A Story of Names

Manuel

The father who had not had much chance to make himself known to his children—especially the younger ones—when he died very young at 34, must have been a well-loved son, for his is the Spanish name for the Messiah, at least according to the Roman Catholic tradition. The Spanish influence cannot be more real and authentic than in their names. His brood—Bienvenido, Camilo, Rosita, Alberto, Zenaida, and Edmundo—was itself a bunch of Spanish sensibilities. Moreover, his is one fine selection in the brood of his father’s whose names are either biblical or committed to religiosity—Inocencio, Rosario, Clemente, etc.

 

 

Emma

The eldest child of the union between one Bikolano adventurer cum well-trained bachelor Emiliano and a conservative barrio chieftain’s daughter Margarita is one prime specie. Emma is one name whose realization has gone beyond its elegant meaning. Such name says there is no further need to elaborate on a life gracefully lived, on a life truly shared with one real, deep sense of God—one of grace, suffering, and glory. No other name can be more beautiful.

 

 

Emmanuel

As his mother Emma must have been serendipitously a conjoined name of her parents’ names [Emiliano & Margarita], so is Emmanuel [Emma and Manuel], whom we can say as the penultimate namesake of the Savior, primarily according to the wishes and aspirations of Emma and Manuel. This boy’s first name sounds well with his father’s name as the sound of [Emmanue]”l” segue-ways very smartly with the sound of “M”[anaog], perhaps a chic way of naming a junior for the father—perhaps to perpetuate the traits of the conscientious father in the eldest son. Aptly enough, this name proved fitting for a continued collaboration for life when after his father’s untimely death, his mother would always call on her eldest son “Awel”—a nickname no different from his father’s—in all her dire efforts to make ends meet, to bring up the lot, carry crosses, and other similar stories.

 

 

Neil Romano

The year Neil Armstrong walked on the moon, the couple was graced with the second boy. There was no other way but to perpetuate a historic milestone—global scale at that. “Romano” must have been added as a perfect counterpart for the astronaut’s “strong arms,” reflecting the father’s penchant for celebrity or fixation for virility and the mother’s religious sensibility, or the couple’s sense of history. Such name speaks well for a fine young man whose adventurous spirit brought him to places. And possibilities.

 

 

Alex Apolinario

A third son spells fulfillment not just for the father whose name will be perpetuated for life, but also for the woman who so desires and loves her husband. The couple’s keen sense of history accounts for the Apolinario—as the boy shares his birthday with that of the Filipino paralytic Apolinario Mabini. The two names spell the yin-yang nature of things—one is as courageous as the foreign conqueror Alex[ander], the other is as meek as it sounds and as it suggests. Stark reality always features the two sides of things—hot and cold, black and white, every time. Every time.

 

 

Clemente

For the couple, a fourth boy can be something—ideally someone that—by still being a boy—rather breaks the monotony. It validates finally that this couple’s tribe—so to speak—must be so prolific. The name given to this wild card was something to gratify God, as in the deep sense of gratitude. Or the name of the father’s father must be something to reckon with. The serenity, composure, and diligence epitomized by the grandfather is one rather worth emulating—or at least, worth perpetuating. Not to mention that stories had it—that Emma was Clemente’s “favorite” daughter in-law—whatever this means, such fondness can just be a mere story to us, a classic account whose validity we cannot overstate—but only witness.

 

 

Rosario

God must have recognized the couple’s gratitude in Clemente, and thus magically responded it through an equally beautiful gift—the first and the sole daughter who was named after the father’s mother. After four sons, a jewel has come to shine in Rosario, a much-loved replication of an equally meek, graceful, and humble existence. This flower among the thorns glows at least in the heart of the mother who has continually hoped for something better. Rosario delineates such gift, such blessing, such grace.

 

 

Niño

The subdued warrior spirit in the father and his genes must have been a potent force to have the fifth boy in the brood. In fact, the father’s and mother’s genes are male-dominated. Manuel’s father Clemente was a diligent farmer who quietly toiled the lands but enchanted one of the finest Cepe girls in a flourishing barrio in Iriga after the First World War. With her wife Rosario, they had five sons and two daughters. The mother’s father was a bold, well-bred mestizo who rather braved to leave an idyllic Mayon countryside in Pioduran to explore the other beauties of the region, and was enchanted by the fineness of one Filipino-Chinese politico’s daughter who lived in a flourishing coastline empire by the San Miguel Bay. They had four sons and two daughters. The male hormone is potent in both sides. Niño only spells one thing—the male specie lives on—adventurous, courageous, strong-willed, and youthful as ever, forever.

 

 

What more could Emma and Manuel ask for? They asked Divine Providence to form a basketball team—five players and a muse. So they were given. Theirs is indeed such a blessed union—one that entailed joy because it is gifted; one that entailed suffering because it is blessed. Their names speak of God, and the couple’s constant commitment to share their sense of humankind [read: human’s kind] and God’s kindness and greatness.

 

 

Great names, great lives.