Carmencita Sipin Aspiras and the art of the piano

Cover of Carmencita "Chita" Aspiras' CD

We've been pen pals since 2015, my Ate Chita and I. Handwritten missives have crossed the Pacific Ocean from my Pasig mailing addy to her home in Fremont, California, and back. Our professional relationship started when I was asked to edit her memoir "At the Piano and Beyond" which is scheduled for a second printing.

I get a rush whenever I see her familiar handwriting on an envelop. Her penmanship has a distinctive quiver which she attributes to what her doctors call "basic tremors." It is not Parkinson's disease. It is just basic tremors that may be due to the body's decline.

She assures me that the tremors haven't affected her piano playing in the least bit or her ability to memorize lengthy pieces. On the contrary, at every homecoming recital, usually organized by the Cultural Arts Events Organizer (CAEO) made up of Al Andres and Joseph Uy, she gets better and astonishes new and old audiences with her capacity to give the music Masters their due. And that rich, sonorous sound she coaxes from her instrument can only come from her; she has a unique way of attacking the keys.

She is one of those musicians for whom retirement is an insipid word. In her recently released CD of piano works by Rachmaninoff-Kocsis, Schubert and Brahms, the biographical note on her has her saying when she would retire from public performance and piano pedagogy: "I remain a student who continues to learn. Music is an eternal world of beauty, too vast to explore."

In her interview with young writer Joyce Tan, also found in the CD liner notes, Ate Chita continues to talk about the transcendence of music: "No other chore or activity can transport someone into the spiritual realm."

Congratulations to all the people behind the CD project, especially the HSTL Foundation for the Piano for producing it in line with its mission to promote and maintain "the Filipino public's interest in the art of the piano."

With Ate Chita Aspiras at Sunshine Place in Makati where she held a masterclass for piano majors and graduates last year

4 besties and 3 cups of gelato

An embarrassment of creamy richness!

At first the idea of having an ice cream parlor or a gelato shop in Baguio seemed as silly as carrying coals to Newcastle. And opening in February when the temperature in the city hovers between 11 to 14 degrees C in the evening and at certain times in the morning while people are bundled up like it's spring or fall in another country?

Yet people are streaming in at the newly opened Monte Gelati inside the Albergo Hotel on Villamor Drive And not just because the tables at Amare la cucina are already full and the owner/s just had to open another room for the spillover crowd.

Each time our small family of four eats out, we consult the youngest member, Kai, who pipes up heartily, "Amare!" Like the restaurant's name, she loves its pesto pasta and pizza Margherita. When budget allows and appetites are not appeased, we have the fall-off-the-bones ribs, too. The mint gelato is always an order for one with a request for four teaspoons.

With a mural of a snow-covered part of..well, I'm guessing it's the Alpine region. The caricature of the mustachioed gentleman offering a cone of gelati of different flavor is that of the Amare and Monte Gelati owner

But when we saw that Monte Gelati was open, we decided on feasting our eyes on the colors of the frozen desserts first, accepting free tastings before choosing what we'd each have. Our daughter Kimi and her Kai shared a cup of cookie butter. I went for something safe like the mango. Rolly Fernandez had his fave rum raisin, the flavor he goes for when we're in Pasig and hanging out at Poco Deli.

According to the waiting staff who served us, Amare's adventurous owner is initially introducing 16 (!!!) flavors to include biscotti, Red Horse, mango, rum raisin, cookie butter, mint, Amarena, matcha, strawberry, chocolate, dark chocolate, nutella, guyabano, dragonfruit, pistachio and Cabernet, the last to mean Cabernet Sauvignon with strong hints of red wine?

It seemed to me a perfect way to get tipsy after a hearty Eye-talian meal. Thank you, Amare, for giving us good reason to return.

Date night for two old fogies in a clean, well-lighted place

Photos by Kimi Fernandez

When Sonny gets blue

The then newlywed Romeros, Sonny and pretty Babes, in the Seventies Photo from Sonny's Facebook account

Another dearly beloved joined the Light at 5 p.m. Windsor time--Ramon "Sonny" Lolarga Romero, glass sculptor, husband, father, grandpop, cousin to a multitude of Lolargas, Romeros and Valdellons.

