Thinking my thoughts out in the sun

I went out in the sun to think my thoughts out....My gazed turned into the creeping roses that needed pruning so I took out the kitchen ladder and started pruning it with the new 9" pruner which Brett and I got from Park Lea Market this morning.

I took my time doing this and sat on our old garden furniture to take breaks in doing this.  After finishing, I was happy with my work done.  At least I could see better the yellow blooms of my tree on the other side of the lattice.

                                                                                                                                                                                               Then  my eyes caught sight of the chrysanthemums which Merle gave our mother during the past two mother's day and which I transplanted in pots.  They have grown taller and wider but I  nearly lost them because of snail infestation. After I handpicked the tiny snails chewing on the leaves and tread them under my feet, the plants flourished and have numerous buds now.  I checked again if there were still snails because  some of their leaves were wilting.  I found a few which I removed. I also removed all the dried leaves for them to look nicer.  

I felt sad while I was doing this because it had been quite sometime that I could not even take my Mum in the extension and the backyard.  I had not dared to do this because I might not be able to manage taking her down and up the steps.  

She has always loved being out in the garden so, I had just been sitting her in the verandah since February. As she is having difficulty standing up recently, however, I have just been sitting her in her special chair near the window where she could still look at summer blooms in the garden which she enjoys and keeps her awake also.

Last Thursday late afternoon, however, she could not get up from  that chair by the window.   We struggled hour after hour but she could not stand up even a bit that made it difficult for me to lift her.  Not wanting her to remain in a distressed state, I called my siblings.  I called Daisy first.  Knowing she was not working Tuesday to Thursday, I thought it easier to ask her to come over.  I called but no answer. I called Merle but she would not able to drive over as her husband who was visiting his dad in the nursing home got the car. I could not call Cyn as  she disconnected from 3 phone due to unsatisfactory service. However,  Cyn called me later.  She was food shopping with her husband.  As the network was bad, she said she would call me as soon as she gets home. I could call Art, but he just had an operation.

I talked to Mum and persuaded her to try to stand up a bit for me not to have to carry her whole body weight. After many attempts, we were able to stand her up.  After dinner, the same problem arose.  Cyn rang and asked if they needed to drive over.

As it was getting late and starting to rain and not wanting to inconvenience both Cyn and Rene who had to leave for work the following morning, I gathered all my strength so I could lift Mum. I was able to put Mum to bed, but unfortunately hurt my back in the process.  Not a wise move, I know. I do not have regrets but am hopeful to feel better, having taken pain killer and have been resting as Mum is with Merle now and later with Daisy.

Now, I am anxious, however,  I won't be able to look after her without hurting my back more.  Art said he and H.ilda would come over during weekdays to help me.  Cyn volunteered to look after our mother throughout her three week holiday this April  to give my back a rest and save it from further injury.

As I sat out in the sun, I had been thinking however, along the lines of a long-term solution.  I know that it will be harder and harder on my own to to look after Mum who is turning 89 this October. ..

I already text Daisy this afternoon to help us get further appropriate disability aids. She should know what Mum would need as she works in an aged care facility.  I am also thinking of buying a queen bed to put in the extension for Art and Hilda to use and whoever among my siblings would come to help, so they do not have to travel back and forth so much.  I'll see how we all go from here.

As I already told my siblings, we do not like to put Mum in the nursing home now--as much as possible.  We have survived and done well since her heart failure in 2009.  She only has got a short term memory loss, if not mild dementia.  We do not want to break her heart and feel sad and alone after dinner time.  We do not like her to ask while lying down in bed hoping to get some sleep..."Why am I  here and not in any of my children's house?"

 In my house, after dinner time is the most enjoyable time for Mum--we watch TV together while eating her favourite cashew nuts. I also give her treats (ice cream, bread with Nutella which she loves, if not the healthy cereal with So Good milk) during supper (two or three times depending on her blood sugar level).  I think this is okay as I do not want to wake up and panic to find the blood sugar level drop during her sleep.

My immediate concern now is for her to see and enjoy the Chrysanthemums which are ready to burst into yellow and pink blooms this coming Mother's Day.

I won't be able to take her out in the backyard as I used to do, but with my siblings there on that day, she'll be able to go out in the garden and admire the  splash of colours--hoping this will lift her spirit up.

