From a distance: Surprised and touched by Francis

Rock star Pope Francis just checked into the Philippines when I checked into the St. Louis University Hospital of the Sacred Heart for a scheduled three-day confinement that stretched to another half day. I took this photo of a side of Baguio visible from one of the hospital's windows. I needed to refer to it when a bit of fear nibbled me as I prepared for a paratidectomy, a surgical incision to be done on a side of my face near the neck where a suspicious tumor had been growing. I stayed in a semi-private room while waiting for a private one to be vacated. Was I cheered when I saw that the private room had a small TV from where I could monitor good Francis' itinerary. Was able to catch his meeting with families.

On the day of his truncated visit to Tacloban, I was at the mercy of a team of doctors led by Anthony Vanadero. It was a two-hour long procedure; I was fully knocked out until I was brought back to my hospital bed where I requested that the TV be switched on. I asked my daughter and watcher Kimi to take souvenir shots of me at my worst-looking state so my other daughter abroad would know. But the pics frightened Ida and my apo Kai. The latter ran away from the image and covered her eyes when it was shown to her. But I was confident I would emerge from my Manny Pacquiao look in a better state.

On Sunday, the 17th, I felt I had my own resurrection. Most of the gauze and tape were removed, I could sit up and feed myself. Best of all, I was one with the youth at the University of the Santo Tomas, especially the child Glyzelle Palomar who wept openly as she asked in a heartbreaking voice why God allowed children to suffer. My heart swelled when he asked why there weren't more girls and women represented among the select who read their personal messages to him. I could've jumped for joy at that statement, but all I could manage was a thumb up. Thanks, Francis, for acknowledging women, for pointing out how cleansing, purifying tears are the mark of a true Christian!

As Francis and entourage flew out of Philippine air space, I also made ready to pack up. I received my instructions on how to care for my wound and when to return for a follow-up. The team of residents and my surgeon Dr. Vanadero (third from right) gamely pose for a patient with this strange request. Thank you, grazie mille!

Nothing like the constancy of a husband's love to see me through so thank you, too, Rolly. God is truly good. A bit of a stretch to make it seem I had a journey that was parallel to His Holiness. But I don't think it was a coincidence. With my faith and hope strengthened by the prayers of friends and family, I can say it was wonderful and joyful synchronicity!

Do the Jerry

Already in the end stage of his complications from diabetes in November 2012, Jerry makes as though he's about to lift his work called "Tungtungan."

In my middle childhood years (that should be the mid-1960s), there was this dance hit called "Do the Jerry" popularized by a band called...hmmm. I forget. It may have been Gary and the Playboys, but I can't find the darn song in the online sources. I'm quite sure there was such as song, and it began with upbeat lyrics: "See the happy feet / dancing to the beat / of the Jerry."

I'm composing this for Jerry, old pal Jerusalino V. Araos who would have been 70 years old on this fifth of July. I must've written reams about him as artist and man when he was alive and another ream when he passed on. My third poetry collection, Big Mama Sez: Poems Old & New, is dedicated to his memory and also to my living beloveds (Rolly, Kimi, Ida and Kai Fernandez).

I'm kinda getting weary of my voice. Earlier today I re-read my exchange of emails with another old pal, Jorge V. Ledesma, who is also part of the Araos's extended family. He was in wintry Colorado when I broke the news of Jerry's death in December 2012.

Excerpts from Jorge's letter about our master Jerry who we also addressed as Ama. He was, after all, our artistic father.

These missives bring a salve that I seem to need as the sun sets...

It is the twenty fifth after all, and as the turkey roasts in the oven, so do the images of the journeys with Jerry, both the literal and the dreams--Ama driving at a steady twenty five on our way to the garden and our not-so-far fetched meanderings of possibilities for the child, Julian, and his future as President of the Republic--waft into everything I touch...

