Category Archives: The Examined Life

The unexamined life is not worth living.

Finding joy in a working weekend

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Don’t let pain keep you out of the garden.
– Welwyn Wilton Katz, Canadian author

Enjoying a Friday evening event at the Corte Madera Anthropologie store with a good friend, good wine, and good sweets.

Enjoying a Friday evening event at the Corte Madera Anthropologie store with a good friend, good wine, and good sweets.

Last Monday, I had no idea that I would be working that following weekend, making it the seventh weekend in a row. For the second Friday in a row, late in the afternoon, I received an e-mail from a client containing extensive comments to a white paper draft, warranting a major revision. To say that I was disappointed was a major understatement. I didn’t want to sink into despair, though I could feel myself get pulled down as if by quicksand. I was going to an event Friday evening and I had dinner plans on Sunday evening. My fear was that another working weekend was going to keep me from enjoying the company of friends. I was bound and determined not to let that happen.

So here’s what I did. I made a short list of what I absolutely had to get done by Monday morning: a minor revision, a major revision, and a first draft of a short paper. I decided to give myself the entire Friday evening off. Saturday morning I would start with the minor revision and work my way through the major revision, the most difficult of the tasks. And then Sunday I would write the draft and celebrate with my planned dinner. Having a plan helped to make what seemed insurmountable achievable.

Designer Corey Lynn Calter plays hostess.

Designer Corey Lynn Calter plays hostess.

Given what I had ahead of me, it was difficult at first for me to shake the work from my shoulders when I quit work Friday afternoon. When my friend Raissa and my daughter, Isabella, and I headed over to Corte Madera for the opening of the petite shop within the clothing store Anthropologie, I was still thinking about those comments. Once we leisurely walked around the outdoor shopping mall and sat and talked before the event started, I became more relaxed. And then, of course, once we walked into one of my favorite stores, worries about work stayed outside the door.

L.A.-based designer Corey Lynn Calter was on hand to open the new shop, which featured her line of clothes. She poured wine and champagne and chatted with the customers. She was amiable and very down to earth. I was able to spend time talking with Amy, from corporate headquarters in Philadelphia, who was one of the liaisons for a consumer group they headed up a few years ago. Amy was the liaison for the women from the western region of the country, which included me. I’ve been lucky enough to see her at some of the events in the San Francisco store since the group disbanded. It was great to see her and the store, given that I’d been away for a while, too busy with work. Instead of me working once we got home, we had a nightcap with our friends, which further relaxed me and prepared me for the work ahead.

A beautiful, quiet autumn moment (photo by David).

A beautiful, quiet autumn moment (photo by David).

Saturday was torturous, but I plowed through. When you get through a tough project or hurdle or problem, you feel a great sense of accomplishment. I persevered. By the evening, I was able to treat myself to working on a chapter of my novel for a couple of hours. In the morning, I was rewarded with a beautiful backyard scene of the morning sun streaking through the magnolia tree leaves. It was a moment that reminded me that there is beauty and joy when you least expect it, when you aren’t looking for it. And when you receive this gift, you accept it with gratitude and wear it like a cozy sweater.

With the tough project out of the way, I found energy to write the draft of the short paper on Sunday. I finished it in time for my family and me to head down to Los Altos and have a fall dinner with my college roommates, Susie, and Susan and her family, who hosted. We were also celebrating Susie’s October birthday. We have known each other since 1982 – 31 years! Good friends, good food and wine, good conversation. It doesn’t get any better than that.

31-year college friendship from UC Davis: Susie, Susan, and me.

31-year college friendship from UC Davis: Susie, Susan, and me. Timeless and ageless!

We got home a little late, but I’m fully relaxed and ready to start the week. Spending time with friends helped me find the joy in the working weekend. A working weekend with a happy ending on a late Sunday evening, right? Well, I flipped on my laptop when we got home and there was an e-mail waiting for me: An internal disagreement ensued between the person who approved of my draft and the person who wrote the extensive editorial comments, and the end result was for me to leave the draft as is and consider it final from the client’s end. A wasted Saturday? Lost energy being too proactive and working right away on the revision? I breathed deeply and told myself: This is another one of those character-building moments.

Driving home Sunday night: the new East Bay span of the Bay Bridge. Beautiful.

Driving home Sunday night: the new East Bay span of the Bay Bridge. Beautiful.

Lunafest 2013/2014: Nine inspiring stories

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I learned to make my mind large, as the universe is large, so that there is room for paradoxes.
– Maxine Hong Kingston, The Woman Warrior

The fabulous women directors, eight of the nine, plus the young lady wrestler.

The fabulous women directors, eight of the nine, plus the young lady wrestler.

Save the date: On Saturday, March 8th, at 7:30pm in the El Cerrito High School Auditorium, the Lunafest East Bay Organizing Committee will present its screening of Lunafest: A film festival by, for, about women. As members of the Lunfest East Bay Organizing Committee, we were honored and treated to watching the nine short films at the World Premiere in San Francisco last Thursday. You can catch a trailer of this year’s short films by clicking on the link on Lunafest’s home page.

Gorgeous floral arrangements and stacks of Luna bars.

Gorgeous floral arrangements and stacks of Luna bars.

Director Danielle Lurie next to the poster of her short film, Tiny Miny Magic.

Director Danielle Lurie next to the poster of her short film, Tiny Miny Magic.

