In praise of Bogart and his tiny shadow

Kuya Bogart

The boy on the left, a mini pinscher, is curious Bogart peeking out of our main gate on a sunny morning. He is the older brother to a pug named Bruno. Their surname is like mine: Lolarga.

I do believe that the pets we adopt or invite into our homes should also be considered family and be given humane (to mean human-like) treatment. Like us, they need to bathe, to eat, to drink, to take walks to clear their heads, to feel the warmth of the sun, to have their own "blankies" on cold, rainy nights.

My youngest sibling Gigi has shown by example that if you can't commit or love a pet fully to miss him/her enough when away on long trips, you are better off raising virtual pets in your cell phone or in your other social media platform.

I have a whole album of ponies, cats, kittens, baby elephants and their mommies, calves, chicks and hens, cubs and lionesses in my Pinterest account. By attending to them in this fashion, I am also saying I have my own form of fulfillment as the online master/mistress of these blessed beasts.

By whatever name you call it, it's a kind of loving. Good night, little boys!

The younger dawg who really lives up to his name and his looks: Bruno! Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Ms. B regrets she is unable to post much today

Morning shadows cast by leaves and a strange woman Photo by Babeth Lolarga

Due to deadlines unmet and more official work coming in for the coming days and weeks, I'll not be posting much on this space, except for occasional sightings of shadows.

One sometimes forgets that shadows also beautify or amplify the world. And there is no reason to even fear the encroachment of shadows late in one's life (but that's in a figurative sense already).

In my observation of the lives of musicians, actors, visual artists and those pithy creatures called writers, it's the shadow or dark side that has a way of, how shall I put it, "informing" their works and making them more interesting. By a strange twist and turn here and there, they emerge as angels in the end.

How come I'm thinking of Star Wars, angels and demons so early on this morning of a Monday? Ahhh, Monday, that dreaded day of days!

Here's the trigger or the writing prompt for today's blog. It's a quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes, that character who, as portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch in a hit TV series, embodies that struggle of darkness and light.

"It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it."

The girl with the pink French horn

Danielle Kuhlmann of Cultures in Harmony USA is one of four musicians who integrated with the Tagbanua community in Culion island, Northern Palawan. Culion is one of those affected by Super-typhoon Yolanda, but it remains largely out of the public eye in terms of relief and rehabilitation work because of the attention focused on Leyte. The musicians brought not the usual kind of relief goods. They had a learning exchange workshop to enable the Tagbanuans "to find strength in the richness of their own traditional music and culture" and for the Americans to see the similarities of indigenous and the classical and how they could co-exist.

That's Frank Shaw (left), who played the viola, and Danielle talking about their immersion experience and also about the music they're about to play to the audience at the Manila Symphony Orchestra's Rush Hour Concert No. 6, billed as "a different kind of traffic jam." There was no traffic on Aug. 21, a holiday, on the roads leading to Ayala Museum. One of the most touching Filipino pieces that the Americans played was the Bikolano folk song "Si Nanay, si Tatay Di Co Babayaan," arranged by Maestro Jeffrey Solares. Although it was only the music that Shaw and cellist Kim Patterson performed, it still carried that sense of gratitude for the mother on whose breast a child once suckled; as an adult he/she realizes that what the mother gave can never be repaid.

It's always a joy to watch the MSO Junior Orchestra players perform under Solares. After they're seated, they have an ate-kuya (older sis-older bro) system in place. Apart from sharing the music sheets, the bigger or more experienced kids sit alongside the younger ones to guide them and ensure that their instruments are in place.

Yes, they are truly kids and act like kids but only after performing like pros. How many times did we hear someone from the audience (and I'm 98 percent sure it ain't a relative of a young musician) exclaim, "Ang galing naman!" after the last note was played, including the penultimate "Eine Kleine Nachtmusik" by child wiz Mozart. Jenny Juan, grandmother of one of the teenage violinists, is optimistic about what's ahead of these kids: "Give them some more years, then we'll have our own orchestra that's on par with the New York or Berlin Philharmonic!" Let's continue to hope so, Jenny, and be around during their energetic performances whenever we can.