The transplanted Chrysanthemums my mother got from Merle during 2011 and 2012 Mother's day

One of the Chrysanthemums now with many buds

     

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Summer Gardening e Log--Batao

My father  planted bato for me in my backyard from the seeds of his own garden. This legume, with beautiful purple florets, grows in abundance in my backyard year after year. It is something which is hard to kill. 

I have grown up eating batao since I was young . I remember my mother cooked this then with coconut milk and it was delicious.  However, I just cook it as adobo (stir fried with garlic and soy sauce and a bit of vinegar). Most of the times I mix it with other vegetables in a stir fry or pinakbet (one-pot dish with eggplant, pumpkin, okra seasoned  garlic and onion and also soy sauce) and also in the vegetarian spring rolls I regularly make.

Many people have batao  in their own backyard, too.  That's why I have never seen them sold in the market in my place. It's funny one time when I was in Westfield Shoppingtown, one 84-year -old  lady was selling batao to me.  I told her I also grow them and I just give them away to relatives.  She said she used to give them away too, but she has got so many that she is selling it now. I laughed and asked how much are you selling it for.  She said $1.50 a pack. I told her good on you!'' She proudly said at least she earns some money from it.  I cautioned her, however, not to eat too much of it, particularly if she is arthritic.  She showed me her fingers and found them having signs of rheumatoid  arthritis.  I haven't read much about it, but my theory is this legume, if consumed in excess quantities can cause rheumatoid arthritis.  I had seen my father's fingers become crooked and I am inclined to believe the culprit is batao. When my mother who is not arthritic and whom I regularly give small quantities of it start having a little bulge on her one finger, I limit her intake of it.

With the above downside to it, I planted more of this legumes along my fence, as it's purple florets are beautiful to look at. Also, so I can also give them to my sisters' friends.

Summer Gardening e-Log---Amaranth

This is Amaranth.  I took the fancy of putting a bundle of it  in this green bottle as ornament which gives some kind of rest to my tired eyes. 

Amaranth is one species of spinach.  It grows wild in my garden.  I am not quite sure if I ate it when I was young, but I remember eating them when I was at the Adventist University of the Philippines.  It was sold in the market in the campus by one of the students there who encouraged and taught me how to cook it.

Now, I just eat it most of the times as stir fried vegetables with garlic and soy sauce (that's the only way I know how to cook, anyway Lol!).  Tired of eating it this way, I recently made mini and thin spring rolls out of them by microwaving the leaves, squeezing as much water from it then putting in (either mozarella, parmesan, fetta) cheese in it, then rolling them in spring rolls wrapper.  I freeze most of them because I could not eat so much of it as the cheese makes them a bit salty.

One time when my brother Art and his wife came to visit.  I asked his wife to fry some of the spring rolls for our snack.  My brother said it tasted good and ask what was in it and I said it kulitis (the vernacular for Amaranth) that which grow in my backyard and in the railway.  I saw my brother's reaction--something like wanting to spit it out.  To allay his fear,  I informed him our father ate it all his life and despite the cancer, he lived to a full and happy 83 years (laughing in loud inside me, hahaha!).  I added furthermore that my theory because our father ate so much of it, he never had cataracts but in principle sort of still have a 20/20 vision).

Shouldn't I be thanking and praising God?

As I had a small window of opportunity to do as I please with my mother at Merle's, I went through my files to remind me of my thought processes in the past I wrote in loose pages.  When I read this one loose page (scan of which was shown on the right) I couldn't help but be amused.  Let me type its essential  content.   I wrote on the first line..."Shouldn't I be thanking and praising God?"

What for? Only for one reason-- this quiet and peaceful afternoon..  Why? hadn't my past afternoons been?

Obviously not!  Unlike before, Rhys, the boy across the road who was like Dennis the Menace hadn't knocked on my door yet..Oh but he had. Although I was not quick enough to answer the door that he just walked away.  

I further wrote, "I do not really mind him coming to oy my yard as long as he doesn't stay almost half of "his life for the day.., doesn't waste my water nor destroy my plants...'

Did Rhys really hang around my house-- apparently that long? Hmm.. And by the sound of it, I did not do something about it , but just tolerated him  ( happily or painfully?) I'd  say so---so. 