A few weeks ago, we, his cousins, learned that Sonny was bedridden, weighed less than a hundred pounds and was hardly taking in food. It was a matter of time and up to God's will. Meanwhile, my brother Junic in another part of wintry Canada gave updates on email to tell us how Sonny was faring. Then came the call for old photos of Sonny in what we thought was some kind of digital memorial album that his wife Baves was preparing for any eventuality.

The time has come for Sonny to be spoken of in the past tense. But he lives in these pictures of him as a babe on our grandfather Enrique Acosta Lolarga's knee and as a boy declaiming an oratorical piece at our grandmother Telesfora Cariño Lolarga's house in Lower Brookside, Baguio.

Lolarga ancestors. That's long-haired Sonny on Lolo Laki's knee.

The young orator

Sonny the graduate

Yesterday, my siblings and I hosted a bienvenida lunch at Cafe Juanita for Sonny's younger bro Henry, who's based in Los Angeles. Sonny was among the subjects of our conversation--how long he would last in what appeared to be a losing battle with cancer, what Henry would do in case the call came that Sonny was gone.

We grasped at glimmers of hope. Henry just had a conversation with his kuya wherein the ailing brother agreed to hang on until Henry could return to North America. Henry wondered if Sonny's tone could have meant he was being considerate and assuring up to the very end even if he knew he had little time left and just wanted Henry to enjoy his Philippine stay until next month, not encumbering him with death watch duty.

Now the Sonny memories are flooding back--his "Laugh-in" jokes at Christmas reunions when he had us in stitches, his being adept at the drums (he used to play in a band or combo as we called them in the Sixties, and, like Ringo Starr, he steadily played the beat and the rest of the musicians followed), his taking up Fine Arts at the University of the East and later producing marvelous glass sculptures of various animals in Canada.

Henry Romero, our honoree, on my right at yesterday's lunch

It's still a full moon, I think, tonight. I'll be looking at the moon, and I'll be seeing you, Sonny Boy

Missing Linc

Lincoln Rex Q. Drilon with his guitar Photo from the Facebook of Chit Drilon

Already the sting of his sudden departure--dying peacefully in his sleep yesterday morning--is beginning to sink in. I'm writing this as fast as I can to catch the whirl of memories Linc left behind while it's still fresh.

Lincoln Rex Quimpo Drilon was more than a friend and extended family member. He was companion and troubadour to many of life's milestones. He sang "My Foolish Heart," the theme song of my parents, at Mom's 75th birthday, bringing her to tears. At Rolly Fernandez's and my silver wedding jubilee in 2009 he emceed the program of songs and piano music, sitting beside writer Pablo Tariman so the latter could get through the song "Some Enchanted Evening." At my daughter Kimi Fernandez's baby shower in 2011, Linc was there to croon "Moon River" to the infant still in the mother's womb.

But Linc was many other splendored things besides being a fine emcee and crooner. He was a terrific fundraiser for quixotic causes, whether it's for an ailing friend or for keeping the environment clean and green. He was there, ready with the mic or his guitar. He even had a short-lived project called Club Nostalgia where like-minded individuals with a yen for singing old songs gathered for a drink and a turn at the mic.

Rolly recalls how Linc and his best friend-sidekick Rey Maceda, a geologist, camped for many weeks at the then uninhabited Potipot Island in Candelaria, Zambales. The island's owners, Nany and Nancy Fernandez, tasked Linc and Rey with listing down the flora and fauna of the place. This meant literally counting even the coconut trees. They took their work seriously. The occasional visitor would feel surprised to see numbers on tree trunks.

After a hard day's work, the two settled down to drink. For pulutan Linc skillfully filleted and deboned fish which he turned into sashimi. Whatta layp it was!

One of the few things I am proud of is introducing Linc to the great photographer of the Cordillera, Tommy Hafalla, another of my favorite guys. The two struck up a unique friendship while climbing mountains in the Cordi on a Museum of Man project.

His devotion to wife Maria Esperanza P. Drilon, nicknamed Chit, is the stuff of legend among us. If memory serves, during a marital spat, he wooed her back in Lincoln fashion. In a restaurant or club in Cubao, he "conspired" with Bobi Valenzuela to have "Seventh Dawn," apparently the couple's theme song, played over and over in the sound system as Linc danced a slow drag with Chit. That paved the way for a reconciliation.

You haven't really lived until you've heard Linc do a heartfelt rendition of "Seventh Dawn," a song made famous by The Lettermen. The voice is gone, but I hear it still.