Look for the female French horn player with the instrument's mouth painted a pretty pink--she faithfully transcribed "Paalam," a Tagbanua folk song, for the Cultures in Harmony USA, the MSO Strings and the MSO Junior Orchestra to play after a video of the community members singing and playing the tune using makeshift jew's harp and percussive instruments from tin cans was shown. The audience rose as one, cheering and thanking the musicians who premiered the work that now can be played by any orchestra.

Danielle poses with my niece Bianca L. Susi, the family's own private pianist.

Jenny Juan with Danielle who's holding a copy of friend Geraldine C. Maayo's collection of short fiction that I told her she could read on the plane back to the US. Cultures in Harmony USA left the country Aug. 22, but what they had given and received is beyond measure. Photos by Babeth Lolarga

Now that he's 64

My husband of 30 years is shown in his garden beside an anthropomorphic planter that represents his wife who is 59 to his 64. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

Masarap i-good time si Rolly--that's what I can say after being his girlfriend of five years, his wife for another 30 with gaps in between since ours is a continuing long-distance liaison amoureuse. By "good time" I mean pulling a surprise or a prank. But last year I told him after another suprise birthday party when he turned 63 that I'd stop, mainly out of concern that his heart might not be able to withstand another one of my exercises in what he terms "mischief". Every time he sees that picture of mine as an eight-year-old kid, he always points at the black and white portrait subject's eyes and says, "Maliit pa lang, kita mo nang mischievous."

I will take mischievous any day, not malicious or worse, evil.

So on this day as his phone pings and toots to announce an SMS from another greeter, I sing another old song whose lyrics I've adjusted (mangled?) with hopefully witty asides to suit Rolly's/Tatay's/Tats'/Sir Rolly's/Kuya Fern's age as of 12 midnight Sept. 6, 2014. Thank you, Beatles, for providing a soundtrack for every milestone in many people's lives.

When you get older losing your hair, (the Good Shepherd Convent's gugo shampoo has guaranteed haba ng hair mo!)
Many years from now, (not yet bokalites, I hope, by age 70)
Will I still be sending you a valentine (of course naman po)
Birthday greetings, bottle of wine? (isn't this the whole blog's point?)

If I'd been out till quarter to three (which I can no longer do, I'm asleep by 10 or 11 p.m.)
Would you lock the door, (oh no, you won't, because our daughter Kimi has the extra key, and I can always wake her up with a call)
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When (it's my turn to be) sixty-four?

Oo oo oo oo oo oo oo oooo
I'll be older too,
And if you say the word,
I could stay with you. (pa hard to get muna, delaying tactics, including part-time teaching and projects here and there that require a presence in the lowlands)

You could be handy mending a fuse (with help from the village electrician)
When your lights have gone.
I can knit a sweater by the fireside (no, I'll just order from Martina Knittera a.k.a. Martin Masadao)
Sunday mornings go for a ride (except that you're so tamad to get out of the house when it's a Sunday and it's your day off)

Doing the garden, digging the weeds, (you're so good at that)
Who could ask for more? (no more, but may I request daisies instead of anthuriums?)
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When (it's my turn to be) sixty-four?

Every summer we can rent a cottage (no, the tightwad in you will protest)
In the Isle of Wight, if it's not too dear (Panglao, Bohol, is just about right soon, mah deah))
We shall scrimp and save (you do this, I'm terrible with any form of budgeting)
Grandchildren (Kai/Butones) on your knee
Vera, Chuck, and Dave (Kai, Kai and only Kai)

Send you a postcard, drop you a line, (I still patronize the postal office and SMS you daily)
Stating point of view. (I always lawyer for myself, nobody else will do this for me)
Indicate precisely what I mean to say (very concrete and specific, we both trained to be journalists)
Yours sincerely, Wasting Away. (not exactly wasting away, just getting rosier and a little less chubby)

Give me your answer, fill in a form (FORM?!!!xxxx I'm a content person!)
Mine for evermore (we don't need pieces of paper, do we?)
Will you still need me, will you still feed me,
When (it's my turn to be) sixty-four?

Whoo! (Dial 1-4-3-4-4!)

