The Woman Who Would Not Be Dame Vanessa

Today I'll do a Frank Cimatu by posting a photo and a short paragraph, barely a story. Just follow these links: http://www.contactmusic.com/news.nsf/story/redgrave-honoured-in-london_1115359
http://www.contactmusic.com/news.nsf/story/redgraves-secret-dating-past_1115847

"If I think of a woman of truth, of loyalty, of integrity, of passion, of compassion, a woman with a great heart and a woman of all elements, I think of Vanessa Redgrave."--Ralph Fiennes in presenting Harper's Bazaar's Women of the Year award to Vanessa Redgrave

Suffice it to say I've followed her from Camelot to Evening and all the pictures, teledramas, news items and films in between. How she met up again with her ex, Franco Nero, is straight out of the lyrics of "If Ever I Would Leave You."

Somewhere in my files and unopened boxes is a photo of her marching on a London street and taking up the Palestinian cause. I can't think of an actor who comes close to her. Magic Meryl maybe?

Heavensent on a Weepy Sunday

From my Facebook inbox comes this Sunday gift, perfect reading for rainy weather that’s keeping most of us indoors. The letter comes from Heather O’Hara of The Watermark Poetry Group which anyone signed into FB can join:

One of our members, Joan Wheaton, recently sent me an email with a most beautiful message for poets… I have just posted it on our discussion board and want to make sure that all of you have an opportunity to read it—it is exquisite!

TOPIC: An Exquisite Moment That Breaks Boundaries of Thought
http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=81193947306&ref=mf#/topic.php?uid=81193947306&topic=11415

Also, my dear friend, Rick Beneteau—co-founder of Ten Million Clicks for Peace—is looking for poetry on peace to add to a newly created peace blog. If any of you have poems about world peace that you would like to submit to Rick for consideration you may send them to me or directly to Rick via his Facebook email.

Wishing you all a magnificent weekend!


Warmest Regards
Heather K. O’Hara
Co-founder, The Watermark Poetry Group
HEAVEN #3211 An Exquisite Moment That Breaks Boundaries of Thought, September 9, 2009

God said:

How you seek poetry in your life. No matter how hardened you may be, you seek poetry. The sun shines for all. The stars sparkle for all. Apple trees blossom for you. And you seek more than the eyes can see. You seek that which you don't quite remember, and yet you seek it. You may seek you know not what.

Whatever you seek, you are seeking poetry. You are seeking an exquisite moment that breaks boundaries of thought.

Poetry has you jump from one word to another with a remarkable jolt. From one world to another. How you want to jump out of daily life and enter the world of poetry. No matter how obscure a poem may be, it makes your heart leap. For a moment a metaphor carries you over a river from one bank to the next. For one moment a metaphor takes you from one galaxy to another.

A metaphor is the magic carpet you ride on. A metaphor switches you from one subway to another in midstream. One moment you were lollygagging along, and the next you are transported.

Everyone wants elves and fairies to exist. The staunchest realist in modern life wants to be surprised. No matter how close to the ground someone stays, he also wants to take flight. Everyone has had enough of the mundane.

It is not so much that you want to escape the dailiness of life. It is more that you want to return to an escapade you were in the middle of and yet seemingly forgot all about. Just as a name stays under the surface and you cannot remember it, the name stirs within you, and one day it pops to the surface.

Is it a metaphor that the sun is your heart, or that your heart is the sun? Is it a metaphor that your cheeks become roses? Is it a metaphor that you sail across a sea of life? Are metaphors perhaps more true than that the grass is green and the sky is blue?

Facts are details, and you seek Wholeness.

More exists than what you have seen, and you seek that more. You are entitled to it. You are supposed to have it. Your life is more than the stew cooking on top of the stove.

You not only seek to see wonders, you seek wonders to perform. However illusive that which you seek may be, it is Truth you are seeking. The greatest-seeming exaggeration has more Truth than the most staggering fact.

The cow did jump over the moon, and your heart does leap over ordinary life.

Ordinary life has its wonder, and ordinary life is good. And yet ordinary life is not all there is. There is an indefinable more. It cannot be defined, and yet it can be located.

Your heart is a garden. Your mind is a pool. You leap from one to another and back again. But, oh, the leap, beloveds. Oh, the leap.

You are one who transcends the mundane. The mundane is simply not enough for you. No matter how wonderful, no matter how fulfilling, there is that within you that seeks a greater horizon. You seek a greater horizon because you are bound to have it. If you must be bound, be bound to that which is boundless. Break boundaries. Break even the boundaries of words.

