Oscar S. Moreno

05/09/2026

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 “𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐨” 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡, 𝐈 𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

When I was still a young boy in Balingasag, foreigners were people we mostly saw only in the movies.

And like many Filipinos then, we had the habit of calling practically any Caucasian “Amerikano” or “Amerikana”—whether the person was actually American, British, German, or from somewhere else.

To us children, basta puti ug foreigner-looking, Amerikano na dayon.

One weekend morning, some friends and I noticed a crowd of young boys gathered around Tio Gorio Pineda’s barbershop in the poblacion.

Naturally, we became curious.

Inside was a Caucasian gentleman having his haircut—and I believe he was even having his head shaved.

I had never seen anything like it.

I remember staring at his complexion, his size, and especially that shaved head. At that age, everything about him seemed unusual to us.

More boys gathered. We whispered among ourselves and watched.

Apparently, we became a little too curious.

Suddenly, the gentleman stood up from the barber’s chair, still wearing the cape.

We panicked.

Everybody ran.

Unfortunately for me, I slipped.

Instinctively, I used my left hand to break my fall—the same arm that had only recently recovered from a basketball injury.

And there it was.

Broken again.

The second fracture was even worse than the first.

Looking back now, I can only laugh at the memory.

My first “Amerikano” in real life.

My first instinct was to run.

And the result was my second broken arm.

Childhood curiosity can sometimes be expensive.

Kamo, naa moy childhood memory nga tungod sa sobra ka-curious, napahamak pud mo?

(Photo not original)

04/09/2026

04/09/2026

Kape, cassava, ug breaking news.

Basa basa sa ta ani nga balita…

04/09/2026

I grew up surrounded by two very large families.

On my father’s side, the Moreno family had ten siblings. My father was the second oldest. On my mother’s side, the Seriña family had nine siblings, with my mother as the third oldest.

So family gatherings were never small.

As children, we were taught that whenever we saw a Tio or Tia—whether at a birthday, a family gathering, or even along the street—we had to greet them properly and show our respect.

It became natural to us.

But looking back, what shaped me more was seeing how close our parents were to their own brothers and sisters.

They cared for one another.

They looked after each other’s children.

Our uncles and aunts were treated almost like another set of parents.

Now that I am already a grandfather, I often remind the younger members of our family about this.

Families do not remain close simply because they are related by blood.

Every generation has to make the effort to keep the relationships alive—to stay connected, to care, to respect, and to make the younger ones understand where they came from.

That is one tradition I hope we never lose.

The greatest family inheritance is not only what our elders leave behind, but the closeness they teach us to continue.

03/09/2026

“𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒖𝒏𝒑𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒂𝒓 𝒔𝒂 𝑪𝑶𝑽𝑰𝑫.”

I was given the topic to talk about the weight of leadership during the Xavier Youth Camp. Sharing to the students one of the most challenging and controversial decisions I had to make: not putting Cagayan de Oro under lockdown during COVID.

I taught them that ᴅᴇᴄɪꜱɪᴏɴꜱ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇᴠɪᴅᴇɴᴄᴇ-ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ.

03/09/2026

“𝐓𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕”

On August 29, I was invited to speak at the Xavier Youth Camp. I was given the topic to share about the ᴡᴇɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ. I told the students there about my journey in politics as well as during my time in the private sector. Where I was still working at Ayala.

I told them that it is not easy being a leader, you have to make hard decisions, and sometimes, those decisions are hard and unpopular.

That the job of a leader is not to please everyone. That is not leadership, that is entertainment.

03/09/2026

Every September in Manila, the first Christmas songs made me happy—and homesick at the same time.

I spent six years studying in Manila—two years in college and four years in the College of Law at San Beda.

The June-to-December semester always felt long.

Then September would come.

Even that early, shops in Manila would already begin playing Christmas songs.

And whenever I heard them, my mind would immediately go home to Balingasag.

I would think of my family, my friends, Simbang Gabi, Christmas Eve, New Year, and all the familiar things waiting for me back home.

It was a strange feeling.

The Christmas songs made me lonely because I missed home.

But they also made me excited because December suddenly felt a little closer.

Three months still seemed long, but at least I knew I was already on the way home.

Many years have passed, but September still does that to me.

The moment I hear the first Christmas songs, I remember those student days in Manila—and that young man counting the weeks until he could return to Balingasag.

Perhaps that is why Christmas music is powerful. Sometimes, one familiar song is enough to bring us home, even when we are still far away.

02/09/2026

Hallo halloo hallooo!💛

Salu-Salo Ta mga Higala dropped by Sip & Go in Nazareth and enjoyed a good cup of coffee while getting to know the story behind this local café. Always inspiring to see homegrown businesses creating spaces where people can connect, relax, and enjoy great coffee. Ato sila supportahan, mga higala.

Daghang Salamat!

Watch the full vlog soon. ☕🎥