 Rhys- was that boy who was the subject of my lengthy exposition  found in the following link:

 http://seeingthruaglass.blogspot.com.au/2013/03/denis-menace-lived-in-my-neighbourhood.html. 

Had I not seen the scanned page shown, I wouldn't even remember he also came to my yard to water my plants.  In his young mind, I knew that he was trying to help or please me.  However, as careful as I always have been with water (considering Australia is a dry continent and having come originally from a country where water is a priceless commodity), it was pointless to water plants after lunchtime when the sun was still burning hot, and needless to say when the rate of evaporation is high before plants could drink the water up.

In fairness to the little boy however, there were times that I was so pleased he had come and save me from one of the many chores I needed to do. And I believed that while I was away on holidays with my family, Rhys must have come to water my plants because I always found them when I came back healthy and thriving.

Without Rhys in my premises, I spent the afternoon, as I always do even now,  listening to light classic or songs as listed in the above scanned page Elvis Presley, Matt Monro, Jack Jones.

Shouldn't I be thanking and praising God? I definitely should...and always---not only for the peace and quiet afternoon, but for everything and even for this beautiful memory of a little boy called Rhys

Dennis the Menace lived in my neighbourhood

Dennis the Menace, Internet

His name is not Dennis but Rhys. He is five years old and blonde.  Everyone knew him in the neighbourhood.  He pulled out sticking mails out of everyone’s mailboxes and left them lying around in the street, pulled out plants and more--- which went in one ear and right out the other as my neighbour enumerated them.

As I was new in the area, the old lady next to my house cautiously told me to watch out for Rhys lest I got caught off guard by his menace.  I had never met him until he climbed the jacaranda tree in my front yard and yelled out for help because he could not climb down the tree. As my mother who was not tall enough, though right next to the tree, could not help him, he kept on screaming at the top of his lungs calling out for his Mum who lived just across the road opposite my house.  His Mum did not come to his rescue.  My father did. From a wretched state, a mischievous grin shone on the boy's face.  The reaction on my father's face was as I saw it from my main bedroom window was a priceless picture.

The jacaranda tree in  my front yard. except for the hedge in front, all the other plants were non existent  then

Well, the above scenario was Rhys welcoming menace for my parents who were so focused in gardening then that they scarcely or hardly responded to Rhys what seemed to be an endless inquiries.

When I came out, Rhys walked towards me and gave me the friendliest smile I bet he could ever give to anyone he wanted to make friends with.  He began talking to me in  an endless chatter which I could not understand 110% with his child and Aussie accent.  Possibly having been acquainted with Rhys as my father had done much gardening  since the day I bought the house, he warned me not to be friendly so as not to encourage the boy to hang around my property, the front yard of which was technically without a fence on the side of his street which made it very accessible not only for the neighbours’ dogs or cats, but also for Rhys,

One day, I was cutting the grass with a hand mower that just stopped for no reason.  As I stooped down to check what was going on, I caught sight of Rhys standing just on the nature strip.  He probably was quite hesitant to go inside my yard as my father planted rows of poinsettia that served as hedge.

The mower stopped because a short twig got caught in between its blade. When I resumed cutting the grass, I noticed Rhys was gone.  The next thing I knew however, was he already standing right next to me. He went through the front side of my yard which had a Photinia hedge.  I felt a bit amused because he did not go through any of the gaps in between the poinsettias nor step across them but rather went around the corner till he got to in front of my house..
 

I continued cutting the grass but with a bit of difficulty as the grass had grown tall because of too much rain during the last few days. Rhys blurted out he could cut the grass for me.  Wow, what a little chivalrous fellow! I laughed and said a big NO outright—this mower was not meant to be touched by kids and further added  this might cost him his legs or toes He did not protest but hang around and asked one question after another regarding spiders, sticks, and plants.

As I had been warned beforehand of his habit of destroying plants and pulling out new plants and seeing him about to touch the creeping jasmine I just transplanted from the pot to a spot near the paper bark tree, I became alarmed, I told him that plants like people got angry too. I also said that if plants get hurt, they would stop growing and eventually die and strongly emphasized  that I wanted that jasmine to flourish because it was given to me by my missionary friend whose hair colour was the same as his. Hearing these, he gently touched all the plants in the yard asking me at the same time to name them one by one.I wouldn't mind this. After I finished cutting the grass, I told him it was time for me to go inside the house and he left.