There is a blaze of light in your heart. There is something in your heart that you are leaping over. Your heart must be the moon even as it is the sun. Impossibilities become true. You are a leaper, and now you leap. You are a reaper, and now you reap.

Permanent Link: http://www.heavenletters.org/an-exquisite-moment-that-breaks-boundaries-of-thought.html

"Resthouse," watercolor by Babeth Lolarga. (Photo by IAN DAUIGOY)

A Government Friendly to Criminals, Especially RAPISTS

I received this new toe-curler and hair-raiser in one from my in-box today, enough to strengthen an old conviction that men and the patriarchal system they represent are the enemies. If you find a nurturing partner or father, not to mention a rarer fellow who is not threatened by your innate strength and unique voice, consider those creatures the exemptions. Otherwise, proceed like they are the enemies. Don't hold them up like idols, don't give them slack, or else you set yourself up for heartbreak...or worse, as a lot of rape and domestic abuse survivors have found out. In the case of rape, the criminal is usually someone known to the woman or child, often someone trusted. Even if these crimes are reported and the criminals hauled to court, don't expect much from this old boys' club called the Philippine government.

Statement from Women's Groups:

Is this Government Really Criminal-Friendly?

We, women’s groups, are outraged by the impending transfer of convicted rapist Francisco Juan “Paco” Larrañaga to a penal facility in Spain to serve the remainder of his life sentence for the rape and murder of the Chiong sisters in Cebu in 1997.

Not many Filipinos are aware that a RP-Spain Transfer of Sentenced Persons Agreement has been signed by our government in May 2007, and supported by a domestic law that became effective in January 2008. The local law was authored by Rep. Antonio Cuenco (Cebu, 2nd District).

First, may we ask the responsible legislators as to why they prioritized the country of Spain for this treaty? In November 2007, while this bill was being deliberated on, the Chiong family already expressed objection to the passage of the RP-Spain TSPA for favoring Larrañaga. During the same period, Larranaga was appealing his conviction to the Supreme Court.[1] Is it pure coincidence that the rapist is a “scion of the powerful and wealthy Osmeña clan of Cebu”[2]?

Second, why prioritize Spain when 128 overseas Filipino workers (OFWs) are languishing in Kuwaiti jails compared to seven (7) detained in Spain? Then Executive Director Ed Malaya of the Department of Foreign Affairs’ (DFA) Legal Affairs Office commented that the law will benefit Filipinos serving their sentences in other countries. The Philippine embassy in Kuala Lumpur reported that the most number of Filipino detainees is found in Malaysia with 1,600. DFA itself reported that as of June 2007, there were 4,770 Filipinos languishing in jails in 63 countries and territories. Following Malaysia was Japan with 734, with 130 in the Osaka area; Qatar, 554; U.S., 406; Abu Dhabi, 198; Saudi Arabia (Jeddah only) 161; Hong Kong, 127.[3]

Let us not forget the cases of Romeo Jalosjos, Claudio Teehankee Jr., Chavit Singson and other criminals who got executive pardon for financial and political reasons. When government favors convicted rapists or simply “reprimands” its appointed officials accused of wife battering, who all come from the elite, where do ordinary citizens turn to for justice? Yet, we must remain vigilant and pursue perpetrators of sexual crimes against women, even as they may be protected by this government itself.

We stand in solidarity with the family of the victims. Justice must be served to the end.

Signed:

Jean Enriquez, Coalition Against Trafficking in Women – Asia Pacific (CATW-AP) and World March of Women - Pilipinas

Marlene Sindayen, Alliance of Progressive Labor (APL)-Women

Atty. Cristina Sevilla, WomenLEAD and ECPAT-Philippines

Lotlot D. Requizo, KAISA-KA

Ana Maria R. Nemenzo, WomanHealth, Philippines

Liza Gonzales, Bagong Kamalayan Collective, Inc. (BKCI)

Monina Geaga, Sarilaya

Mercedes Fabros, Welga ng Kababaihan

Anna Leah Sarabia, Kababaihan Laban sa Karahasan Foundation

Yuen Abana, Task Force Subic Rape (TFSR)

The Baguio We Know

Coming soon at a National Bookstore (NBS) or PowerBooks branch near you: The Baguio We Know, a collection of essays by 15 writers, most of whom are residents of this highland city. Edited by drinking pardner Grace Subido, this Anvil book features reminiscences, vignettes, historical accounts, recipes that define a Baguio that is evergreen in everyone's minds. Unlike the template volume that came before it, The Manila We Knew, this one, the editor insisted, must carry the verb in its present tense. And we agree on that score.