He so effortlessly went against the grain. Never, in that trip to Antipolo at rush hour, did we stop in ungodly traffic. He had found the rhythm of the turtle to the chagrin of other drivers that would pass us only to stop in spurts, and yet our conversations took the flight of the fastest jets. I had just lost my father when I first met Jerry and in my fevered myth making, asked him to be mine. He paused and quietly agreed to the full import of the request and so began a deep relationship of kindred spirits that spanned the time and continents of my heart.

Jerry and his muse, Melen, in their Antipolo garden on April 3, 2011. Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Melen, ever the lady, whose quiet strength tamed the fire, was his muse and inspiration. A truer partnership I have not seen the likes of since. And the children who so adored their father had for their normal the exacting exigencies of excellence. Small wonder then that each has achieved in their lives the soul of living Life as Art--painful, exhilarating, wonderful in its recognized ebb and plenty, and always True. Waya, the warrior. Jemil, the miracle. Liwa the heart. Roja, the eye. Mira, the light. Julian, the promise.

I shall conjure more in time...

Ingat ka.

Nagmamahal,

Jorge

Postscript and erratum from Babeth: I ran into Nympha Saño today, a blog reader, who immediately corrected me that the song I couldn't find in online sources like YouTube and Wikipedia was no other than "Do the FREDDIE" by Freddie and the Dreamers. No wonder I couldn't locate it. Oh boy, did we have a big laugh over my booboo there (no wonder I'm Booboo Babeth). Yes, I admit, age has stolen parts of my early memory. Thanks, Nymphette.

59 but not counting

These flowers wet with the previous night's rain greeted me when I stepped out of the house as an officially 59-year-old person.

"Maligayang bati sa iyong kaarawan, Babeth. Sana'y ulanin ka ng marami pang biyaya! Dalangin ko'y hindi ang iyong kalungkutan o kaligayahan kundi ang pagmamahal na maaaring umusbong sa dalawa. (Trying to be makata on your birthday, ha ha ha)." - Noel Soler Cuizon

By far Noel's message was the most touching message I received on June 24 along with that of G, my former student at a private school. Part of his email went:

"Good evening po, Teach. Happy Birthday again to you. Kamusta na kayo? How are you celebrating your 59th Birthday? I texted you this morning & also received your reply. I'm doing ok in college. I'm just a 1st timer pa lang. I have 7 subjects but no major yet. I've met new people already, but haven't made new friends yet. I'm only talking & hanging out with my friends like Luis, Milo, my Kuya, etc. There are some works I'm doing already. I have HWs too. Sometimes, I get to do them in my free time & sometimes I forget. Pasensya na. I'm only missing my years sa High School. I still do my best in college. All the things I've learned in (my former school) are naiipon pa rin with me. I learned a lot from you, T. Ruth, T. Maite & other teachers out there. I consider all of you as my 2nd family...Tnx. God bless."

Even if I cringe on reading the word "thanks" spelled as "Tnx," that's okay. I continue to emphasize in the new composition class I'm handling now that short cuts in spelling like "tnx" are acceptable in SMS but not in classroom work.

Except for Ida, our overseas daughter, everyone is accounted for in this picture. Thanks for picking up the tab, Kimi!

Another nice part of my day was being with my foodie family, sharing a meal at O'mai Khan restaurant in Baguio. Since I arrived ahead of the others, I used my prerogative, the way President Aquino did in proclaiming the new National Artists and dropping the name of actor Nora Aunor (something I strongly and vehemently disagree with), I ordered a la carte one rice meal with ulam that suited each family member's taste: Korean spare ribs for Rolly, tempura for Kimi, Mongolian fried chicken for Mackenzie for sharing with Kai and Korean beef strips for me with lots of honey-sweetened but still crunchy dilis and vegetable sidings for the birthday girl. And apple pie a la mode for all!

Oh, you beautiful pie, you great big beautiful piece of pie!

The Little One sidled up to me twice during lunch to say she wanted to blow my birthday candle. Of course, she did so to everyone's applause. Nota bene: she was too shy to blow her own birthday candles in April. I guess the number of guests then made her shy.

