Now Is The Time

 Here's To 2023!

New is the year.

New are the hopes.

New is the resolution.

New are the spirits.

And new are my warm wishes just for you all.

Have a blessed, promising, and fulfilling New Year!

Happy Birthday, Jesus

Christmases Past

I didn't expect it.

That this Christmas Eve was to be the low point of my world.

An antarctic of the spirit.

It did not seem like a day to rejoice in a birth that had promised the world a new path to the Lord. I held my puppet close to my heart, thinking, You don't get to sing 'Happy Birthday, Jesus' tonight.

You see, the special music we had been rehearsing for had been pre-empted from the printed copy of the Christmas Eve service.

Despondently slumped onto my seat, I saw behind me a gray sky, as if all the world had suddenly gone black and white, with no color at all.

For a long time, I sat, watching the clouds and the stars and the white Christmas lights, all jumbled up against the wet windowpane so that after a while there was no way to tell which were the real stars and which were fake.

Even when we got word in the course of the service that we could do the offertory (though not officially announced on the printed bulletin), what difference did that make?

I was in despair. Night had fallen onto my heart.

On cue for the finale, we lit a candle as together, we and the congregation sang the reprise, Happy Birthday, Jesus. 

But why did the room stay depressingly gray?

I couldn't help being choked in tears. It was the saddest birthday song sung on a night that had seemed moonless.

Silent.

Blacker than ever.

But wait... It wasn't about me or anybody else. It was about a baby boy. The reason for the season. 

So, even now, though haunted by the memory, my heart sings.

Happy birthday, Jesus!

 

Bethlehem Marketplace

Christmases Past

It was like no landscape I'd ever seen before. I felt as if I had traveled into the city of Bethlehem.

Jesus' birthplace.

The City of David. 

It was our church's annual Christmas extravaganza where one could roam and experience the sights and sounds of a Bethlehem Marketplace, interact with people in the Bible ages, and witness a nativity scene (all with characters portrayed by congregation members).

The walls of the educational building had been converted to look like the fortified walls of an old Jewish city while the corridor and the larger rooms were now occupied by workshops and arched windows. Some of the shops were decked with brightly colored awning, separated only by paint color and awning designs.

So picturesque. Resembling a maze.

Looking in, one could see familiar faces attired to look like people in old Jerusalem.

Men were sitting cross-legged on the floor, hard at work making carved rosaries from olive wood. The women sat on low pieces of wood, their bare feet visible outside their dress. Mat baskets and large wooden bowls were on the ground.

A carpenter's shop had been constructed on a makeshift 'hillside,' the front being filled in, except the door, with cardboard 'masonry.' The door looked like it might have been made by one of Noah's carpenters, so roughly was it put together. On its ceiling were reed-stalks which sadly needed repair. 

Outside, a woman with a child astride her shoulder, her forehead and neck bright with a woven scarf, was peddling dates and olives while a miserable-looking beggar pleaded, Alms, alms for the poor.

Turning up one of the short side lanes was the 'main street' where houses extended a short way to the lane, with stairs outside. 

Some women were sitting, grinding corn. An elderly lady was polishing silverware, sometimes shushing rambling children who were spinning dreidels.

Around the corner, exposed light bulbs strung under tents lent a festive atmosphere. 

Up front was my designated place with the children, among them Eldest and Second Daughters. As spectators arrived, I would lead the children to form a double circle, hands joined together and we walked, leaped, hopped, and jumped to the tune of hava nagila. We would step aside only temporarily to give way to a Roman soldier castigating a rebel with a whip. 

The cramped space sometimes would turn positively claustrophobic with the many spectators now squeezing into it.

And then, hush.

Outside, in a stable were Mary and Joseph with baby Jesus in a manger (congregation members with the youngest born baby). Live sheep were grazing nearby.

O litlle town of Bethlehem

In thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

My Holiday, My Delight

Holiday Hoopla

Gahanna Lincoln High School: December 10, 2022

I hadn't planned on writing about yesterday's Holiday Hoopla craft show at the Gahanna High School, but the memories are just too precious to not be verbalized.