Another time as I had finished watering the plants and about to go inside the house, Rhys came again this time with his cat.  He asked me if he could go inside my house with his cat. I said No, not with his cat.  He disappointingly asked why.  Don't I like cats?  I replied I am allergic to it.  As he could not understand what I meant, I told him I was going to have an asthma attack and at the same time dramatised how breathing could become difficult for me and caused my death if he would insist of bringing his cat inside my house.  After staging that  drama, I rhetorically asked him he definitely wouldn't  like me to die, would he.  He shook his head from left to right— I am his friend and Sue, the girl with a red car is not and hates him.  I told him I would just go inside the house then for awhile.  When I came out again, Rhys was sitting in my porch by himself.  I asked where his cat was.  He said he took it back home. I laughed inside and told to myself—unlike one of the poinsettias which wilted because he was so naughty to have pulled this out, at least he did not want me to die.

One mid day while I was washing the dishes, Rhys knocked on my door.  I was expecting one of my family members who were visiting that time would answer the door for me, but no one did because my father had told them not to and further said that Rhys would soon go away. When I looked out through the window, I saw him, with his sister, walking away as he pulled out one of the bulbs which we just planted to line the pathway leading to the entrance of my house.  When I went out later, I saw scattered individual sticks of my walis tingting (broom), Shall I knock at his door and tell his Mum?

About half an hour later, Rhys came back, this time knocking much harder on my door.  I answered the door and asked him why he pulled out my plants and wrecked my broom.  He did not answer.  I asked if it was because no one answered the door when he knocked at the first instance. He nodded his head seemingly with a bit of shame.  I explained to him at that time of the day, we like Spanish people, were having a siesta and asked him to go back home.  Without any drama, he left with some kind of disappointment

Few days later , Rhys came again ---possibly curious upon hearing the sound of the welding machine and the chatter of my family members who were all busy in,the making of fence.  This time, he asked me if he could see my backyard. I told him a lot of activity was going on there because we’re making a gate and fence and with him barefooted, he might step on something sharp and thereby injure his feet.  He left straightaway and quickly came back wearing slippers.  I laughed and told him how about we could just talk as I raked dried leaves.  He agreed and helped a bit in cleaning my lawn.  When the sun became too hot, I stopped and asked him to go back to his house.  I told him I, with members of my family would leave soon to pick up some plants in my mother’s house.  When we came back late afternoon on that same day, we found him sitting at the porch waiting. My family laughingly said, what’s this-- an addiction?  I also laughed and talked to my little friend.

Soon the fence and the gate were finished.  My property was secured so to speak from dogs and cats, but not from  Rhys! That is, going  through the next neighbour’s gate and then under the conifers dividing my property from the neighbours.  I told him this might not be a good idea  because my next neighbour might get upset with him, I also said he might also hurt his eyes with the needles of the conifers. And he said .he could also get bitten by spiders! I affirmed what he said but also said with the exclusion of garden spiders.  I told him, he should come only if I was in the front yard and that if he sees my gate closed that meant I was out and no one was in the house.   He said okay.

I did not see much of him again. However,  I could hear him crying out loud often.  I think his Mum was keeping him in the house now. Was she getting embarrassed?  My other neighbours, as I was told, usually dragged the boy to his Mum to complain of his wrongdoings.  I never did.  I think I must have played enough with my nephews and nieces that I saw them in Rhys eyes..

To end my story, one rainy afternoon, as I came out and just stood at the porch to watch the rain falling in the garden, I saw Rhys in front of his house struggling to push a shopping trolley. I waved at him and he waved back.  That was it and I went back inside the house.

The following morning I saw the trolley in front of my gate.  It was not long  and soon  I got acquainted not only with Rhys, but also with his two year old brother named Haydn whom he also took in my yard at one stage and his sister whose name I forgot and eventually with his Mum and Dad.  

I became busy when I accepted a contract research work, I rarely see Rhys nor other members of his family.  However, when the family was about to leave the neighbourhood,  Rhys Mum knocked on my door. She was returning the white top she borrowed from me when she told me she had to go  to court and all her clothing were casuals..  She said she had already washed and ironed it. I laughed and  I told her she did not have to return it because I already gave it to her.  She insisted that for me to have it back.