Kimi at first objected that she wanted the kalamansi tart, but when she tasted the apple pie, her big eyes bulged bigger and she said, "Masarap nga!" Later in the evening when I was on the road back to Manila, she texted that she was having a strong craving for apple pie (that can only mean that she's returning to O'mai Khan on her own one of these days to appease that hunger).

All in all my body and spirit are full! Belated tnx, God and all ye saints (friends and family alike)!

What's a birthday without a cupcake? Odette Mills of Cake Baby baked my order of a dozen goji berry cupcakes for sharing with Rolly's colleagues, who're my friends, at the Inquirer's Baguio bureau. Most photos by Babeth Lolarga

#PeopleWhoMadeMyYearGood

My coffee mate said yesterday only newspapers do year-enders; in other words, what right have I to issue an e-mail with the subject head "year-end report"?

This is my personal thank you in words and photos for those who made the year 2013 good to me. A la Rod McKuen, I'm singin that song while I post the pics:

I call this my Baguio coffee mate Rolly Fernandez's Albert Einstein look. Here he is enjoying his mug of Benguet beans brewed to his liking--no sugar, no cream, just a dash of cinnamon to decrease his blood sugar level.

Mamay Kimi and Nanay B on Christmas Day

The butones herself, Kai, with her Booboo

My girls, Kimi, Ida and Kai, before Ida left for her new job in Sg.

Headed by The Matriarch "Mommy" Lolarga, the Lolargas of Pasig, Antipolo, Quezon City and Calgary, CA, in their look-up pose

I call this photo "Third Movement, Humoresque Concerto for Eight Hands." The players are: Chit Roces, Pablo Tariman, Vergel Santos and the girl with the brown lenses.

A lot of girls, gays and similar hipsters go to Gilda Cordero Fernando for life, light, love lessons. She never fails to deliver. Take it from Anna Leah Sarabia, Lorna Kalaw Tirol and Neni Sta. Romana Cruz, she's the best guru who doesn't like to be called one.

Perla Macapinlac, ICM, is Gilda's St. Theresa's College contemporary. She continues to run the ICM House of Prayer in Baguio where she conducts retreats. Her instruction is simple: dive deep, emerge whole, and don't be afraid of the monsters you see.

This is the first batch of participants at "Journey to Self: A Creative Journal Workshop," a project of the Baguio Writers Group, that pushed through despite super-typhoon Yolanda's visit to the South the weekend before. For facilitators Baboo Mondoñedo, Merci Javier Dulawan and myself, junior facilitator Jenny Cariño and secretariat head Sacha Weygan, the workshop was a fulfilling experience. We all came away enriched through the many encounters and shared experiences. Mabuhay!

Lalu Melen Araos with grand-daughter Amarra Araos Encabo host breakfast for their first-time visitor to their home and garden in Antipolo.

The spirit of artist Jerry Araos continues to live in his children like his son Jemil, here seen with daughter Widsy and Tita B. Jemil has an ongoing solo exhibit of sculpture and furniture at the University of the Philippines Los Baños Alumni Center at the UPLB campus in Laguna.

Jazz singer Annie Brazil can still croon, carry a tune at 80. Now and then she'd pause to sip water (or is it brandy?) or spray something into her mouth (asthma?), but the audience doesn't mind because she is truly funny, her spiels unscripted. As for Boots Anson Roa, I must thank her as a subject of an interview for Planet Philippines--I worked there briefly in the early 2000s. I re-posted the interview onto my blog. That entry has received one of the highest hits in this blog's history. Her second-time-around love story touches old hearts and farts like me.

Another funny girl is Jacqui Magno. Inevitable that Anna Leah and me clown around beside her. I never tire of telling Jacqui, "Thank you for the music."