A $1 TIP

For the first time, I received a $1 tip from a young boy. With a smile on his face, when he handed me his $10 bill to pay for his little toy, he said, Keep the change. Wowie!

SHE LIKED MY BRAND?

One of the high school girls came with a camera and asked me if I had a business card. Maybe she wanted to promote my table? She said, I like your brand.

A BARGAINING SENORA: AY-YAY-YAY!

A mature Colombian lady came back. She wanted another flor keychain. Unfortunately that item was sold out. She settled for three other keychains. Wanted a discount. No puede, Senora. I did scoop candy canes to add to each of her three bags of purchases.

NO CALORIE PLATE SETS

I'd never forget the squeals of delight and gushing of two Hispanic ladies. They would point to each item on the table and say, So cute! Apparently, they were convinced that the plate sets had no calories at all (my promotion sale line) and picked up several. The sushi and ramen plate were best-sellers.

BAO IS IN!

A girl from the Gahanna high school who had come to the St. Matthew's craft sale in the past month (?) told me that she had crocheted a large bao. When I realized that bao was an in thing, I decided to crochet a smaller bao and copy her lead. She did come - and bought my bao keychain and other stuff.

STAR WARS and POKEMON

Star Wars was still popular, I realized. The Ewoks were in demand. One of the vendors came and told me, You have another Ewok? I saw someone carrying one. Yes, I had several! Even "old" BB8 who never got sold in the past was bought. Time to make more Star Wars thingies! Ditto on Pikachu, Eevie, and company.

DEMON SLAYERS, VERY CURRENT!

And yes, Nezuko and Tanjiro were a big seller! I had only one of each and am planning on making several for next time. Hopefully, they'd still be in vogue.

BONNET BABIES

I'm realizing that the best promotion for my stuff had been the kids who had bought items from me and were carrying their dollies around. Folks saw them and had come to ask for the same exact item. One lady (I think she was a vendor) said, I saw a kid clutching to her chest a little baby in a bassinet. You have some of that left? 

Yes, I did. All sold out at the end of the show.

NATIVITY SET

And yes, my farmhouse style full Nativity set was bought by one of the members of the Peace church. Another lady who came and saw it told me that she had bought a Nativity set from me at a past Creekside show.

SUNDRY BUYERS

The high school photographer came earlier to take a picture of my table. When he came back later, he said, I'm here to buy something for myself. He got a Minion and a keychain. I think he was the one who tried to help your Pa with our finicky Square card reader (turned out, as your Pa discovered later, that it was my phone that had been at fault?)

At least two women came back toward the closing of the sale to pick up three items each. They knew exactly which ones they wanted. 

A vendor to the right and left of me each bought an item, too! One wanted a mermaid that I had to search for in my box supply.

ADORABLE LITTLE CROSBY

And my most-favorite customer of all? 

Little Crosby, son of one of the teachers in charge of the show. When he saw my Nativity Set, he said, They have one of those for the waffle (raffle). As it turned out, he was the one for whom the Spiderman character was reserved in their past show in the spring. He came back again and again to either just look, get candy cane, or buy. 

I remember he got the Zombie plant eater, sleeping dog, keychain, hamburger plate, maybe another one. I gave him a Star Wars character for free (for being my Number One fan, as I had discerned from the number of times he had come by). At the end, he said, he wanted to buy one more, but it was packing time.

Best of all? I love the smiles of those who came to just look, buy, or just passed by. 

So, of course, I'd like to continue to do the shows. Always, the delight I get back is far more precious than my dollar loot.  

ACKNOWLEDGMENT

My special thanks to Jach, my partner, steady companion in all my craft endeavors, and runner. 

Also to Iris who gave me the tip on keychains (best sellers, as well), lent me her Square and who, with Ali had always given me encouraging words. 

And how about Isela and Alek who had given me tips on "in" things? (Demon Slayers, of course!) By the way, they each have asked for a cut if the characters got sold, they told me. He-he.

