The summer of '68

My sister Evelyn Marie, the one to my right, is a better archivist than I could ever hope to be. She shared this scanned photo of part of our family when Mom and Dad took us on a boat cruise to Corregidor. I was 10 going on 11, but I just had my period and I shot up that summer, uncomfortable in my new body with sprouting boobs and all. Mom and I are wearing those stretchable jeans with straps that hooked underneath the soles of our feet. Dad is holding a fishing rod. Small boy is my brother Dennis who grew up to be a doctor like Dad. I didn't like Corregidor--there were no sandy beaches. Mostly there were and still are rocks. I would return there in middle age with Mila D. Aguilar, and the guided tour our group enjoyed altered my view. There was the comfort, of course, of Mila's warm company. I documented that trip in a Vera Files article: https://eqp.verafiles.org/.../rediscovering-corregidor... My parents didn't earn much. Dad's practice centered on patients who were mostly industrial workers. Mom was an office employee. And yet, they managed to save enough for what others would deem a whimsical weekend such as this.

Haiku moments

I took a six-day, self-imposed haiku challenge after joining a Google Plus community called "Haiku: The essence of a poetic moment." In the beginning, I was just an enthusiastic follower and admiring reader of the other members' works until I hit an AHAHAHA!!! moment while taking morning walks with both my grandchild and point-and-shoot camera.

Why not take a renewed dip into this compressed but still highly dramatic form that celebrates many elusive instances in Life, if only we observed and applied more the way a child intently watches and concentrates on playing at the same time? A secondary (by the way only) source of amazement is how each haiku shared in G+ gathers a hundred or so views. The number of hits is visible to the writer. Connections are being made everywhere. All it takes is a passion to pursue and continue those connections. In other words, don't stop believing. Keep on writing to your own natural and fascinatin' rhythm.

These six haiku are gifts to the oldest of my two children, Kimi, who turns 30 at midnight. Haiku birthday, K!

on this June morning
fullness of the moon unseen
stillness of tides...time
June 4, 2015

camera captures
what eludes a pair of eyes
fly on a petal
June 5, 2015

i watched the light dance
with shadows on grains of wood
but beer he wanted
June 6, 2015

what is summer's sound?
is it this gramophone's blast
glorious in purple?
June 7, 2015

now that my prayer
flag is faded, twice folded
intentions remain
June 8, 2015

a green world it sees
down side up in its brief life
wings in the morning
June 9, 2015

Photos by Babeth Lolarga

The odd mango

The rains have come. I wonder how long will the season's sweetest mango harvest last. The long dry spell for the lowland farms with cracked earth meant more flowers for the mango trees, thus more of the juicy, fibrous fruit, higher blood sugar content and deeper pleasures of the palate.

But one day, among the basket of fruits that Rolly brought home (this may have gone unnoticed when he bought them), my family came upon this sight. We didnt' know whether to laugh at its strangeness or to consider it a freak of Nature. I imagined that someone must have left a yellow rubber ducky or something close to its shape high up a mango tree branch, and the fruit morphed into this.



The little odd mango had staying power. We left it where it was until it started to look slightly bruised to indicate a ripening. I took that cue to peel it gently until it was in its full yellow orange naked glory. I proceeded to relish--yes, yum dee dee yum yum. It had all the stickiness of summer in it. Then I got to the tip or the head of the fruit. It turned out to be a second seed attached to the bigger one. Yes, almost like a baby mango with the same texture and flavor, only smaller.

Odd-looking,yes, but it was good. Nothing like a Philippine mango. Wherever you travel, wherever you roam, be glad, be happy we have these mangoes at home.

Thank you, summer of 2015. You have been odd but as good as a mango ripened by an unusually long drought.


And look, there's a second one! Photos by Babeth Lolarga