No matter how visitors disparage the city for having lost the scent of pine and its hill-station charm, longtime residents like Cecile Afable, Nonnette Bennett, Merci Dulawan, Priscilla Supnet Macansantos, Baboo Mondonedo, Padmapani Perez, among others, will stake a pair of kitschy gigantic wooden spoon and fork in defending Baguio's indisputable place in their personal and the country's affections.

The book will be lauched on Sept. 2, Wednesday, at 6 p.m. at the NBS branch in SM City Baguio.

Perfect Timing

On July 26, 1984, a singing quartet serenaded a newly married couple, one Babeth Lolarga and one Rolly Fernandez, at their reception at Nielsen Tower on Makati Ave. The musicians just rendered two songs: "Bayan Ko," which moved their godfather Armando J. Malay to stand up and raise a clenched fist all throughout the singing, and "Tie a Yellow Ribbon 'Round the Old Oak Tree," a lighthearted ditty that took the edge off the first song.

Forward to the same day and month 25 years later. There were more than 25 songs sung that evening at Cafe Juanita. Days before, the fretful newsman in Fernandez worried that GMA might just spoil everybody's plans, including ours, by declaring a state of emergency at her hopefully last SONA. His fear never came to pass. But six days later, the death of Mrs. Aquino began galvanizing Filipinos again to unite against injustice, corruption and the assorted excesses of GMA. And once again I see yellow ribbons wherever I turn--around pine trees, at the Volante Pizza parlor's posts, etc.,--and the cheesy song about receiving a letter telling me I'll soon be free is so very in again.

One of our anniversary singers, journalist Vergel O. Santos, once winked at our First Draft group of women writers, saying: "Don't you just think that getting married is all about perfect timing?

These poems from Edel Garcellano's blog www.theworksofedelgarcellano.wordpress.com do not quite follow the line cuts he did. My stubborn computer refuses to follow the cuts and stanzas that Edel used to fashion these three verses. So they appear here like prose poems (sorry about that, Edel):

7.

A.
Anniversary

In a cafe, 
they are all smiles
 as she confides 
over the microphone
 she & her groom 
leave well enough 
each other alone – 
neither too near
 nor too far –
 unlike igneous rocks 
that upon close contact 
spark a fire.
 Goethe’s
elective affinity of desire? 
This: 
the secret of the feast
 that stood the text 
of their own conjugal times.
 & If the merrymaking 
among friends,
 who open doors
 for the bride’s flair,
 tells a story 
for all to learn,
it must have been
 Solomonic 
for a bonding
 to steer clear
 of short-lived passion,
embracing instead
 the cool danger
 of reason.
 Gold medal
 for him 
visible with ascetic grin?
 Applause for her 
who collates goodwill
 of kith & kin?
 A toast to hearts 
who beam
 at the fairy tale
 rendition 
worked out 
with delicate precision.

B.

At 11pm 
the celebration 
was almost 
done
 but the singers 
were still belting out 
nostalgia 
as if they had 
just begun
 to feel the heat
 of fun.
 Outside Cafe Juanita
 of post American
 Tertulia,
vibrant 
with old world air
 & yellow lights
 from lamps 
wrapped by 
silk gowns,
the rain had stopped,
emitting a scent
of late-night 
cool.
& after the formal
 settling of the bill,
 rearranging of chairs,
plucking of wine bottles 
off the tipsy tables, 
the couple 
would drive home
 a few blocks away, 
as if overwhelmed
 by love’s 
strange declaration.

C.

They came,
singly or in packs, 
to be with the couple
 despite the heavy 
rain.
 They, who stood 
through thick & thin 
of accounted years:
 laughed at the same
 tried jokes;
 exchanged warm toasts;
 heard the chorus
 of ersatz troubadours 
that drew 
the night to a close.
What is there
 to expect 
after the celebration 
of beatitudes?
 Another 25 years
 of magical struggle
 & passionate hope.

Photo by ANNA LEAH SARABIA.

August Moon

I’ve always had a distaste for politics, but I love my liberal, libertarian, socialist and communist friends. Long ago, too, I learned that the act of writing is already a political act in itself. One cannot hide behind the journalistic code of objectivity all the time. In the end, you have to make a choice: are you on our side or on the enemy’s? Whether in the home with the threat of domestic violence hanging on one’s head or out on the streets where cruel traps are laid, we face the challenge of choosing, of making a stand.