Singing Christmas Tree

Christmases Past

The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.

 - Buddy, Elf movie

I was all ears when choir director Mang Berting made the announcement.

Our church choir was participating in the Singing Christmas Tree event that December.

A singing what?!

Never heard.

As it turned out, such a tree was actually a giant, pyramidal structure that emulated the shape of a yule tree. Its branches consisted of platforms on which singers would stand. Guard rails and banisters would be decorated with tinsel and lights.

I was excited, hoping to get a spot on one of the topmost "branches" of the tree. 

That night, high up on an upper branch with the altos, I began harmonizing with about 100 other voices.

Flooding the night air with our warbling of The First Noel, I felt like I had become part of something greater than each of us.

Making music together singing favorite carols such as Joy to the World, Carol of the Bells, and Little Drummer Boy changed us from a mere a collection of individuals into a unified choral ensemble.

And so I sang and bellowed, singing loud for all to hear.

Sing, indeed, with shoulders back, and head up 

So that song might go to the roof and beyond to the sky.

Singing and singing, 

Until life and all things living are become a song.*

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 * Richard Llewellyn

Many Faces Of First Grandson

On Being A Teen

No longer a tween, how exciting that you're turning 13!

Has it really been that long? The milestones in life, how fast they do come.

No home decor is complete without dog hair.

From christening, to toddler fun, school, and today - a birthday that's a big deal because you are finally a teenager.

So, I thought it might be fun to review some of your many faces through the years.

Now that you’re officially a teenager, I really hope that you don’t turn into this person who never smiles, never gets out of their room...

Cheetos limit reached. Start sleep cycle.

 

Never says anything, and never wears anything other than black.

Sandy toes and a sun-kissed nose

Have fun out in the sun.

Tip for eating outside in summer: sand is delish. Avoid fruits and nuts. You are what you eat.

That awkward moment when you're in deep thought,
then realize you're staring directly at someone

Plus, I can now let you in on a secret. 

Expect plenty of drama and zits at all the wrong times.

 

 

Finally, to the coolest 13-year-old this side of the planet, a very happy birthday!

Think about it: today you have been in this world for approximately 4,745 days. 

That’s a lot of days. 

This deserves a rockin’ party!

I think sometimes when you need attention, you can wear sunglasses and people are like, 'Who is that?'

Photos taken from Ohana yearly calendar compiled by PDH. 2011-2022

May your thirteenth year in this world

 bring you some of the most memorable moments of your life!  

 

 

Karoling Tayo!

Christmases Past

The light in a child’s eyes is all it takes to make Christmas a magical time of year. - Anonymous

The only thing that I love more than summer? More than halo-halo and banana-Q on a stick?

Christmas.

That wonderful time of year when you and the weather put a sweater on. 

When you can stick your nose in the air and smell puto bumbong at Misa de Gallo.  

When on the first cold December night, Christmas lights are lit. 

I remember my heart racing, looking at how the whole neighborhood was illuminated with lights that looked like a hedge of stars over the city. A forest of foil dangly things and paper chains and large crepe-paper balls adorned the streets. Paper lanterns on window fronts glowed with an inner fire.

Beautiful.

And I knew exactly what my friends and I would say after dinner was over, Karoling tayo! (Let's go caroling!) 

Some of us had already taken a strip of parchment paper and measured it across our musical instrument of choice - a plastic comb. You hummed across it to produce a shrill, harmonica-like tune while others bellowed the words, a few of them incorrectly. 

Joy to the World, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King;

Let every heart prepare Him broom...

Ned was giving instructions, Let's go to the Anchetas first! 

Then the Araujos, Lebi piped in. 

We were in agreement. They always gave us ten centavos for our piddly singing, not the usual measly singko coin. 

We couldn't wait to finish our short round of caroling on Fountain Street to count our loot and afterward buy titina candy and marshmallows from Aling Deling's sari-sari store. 

Christmas was a charmed time in my neighborhood. It was in the air, long before it came with our resonant rendition invoking a reindeer whose image was foreign to us. 