Weird enough, I dreamed about all of them the night before.  I felt a kind of sadness in my heart as I saw Rhys Mum walked out of my gate. I surely would miss them, particularly my little friend whom my neighbours called some kind of Dennis the Menace.

My Memoirs-I walked to school with the whole neighbourhood

Most parents would not let their primary school kids to walk to school these days.  This had not been so, however, that time when I was a school kid—when there was peace and quiet and if I could say it, when people were in the lookout for their neighbours’ welfare and safety. 

I had lived in a neighbourhood which was heterogeneous—ie  consisting of  of old rich, new rich, middle class (as I only heard about the abolition of middle class in high school) or possibly, if there were poor, mostly upper poor and not mid poor, or poor poor people. In the immediate vicinity of our house, for example, were Aling Jule and Mang Andrada whose grown-up sons were educated, one of whom even got posted in America and then there were also Mang Tony, who’s got a Ph D from New Zealand and his wife Aling Diana who was an office worker.

Going out of the interior part of the street where I lived were people who were some kind of rich. Two of them were Mang Tiago who lived in a  big mansion painted  yellowish, if not beige or off white which was called Villa Nina and the Mendozas who were like shipping stockholders, if not magnates.  I had never been inside their mansions so I did not really have an idea what it meant to be rich then. Nimrod knew however, that there was a swimming pool inside the Menodza’s house whose tall blue gates were always closed.. According to the adults, however, in the compound where our family and relatives lived, the Mendozas became bankrupt when they paid compensation to all the families of every single person who died in an accident in one of their ships. .

 

At the end of our street lived a band called Excalibur who had gathered a considerable audience, among whom were my big sisters who even kept a photograph of the band. I bet this was because of the sound of their big drum and bass guitars or maybe because of the Beatle songs they sang.

Knowing who our neighbours were and them knowing us, I walked to school as far as I could remember—every single school day.  This walk , I meant to F.G. Calderon, not the Lerma SDA School I also went to in grades 1 and 3, wasn’t  a short distance walk because my house as I had said in the foregoing, was in interior part of the street-- more accurately, in the boundary of Manila and Caloocan cities.

This is artificial Sampaguita garland and Ilang- ilang corsage perfumed with Sampaguita scent

When I went out of the gate of our compound from which hang a sign bearing “Beware of Dogs.”, I could already smell fragrance coming from Mang Abeng’s sampaguita field and see his workers picking the small white flowers that were made, together with another flower called Ilang ilang,  into garlands  which were later sold at the entrance in Sta Cruz or Quiapo churches  or else  peddled in the street  which the Roman Catholics bought to put in the altars of  their homes..

I couldn’t remember being fearful walking to and from school, because I was not by myself but with my siblings and cousins who were also going to the same school..  And even if I was by myself, other kids who were not of school age were outside the houses I passed by playing Philippine games like teks, sipa or pico, if not just chattering  Similarly, some adults like  Aling Diana, Mang Onyong, Mang Roger or Mang Tony were also out walking to go their respective workplaces. There were also Aling Felisa, Aling Maria, and Aling Pilar  carrying baskets  to go to the wet market past the railway station and far beyond the Lerma  SDA school  or the talipapa along my school’s street .

Technically, walking to school was like walking with all the people in the neighbourhood.  Having said this, I think it would be accurate to say that my parents as well as other kids’ parents in our neighbourhood were  kampante  (calm and comfortable) for all of us children to walk to school.  Furthermore, in principle, I could say that everyone knew everybody and thereby, should be keeper of anybody. 

As we kids just walked past cluster of houses of timber and concrete make or combination of both, this walk expectedly was not much of  fun, adventure or exploration, not until we reached Aling Nelda’s sari-sari store where I particularly used to buy my favourite Choconut and white rabbit candies. 

After this store, was an alley.  At this point was where all the thrill and adventure happened, particularly if we encountered here Aling Pia.   We kids were scared to death to be   cornered by her as she was always drunk with large doses of See Hoc Tong even at the first hour of the day. I couldn’t figure out but in few instances when this occurred, Aling Pia would chase us out of the alley with her hands in strangling gesture.

