this was something i wrote 2 years ago, after ending my term as Editor-In-Chief of the Xavier Alumni Times. It was written for private publication in the XAT but I never knew if it was ever published at all. So, for the benefit of the people I mentioned in this article...
The Paul Yan Chronicles
FROM EARL KLUGH TO DEPAPEPE IN 25 YEARS
Having had the opportunity to teach photography in Xavier last year, I was half-expecting that there would be as few musicians now as there were 25 years ago, but I was told that I was in for a surprise. In the span of one generation, the musical aptitude of Xavierians has grown exponentially.
I first learned to play the guitar in grade 6, during a 4-day bout with chicken pox. Needing to entertain myself, I picked up my brother's Cebu-made guitar along with a battered copy of Jingle magazine and proceeded to teach myself the three simplest chords: D, G, and A. Within the day, I already was playing my first three-chord song, which didn't sound anything close to how it was supposed to, but I was so blown away at what I had achieved. Incidentally, that song was “Let your love flow” by the Bellamy Brothers, which was a big hit in 1977 and was used as the music bed of the popular Levi's commercial.
Being the third guitar player in the batch as we were stepping into high school made me quite popular with everyone else who couldn't play, but wanted a musical experience nonetheless. In a short span of time, I learned to play the songs of James Taylor, Jim Croce, Florante, and the ever-popular Mike Hanopol and the Juan Dela Cruz band. This was the music of the late '70s, and I was playing them for my batchmates!
Within the school year, I witnessed a powerful instrumental performance by Neil Huab and Norman Sese, both from batch 82. They played a guitar duet arrangement of Earl Klugh's version of “Dance with me” and Antonio Carlos Jobim's “Wave”. Since it was my first time to watch a guitar performance, I was mesmerized at how they transformed the guitar from providing basic accompaniment to a completely melodic instrument. In an instant, my musical horizon shifted. Soon afterwards, I bought a cassette of “Finger Paintings” by Earl Klugh, and borrowed “The Composer of 'Desafinado', Plays” by Jobim.
I eagerly anticipated the annual songfest, not because I wanted to compete, but because I heard that Neil and Norman were both entered in the Guitar category, not as a team, but as individual competitors!
For me, this was wonderful opportunity to watch two of the best instrumental guitar players from my generation. Half-expecting a battle royale, I was caught by surprise when they both played the same piece, Burt Bacharach's “April Fools”, as arranged by Earl Klugh. Both performances were technically flawless. Both were tremendously expressive. How did the judges score it? Both were given identical first place awards!
I walked away from that songfest feeling as if I was part of their shared victory. But musicians, just like other artists, are like that. That was the last time I saw them play, as I moved to another school shortly thereafter. But their music had already made an indelible mark on me.
I carry a copy of Earl Klugh's version of April Fools with me to remind me of that moment.
Now, I recently had the opportunity of teaching in Xavier to mark the 25th anniversary of my batch. Half-expecting things to be similar to how it was when we were walking through those same corridors, I inquired about the guitar skills of Xavier students and was told that things have changed considerably since my batch graduated in 1983. Now, each class has more than enough musicians to put up their own band! “And did I tell you, 'cher, that we write our own songs now?” said Xavier Francis Su, a student from the first batch of The Paul Yan Experience photography course, and my main reference for this article. Incidentally, Xavier Su belongs to the graduating batch of 2010, and is the son of Fulton Su from the Dragons of batch '72.
After recovering my composure from the shock of Xavier's revelations, I asked what sort of music they listen to now. As it turns out, 1970's rock is still very much the “in” thing today. Perhaps because everyone else from their generation listens to “current” music, they prefer to listen to older music to set them apart. Incidentally, '70s rock is now called 'classic' rock. One of their so-called 'anthems' is “thunderstruck”, which I picked up from Avi Hemandas, also from the batch of 2010. I only got a perspective of how popular “thunderstruck” still is today when I heard it being played as Manny Pacquiao made his entrance during his fight with Hatton. But enough of classic rock.