All op da ader reindeers

Used to laugh and call him names

(Like Pinocchio).

It was a time of quivering expectancy when we sang to the stars so that even the moon could hear us and bells rang with Christmas joy.

Jingel bels!

Room With A View

Solitary Spaces

I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once. - Jennifer Yane

Today, I woke up to cold.

Yes.

Chilly. Crisp. Brisk. Sweater weather.

Seated on my thrifted rocking chair, facing the glass walls that looked onto the deck, I was waiting for blessings that weren’t in disguise.

But I was content. This was one of my favorite solitary spots in the house.

My room with a view.

Looking out, I could see lilac petals that had fallen, rushing along the slatted floor; then stopping, victims of the sporadic wind.

Through the open window, I could hear nothing behind me but the singing of chickadees and the shlush of the freshening breeze across the maple tree.

A red robin darted between its limbs, cutting through the shaft of the dimming sunlight. Meanwhile, a single bird flew by at eye level, then shot straight up to the neighbor's treetops. 

On the deck's corner post, a baby pigeon looked like it had fallen asleep on its perch. Then, it opened one eye, identified me as relatively harmless and closed it again.

Close by, an ugly squirrel glared at me indignantly between the English ivy covering the deck railing. Why did I have shush him every time he raided the birdseeds off the feeders? 

Farther on, darting from behind the neighbor's wood pile, I saw a chubby jack rabbit leisurely hopping up August's branch (the tree so-named by Second Granddaughter because it had sprouted on her birth month).

But sad to say, I've missed seeing our resident chipmunk Chip emerge from underneath his reclaimed home underneath the old sandbox.

Dark clouds were now hanging low and the wind was beginning to blow in gusts. Soon, it would rain. Perhaps, an early snowfall?

It was turning out to be in fact a thoroughly unpleasant afternoon, cold and damp and cheerless and better spent indoors.

So, what to do? 

Take in this moment and make it special.

Lose my way, find my soul.

One room view at a time.

Where The Ducks Are

Solitary Spaces

Have you ever walked into, or just seen, a place and it seemed like home?

That was how I felt when I first came upon this solitary scene, somewhere on one of the streets perpendicular to Cactus Street near the college.

After lunch at Taco Bell or Jack in the Box, I found it somehow soothing to just stop by this unknown spot before I went back to work at the college.

It was like being home on my Little House on the Prairie.

As soon as I parked, I would spot its resident dog sprawled on the back porch, drowsy in the midday sun. He would open his eyes, his ears twitching. But seeing it was just me, he would close his eyes again and exhale heartily.

On top of the deck railing, a tabby cat sat like a stone sentry, its slightly raised fur a textured gauge of the wind when it picked up. I would wait for it to begin its leisurely grooming ritual to assure myself that it wasn't just the statue of a cat.

What I found most fascinating, however, were the feathered denizens on that solitary space.

Quacking ducks pecking, taking a speculative bite of whatever they were not supposed to eat. 

Clucking brown hen and four speckled chicks skittering out of the way.

And a stolid red robin, it eyes unwinking.

I could only stay for a few minutes and when my time was over, I would take a last long look, for I was afraid that I would never see it again the way I saw it at the time. I knew that eyes changed after they had looked at things and that if I were to go back the following day, my new eyes might make everything seem different. 

I wanted to remember it the way it was at the moment.

Peaceful.

And restful.

 

University Library

Solitary Spaces 

The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. - Eleanor Roosevelt

Books were my place.

Plenty of dreams inside books.

So it may not be a surprise to you if I say that the reserved section of the university's main library was my favorite solitary place during my college days. 

On my final year as an English major, we were given access to the otherwise off-limits book collection so we could freely roam the stacks as we worked on our thesis papers.

I recall walking thru its doors, enveloped in the familiar peace of its high ceiling. The elegant, intellectual clutter. The air smelling of leather bindings, and quietly of paper.

Immediately, I was surrounded by bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling, interrupted only by doors and windows. 

Books, hundreds of them. Old books on towering shelves.

