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

A promotion

These two works done in '08 now hang in the master bedroom of my cousins Enri and Pem Romero in their new home outside downtown Los Angeles, California. He and his wife emailed recently to announce the good news of their daughter Rica's wedding to Shannon Toribio (it happened at this spot of paradise called Houdini Mansion, yes, named after the great magician and escape artist). The cousins from other parts of Northern America flew there to be present for the newlyweds. I would've wanted to be there. They need not ask what I will give Rica and Shannon to feather their nest further. I have rolled up a painting for the couple.

Enri used to hang my works in his Los Feliz Blvd. apartment's kitchen. He kidded that he would promote them to the living room once I am declared a National Artist. And it came to pass that the works were upgraded to his and Pem's bedroom. Who wants to be in the living room when I've taken space in the most comfy room in the house? Thanks 'Ri! You're a true cousin and friend.

Among my Palawan souvenirs

As Beng Valdellon, Eileen Lolarga and I prepared for our four-day trip to Puerto Princesa City, Palawan, two weekends ago, my niece Bianca asked her mother, who's my sister Pinky, how come she (Pinky) didn't have cousins her age who were also barkada so they could go on similar trips?

Her mom's quick and sensible reply was: "It's because they're all the eldest. There's just a few of them. If it were us, the middle children, there'd be too many. That's why it's easier for the panganay and the bunso to organize themselves. They're only a few."

I didn't go shopping in Palawan. Instead I took lots of pictures. Some of them I'm going to have printed out on sturdy paper in multiples so I can have a set of Palawan postcards with my name printed at the back, cards to mail from there when I return.

Palawan, mon amour, hope we connect a second time around and with the same companions, mis primas Beng y Eileen.

Morning has broken: View from the Philippine Airlines window

A post inside Kainato restaurant painted with this flower

Decorative wooden sculptures inside the resto

The look of the sky as the car zipped down the highway

View from the balcony of the Sandybridge Ecofarm in San Rafael, a barangay an hour's drive away from downtown Puerto Princesa

Our room with a view

Detail on my embroidered pillowcase

Stained glass door opens to another balcony with a view.

The divan I intended to lie on to read a book but never once got to because of a packed schedule. What did they say about vacations? When one returns home, one is in need of a vacation again.

I'll stop with this image. Our hostess, Relly Bridge, always ensured there were fresh flowers on the dining table, all from her garden. Photos by Babeth Lolarga