“Is there anything current that is popular with Xavierians today?” I asked Xavier Su. He ponders for a moment and tells me about a Japanese instrumental guitar duo whose music is currently enjoying cult following in school.
“Have you heard about 'Depapepe'?” he asked.
“Depa what??” I answered, with images of anime and manga in my mind.
“Its a Japanese band, with just two guys, both playing acoustic guitar”. “Thats what my band plays right now. Music from Depapepe”. And he makes me listen to a tune. “Their band is named because one guy has an overbite”. I laugh, remembering how odd the reasons for a band's name actually are. “Red, simply Red!!” as it was shouted over the phone to the promoter on the other side of the country who inquired about the name of the band they were featuring. “Dr. Hook”, as a result of wearing an eye patch for an infection during their first few gigs. Or broadcasters asking which one from the band is “Hootie” from the Blowfish. Some of the bands I managed in my younger days also had names which came from left field, such as “Manang Damo”, “Mortal Yell”, “35-EC', “Praxis” and “Shanghaied”. Somehow I think that Depapepe probably has a private joke in there somewhere as well.
My next logical question was about this band he plays with. It turns out that they play mostly instrumentals, and mainly Depapepe music. His bandmates are from batch 2009, and they also currently have 2 understudies from batch 2011, in anticipation of graduation issues. “Would you like to meet them?' Xavier asks me. I agree and we look for them around the new high school building. We bump into 2 of them, Avery Wong & Ian Go, and they bring out their beautiful Lumanog guitars. They hit the opening chords of “Hi D” and instantly I was mesmerized all over again. Although Depapepe music is quite fast and complicated compared to the simple and slow melodic style of Earl Klugh, this was still guitar music and that thought alone brought back memories of the lecture hall from a quarter of a century ago. I offer to photograph them for their “album cover” and they both agree. I try to conjure up something in the scale of the visually iconic, and I pull it off. The images have preserved the moment of our first encounter. They walk away with smiles on their faces, not too sure about how the final image will turn out. I walk away knowing full well that I have bumped into another set of musical prodigies.
And while everything else may have changed in Xavier, the love for music, apparently, is still the same.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Pain of a Word Called Solitude (rated PG-18)
We are social creatures after all.
I am not an exception.
Through the years, I have learned to crawl into an emotional cubbyhole when everyone else has left.
I have learned to be in solitude, even when in the midst of a crowd.
Being in solitude meant that I could reserve my innermost feelings to be shared with the one person I cared to be with. To be open to only one person; and not to share that intensity with anyone else.
Occasionally it backfires.
Occasionally you realize there is no one else in the cubbyhole with you. And then you realize that the pain of solitude is unlike no other. And that there is no one else to share your pain with.
There is no positive note here.
All I know is that the light at the end of the tunnel just got a little closer.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
I am not an exception.
Through the years, I have learned to crawl into an emotional cubbyhole when everyone else has left.
I have learned to be in solitude, even when in the midst of a crowd.
Being in solitude meant that I could reserve my innermost feelings to be shared with the one person I cared to be with. To be open to only one person; and not to share that intensity with anyone else.
Occasionally it backfires.
Occasionally you realize there is no one else in the cubbyhole with you. And then you realize that the pain of solitude is unlike no other. And that there is no one else to share your pain with.
There is no positive note here.
All I know is that the light at the end of the tunnel just got a little closer.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
haven't written a ghost story in a while (work in progress, visible mode)
You are aware that I was born in New Manila, right? Yep, virtually one hundred meters away from the infamous Balete Drive.
The Prodigies I Have Come Across
Three people come to mind right away.
Matt Sia was never formally a student. But he sought me out after classes each week for an entire semester. Of the three, Matt for me was the most gifted, photographically.
When I first met him, he was a lanky teenager, kinda unsure of how to go about interacting with his peers. I notice that it is a common thing among young prodigies. But Matt had a handle. Everyone knew how good he was with photography. That somehow made interacting a little less difficult for him.
