the house.
Norman hated it. He said that it feels weird eating shawarma with rice. Pat feeling guilty about it offered his keema. That moment marked the beginning of the love affair between the three of us. Not a week passed without us marching into the Mediterranean resto in Quezon Avenue. As soon as we find a table, we immediately order our staple food without glancing at the menu.
Before we knew it, we were watching UAAP games together, trying out new food in different places, celebrating birthday dinners, hitting shuttlecocks, singing Eraserhead songs on the road, and talking endlessly about our love lives—or the lack of it.
Norman used to work in Makati so there would be times when we would meet up first before we go to Pat’s house to pick him up. On this drives, we would talk about what he’s going through and I would get exasperated with his stubbornness. But sometimes, he would just hop inside my car and sing me love songs and praise songs.
I think those two genres could perfectly summarize Norman. He’s one hell of a romantic. He’s the type who likes giving really grand gestures if he likes you. I don’t mean in an expensive way (although he does spend a lot for the girls he courts) but in a saccharine-filled kind of way.
He also loves God and is unafraid to show it. He and Pat would spend hours and hours discussing verses from the bible. He would don ridiculous costume so that he could teach values to the kids in a fun way. He would forego a gimik just so he could build a house through Gawad Kalinga.
He even quit his job to go on a missionary trip in Panama for the next two years. Starting next week, he would live with strangers, organize events for youths who can’t speak English and survive on a minimal stipend.
I’ve never been so proud! When he comes back, one of the first things I’ll make him do is to eat keema with eggplant and cheese at Mr. Kabab with Pat and I.
1 Comments:
Well written article.
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