I made a survey of the titles. The books, advertising all sorts of psychological behavior, were wedged tightly together and seemed not to have been read in a very long time.

The nearest volumes seemed to be histories, though many of the spines were hard to read in the low light. Dusty journals. A handful of National Geographics with curled-up corners. On the top shelf was a dusty green tome with gold lettering.

Not surprisingly, the place was empty (for this was a place only for the elite, I'd like to think.) This was a repository of ancient knowledge, completely different from what I had studied in the course of my many dry-as-dust lectures at the university.

For hours, I would wander, letting my hand brush across avenues of exposed spines, breathing in the smell of old paper and dust. Sometimes, I'd yank down a few volumes from their dusty haven, thumbing through pages and scanning for watermarks - an indication of first editions, I had learned.

Then, slipping into the literary criticism section, I fingered the edges of some volumes as my forehead crinkled in thought. I continued to turn pages, scrutinizing each one.

I really needed to start working on my thesis on Blake.

Seeking a warmly sunlit corner of the library, I finally settled with a few books that I had arranged on the top shelf of one of the carrels. I began to read and let the sunlight slanting through the window warm my downturned head and shoulders.

Reverently, I let my fingers glide over delightful discoveries of critical insights, new details, strands of images, and leitmotivs interlaced in Blake's poetry.

With that, and the musty scent of books, I could swear that I could hear the faint stirring of a tiger

Burning bright, in the forests of the night. 

What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

The massive emptiness of the university library was my place for dreaming especial dreams. The private times I had spent within were perhaps the most singular joy of my college days.

No other times did I feel that I had lived so fully.

Secret Garden

Solitary Spaces

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. - Unknown

Growing up, we never had the best house on the block or the most money, but I had one thing that nobody else had.

A secret garden. My solitary space.

It was tucked into a narrow spot on the side of our rental house in Balic-Balic (this was pre the two-for-five home on Fountain Street in Sampaloc). 

I was only four at the time and had no siblings to play with, as First Brother was only two, a Mama's boy who napped with Mum in the afternoons.

So what did I do?

I'd venture out toward my sheltering spot, curtained with the cadena de amor vine. I'd tear a couple of branches laden with heart-shaped pink blossoms for a crown. Blue forget-me-not flowers which were abundant alongside the house dangled from my lobes as earrings. 

Where the acacia tree grew, I would hunt for spiders that were laced onto a web. 

Oftentimes, I'd be distracted on the path ahead by some white stones. They were smooth and would fit into my palm.

Close by where rain water had gathered in a puddle, I would poke at the wet dirt and sniff its scent, loving its smell as others might love the smell of Formosan roses.

I just loved those afternoons when the bandera espanola stalks stood sleepily in the sunshine.

When the air was clean and silky I could see the tips of the mayana leaves bleached to pale yellow by the sunshine.

When everything was completely calm and the day was still and mild, preserved as if made for no one else's, but my solitary pleasure.

 

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

My Songs

Where Have all The Flowers Gone, a song dealing with way wars destroy an entire generation, was popularized by folk trio Peter, Paul and Mary in their 1962 debut album.

***

Someone said that as long as we live, there is never enough singing. 

Alas, for me, the soundtrack of my life has seemed to come to an end. No tune appeals to me anymore.

I can't even sing in my mind one line of the songs that I used to treasure.

So, where have all the flowers gone? 

Young girls have picked them, every one.

Where have all the young girls gone? 

Gone for husbands, every one.

Where have all my songs gone? 

Gone.

Fini

Thank Heaven For Little Girls

My Songs

Thank Heaven For Little Girls is a 1957 song written by Alan Jay Lerner and Frederick Loewe. It was sung by Maurice Chevalier in the 1958 film Gigi.

***

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. - Anonymous

It was a Mother’s Day of epic proportions.

I got a blue-and-tan striped shift dress and a Victoria magazine with a picture of an idyllic French countryside on the front cover.

And dangling cat's eye earrings from Pier One that sparkled when I laughed.

Best of all?