His first questions delved mostly on equipment choices; the kind that I get from people who had money to burn and needed advise about what equipment to display. But then I realized that Matt was sincerely asking about the best equipment and optics because he was already at the point where it would start to matter. I took pains to go through specific equipment test results with him, discussing areas of strengths and weaknesses, while addressing his point of view. We would spend an hour after class, over bites of chili footlong hotdogs, discussing equipment. I realize that beyond the equipment knowledge, I needed to give him a better motivation to shoot. Which I did. Aside from occasionally giving Matt access to better equipment, I also provided specific shoot opportunities to get him to hone his skills. Photography is a craft. And crafts needed to be practiced to keep the skills sharp.
I remember one such situation where I brought him with me on a fashion and headshots shoot. He actually came up with a better visualization than I did. Of course I should say I expected that, since I was building up a prodigy. Matt, I am talking about the shot in front of the semi-rusty green gate which I asked you to hold, in private, for half a year. if you still have it, please post it here.
Matt has the ability to make a livelihood from Photography. Parents would always prefer that their children should just continue running their family business. It will eventually be Matt's judgement call. My role in the equation was merely to provide the stabilizing element to calm down the emotions of prodigies. Matt calmed down enough to graduate from Xavier, and then move on to UST for college.
Timothy Ong came the year after.
Everybody also knew how gifted he was, photographically. Everybody called him TONG, attaching the T from his first name to his family name. Tong first blew me away when I had his class come up with a special concept christmas card for their plate. It was a collaborative effort with Alex Oh, who was also quite talented.
here is a sample Alex's Photo
Immediately I saw where Tong's skills lay. He had the ability to conceptualize visuals in much the same way we do it for advertising projects. Just to digress a bit... print advertising requires the marriage of the written word with strong visuals. Marriage, because the combination produces a communication material that should be much much stronger than the sum of the individual parts. I also took pains to bring him up to speed on photographic fundamentals as well as aesthetics, by offering both of them scholarships to several workshops I was doing at the Astoria Plaza. I also brought them along to a walking shoot of rustic Manila just to give them both a flavour of shooting real-world situations.
Tong is a typical teenager, but with goth streaks. A typical advertising guy will have goth streaks, but behaves like a teenager. So Tong seems like a natural. He will probably gravitate towards the noveau art scene soon.
Tong, if you still have the christmas card, please post it here.
Chris King came during my last semester. He was also the youngest, but most mature emotionally. He also was the only one among the three that did not own a decent camera. What he used in class was a beat-up Nokia N95.
As every "Paul Yan Experience" alumnus knows, the first plate is mandatory for everyone, and that is what you first ask for when you meet another alumnus. "How does your Coke plate look like?"
For the Xavier alumni, their coke plate will probably revolve around their computers, or their playthings; mostly photographed inside their rooms.
Chris's plate was photographed on top of a hill he just climbed, sky, grass, and the red can of coke. Uncluttered, open to so many interpretations, all positive and conquering. Lucky he had a Nokia N95, instead of my then uber-expensive Motorola Razor Executive series. The N95 focuses. The razor is focus-free. Now those two phrases will suddenly be a lot easier to understand.
Chris followed this up with his plate on lines, even capturing the motion trail of a moving vehicle. I asked "what camera this time?" and he answered, "the same N95..."
Chris, put up any photo of your choice.
Although I knew that he was already at that point where his skills can not go any further unless he moves on to a "real" camera, he takes his time and chooses to buy a mountain bike instead. I do not rush him. Talent takes time to mature. We have 1 hour conversations over the same foot-long chili hotdogs as Matt was now at University. We talk about life. And then out of the blue he says, "The Will of The Wind. Right?" referencing a blog post I did around that time. I look him strait in the eyes, and just nod. Silence.
Of the three, Chris is least likely to pursue a career in photography. For me, teaching Photography to Chris was to give him a steadying influence he will need to bank on, in a future world that he will find himself in.
I made sure Chris became a legend in front of his peers, by getting him to give my card to someone, in front of everyone. Chris will probably still hear the cheers and clapping everyone gave him. I also made sure Chris became a legend with the fellow non-Xavier PYE alumni when I elevated him to PYE Team status in Puerto Galera. What he does beyond that is totally up to him.
