Ulong Tubig

© Joselito Briones

I had this dream when Ate Julie died.  She was with Joie, Jaja and Janelle.  They were all singing and dancing, with arms linked together,  Like in a chorus line.  While they were dancing, led by Ate Julie, the ground got spectacularly inundated with “Ulong Tubig” water.  Everyone rose above water level, still dancing, still having fun.  Then Ate Julie started fading into the background, smiling. 

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So dance, come on let’s dance

© Joselito Briones

Up until third grade my inay’s favorite form of torturing me was to make me perform a dance number whenever we have  guests at home. It wasn’t such a big deal, until it was.

Late 70’s, tail end of the disco era. We had this “stereo”, a behemoth of a casing for not much power . It had a turntable, a radio tuner, and not much else.  Kuya Toto, electronics wiz that he is, added  stuff to it until we had a decent 4-way stereo system. We had three vinyl lp’s, all by the beatles. 

One day my father came home with new album. Tina Charles.  The album came with its own instructions on how to do the dance steps.  I tried to do them but my vocabulary just wasn’t good enough at that point.  All I understood  was that I was supposed to step with one foot forward while pointing at it.  I did exactly that. Over and over.  And over.

What I didn’t realize was that my parents were planning a party. The day came and there was no turning back.  There was a good turn out.  I absolutely refused to do the one-step dance number but I was outnumbered.  Everyone was egging me on. The more I refused, the more I saw how disappointed my parents were. 

Finally, I relented.  I found out quickly how unentertaining it was to watch a child point at his toes. As one by one the guests dispersed and awkwardly, I secretly celebrated my freedom.

https://youtu.be/TMnns_iIB2M

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Dried flowers

© Charles George 

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Spa day

© Joselito Briones

When every wash day is a spa day, courtesy of Charles.

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Riding on a feeling

© Joselito Briones

In the summer of 1974, the preschool kids in my neighborhood learned riding a bicycle together.  There were 5 or 6 of us.  My brother Uwel took it upon himself to teach us.  The school, the designated training spot about ten houses from our house, adjacent to open rice fields, was still closed for the summer season.

I was late to learn about what was going on. Everybody was  already in the school grounds when I got there.  Jojo and Toto had their turns. Then everybody else.  I was jealous.  By the time my turn came, it was getting dark. We did one quick round of me riding poorly then we went home. 

We never got to finish the training.

  

A few days on, I discovered that as long as I could keep my self vertical on the bike with my feet on standby by my sides, still barely on the ground’s sloping  driveway I can just let go and let the bike roll by itself.  Doing it several times, i saw t could just rest my feet on the pedal, then the pedal was just a matter of going through the motions.

The next day, full of confidence, I proudly mounted the bike in the middle of the street. Perfect balance.

Only it won’t go. Tried and tried but, no.

Out of nowhere, Uwel yelled, “RELEASE THE BREAK!“ 

I did, and lo and behold. 

(Soundtrack: Hallelujah!)

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Mystery flowers

© Charles George

We couldn’t figure out what these are.  From our local bodega/deli. Any idea?

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The cutest ever on halloween

When you were two.

Who’d have thought?

At fifty-two and you three years more, I’ll be watching you as you sleep, tired from chasing away my boogeyman.

 

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Beef Pie

© Joselito Briones

Homemade by my lovely husband.

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setting uprIght knocked down school chairs

High school competitive Quiz open season. 1982 or thereabouts.  Anybody with the guts for it could enter.  Having the guts didn’t cost anything, so off to the quizzes I went.

I didn’t do particularly well that year, a fifth place in science and third place in English (I think).

My brother Uwel, three years my senior, and his friends were there cheering for me through the windows and grates of the school library where it was held. The talk was that I can finally put upright the chairs he knocked down while we were  in high school.  I was sure he was proud of me.

I remember the buzz and tension after every question. I’m usually indifferent about things like this, but that time they managed to get me excited. Excited enough to look forward to the following year.

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thanks eric cyntch and carina for the photo.

Tiny boots as vase

© Joselito Briones

Another round of chemo drugs today.

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Thanks for the sinigang na baboy

© Joselito Briones

Filipino comfort food, made at home in Brooklyn.  Thanks!

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Freshly baked banana chocolate bread

© Joselito Briones

© Joselito Briones

Thanks husband, they’re delicious!