When Anna went up to Renee Olstead to congratulate her on her performance in a tribute to Annie Brazil, she said, "You're an orchestra in one person." Renee's voice can sometimes sound like an oboe, a clarinet. She doesn't need to shout or make birit, I'm tellin' ya.

Bert Robledo, host of DZFE's Bravo Filipino, was once a choir member, too, during the time when soprano Evelyn Mandac was in her prime. Myramae Meneses, who cultural organizer Joseph Uy describes as "small but terrible," is, yes, princess of high C's. And she's just getting warm.

Prof. Rayben Maigue is the cool cat of the UP Jazz Ensemble.

Someone's supra-happy to be addressed "Tita Babeth" by tenor Arthur Espiritu in his normal speaking voice.

Yah, as Kai would put it, I saved this photo for last. The great Cecile Licad leafs through Marne Kilates' award-winning book of poems while a fan girl carries her grandchild. Kai sometimes forgets her manners; she failed to thank Ms. Licad for the vanilla ice cream treat.

This old fart with lotsa heart thanks everyone, even The One who sent a killer quake and typhoon, for enabling us to remember 2013 as one of the most memorable in anyone's life. For those who us who survived the year, the girls of Lincoln Park have this advice worth heeding anytime and everywhere.

Image from www.thegirlsoflincolnpark.com

Brookside bibi & famille say thanks for the follow

"To be strong yet vulnerable--this is how we live on this earth. A big embrace."--New Year SMS from poet Marj Evasco 

Blood was no typo on your part
For in your words I recognize a life force
Where I find
The solace
That these days collect
Like impossible raindrops
In the frozen snow
Outside the window of this
My winter's discontent.

--Jorge V. Ledesma, writing from his Colorado isolation

With a bib tucked in her shirt, the blogger is ready for another Yuletide repast.

On our favorite couch by the Christmas tree at Mario's

Blurry photo of Lolarga-Fernandez family with house guests Sinag de Leon and Raya Amado. Sinag's son Dakila couldn't keep still and decided to play with Kai's toy car.

At the beginning of this year, I must say that our happily dysfunctional family has managed to stay intact through the decades. 

 

Has it been that long since Rolly and I decided to hitch our lives to a star and gamble (it does seem like a roll of the dice), take a chance on what Simone de Beauvoir called "an obscene institution"?  This year just past, I learned something new--that your chances of coming out a winner from a casino range from 30 to 40 per cent.

Ida Fernandez with her Tatay and her niece Kai holding the figurine of a lighted angel

Chit Roces and Vergel Santos, colleagues in writing and journalism, drop by for coffee and chat.

Hmmm. Call us Mr. and Mrs. Lucky Us then! And many a time it was our kids, Kimi and Ida, and now our granddaughter, who have helped keep the union intact. Add to that, the fellowship of friends and an extended family of children and grandchildren of our own co-parents.

In a country where Christmas is celebrated the longest, the Lolarga and Fernandez families wish to thank those who've stayed with us. The blogger, channeling Meryl Streep, also thanks her 21 ++ followers who saw her through her ups and downs, enjoyed the roller-coaster of life with her and screamed along with her, with arms and hands held high, as the ride swooped down.

Here's to more and more of the same!

Shall we dance after this meal at that Baguio classic, Cafe by the Ruins?

Source of topmost photo: "Here's the Thing," an online column by Ben Patterson

Photos taken by Suzy and Babeth Lolarga, Rolly Fernandez and an anonymous waiter 

Time goes by...

Rolly on the phone at the Ayala Museum Cafe, November 2012

Kimi and Kai in Davao City, September 2012

Ze blogger and youngest daughter Ida, Singapore, August 2012

A little more inhalation and exhalation and before we know it, the five of us will be reunited during the most wonderful time of the year. This wife/mother/grandma knows who's gonna have the most fun, too, when the season begins on Dec. 2, the first Sunday of Advent. Already this small person is practicing her twirls and whirls, that thoughtful look, that tender smile all of which turns us into her helpless captives.