I had conned almost-four and five-year old daughters to sing at the Mother's Day tea in church. I thought my song selection was perfect.

Thank Heaven For Little Girls.

I had coached my innocent ones, teaching them gestures that went with each significant phrase. 

Those little eyes so helpless and appealing

When they were flashing

Send you crashing through the ceiling.

I remember listening, wide-eyed and stupid, as I accompanied them on the guitar.

I thought they looked like this.

They're older now.

For little girls get bigger every day

They grow up in the most delightful way.

But no matter how old they get, my heart will always be with them. 

Some days, when there aren't any songs in my heart, I quietly sing anyway. 

Thank heaven for my little girls. 

(To be continued)

Close To You

My Songs

Close To You is a song written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. The best-known version is that recorded by the Carpenters American duo in 1970.

***

Music replays the past memories, awaken our forgotten worlds and make our minds travel. - Michael Johnson

Why do birds suddenly appear

Every time you are near?

The singing enveloped me. It was furry and resonant, coming from the heart. 

My insides were turning over.

Just like me, they long to be

Close to you

It was the year of a brief but intense infatuation for a good-looking, John Lennon look-alike, basketball superstar.

I remember how I would try to look cute in front of him, but would end up looking stupid.

How saying the nickname I created for him that only my best friend and I knew brought a smile to my face, a twinkle to my eye, and a skipped beat to my heart.

And every time he walked by and smiled... 

Oh, when he smiled... I'd melt and stars would fall down from the sky (even if it were broad daylight). 

Crushes were so awful. 

In my heart, I was singing.

Close to you.

Wa, close to you.

(To be continued)

Imagine

My Songs

Imagine is a song by Beatles musician John Lennon from his 1971 album of the same name.

***

The music of memory has its own pitch, which not everyone hears. - Anonymous

Freedom and unity.

In mid-college, naive about the world and plagued by concerned parents, I semi-divulged in activism that was in vogue at the time. I joined the band wagon of dreamers who imagined an idealistic scenario where everyone would live life in peace.

I tagged alongside the banner-carrying throng chanting, To the wrongs that need resistance, to the right that needs assistance, to the future in the distance, give yourselves.

We swayed to the tune of Lennon's Imagine, brandishing hope, love, and trust in a world where there is no heaven. 

No hell below us. Above us only sky.

I imagined all the people living for today.

Nothing to kill or die for. No religion, too.

Longing for a world that will be as one. 

(To be continued)

April Love

My Songs

April Love is a song by Pat Boone, also used in a 1957 movie with the same title, starring Pat Boone and Shirley Jones.

*** 

We love music for the buried hopes, the garnered memories, the tender feelings it can summon at a touch. - Letitia Landon

Music is the way our memories sing to us across time. 

Thus I'm reprising past years with some of My Songs, starting with this one, way back in high school.

Pat Boone's April Love.

April love is for the very young

Every star's a wishing star that shines for you.

Humming along while listening to this tune on the radio was really the first music I was ever connected to.

When pimples were living on my face but I didn't see some rent. 

When in my early teens, I started to grow up and noticed boys' looks, whereas before I had thought boys had as much personality as coat hangers.

It was that time before my heart knew to protect itself. When everything important was raw and exposed. 

That moment when I felt like flying or jumping because my crush just smiled at me.

When conversely, I got depressed because my sweetie didn't come to school.

It's funny how a melody can sound like a memory. 

Of sudden showers that could grow flowers for my bouquet.

Of a certain smile that made my heart skip. 

Of that time in my life when love was all of the seven wonders.

(To be continued)

For Ivy

My teacher asked my favorite color. I said 'rainbow.' - Anonymous

In an ordinary world, you appeared like a double rainbow.

Through the years, you've come in colors everywhere, adding brightness to my gray skies.

Top left: Hot Springs, Arkansas: May 2022 | Top right: With Pink Flamingoes. Pittsburg Zoo: July 2022  Bottom: Easter, 2022

That's the reason my heart leaps up

when I behold you.

