Then And Now

Soundscapes

Time has a way of eternally looping us in the same configurations. What has been before will be again. - Tanya Tagaq

The morning star had winked its tired eye. The alarm from my Motorola phone roused me up. I lay in bed for a few moments in the gray light of dawn, orienting myself to the day at hand.

What's on today's to-do list? Check my email? Search for new amigurumi patterns? Edit my upcoming blog?

As the sun rose, it lit up my room, exposing the corner for corners and the door for a door. I rose to look about me. It was a bitingly clear day.

Ah, yes. First, chamomile tea.

Then feed the blue jays and robins. The feeders must be empty, especially now that a renegade raccoon had come at night to feed on leftover millet.

And the deck floor - such a hot mess! Lilac florets and empty seed husks all over. It looked like it was auditioning for an episode of porches gone wild.

So I began sweeping up with my deluxe, rubber bristles broom. I liked its metal handle with comfort grip. It was extra wide for larger areas but ergonomic enough that it could grab dirt from hard-to-reach spots.

In consonance, I heard the sound of birds. Sounds of the city, sounds of the day, talkative young ones on their way to the bus stop. 

In my mind, I heard the sound of voices coming from a new generation.

My precious First Daughter softly intoning, Mum, did you see the chocolate almonds I got for you? I know it's your favorite.

Second Daughter, ever-attentive to my needs, sniffing my infuser. Umm... Tahitian vanilla. Infuser working all right for you, Mum? 

The sweet voice from my beautiful First Granddaughter asking, Grandma, can we play with LPSes? 

The excited voice from our Dirty Dawgs sports player par excellence urging Lolo, Wanna catch ball?

Our precocious Second Granddaughter telling Jach (that's how she calls Lolo), I have an idea. Let's make fancy drinks. You have strawberries and mint, Grandma? - and then purring, I love this family.

Many sounds, all tangled up. 

All of them running together.

Then and now, combined, fused. 

In a go-round. 

Delectable soundscapes of my life.

Celebration of Spring Equinox

From The Archives 

First Daughter wrote this on my birthday last year.

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Today, March 21st, my mother turns 75 years old. 

March 21 is often the first day of spring, when the vernal equinox occurs in the Northern Hemisphere. “The vernal equinox marks the moment the sun crosses the celestial equator.” Doesn’t that sound grand? It’s the date that day and night are roughly the same length of time. Sunlight equals moonlight.

It's a memorable day to herald my mother's birth - to pause, reflect, and celebrate.

Nap before First Daughter's graduation,
 Med School. Tucson, 1999

She has always looked at least 20 years younger than her age. When I was younger, people would mistake us for sisters. And it's not just in appearance that she is young. The saying 'young at heart' truly embodies her.

She regaled me with stories of her childhood and of her life in the Philippines. I can imagine a young tomboy version of my mom walking between the rice fields in the province, balancing precariously heel to toe on the raised borders. I can picture her young brothers swinging joyously on the potted plants hanging from their balcony. My mom was supposed to be babysitting them, but instead she sat obliviously reading a book. With her stories, she instilled in me family history and Filipino identity.

Gahanna Flea Market, 2018

                                 

At three years, carrying a doll against my will (above right)

She is artistic and creative - painter, potter, artist, writer, crocheter, crafter, and amigurumi creator extraordinaire.

She has a flare and sense of style all her own.

"Supermodel" - really? Photo, V.E.V. Acadia National Park, 2017

New Year's Eve, 2020

 Her style consists of vibrant colors, acrylic heels with glitter, and clashing prints. Vernal equinox, remember? 

I was always impressed that she earned a Masters in English and Comparative Literature - especially because English was not her first language.

She has three grandchildren who adore her. She is aptly named Adoracion. One of her granddaughters is named in her honor.

She has a giddy laugh that makes everyone around her smile and laugh too. However, her easy laughter makes her the least likely to win the “Try Not to Laugh Challenge”. Her own grandchildren don’t want her on their team!

She has a generous heart. Her six brothers used to say that her wallet was too stuffed and they would “help her out to make it lighter”. She frequently gave me her jewelry, clothes, and shoes if I liked them. She could never say no to our golden retriever’s begging, and slipped him morsels under the dinner table. She underprices her crafts, and sometimes gives them away freely to pleading children. 

Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad Trip. Photo, I.T.V. 2019

She always has, and still does, possess these very special traits and quirks that make her uniquely her. Earlier she wrote that she was pressing pause to reflect on the before. I say that the celebration is not just of before, but of now, of today. It is spring!

Happy birthday, Mom! 🤍

AVH

03.21.2020

Happy Birthday, 'Tong!

Today is my father's birthday. Mine being the day after, his standard joke was that he was only a year older than I. The consensus claim from Mum and my brothers, however, was that I had held on because I didn't want to share birthdays.

Truth, I'd feel honored, Dadee, if we do.