Dying is easy; it’s the living that’s hard, so a wiseacre said.

Today how I can pose like a placid fence-sitter while I await former President Corazon Aquino’s casket to pass by, not too far from the lobby window of the Manila Diamond Hotel? I’ve been here since 12 noon. People with yellow shirts or yellow ribbons tied around their arms have been lining up the sidewalk since the sun rose.

I’m on a comfortable seat; my need to constantly pee has kept me from joining them. Yellow banners with the silkscreened image of Sen. Aquino festoon the street lamps. Manila is Cory City, Mayor Lim, whom she endorsed as her presidentiable in 1998, has seen to that. Suddenly, Dirty Alfred Lim smells clean

My partner Rolly and my friend Anna Leah Sarabia rushed out, he with an umbrella and still-intact power of observation, she with her camera and feistiness, to await the six-wheeler truck carrying the casket.

We never thought we’d make it this far—Rolly, Anna, me. We had other plans for the day. Rolly wanted to get back to Baguio to be in time for his pet dog’s dinner and his 7 a.m. class tomorrow at the University of the Philippines there.

Anna was supposed to give me a pep talk and repeat her old line about women’s rights being human rights. After which I was scheduled for a 2 p.m. meeting with Anvil Publishing’s Gwenn Galvez to map out the launching of The Baguio We Know, a two-year-in-the-making anthology of essays by Baguio’s finest, timed for the Sept. 1 celebration of the highland city’s centennial.

But all good plans were thrown in the waste basket. We decided to bear witness today. As we ate a hurried lunch at a nearby Vietnamese restaurant, memories of the August 21, 1983, assassination of President Aquino’s husband Ninoy came back vividly. So did the anger at the current lying and thieving Presidency. At one point, Anna thought aloud, “Gosh! GMA makes Marcos and Erap look like saints!”

Rolly tried to be facetious to deflect the tension. Perhaps, he surmised, the Filipinos are just longing for a happening like today’s march. No, I said, they had been waiting for the right time and occasion. Anna agreed, pointing out that we are moving towards a full moon, a lunar eclipse is going to happen. The moon, ah, for me who swears by its inconstancy, is what moves the masses. The sun represents the leaders, the moon moves the masses. Expect something to happen to an awakened people.

It was the same Anna who said, around the time the Marcos’s star was dimming, that the Filipino is like a carabao—hardworking, patient, etc. But once pushed to its limit, it gores its own master.

Two months ago, another friend said, half in resignation, half in bottled-up exasperation, that people were thinking, “Gloria (Macapagal-Arroyo) has a year to go. They just want to ride it out instead of protesting. Maybe change will come after the 2010 elections.”

Apparently, we’re near breaking point like the time Sen. Aquino was treacherously “salvaged,” to use Sen. Saguisag’s so very apt word. I never thought the line “Tama na, sobra na, palitan na” would resonate again with such vibrant, refreshing beauty, rid now of its cliché quality

Unrestrained Ranting in Behalf of a Pianist

We haven’t buried the heroic widow yet. Nor have we gotten over the proclamation of Carlo Caparas, Cecile Guidote Alvarez and ilk as National Artists. Suddenly my email inbox is filled with the diplomatic exchange of correspondence between pianist Cecile Buencamino Licad and certain Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) officials, outgoing and incoming.

The gist of this latest controversy, all reflecting how this country is run, is this: The CCP artistic program committee refused to honor Ms. Licad’s commitment to do a provincial outreach concert at Holy Angel University in Pampanga scheduled in the first week of September.

On what grounds, you ask?

The CCP, or Sentrong Pangkultura ng Pilipinas, from whose reclaimed land visual, musical, dramatic, cinematic, literary and other artists should ideally branch out and share their talents/skills/training with the rest of the regions and provinces scattered across our archipelago, claimed first or proprietary rights over Ms. Licad.

Raul Sunico, its newly appointed vice president and artistic director, a pianist in his own right, wrote that her planned Pampanga concert, would preempt her CCP performance with the Philippine Philharmonic Orchestra (PPO) in mid-September, 15th and 16th to be specific.

Translation for this blogger: that ticket sales for her CCP concerts with visiting German cellist Alban Gerhardt and the PPO would be affected.

Hello, CCP public relations office, ticket sales, perhaps a third of it (and we’re being modest here), were made possible due to the almost one-man sales pitch freelance writer Pablo Tariman has been doing through his articles and music magazine since early June and through the unofficial texting brigade we started around that period. And we paid for our own tickets, take note. My four orchestra right tickets on those two nights I paid for from money earned as a freelance writer. I deposited my payment in the BPI Family account of the Family Planning Organization of the Philippines, the beneficiary of the Licad-Gerhardt-PPO concerts.

