My mother, Rosalia, was wonderful. She had a lovely singing voice, an unforgettably boisterous laugh and was known all her life as a generous do-gooder.
Rosalia, also known as Nenita in her family, met my Dad while working as a ticket seller at the Tutuban Train Station. He was senior to her, with an age difference of 12 years. She had a boyfriend at that time it seems, a Spanish mestizo who worked at the electric power plant and played football.
Why she gravitated to my father, I don’t know. Dad must have presented an impressive picture. Back from the U.S. as a pensionado, he was already heading his own unit at the Engineering Island. Some of her friends found him proud and arrogant. Once, while my Dad was visiting my Mom at the train station, his car tires were punctured by the envious ones. (Whoa, he had a car?). They had planned to be married in HK but the war broke out. So they were married the San Miguel Pro-Cathedral in Manila (December 10, 1941).
My Mom had pedigree. Her father, Guillermo Sityar, was a Math professor at the University of Sto. Tomas with a family tradition in the military. Her mother, Teodorica Baltazar of Pasig, was related to the Poet Laureate Francisco Baltazar (Francisco Balagtas), author of the Filipino epic Florante at Laura. Guillermo and Teodorica had nine children, my mother was their 8th child. Only five of the eight survived their childhoods: Primitiva, Lucilo, Nicanor, Rosalia and the youngest, Miguel. The Sityars lived at the heart of Intramuros, 24 Real Street, nearby San Agustin Church and a stone’s throw away from the Spanish City Hall (the Ayuntamiento). Many years later, while working at the Department of Labor extension office at Real Street I often wondered where my mother grew up.
Guillermo died young of a heart attack at a young age and the family’s well-to-do status declined. Primitiva married early and moved to Cebu. My mother and her younger brother Miguel moved with her. It was a tough life, my mother recalled. Studying at La Imaculada Concepcion, my mother knew discrimination and abuse (many stories of wealthy classmates laughing at her darned socks or being kept away from theatrical roles). But she strove and did well at school, her many achievement medals are proof. She returned to Manila for her senior year in high school, graduating from the Sta. Rosa Convent (?) in Intramuros, Manila.
Her youthful experiences left their mark. My mother always warned me about the volatility of status and wealth and the importance of kindness (Remember that the people you step on your way up will greet you on your way down). She also firmly believed in the value of education (“Nobody can take that away from you”).
I first met my Mom as a college student, as she decided at age 37 to pursue a college degree (A.B. Philosophy) at the University Sto. Tomas. I always tell my siblings that my Mom was college educated, theirs wasn’t!
My Father's Gifts 
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