Images of young and old love (they're the same, by the way) from Babeth's Pinterest board

TBT: Our ancestors

Formal portrait of Telesfora Cariño Lolarga and her five children. Seated are: Pacita L. Romero and Febe L. Valdellon. Standing (from left): Celso, Enrique Jr. and Ernesto.

My very (emphasis on the "very") organized sister Suzy, the one who has taken it upon herself to sort things out, in a manner of speaking, in the Pasig and Baguio houses unfailingly brings out from some ignored or rarely visited corner precious finds like this formal portrait of our grandmother, Telesfora Cariño Lolarga, and her five adult children in their graduation togas. Knowing how much education was valued in her time (she was, after all, an elementary school teacher in her youth), I'm guessing that the serene smile on her face is maternal pride because her kids are all professionals, and more!

This adoring granddaughter reposts this photo on what's known as Throwback Thursday (TBT) in other parts of social media today.

When my correspondence buddy Benjie Abellera once saw Lola's picture, he compared her beauty to that of a young Kim Novak.

TBT also makes me recall writer-anthropologist-bookshop owner Padma Perez and the rueful text she sent me when her Lola Darling passed away and she had to suddenly leave Baguio for the rites. She asked if we would ever be as gracious as that generation of lolas. I could only come up with this answer: "In our own way, in our own way."

The picture used to hang in Lola's house in Lower Brookside, Baguio. It's now with us, still in its laminated form. I know that lamination is not exactly kind to photographs. How to un-laminate is the next move when future budget allows.

Meanwhile, we keep the memory of our Lola and the three sons and one daughter, who are reunited with her, evergreen in our hearts. Auntie Fe is still in Virginia, and our loving thoughts of continued good health fly to her on this Thursday.

September morning of our lives

Another holiday, this time because it's Baguio Day. You can imagine how skippy happy The Wee One is with another full day ahead of her, all her own. Photo by Babeth Lolarga

Here's a song that I hope she also grows into. I'm teaching her the spiritual "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", and she enjoys watching on YouTube the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's versions.

Maybe when she's a little bigger. My Dad used to sing this when it was being played on the radio as he drove his car. Neil Diamond's "September Morn" remains one of the songs that I associate with him.

Some excerpts:

Stay for just a while
Stay and let me look at you
It's been so long, I hardly knew you
Standing in the door

Stay with me a while
I only wanna talk to you
We've traveled halfway 'round the world
To find ourselves again

September morn
We danced until the night
Became a brand new day
Two lovers playing scenes
From some romantic play
September morning
Still can make me feel that way

Look at what you've done
Why, you've become a grown-up girl
I still can hear you crying
In a corner of your room
And look how far we've come
So far from where we used to be
But not so far that we've forgotten
How it was before...

'Sunday Morning,' starring Butones

First sight to greet us just outside the pedestrian gate was Ms. Lovely Purple Photos by Booboo

"...[T]here are two big problems associated with taking pictures. Firstly, we’re likely to be so busy taking the pictures, we forget to look at the world whose beauty and interest prompted us to take a photograph in the first place. And secondly, because we feel the pictures are safely stored on our phones, we never get around to looking at them, so sure are we that we’ll get around to it one day." - "Why you should stop taking pictures on your phone - and learn to draw," from the blog www.theschooloflife.com, posted by The Philosophers' Mail on 12 May 2014.

It's one of those miraculous mornings after two consecutive gray days in Baguio. Our little bossing wasn't gonna let it pass without a walk around the village. She was still in her jammies with monkey prints with one monkey saying "I'm not tired." I was in my house dress with snowflake prints (thank you, Lara Halili!) so I a pulled a long pullover over it for decency's sake. I put on my dark glasses, and Butones returned to her room to fetch hers. I put on a made-in-Batanes hat, she put on her yellow polka-dot cap but decided at the last minute to toss it back in the living room as we prepared to leave.

The pictures that follow are the ones that Butones said I should take. She always prefaced her command with "Look!" And look I did: at flowers, spider webs, clumps of fallen pine needles, banks of clouds, etc. What is a mere pretender to the title of "photojournalist" to do but to follow the keener and more curious eyes of Da Bossing?