Ms. Licad is a thorough professional; she honors commitments and never makes promises that she can’t keep. More than this, she knows who and what she is, where she came from, how to acknowledge debts of gratitude and up to what point payback time is kept, her contributions to this benighted country, especially in deodorizing its bad image abroad.

In the latter, my encounters with some Fil-Ams and foreign creatures go something like this: “What, Cecile Licad is a Filipino? You have a world-class pianist, and she can afford to make New York City her base? I thought Filipina was synonymous with a maid in the US, Saudi and Europe? Sorry, ha, no offense meant.”

But here is Ms. Licad, who didn’t need to but had to explain herself to these idiots sitting in power at what it supposedly the country’s center of culture:

“I still don't believe my performances in the provinces will pre-empt the impact of the PPO concert. As earlier mentioned…, my provincial and two Metro Manila engagements last year didn't pre-empt the impact of the PPO concert; they actually sold out the CCP concert as reflected in the big revenues shared by the CCP and the Buencamino Foundation last year.

“Let me point out that I am doing the CCP program in the provinces for purely artistic reasons: this is my first performance of the Prokofiev C Major Concerto and I wanted to get to know this piece inside and out not just with technical rehearsals but with live audiences interacting with me. If I were doing Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff concertos, there is no need for provincial try-outs. I always try out new pieces many times in various places so I get the maximum result. That's the way I have worked in the last forty years of my career.

“I can see that the program committee's main consideration is the CCP investments and very little for my artistic needs; I noticed that all my points for doing provincial concerts were totally ignored.(italicization and emboldening of lines by blogger) If I may say so myself, I have given CCP and its audiences what they deserve in the last 40 years of my performing life. In this phase of my life and career, I expect no less from the CCP management.

“But your decision is well taken and I will honor my commitment. I am just sad that I cannot share my creative process with my countrymen in the provinces who have very little access to my performances. Since the CCP is financed by taxpayers' money not just in Metro Manila, I thought music lovers in the provinces need not be excluded from the CCP festivities on its 40th anniversary.”

Let’s ask ourselves: Is this any way for CCP officials to treat such a one as Ms. Licad? She is probably the best pianist of her generation internationally. Argentinian great Martha Argerich thinks so, so sure is she of Ms. Licad’s greatness which, I must add, is accompanied by humility and respect for authority.

By its gesture, the CCP has made it loud and clear that provincial engagements that come before a performer’s scheduled presentation on its stage cannot be done under its latest rules (rules conveniently dangled before Ms. Licad when no one, not even her, was aware of them).

I have just overheard an episode of the TV series “Scrubs.” One black woman character railed against a white woman who said something to the effect that classical music cannot be universally appreciated. The black woman said just because she (the black) wasn’t born in Vera Wang diapers doesn’t mean she can’t understand classical music.

Ms. Licad, I will say the words for you because you are a decent person, a darling of a musician, and everyone I know knows I'm neither of those, especially when sufficiently provoked: the current crop of CCP officials, supervisors and an underling, a certain Becca Jose, PPO manager, have not been toilet trained. That said, enjoy your visit to the motherland.

How We Were Before

I'm composing this in Room 940 of the Peninsula Manila where my one & only husband of 25 years Rolly Fernandez & I are holed up to compose ourselves before we face loved ones at our little gathering at Cafe Juanita in Barangay Kapitolyo, Pasig City, today. In typical couple fashion, Rolly is mesmerized by ESPN's coverage of the New York Yankees versus Oakland Athletics game (no matter that it is a replay).

Last night we had dinner with Rolly's mentor, Enrique "Pocholo" Romualdez, and his wife Lita at Mikey's on Diosdado Macapagal ave., Pasay City. Every couple of minutes, Mr. Romualdez would turn to me and repeat a variation of this same question: "How do you put up with this guy?" The implication was, Rolly hasn't changed all these years: talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. Is it any wonder Rolly's siblings call him "Rock"? He is unmoving, unchanging. The upside of this is he's reliable, dependable & nice to come home to wherever my inner-outer journey takes me. But I don't think Mr. Romualdez, the epitome of the hardboiled newsman, would like my answer so I kept it to myself.