Matt Sia was never formally a student. But he sought me out after classes each week for an entire semester. Of the three, Matt for me was the most gifted, photographically.
When I first met him, he was a lanky teenager, kinda unsure of how to go about interacting with his peers. I notice that it is a common thing among young prodigies. But Matt had a handle. Everyone knew how good he was with photography. That somehow made interacting a little less difficult for him.
His first questions delved mostly on equipment choices; the kind that I get from people who had money to burn and needed advise about what equipment to display. But then I realized that Matt was sincerely asking about the best equipment and optics because he was already at the point where it would start to matter. I took pains to go through specific equipment test results with him, discussing areas of strengths and weaknesses, while addressing his point of view. We would spend an hour after class, over bites of chili footlong hotdogs, discussing equipment. I realize that beyond the equipment knowledge, I needed to give him a better motivation to shoot. Which I did. Aside from occasionally giving Matt access to better equipment, I also provided specific shoot opportunities to get him to hone his skills. Photography is a craft. And crafts needed to be practiced to keep the skills sharp.
I remember one such situation where I brought him with me on a fashion and headshots shoot. He actually came up with a better visualization than I did. Of course I should say I expected that, since I was building up a prodigy. Matt, I am talking about the shot in front of the semi-rusty green gate which I asked you to hold, in private, for half a year. if you still have it, please post it here.
Timothy Ong came the year after.
Everybody also knew how gifted he was, photographically. Everybody called him TONG, attaching the T from his first name to his family name. Tong first blew me away when I had his class come up with a special concept christmas card for their plate. It was a collaborative effort with Alex Oh, who was also quite talented.
here is a sample Alex's Photo
Immediately I saw where Tong's skills lay. He had the ability to conceptualize visuals in much the same way we do it for advertising projects. Just to digress a bit... print advertising requires the marriage of the written word with strong visuals. Marriage, because the combination produces a communication material that should be much much stronger than the sum of the individual parts. I also took pains to bring him up to speed on photographic fundamentals as well as aesthetics, by offering both of them scholarships to several workshops I was doing at the Astoria Plaza. I also brought them along to a walking shoot of rustic Manila just to give them both a flavour of shooting real-world situations.
Tong is a typical teenager, but with goth streaks. A typical advertising guy will have goth streaks, but behaves like a teenager. So Tong seems like a natural. He will probably gravitate towards the noveau art scene soon.
Chris King came during my last semester. He was also the youngest, but most mature emotionally. He also was the only one among the three that did not own a decent camera. What he used in class was a beat-up Nokia N95.
As every "Paul Yan Experience" alumnus knows, the first plate is mandatory for everyone, and that is what you first ask for when you meet another alumnus. "How does your Coke plate look like?"
For the Xavier alumni, their coke plate will probably revolve around their computers, or their playthings; mostly photographed inside their rooms.
Chris's plate was photographed on top of a hill he just climbed, sky, grass, and the red can of coke. Uncluttered, open to so many interpretations, all positive and conquering. Lucky he had a Nokia N95, instead of my then uber-expensive Motorola Razor Executive series. The N95 focuses. The razor is focus-free. Now those two phrases will suddenly be a lot easier to understand.
Chris followed this up with his plate on lines, even capturing the motion trail of a moving vehicle. I asked "what camera this time?" and he answered, "the same N95..."
Chris, put up any photo of your choice.
Of the three, Chris is least likely to pursue a career in photography. For me, teaching Photography to Chris was to give him a steadying influence he will need to bank on, in a future world that he will find himself in.
I made sure Chris became a legend in front of his peers, by getting him to give my card to someone, in front of everyone. Chris will probably still hear the cheers and clapping everyone gave him. I also made sure Chris became a legend with the fellow non-Xavier PYE alumni when I elevated him to PYE Team status in Puerto Galera. What he does beyond that is totally up to him.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
The Child I Never Had
In the few conversations we have had about having a child, we felt that gender was of less importance to us, as we simply preferred a normal, healthy child.
If I had a choice, I would prefer a girl, over a boy. Young girls seem to be easier to control, at least superficially, than young boisterous boys. Emotionally, I know they will be opposite.