I'm posting and sharing our pics from a few hours ago. Taking pictures is faster than drawing. And like I wrote before, pictures help me remember, especially one child's precious observations.

The finger points to the direction we're about to take.

Whenever she encounters her shadow, she's always gleeful. Reminds me of a Robert Louis Stevenson poem that we had to learn in kindergarten in my St. Paul Quezon City days. It begins with these lines: "I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,/ And what can be the use of him is more than I can see."

"Look, I'm stepping on your shadow, Booboo!"

Self-portrait with grandchild

"That's the lala of Boots!" Butones cried out when she saw this dachshund. She was referring to the mixed breed dog that she and her Mamay Kimi adopted. And, in her excitement, she said "lala" instead of "lola."

She puts on her pair of sunglasses when the morning sun rises higher.

"It's not yet open, Booboo."

"That one's open na!"

"Spider web! Over there!"

Trying to spot the roof of her house with Mt. Santo Tomas in the background

Beyond those fluffy cotton candy clouds is the China Sea.

Outside the neighbor's gate, I asked Butones, "Can you read out the number for me?" Answer: "It's three-three!"

"It looks like a walis." Indeed, it does look like a broom.

Home again to rock on her Horse With No Name before she steps into the house for her Sunday pancake

And then along comes Stephanie

Stephanie Aguilar, resplendent in her Mel Orlina gown whose color is on the soothing side of teal, on Aug. 20, the night of her professional debut concert at the Ayala Museum lobby

Her dream is to play the title role in Puccini's Madame Butterfly. Her reason is simple yet true: she wants to sing what is one of the most beautiful and passionate arias, "Un bel di vedremo." And why shouldn't this girl-woman with the voice of an angel sing of a love that waits but waits in futility?

This observer is willing to wait, too, in order to watch Stephanie "Teepee" Aguilar achieve a depth to her singing, a sign that she may have had a firsthand experience of love, of abandonment or something close to it and a willingness to do the ultimate sacrifice for someone. Or she can give the lie that she has undergone that experience. If it's the latter case, then thumbs-up for her acting chops, something an operatic singer also needs to be equipped with.

So far in her debut as solo professional singer she acquitted herself in a Puccini aria from Turandot where she sings the part of Liu, the slave in love with a prince. Liu is tortured to extract information, another of those over-dramatic elements that happen in a tragic opera. As Teepee gestured towards the end how she was about to be pierced by Turandot's henchmen, we feel that next shock of pain.

Our personal favorite is her interpretation of Rachmaninoff's "Vocalise." This one has no words/lyrics, except for "a single vowel of the singer's choosing, " according to the program notes. (By the way, the Manila Chamber Foundation must also congratulated for the pains it takes to produce instructive souvenir programs and translations of songs from their original German, Russian, Italian, Spanish, even Bisaya in Antonio Molina's "Oras nga labing mangitngit" or "Dark Hours).

Teepee was one of the voice students who was in Sumi Jo's master class at St. Scholastica's College in February this year. The evening before the class, the Korean soprano enthralled the Samsung Hall audience with her own take on "Vocalise" that, of course, gave one a vision of the rapture that follows a yearning for the Divine. The student truly learned from a master.

In an earlier interview with the blogger, Teepee described her "surreal feeling" when she shared the stage with the soprano superstar. "I only had YouTube videos as references of what she sings like. Then there she was, shaking my hands, hugging me, giving me compliments, telling me how I can better my singing."

Wilson Go, an avid voice music fan and who, with his pal Edward Yap, led the standing ovation for Teepee, exclaimed as he gestured from head to diaphragm, "Perfect instrument! Imagine how she'll sound like when she reaches 35!"

We can only agree and expect to be more astonished by her ripening.

Taking a grand and graceful bow at the close of her performance. Jade Rubis Riccio (far left), Stephanie's fellow soprano who served as page turner for accompanying artist Farley Asuncion that evening, joins the applause and ovation. Teepee obliged with two encores: "He's Got the Whole World in His Hands" and "Mutya ng Pasig."

Signing a souvenir program Photos by Babeth Lolarga