Mr. Romualdez also shared a wonderful insight. During his and his wife's celebration of their golden anniversary (they're on their 61st year this year), people gave Lita a standing-ovation and the applause went on and on. People were on their feet cheering her for putting up with Mr. Romualdez, the last of the shouting editors. Then he winked at us, saying, "Kung alam lang nila. Ako ang tunay na martir dito!" Rolly laughed heartily; he could connect with that remark.

Following is a background about Rolly's & my relationship:

He & I went steady for five years: 1979-1984. It wasn't all moonlight & roses; Rolly pretty much left me to myself after we
officially were "on." It's because work is his wife; I'm the mistress. I appreciated it then & appreciate it now--he gave me lots of space & wouldn't call or date me for weeks on end. So I had a rich single girl's life that included going to art exhibitions, plays, movies & concerts on my own.

Which is what I miss now because there's not much of a cultural life in sleepy Baguio for all the number of visual artists & musicians per square meter. I miss ballet, contemporary dance & orchestral performances which are infrequent there.

About our preparations for the wedding 25 years ago, Rolly & I agreed that we would have a stark, simple one, aware that a wedding is just for a day or an evening but marriage is a commitment.

So he had his outfit for the occasion done by his Daily Express colleague Danilo Franco who headed the art department and was apprenticing with the great Ben Farrales. I was just gonna wear a shirt & skirt from my closet, not a gown (Jeez! The thought of wearing one still gives me the creeps), but when my mother heard Rolly was having barong & pants made pasadya, she had a nice dress made for me.

At that time, I had just returned from Mindanao where Jerry Araos & his comrades sent me on an exposure-immersion trip that had me shuttling from Cagayan de Oro to Butuan to Davao City & to a forest in Agusan del Sur where I lived with armed rebels for 10 days (not sure exactly how many days but it was long enough so I could appreciate their life). In the jungle I remember recording revolutionary songs in a portable tape recorder Rolly lent me.

When I returned to Pasig, I lost so much weight. When I was having my fittings with the dressmaker, I was probably down to 105 lbs. because food in u.g. life was strictly budgeted. I did not complain because we always had a balanced meal of fish, rice, vegetables & fruits whenever I was in an urban place. In the forest it was rice, siling labuyo, salt. Skyflakes crackers were a treat & rationed.

When the dress was finally done & I got into it, it was tight. By that time, my old appetite had returned with a vengeance; I was
eating 4-5 pieces of pan de sal at breakfast. So the dress had to be refitted & dyed a shade of tan because it was white.

I didn't like to wear virginal white. I wasn't a virgin. Rolly & I were avid practitioners of premarital sex with proper use of contraceptives. (Jerry said in his book The Garden of Two Dragons Fucking, which I edited in 1992, that parents who can declare openly that they had practiced premarital sex ought to be congratulated. So congratulations to Rolly and me!)

My original plan was to wear my office clothes: pleated, rainbow-color skirt with matching top.

Jerry called me at my old Raya Media Services office in United 1, Paranaque, & was surprised to learn that I was still working on technically was the eve (morning) of my wedding. The wedding was set at 6 p.m. on July 26, 1984. He asked what my plans were after our Baguio honeymoon. I told him Rolly & I would go our separate ways--he to his apartment in Makati where he lived with his medyo sickly mother & I back to my parents in Pasig. Jerry said, "Ang suplada mo talaga, Babeth! You should
live with your mother-in-law because eventually she will die. After that, it's all silence ."

But Rolly was the one who discouraged me from living with him for as long as his mother was there. She was the empress
dowager type, but he knew how to kowtow to her. As for me, my attitude has always been, if you don't like me, well, the feeling is mutual. Tapos ang usapan.

So Rolly & I continued to behave like a young couple still going steady. We would meet on his day off from work, usually mid-week. We'd watch a movie, catch an art show or a baseball game at the Rizal Stadium & have a nice dinner after. When the house in Antipolo was finished, we'd go there on weekends, but he would leave for work after lunch & I'd be left alone spinning records or reading a book. Our two children were conceived there. Jerry made our matrimonial bed & some furniture which are now in Baguio.

An important detail about the wedding: of all my many friends, I chose Jerry to be present at wedding. He kept it secret from everybody else, especially the Hiraya Gallery crowd of the '80. Only he & Gigi Duenas knew that I had gotten married. Before my wedding, Gigi told me, "Babeth, ang nag-aasawa lang ay yung may balak maghiwalay." But eventually Gigi got married too & even uses her French husband's name.

There must be a lesson or two here somewhere.

Photo shows old married couple at a book fair, University of California in Los Angeles, 2008.