Shoutout to Dad: Happy 85

"I just fed the turkeys, the geese and the chickens this morning. They keep following me wherever I go, asking for more food. The are like soldiers marching, making a lot of noise, honking. I look forward to seeing you again this afternoon. I miss you all, so with your sister. I miss your Lola very much. How I wish you are all here with me. Perhaps this summer, Kimi. - last diary entry written by Dr.Enrique Lolarga Jr. from a farm in Pangasinan, dated Jan. 2, 1992, and addressed to his eldest granddaughter Kimi. Dad died 10 days later.

Among Dad's classmates in medical school, they had a tradition of contracting one another's surnames and turning them into their nicknames (e.g., Bascara became Basky; Lolarga became Loly). Somewhere along the way, Loly was how Enrique Lolarga Jr. also became known to his in-laws. Junior was what his parents and siblings called him. Loly became father to eight kids. Loly expanded to the Lollikins to include Mom, my siblings and I, our spouses, our children and now our own grandchildren.

Dad and Mom flank their five grandchildren. This is dated 1987 judging by how young that kid in the baby carrier is. The last three apo, Sara, Christian and Bianca, were born after Dad departed. The kyootie patooties in this photo provided by my sister Embeng are arranged according to age (from eldest to youngest): Carlo, Paolo, Kimi, Marga and Ida.

We're missing brother Junic here in our near-complete family portrait (he took the picture) and the three sons-in-law of Dr. Lolarga (Rolly Fernandez, Obet Trinidad and Rod Susi, also acknowledged according to age). Today we say to you, Dad: Mabuhay ka! At mabuhay din ang mga Lollikins!

Keep on looking, keep on swimming

"When life gets you down, you know what you gotta do? Just keep swimming, just keep swimming." –Dory in Finding Nemo

I ticked something off a personal bucket list in the last quarter of 2013. Oh, was 2013 just yesterday? That item was to pose for a picture inside a swimming pool, one emptied of water. Of course, I had to be extra-careful going down and up after the clicks were done. The old machine I inhabit isn't what it used to be.

However, the image that stayed with me was of young missy Widsy, daughter of Jemil and Patch Araos. She wore a dress with a print of Tinkerbell, a character in the James Barrie tale of Peter Pan.

Looking at this picture on New Year's morning, I am transported again to the time when Dad took me out to watch the Disney animation of Peter Pan back when I was as tall as Widsy. We saw it at Republic Theater in Manila--now I don't know, I don't care what has become of that landmark building. Present-day requirements have a way of demolishing the past.

But the story of Peter Pan, the boy who refused to grow up, never faded. I have a remembrance of that little girl who thought Neverland was so real. That very night after we watched the movie, I gazed out of my grandmother's grilled window and tried to spot Neverland in the sky.

May new times find us all gazing out of or looking through similar but unfettered windows.

And keep on swimming.


Widsy in an emptied pool in Laguna Photo by Babeth Lolarga

His eyes, her eyes

I'm overdue for an eye check-up with an opthalmologist provided by my health card. In fact, if it weren't for errands in town, I'm going this morning--can't postpone it any longer.

The lightning-like flashes I'm experiencing within my right eye, clear signs of aging, according to a friend, set me on another course of thinking. How long will my right eye last?

Dad went blind in one eye and could only fathom light but continued his medical practice with the healthy one. It was a complication of diabetes, the family franchise. He had to give up driving though.

What will I have to give up in the future? Should I start studying Braille sometime in the next few weeks?

Meanwhile, here are shots of eyes, some blurred ones caused by movement on my part, that I took this past summer. They're objects in the house I sometimes call home. These eyes include: a pair painted in acrylic by Paolo Francisco, my fine arts classmate and sometime chum from UP Diliman before I continued my studies in Baguio; the laughing eyes of a Bacolod mask; the eyes of Rolly Fernandez from a portrait by Lyra Garcellano; and Buddha eyes to keep me calm and steady.

All photos by Babeth Lolarga