I would prefer my daughter to start fat. Cute fat, not obese fat. Probably until the age of 5 or 6. Early school age. She will probably have relatively long hair. At least shoulder-length, probably a touch longer than that. It will probably be curly, or at least have curls somewhere.
She will have large doe eyes. Expressive. Transparent windows to her soul. I do not know how she will have large eyes, considering I do not. She also does not. But large doe eyes will give her such a disarming look, from which no one is immune. From the direct-ascendant lolas who are all not around anymore,to the lateral lolas, and titas (aunties as we call them on our chinese side) and the adopted lolas and sisters, and best friends. Same thing with the non-existent lolos, to the lateral lolos and titos (uncles) and our other male friends. Once she flashes the doe eyes, she will get her toys, chocolates, osh koshes, little tykes and barbies.
upon reaching early school age, I will prefer that she picks up a sport. it doesn't matter which one exactly. so long as she enjoys it, and takes to it naturally. Sports has a way of steadying a person. It also provides early learning for handling failure, as well as reinforcing the corellation between success and hard work. And sports will help make her lose weight. Ok, make her lose the baby fat.
She will probably have above-average intelligence. At least I hope she does. Although genetics does not assure it, her gene pool will be just 2 or 3 points away from genius ranking.
I hope she does not become a wiseass. However, I have been made to understand that being a wiseass is a little more desirable than being a dumbshit. Eitherway, both will not sit well with me.
I hope she does not use her intellect to bully people. Or to put them down. Or to get ahead in line. She should use her intellect to help people build better lives. or at least discern about the quality of life she helps improve.
Here is the ticklish part. She will not hear anything from me about having to be first honor, all the time. I never was. She was. I will just want her to enjoy school, and the socialization it offers. She can save the studying for college, when I think it will start to matter. Hopefully, she takes post-graduate studies. I never did; She was summa cum laude status at her M.A. in Journalism. Academically, I have nothing to be proud of.
Here is another ticklish situation. How do I cope if she underachieves? Parents have that frustration. From the years that I have dealt with the children of prominent families, I have come to realize that their sons and daughters do not find their motivation from their parents anymore, but from role models they aspire to. Through me, and my role as a new force in their lives, I have helped mould children into something their parents will have assumed they should have developed into, on their own. I know that. I have seen that. I have done that, and it is well-documented. But how do I grapple with it as a parent; that my child will not see me as her source of motivation? If it happens, I hope she finds inspiration in another "teacher Paul". Hopefully, the new teacher paul will know how to rechannel it all.
I hope that she will have a heart as big as mine. she will probably not wish that. My heart has caused me both pleasure and pain. and not always in that order. I hope she takes her relationships as seriously as I did; regardless of whether it would end in pain or not. We, I, will be here, waiting to comfort her, each time it did. She will live, and love, and care, and dream, just like we did. Just like I did. Just like I do. Just like I am doing now.
But she is the child I never had.
My time has come and gone.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
(feedback welcome)
If I had a choice, I would prefer a girl, over a boy. Young girls seem to be easier to control, at least superficially, than young boisterous boys. Emotionally, I know they will be opposite.
I would prefer my daughter to start fat. Cute fat, not obese fat. Probably until the age of 5 or 6. Early school age. She will probably have relatively long hair. At least shoulder-length, probably a touch longer than that. It will probably be curly, or at least have curls somewhere.
She will have large doe eyes. Expressive. Transparent windows to her soul. I do not know how she will have large eyes, considering I do not. She also does not. But large doe eyes will give her such a disarming look, from which no one is immune. From the direct-ascendant lolas who are all not around anymore,to the lateral lolas, and titas (aunties as we call them on our chinese side) and the adopted lolas and sisters, and best friends. Same thing with the non-existent lolos, to the lateral lolos and titos (uncles) and our other male friends. Once she flashes the doe eyes, she will get her toys, chocolates, osh koshes, little tykes and barbies.
upon reaching early school age, I will prefer that she picks up a sport. it doesn't matter which one exactly. so long as she enjoys it, and takes to it naturally. Sports has a way of steadying a person. It also provides early learning for handling failure, as well as reinforcing the corellation between success and hard work. And sports will help make her lose weight. Ok, make her lose the baby fat.
