MANUEL S. FAJARDO AND GABINA SUNGA FAJARDO



FOREWORD



Had I known several years ago that it would become important for me to write a history of our family I would have asked my grandfather, my parents and aunts and relatives how they lived in their days. I could also have asked my in-laws about their past lives and about Gabina’s childhood years. However, it is too late now for they are all gone. I have to rely on what I can still remember and what Gabina, my wife, has told me about herself. I feel it necessary, educationally and for sentimental reasons, that our children, grandchildren, etc. know how we and our parents lived in those days. This is the story about our past, Gabina’s and Manuel Fajardo’s . Most often, while in bed, she would relate to me what she could remember of her past. We are at the time of our lives when speaking of the future is no longer as important as speaking of the past. The future does not hold much for us anymore. I often talk to my brother Pol (Apolinario) on the phone and our conversation is mostly about our past. Through him, my mind has been refreshed of events long ago. His memory is uncanny. He can still remember all the names of our neighbors in the late twenties and in the thirties. Knowing that I can not derail the deepening shadows of life as it creeps continuously on its journey, I feel I must not delay this project any longer. Now is the time to pound on the keyboard. I am not a writer nor have I studied how to compose poems. This attempt shall be in my own stubborn way and style of speaking in plain English. Not to be omitted in this memoir are the past and present customs and traditions of our people. I am dedicating this story to our descendants and those who may be interested. If I am repetitious and punctuations are ignored or misplaced just know that it is me, in my real self. My thoughts may ramble at times, so I ask the reader to bear with me.