Long distance relationships are difficult, but nowadays,
technology makes it somewhat bearable. Cellphones and computers allow friends,
families or lovers to chat and see each other at any time of day or night, and
in the privacy of their own rooms, or even cars (Just don’t drive and text). And while we pay for Internet or cellphone
service, connecting to another anywhere in the globe is actually free with
Facetime, Viber, Hangout or Skype.
In the early 1970’s, when John was courting me (in those
days, men courted women and we never said
“when WE were courting …”), John’s mother considered me a bad influence
because I was encouraging him to work as a photographer, which meant that he
was not paying attention to the family business. To separate us, she sent him
off to Iloilo to stay with his sister. Now, in those days, there was no
Internet, email or Skype, there were no cellphones or even pagers, and public
coin-operated phones were just for local calls. Long distance calls could be done if one had a landline at home (we didn't) or would have to be done at the telephone company's premises. Mailed letters took a long
time, so any messages that needed to be rushed were sent by telegrams.
My family was poor and we did not have a phone at home. If
John wanted to call me, he would have to call my aunt’s house, which was next
door, and wait for someone, usually my aunt’s maid or houseboy (then called
servants) to call me and for me to rush to my aunt’s house. With cousins
practically eavesdropping, there was no chance for John and I to say sweet
nothings to each other. Besides, in those days, telephones had party-lines,
meaning, two phone owners, usually neighbors, took turns in using one phone
line. As a matter of phone courtesy, when one lifts the handset and hears
someone talking, that person must put the phone down gently, and wait. If
you’re the one using the phone, sometimes, it meant hearing that handset being
lifted and put down over and over again, and when the other party becomes
impatient, they say “Hello, party line, puede ba ako naman (may I have my
turn?) There was no way to stay on the
phone a long time to make “telebabad” (staying too long on the phone).
It was too embarrassing to use my aunt’s phone to call long
distance, so for calls that I would have to initiate, I would go to the
Philippine Long Distance Company office in Port Area, near the foot of Jones
Bridge (two jeepney rides or approximately five kilometers from Paranaque,
where I lived). There were booths there,
and callers were guaranteed not only soundproofed privacy, but also no party
lines waiting on the wing for me to finish my call. But long distance calls
were expensive, and I did not have the money to make such calls.
Before he left for Iloilo, and anticipating the difficulty
of keeping in touch, John agreed to my romantic suggestion to connect somehow
by gazing at the sky and looking at a row of three stars (Orion’s belt) at the same time
every night at exactly 7:00PM. We had no cellphones or Internet, it is true,
but what we had was a direct connection, soul-to-soul through the stars, it was
private, and it was free. Who needs Skype?
John eventually came back to Manila. We set up Adphoto, got
married, and raised our own children. We’re still together, so obviously the
stars worked. Once in a while, through the more than 40 years since the 1970’s,
when John and I look up at darker provincial skies (disappointingly, Metro
Manila no longer offers a clear view of the night sky), we give thanks that
when we did not have Skype, we had the stars.