She will probably have above-average intelligence. At least I hope she does. Although genetics does not assure it, her gene pool will be just 2 or 3 points away from genius ranking.
I hope she does not become a wiseass. However, I have been made to understand that being a wiseass is a little more desirable than being a dumbshit. Eitherway, both will not sit well with me.
I hope she does not use her intellect to bully people. Or to put them down. Or to get ahead in line. She should use her intellect to help people build better lives. or at least discern about the quality of life she helps improve.
Here is the ticklish part. She will not hear anything from me about having to be first honor, all the time. I never was. She was. I will just want her to enjoy school, and the socialization it offers. She can save the studying for college, when I think it will start to matter. Hopefully, she takes post-graduate studies. I never did; She was summa cum laude status at her M.A. in Journalism. Academically, I have nothing to be proud of.
Here is another ticklish situation. How do I cope if she underachieves? Parents have that frustration. From the years that I have dealt with the children of prominent families, I have come to realize that their sons and daughters do not find their motivation from their parents anymore, but from role models they aspire to. Through me, and my role as a new force in their lives, I have helped mould children into something their parents will have assumed they should have developed into, on their own. I know that. I have seen that. I have done that, and it is well-documented. But how do I grapple with it as a parent; that my child will not see me as her source of motivation? If it happens, I hope she finds inspiration in another "teacher Paul". Hopefully, the new teacher paul will know how to rechannel it all.
I hope that she will have a heart as big as mine. she will probably not wish that. My heart has caused me both pleasure and pain. and not always in that order. I hope she takes her relationships as seriously as I did; regardless of whether it would end in pain or not. We, I, will be here, waiting to comfort her, each time it did. She will live, and love, and care, and dream, just like we did. Just like I did. Just like I do. Just like I am doing now.
But she is the child I never had.
My time has come and gone.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
(feedback welcome)
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
intermission number 5
As a professional photographer, I actually have had very few professional projects which specifically needed a Manila Bay sunset. The thing with it is that there is an island that lies smack in the middle of where the sun is supposed to set, at least for most parts of the year.
So, what do you do next? You partner with Prestige Cruises and arrange to have a yacht move you around the bay so you will eventually get a good vantage of the sunset! And while everyone is mesmerized by the sunset, I look out for special one-of-a-kind shots that no one else sees. Here is one such shot; photographed probably early 2010.
As usual, the photograph is displayed as photographed. No photoshop, no tweaks. Shown the way I saw the scene unfold.
If you like it, please post a comment. I am a sucker for feedback.
enjoy.
Jesus Paul C. Yan
for The Paul Yan Chronicles
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Chubby, remembered.
Chubby loved her treats. My wife and I used to kid around that Chubby would easily be the hands-down choice for endorser of Beggin Strips. All you had to do was to crush the foil packaging and she would run towards that sound, wherever she may be.
Once she had the treat, she would find a comfortable rug somewhere and then methodically start to work breaking up the beggin strip into smaller portions before starting to eat them.
A single strip will often take her about 90seconds, as she chews it quite thoroughly. the exceptions happen when she hasnt been given a treat in a week; as she will munch through the entire thing in 2 seconds.
On my wife's first trip to the U.S., Chubby, who knew her pack hierarchy very well, (#1 my wife; #2 chubby; #3 me) suddenly jumped on the bed. this was the first time ever that she did that; I took the picture to send to my wife. Either Chubby was conscious that she was temporarily in top position, or she just missed my wife very much that day.