Far left: "Who dis?" | Left: "Who dat?"Alice on 70's sitcom "The Brady Bunch." Halloween, 2021

A promise of sunshine after rain. 

Of calm after storms. 

Whee! Ziplining in Hawaii. July 2022

Of joy after sadness.

Of peace after pain. 

Right: Not Covid-safe at a wedding. "I blame the Chardonnay." Cincinnati: September 28, 2021

Rightmost: Showing off dance moves

Of love after loss.

Meeka celebrates a birthday. Columbus: September 26, 2020

Welcome Home! June 21, 2017

During those times when I'm afraid that I’d forgotten all the colors of the rainbow, I remind myself that I know just where I can find them again.

I quote these lines from Lord Byron in my wish for you, on this, your birthday: 

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. 

The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, 

and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray. 

***

Read on for a bonus tribute, recently found from a fading dot-matrix printout.

Tribute to Iris Velasco

on her induction to the National Merit Society

May 1, 1991

 Northwest Community Christian School

You are a special baby and will always be Guging, Reesie-Owie, Gugsie, and Sampaguita.

You have always been independent from the time you were just a little grape, deciding when you wanted to get out into the world and not giving us much of an advanced notice. Remember my story of how I wasn't really sure whether my delivery time had come?

Even when you were growing up, you pretty much knew what to wear or change into (which happened several times because you had wet your skirt or underwear). At 7-11 or was that at Circle K, once more, you demonstrated that your time was yours alone to decide - that was when you made that puddle in the store.

You have always been unique in your own way - with the word peach as your first word, rather than the traditional Mama or Papa of common babes. In your crib, you could only take a nap when you were set in the seater - what a sight you were -comparable only to the latest spectacle of you in our Campo Bello pool, as you had floated that one afternoon, with your multi-colored sunglasses, variegated patterned and colored swimsuit, and colored toenails sticking out.

The better parts of you include your concern for the environment, the poor, the hungry, and the needy. That is a good trait which most people are lacking in. From you, we are also learning in that aspect.

The best part that, at least I am in awe of, is your gift of music. As you religiously touch those piano keys, I could see your Pa's hunched position, as he produces the same wonderful music, which is perhaps his best legacy. When you perform, even if I dread to watch and would close my eyes, I would peek at times and literally gape in amazement at the agility of your little fingers. See, you did get something from practicing your cut, cut, cut activities with your scissors.

It goes without saying that comparable to your musical talent is your mind: which is not only intelligent but also logical and practical. It is your efficiency in thinking out all aspects of a task which is one of your best virtues.

And yet, even if you were not all of the above, I will still be writing this - perhaps saying something else, but it will still be written in love, for whatever you are.

Congratulations, little Iris! Keep up and count on us to be there to stand behind you.

If there is a reminder which we would like to leave with you, Iris, it is that what you have is but a gift. Qualities worth honoring, when coupled with humility and gratitude to the One source of all beauty, goodness, and truth, will work out always for the best.

Your sister, your Pa and I bless and honor you on this day. We are proud of you and love you, Iris!

###

Gion

Iconic Edifices: Kyoto, Japan

Finally, finally, FINALLY...

The place that I dreamed about and crossed my fingers for in the past 15 years or so (since reading and watching Memoirs of a Geisha) has become a reality.

With numerous other tourists, I'm in Gion, Kyoto's most famous geisha district, hoping to tick off at the same time a must-see subsidiary item. 

To catch a glimpse of a geiko or maiko.

What?! Who?! Were you expecting me to say, geisha?

Confused? 

I was, too, at first. 

Here's what I've learned.

Geisha, as it is known in Tokyo, is called a geiko in Kyoto. A maiko is a younger woman or even a child who is training in the arts of the geisha and geiko.

Now that terms have been cleared, let's look around this iconic place, shall we?

Umm... See that traditional wooden machiya townhouse? That is what I think my front entry could look right now.

Wooden lattices on the first floor facade. Unpainted maybe, just like those. Or painted in red ochre. 

With a second story window that is not made of wood, but of earthwork. An insect cage window, our tour guide explains. I wonder why?