Banana-chocolate bread and chocolate chip cookies from Maggie George‘s recipe.

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Wall decoration

© Joselito Briones
Wall objects.  The oil painting was by Charles’ grandfather. Ceramics mostly from Astier dela Villatte. 

Charles eventually relented and agreed to not keep the hanging lantern where it was in this picture.  I sit on that side of the couch because of the wheelchair and I always felt like the lantern was gonna fall on my head.

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2 years ago

© Joselito Briones

2 years ago, when I could still walk, project construction site close to jfk.  I was so looking forward to doing the whole thing. I loved how peaceful it was there.

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tiny hand blown glass vase

© Joselito Briones

Tiny blown glass vase in the shape of a head from la soufflérie. 

Out apartment constantly has flowers since lockdown.

 

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Iittle luxuries

© Joselito Briones

These enormous bath towels from Paris, pure washed linen, pure luxury.

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Den Den

© Louie  Briones

We have a tradition in the Philippines that’s a cross between a  debutante’s ball and a religious procession.

This is Den Den, a grandchild one of my brothers.  

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A day at the hospital

© Joselito Briones

Long hair courtesy of COVID-19 lockdown..

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Help me, Doggie, I think I’m falling

© Joselito Briones 
Over the last 15 months, I’ve been in and out of hospitals, I’ve seen and/or been treated by numerous doctors, neurologists, oncologists, onconeurologists, neurosurgeons, radiologists, had undergone craneotomy twice, and just about anything else they can throw at me.
I’m tired.

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I’m waiting for you

Love this show. Seen all of it several times.

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Ano sabi mo?

© Joselito Briones

What did you say dear?  My eldest sister, Norie, would ask earnestly whenever I started belting/shouting a song. It took me a while before I caught on that she was making fun of me, inferring that she couldn’t tell if I was singing or just talking to myself really, really loud.  I must have been 10 or 11.

There was a flurry of activity that day.  I was hanging around Norie’s room because she was moving.  Nobody said where to. I assumed to Manila, where else?  Another sister was taking over her room. I don’t know if it was my age, I always assumed everything’s fine. 

After a while, I remember receiving a card from Norie.  The card said,  “Missing you!”.  It had two penguins hugging. It had a very specific smell that I have since associated with things sent from the U.S..

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Afternoon sun

© Joselito Briones

This is what the afternoon sun looks like in our tiny living room.  There’s a young tamarind tree, passion fruit vines and other greens all planted and taken care of by Charles.

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On my father’s shoulders

© Joselito Briones

In the Philippines we start celebrating Christmas in September, as soon as we get a respite from summer heat.

It usually ends early January.

One Christmas season, I must have been 5 or 6, my father took me to work - a bus depot that he managed.  In the waiting room, right next to the glittery Christmas tree was a poster of “Jaws”, that summer’s ubiquitous image. 

There was a buzz in the air., “Mrs. is here.”, everyone whispered.  “Mrs.” was always just “Mrs.”.  She was the boss, owner of the company.  My father must have been busy attending to work.  When eventually he caught wind of her presence, he grabbed and lifted me to his shoulders and we ran and looked for Mrs.  The idea was to see if she was giving Christmas presents.  She was gone by the time we got to her office.

Whenever I’m reminded of that day though, I realize it wasn’t the missed “papasko” that I think about.  It was that my father never  picked me up  before then, at least not that I remember. I remember that it was nice being on his shoulders. I remember it was awkward because even at that young age I was tall and spindly.

I remember feeling special.

 

We went back to his office and he sat me on his desk He told me to keep my hands open and onto them he dumped all the coins from his pockets.

Happy days.

 

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i can use my right hand again...

© Joselito Brionesor so i dreamt.  

I woke up middle of the night without the usual heaviness on my right arm. i slowly moved my fingers. They’re here alright, although i couldn’t tell where my right hand was.  moving some more confirmed that my right hand was resting flat on my belly.  my right hand was moving freely again.

fearing the disappointment of finding out that this was just a dream, i forced myself awake, once in a while moving my hand to make sure that i can still do it.  after a couple of hours i fell asleep again.  I woke up again and found my right hand very stiff again.

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glorious morning

this is the morning glory vine that charles planted at t  window by my side of the bed. it’s already got two flowers since he planted it a month ago.  pretty eh?

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you...

left something in the toilet, darling husband.

 

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