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To the best spoiler who convinced Mum that I could join the Girl Scouts,

The most effective spider hunter,

The cheapest handy man who could construct a slide and swing from wood scraps and galvanized iron,

The one who held my hands across the street to walk to St. Mark's,

Dadee at 93 years, celebrates his especial day. Manila, March 20, 2012

And as I've just lately found out, the one who bought a used white Opel Caravan (patched with masking tape to cover up a rusty hole on its side) for the sole purpose of my being fetched home from the University --- 

Thanks for sharing your DNA.

Now we’re both amazing.

I will always set aside this day

to remember and learn from your life

and your love for me.

Dad at 87 years old. Manila, 2006

Family Chatter

Soundscapes

You are born into your family and your family is born into you.

No returns. No exchanges. - Elizabeth Berg

I wish you could see this house full to the brim. 

The wood floors, waxed shiny from melted candle drippings and a coconut husk, were lopsided. Through the slatted floor of the kitchen and dining area, one could see Youngest Brother's itik and Aling Nena's rooster underneath prancing around for rice crumbs. 

Auntie Tessie and Ditche were doing an accounting of house rentals with Dadee around Lolo Gorio's old desk. Brothers and dogs had spilled out into the living room, running in and out of the house making the floors creak and the doors bang.

Out front, Eldest and Second Brothers had already formed groups with neighborhood kids to play luksong tinik (literally 'jump the thorns'). This was a game where one group stacked their hands and feet on top of each other, forming tinik or thorns while players from the opposing team attempted to jump over them without touching the hurdle. 

The younger ones preferred to play taguan, the local version of hide-and-seek. Wedging oneself in the tightest nooks and crannies to hide had almost become a skill in itself for some of them.

The sound of shrieking and laughter was enticing.

From cousin Henry and Didi dropping a colored marble each into holes of the sungka (the latter like mancala where small stones, beans, or seeds were placed in rows of holes or pits in the earth with the objective of capturing all or some set of the opponent's pieces).

From aunts sharing the latest gossip with Fat Mother. Their chitchat breaking out, questions overlapping each other. Voltaire pretending to listen in, but just waiting to snatch a piece of pandesal from an unwary hand.

From Mum yelling at the distant sound of Third and Fifth Brothers fighting from the back room.

From all of them together.

Family and Four Dogs. Foreground: Mighty (in front of Erin). Front: Erin, Dad with Snoopy, Mum, Rey, Dan with Snooky. Back: Jill, Eddie with Bonita, Noli. Missing: Voltaire and Tisoy. A family picture minus our only star, of course, taken at home specially gathered to send you this souvenir. - Pic inscription from Mum. Photo: First Brother. Manila, 1973

One family. 

Bonded for life, no matter where you rest your head. 

We had jokingly assessed our house value to be at half price. Worth "two for five," which has been its address to this day. But with its occupants and their chatter, I think the house value just appreciated.

Because it was alive.

(To be continued)

Sweeping Up

Soundscapes

Life is about rhythm. - Mickey Hart

The piercing call of the rooster told me that it was dawn, even though it felt like I had only just fallen asleep. 

I yawned and stretched out of bed, watching the light pattern the walls, my eyes adjusting in the fuzziness of early morning. The last few stars winked. A pale glow had pushed night toward the other side of the city. The scene was thrillingly beautiful. All signaled the arrival of day.

Especially the sound of Aling Maria sweeping up with a walis tingting (literally a broomstick made from coconut midribs).

The broom was only around three feet high, so she was hunched over as she scoured the patch of grass by her house and the crannies of her narrow cement walk for any stray pieces of blown-over kalachuchi petals or any other crumpled bits. It was her morning routine. 

Sometimes she would stop to take in the scene, her face relaxed, before swiveling back to her task. Her old broom seemed to know the corners. 

I was intrigued by how this simple act of housekeeping could actually echo the rhythm of life. A movement outward between here and there, an unfolding. 

It was like being born over each night, the same process repeated. Finding oneself, losing oneself, finding oneself again.

It made me think how everything was linked. The world in motion around the sun. Everything returning. Every act, however small, causing a thousand repercussions.

(To be continued)

Sunrise Song

Soundscapes

Life offers choices allowing us to discover a spray of overpowering colors, and hear overwhelming new sounds, and smell the intense fragrances of nature. - Erik Pevernagie

It’s almost spring.

It’s so close. I can smell it.

If you are under layers of snow or the day looks dreary and exhausting or your toes are cold and you need some fuzzy socks, no worries.

This too shall pass.

In the meantime, let me entertain you on this happy, sort-of bright day by sharing with you some delightful soundscapes of my life, then and now.

This one started my day.

The crowing of a rooster. 

Growing up, I remember always waking up to Aling Nena's tandang cackling at the break of dawn. I could picture the rooster craning his neck, opening his bill and squawking to the cadence of first light.

Oftentimes, I would just stay in bed. 

I'd wait and listen to sounds my brothers made as they slowly stirred, the sounds Nupling or Tisoy made as they stepped carefully through my lingering dreams and out the other side to the polished wood floor and cold window.

Sometimes I would wait so long I became unsure if I were asleep or awake, snuggled under my colorful Bontok handwoven blanket. The rooster's deep, loud babble was comforting.


It filled my soundscape with a promise.

The assurance that morning had broken.

(To be continued)