What do you think about that entrance door? Too narrow, do you agree?

It looks so closed-in and mysterious. I bet I could easily do a reno on that and have it open into a big tatami room.

And shōji walls. Yes, please.

But enough daydreaming...

For shortly, an excited murmur runs through the crowd. Within seconds, it becomes the wild buzz like that of a high school auditorium before the teachers take charge.

Everyone is talking all at once. 

I have been patiently waiting for this moment.

A maiko... 

Ahh... Quaint. Exquisite.

She is shuffling in a pair of cumbersome zori flip-flop sandals. 

Her kimono, long, colorful, and intricately adorned with embroidery, has extra long sleeves that touch the ground when she drops her arms. Her collar is red, and her obi is long and wide.

Our tourist guides explains, She must be on her way from an engagement at an 'ochaya' tea house.

I'm fascinated, staring at her ultra-white face. Way too light, rendering her with a ghostly appearance. Her okiya 'mother' obviously has not heard of, or doesn't really care about, matching her makeup to her skin tone. 

I'll concede, though, that it goes well with the hair. No messy bun for this lady. Hers is a low, flattened chignon that is elaborately decorated with combs and hairpins. 

FYI: Have you heard that in order to keep this hairstyle in as perfect a condition as possible, a maiko is unable to use pillows and has to sleep with her neck in a small wooden support?

マジで 

(A Japanese interjection for, Seriously)

In order to become accustomed to this practice, the maiko’s mentor often places rice around the base of the support. If in the morning, rice grains are found in her hair, the maiko knows she has moved her head too much while asleep.

What more can I say? Such is an apprentice's life in Gion.

She flits away like a butterfly. I try to listen to her footsteps, but she has left without a whisper of a sound.

In Gion, there is only the exhalation of the wind and the seasonal sound of a wind-bell in the distance.

Great Pyramid of Giza

Iconic Edifices: Cairo, Egypt

Here are some fun facts about Egypt.  

Egyptian men and women wore makeup. They were one of the first to create the perfect winged cat eyeliner.

They invented writing, using ink on paper called papyrus.

And the country's most noteworthy feature?

The Great Pyramid of Giza.

Oldest of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World and the only one that remains mostly intact. 

Tomb of fourth dynasty Pharaoh Khufu. 

Largest Egyptian pyramid.

Standing face-to-face before it during one of our journeys-of-a lifetime, I'd conceded rather quickly that the historians weren't kidding. 

This edifice is staggering.

Actually much bigger in real life and with near perfect proportions.

The theory was that the pyramid was based on the application of a gradient of 5.5 sekeds.

This measure means that for a pyramid height of 1 cubit which is 7 palms, its base would be 5.5 palms.

The ratio of height to base is 7 divided by 5.5, which is 1.2727.

Did you understand all that?

Me neither. 

But I could see a lesson in this. 

Pay attention in Trigonometry. Or anything that involves sines or cosines or long division or the Pythagorean Theorem. Because when you want to create a four-sided figure each of which needs to be evenly split from base to tip by very subtle concave indentations, your knowledge will come in handy.

Now, I need your opinion. 

Have you ever wondered how it was assembled? 

The pyramid was constructed out of stone blocks, each weighing at least two tons. Do you think several men together maneuvered each block over a ramp that encircled the structure as it rose? 

Did they move each stone up long ramps that got higher and longer as the pyramid got taller?

Or was it built by... (gasp)... ALIENS?!

And why the sloping sides?

For the dead pharaoh to climb to the sky and live forever?

Or are they representations of the rays of the sun?

Perhaps, Carnac the Magnificent would know. (Aside: Carnac, a recurring comedic role played by Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show, was a mystic from the East who could divine unknown answers to unseen questions.)

Actually, when I think about it, how it came to be doesn't really matter. To me, it remains to be the supermodel of all pyramidal structures.

Every detail.

Every furrow.

Every groove.

كويس اوي. Kwaiz awwi.

(Awesome, in Egyptian Arabic.)