I could not pull her down. I also was conscious about my pack position. if i pulled her down, she would surely lunge at me. and I make a huge, slow-moving target. hahaha. by the way, this was our new manila house. My wife had her own library and reading room, and I had my own darkroom and cigar area in the attic. occasionally i would have a four-legged visitor who would go up the flight of stairs to hide out with me there. unfortunately, going down the stairs was not her strong point, so she did not visit me that often.
this was at the foot of the stairs, which was chubby's daytime area whenever we weren't around.
chubby ate twice a day, and from the same bowl ever since we had her. her usual meal treats was either ground beef, or chicken. as you can see, she was having chicken that day, so it was a special day. we probably came from Savory the night before.
and this is how she looked halfway through her usual meal.
and this would be how she looked if you forgot to feed her. she would wait beside her bowl. too dignified to let you know.
chubby was also a cultured dog. she used her paws to handle her beggin strips whenever she can. and she chews discretely.
ok, not all the time.
while she would be eating, this is what i'd be eating. keep in mind i was alone for two months.
let me pause for now.
Chubby loved her herb garden. she has had several. way back in new manila, she loved munching on her ferns, but she had to reach across the koi pond, at the narrowest point. She occasionally would need roughage especially after a bout with indigestion. when we moved over to Wilson, I had to build a special herb garden for her, and my wife; not necessarily in that order. the most complicated one i did had basil, tarragon, rosemary, and dill. i planted those as a surprise to my wife when she studied at the French Culinary Institute in New York. I timed them to grow just as she was on her way back. Instead, I was surprised one morning when i saw chubby hovering at the herb garden. after her first taste of basil, she was hooked. hahaha. I think she decimated the herb garden in three days.
Since it took a while to set up a herb garden, if i didn't have one prepared when chubby gets a tummy ache, the fastest way to go is to pop in a handful of mung beans in water, overnight; then plant them the following morning. in two days, they grow to this size. the clay pig on the left was something we picked up in suan lum in thailand in 2005 i think. i handcarried it, not too sure if it would make the 4hour trip in one piece. it did. I originally intended it to be modified into a fountain tip for the koi pond, but never got around to buying the pumps.
occasionally, chubby would stand guard over her puny munggo herb garden, while looking at her kingdom from the balcony. The bamboo chimes were a gift, but i do not quite remember from whom exactly.
when she gets tired standing, she sits and watches the munggo grow. she is a very patient dog. patient, unless suddenly unterrupted by pack hierarchy animal number 3 (me). and she makes sure i notice that she was irritated by my distraction.
irritating chubby was something you wouldn't want to do. although she doesn't turn green, she somehow gets scary when you know she's got your number. she has actually been a very well tempered dog most of the time. with the operative word being "most". I, who takes the brunt of her intolerances, am occasionally fearful of her when she gets jealous of me. the few times she has snarled at me, it was mostly as a warning to back off; to give her space. I almost always did.
i remember when we moved to wilson. whenever she needed to use the toilet (she had her own, and I trained her to use it) which was in the other room and needed someone to wake up to open the door for her, she learned to growl in a very low register, and at a low volume so as it would not be enough to wake up my wife. if my wife woke, she would shout at chubby to stop it and just wait for morning. chubby knew who to wake up. hahaha. and she would "knock" on the door after finishing her business, so i would let her back in again. For some reason, if she woke me up, i knew she had to do her thing at that moment. shouting at her to stop it would only break her spirit. all it took for me was to wake up, open the door, and wait for her to come back.
id like to end this article with a black and white photograph of chubby, as she was staring out towards north east. i think this was taken a few months before she died. she would often look out towards that direction, perhaps conscious that both my wife and i would be in that direction. in her last two months, she often stared in that direction, waiting for her master to come home. you can sense her loneliness, perhaps even desolation, as she probably knew her time was coming up. perhaps she was waiting for her master to come home and be with her for the last time. Louie Aseoche, i vividly remember you telling me that Chubby lunging at my pulse when I assisted the doctors in putting chubby in the cage was "her way of telling me she did not want to die away from you, but perhaps in your arms". I must have really really irritated her sending her off to the hospital. I sent her off because I was hoping that her sickness/lack of appetite could be cured by the best doctors money can buy. She did not want to be sent off because she knew she only had 24 hours left to live; and she wanted the last 24 hours to be spent with someone who had needed to love her. I realized that because of what you said, Louie. I will always wear the watch i wore that day, when she bit me at my right pulse. it will always remind me that things are not always what they seem to be.
i badly miss you, baby.
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