From hindsight, I think she was just like in a playful mood and not intending to hurt any kid because she caught my youngest sister Cyn once and all she did was held Cyn’s neck with her cold hands like those of a dead person but eventually let her go not causing any bodily damage. I think she was doing this because other kids were in the habit of teasing her. Also, I think Aling Pia must have a bigger problem which she was trying to run away with by drinking or else she might be having bad times or experiencing pain she wanted to deaden through the spirit of See Hoc Tong. I never knew because there was no adult in our compound who ever mentioned her name.

The alley, being so narrow would only allow two people to walk through in two-way direction.  As such, my father cautioned us when we were much older not to walk alone ever (!) through this alley, particularly in the dark.  He said that even if the people in the neighbourhood in general were decent and good, we could not eliminate the chance that we might meet bad people who might harm us. If we were however cornered by drunkard, he said we needed not really be scared because we could easily overpower him. All we needed to do was to push him because he would easily fall over and then run as fast as we could. Otherwise we could apply the boxing techniques he taught us or karate skills my older brothers learned in karate school..

The alley opened to a big quadrangle before we got to the main street. Here there was a basketball court, a carenderia  and a vegetable and chook small-scale farm owned by Aling Ima and Mang Chiquito.  .  Teenage boys played basketball mostly in the afternoon, before which they hang out in the carenderia to eat or drink.

Internet photo of ice cream cart with 2 kinds of cones.

On the main street  was a line of colourfully-painted and decorated   tricycles which were for hire to take anyone anywhere.  We, my siblings and cousins and I did not take this ever in going to school because the sound of the bell of Mamang Sorbetero (the ice cream man) was enough incentive to save  our allowance to buy after school his ice cream which came in different flavours—ube, mango, or vanilla. This ice cream is referred to now by most tourists in the country as dirty ice cream.  Dirty or not dirty, however, we kids were crazy for it.  What pleased us also were the choices Mamang Sorbetero gave us—ie depending on our choice, he could gave us the ice cream in unsweetened cone or matamis na apa (sweetened cone)and also a bun. From hindsight, I think there was nowhere in the world that time, except  in our neighbourhood,  where ice cream was put in a bun like the hamburgers.

In the street were also other food vendors who were selling popsicle,  coloured crushed ice called scramble which also came in different flavours; native cakes called bibingka or pichi pichi. Other vendors also gave us a chance to eat for free if we were prepared to take the challenge of shooting a coin in a narrow-mouthed bottle filled with water after we flip the coin.  If we were successful, then we get a steam bun or fresh lumpia for free.

I never took challenge but i got to eat free lumpia too because my brother Rommel was a sharp shooter that technically he could have all of us kids in our compound eat for free. But the vendor couldn’t afford to be bankrupt so after three tryouts, he banned my brother for further shooting in the coin.

Fruit market found in a talipapa

Along my school's street were also cluster  of houses interspersed with small establishments like the drugstore, Dr. Parco’s clinic, beauty salon and also a few sari-sari store which sell 'sa malamig,' (sago and gulaman drink)! More interesting was the busy and noisy talipapa. which was not just a fish market.  Inside were vendors of fruits and vegetables and dry goods.

halo halo dessert

More interesting and enticing definitely for us kids  were a number of  talipapa’s carenderia where we could buy a range of Filipino desserts famous of which was the cold sweet dessert or snack called halo halo, not to mention guinatang halo-halo and various kakanin. Here, people were seated while eating, and hence could enjoy not only the food but their friends.  I could not remember having eaten at talipapa after school. My sisters Ate, Mina, Daisy and Merle must have and so did Cyn. Funny, but  in a later confession, Cyn told us she spent some thirty pesos which she nicked from our retail store register to treat her whole class  in the talipapa. Unbelievable! An eight year old kid having that much money!  My sister must be a genius in counting money!

Aside from sweet foods which naturally interested us kids were images of youngsters walking on homemade stilts or else running around on their homemade wooden scooters and roller skates.

There should be much more than I could remember regarding my walk to school during my primary years.  I could not remember all. That was like five decades ago, yet the colourful sights of the tricycles, the ice cream carts; the scents of sampaguita and Ilang-ilang, the the sounds of the ice cream bell, the noisy children—all of these are memories I probably would not want to forget ever! Unless, I live to be over 80 and lose more billions of brain cells... this is why I have written this short account.