‘Did you catch it?’ The indomitable spirit
Before the screening, special guest Dr. Stacy L. Smith from the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, talked about her research on gender and film, which I blogged about this past Monday. You can read it here. Following Dr. Smith’s talk, President and CEO of The Breast Cancer Fund, Jeanne Rizzo, RN, spoke. The Breast Cancer Fund, a nonprofit focusing on the identification and advocacy for the elimination of the environmental causes of breast cancer, is a major recipient of funds raised by Lunafest. Rizzo walked onstage with a cane and announced that she had pushed back her knee replacement surgery in order to attend the world premiere. When numerous people asked her how she had hurt her knee and she told them she was playing beach Frisbee, she said her answer elicited three distinct responses that exposed a generational bias. Women her age and older either winced in sympathy or demanded to know why she would put herself in that position as an older woman playing such a physical sport. But then there was a group of women who wanted to know with great interest and excitement: “Did you catch it?” Rizzo proudly affirmed that she had caught the Frisbee, which drew applause from the audience. “I had a moment in the air that felt great,” she exuded. “I connected to the indomitable spirit.”

Director Celia Bullwinkel by her Sidewalk film poster.

Director Celia Bullwinkel by her Sidewalk film poster.

In highlighting that indomitable spirit, Rizzo was referencing the work of Lunafest, the creativity and inspiration of the nine women filmmakers, and every one of us out in the audience. It was quite infectious. The message is to bring our own indomitable spirit to bear. Bring it to the surface. Be free, unencumbered. Bring it out of us and create our own “Did you catch it?” moment.

Catherine van Campen by her film poster for Flying Anne.

Catherine van Campen by her film poster for Flying Anne.

Nine short films
The nine short films chosen for this year’s Lunafest are refreshingly diverse – documentary, animation, comedy, drama – a really lovely mix:

Granny’s Got Game: “Seven fiercely competitive women in their 70s bond and play winning basketball, proving you are never too old to do what you love,” by Director Angela Alford of Raleigh, NC.

Flying Anne: “A young girl with Tourette’s syndrome takes ‘flight’ to navigate life with her tics,” by Director Catherine van Campen of the Netherlands.

Sidewalk: “A woman walks through life, confronts her changing body and learns to love herself,” by Director Celia Bullwinkel of New York, NY.

First Match: “A determined female wrestler prepares for her first coed high school match,” by Director Olivia Newman of Brooklyn. (The young wrestler attended the San Francisco world premiere. According to one of our organizing committee members who spoke with her at the breakfast the following morning, she is still wrestling and majoring in philosophy at a college in upstate New York – quite the combination.)

Sound Shadows: “Enter a world where sound gives shape to space,” by Director Julie Engaas of Oslo, Norway. (Another one of my favorites)

Maria of Many: “Meet Maria – Mexican immigrant, domestic worker, committed mom, and activist,” by Director Alexandra Liveris of Palo Alto. (Liveris will be Lunafest East Bay Organizing Committee’s honored guest at the El Cerrito screening in March.)

Running Dry: “A woman impacted by economic hardships journeys into contemporary Athens,” by Director Dimitra Nikolopoulou of Athens, Greece. (A favorite of mine)

Date with Fate: “When it comes to blind dating, some things are meant to be – whether you like it or not,” by Director Venetia Taylor of Sydney, Australia.

Tiny Miny Magic: “When Sam and her mailman exchange presents via her mailbox, an unexpected love connection blossom,” by Director Danielle Lurie of New York, NY. (While I loved all of them, I was very fond of this little gem.)

A little shimmer and leather for a film premiere.

A little shimmer and leather for a film premiere.

This is a perfect outing for a Girls’ Night Out or Women’s Night Out. A few friends who came for the first time with their teenaged daughters this past March found it a great Mother-Daughter Movie Night. Conversely, bringing your male counterparts – husbands and sons – also makes for an enjoyable evening with potential for interesting follow-up conversations. Mark your calendars for March 8th, and make plans for a great evening of community, friendship, inspiration, and creativity.

Earrings from Portland, ME, Sundance rings and Lava 9 chunky ring (Berkeley, CA).

Earrings from Portland, ME, Sundance rings and Lava 9 chunky ring (Berkeley, CA).

Power platforms and an evening suit of pleats and brocade and black leather skirt.

Power platforms and an evening suit of pleats and brocade and black leather skirt.

When women are present . . . things change

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I am a Woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal Woman,
that’s me.
– Maya Angelou, American poet, memoirist, actress, and American Civil Rights Movement activist

Eight of the nine women filmmakers at the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest.

Eight of the nine women filmmakers and one of the women who was featured in one of the films at the San Francisco premiere of Lunafest.

Last Thursday evening was the World Premiere of the Lunafest film festival in San Francisco. This year the Lunafest East Bay Organizing  Committee – this is my first year on the committee – was honored along with other organizations and individuals for their work in raising money for local nonprofits and for the Breast Cancer Fund, which is a beneficiary of Lunafest. On Wednesday I’ll blog about the nine short films that were chosen out of more than 900 films that were submitted for consideration, as well as the wonderful words of Jeanne Rizzo, RN, President and CEO of the Breast Cancer Fund. But in today’s blog I want to share the inspirational message of special guest, Dr. Stacy L. Smith.

Dr. Stacy Smith, associate professor at USC (photo by USC).

Dr. Stacy Smith, associate professor at USC (photo by USC).

First of all, a little more on Lunafest, a film festival by, for, and about women dedicated to building community through the power of film and through the power of the story:  The film festival was established in 2000 by LUNA, the makers of the Whole Nutrition Bar for Women, to “simultaneously promote women filmmakers, raise awareness for women’s issues, and support women’s nonprofit organizations throughout the U.S. and Canada.” The mission of Lunafest is to “celebrate and inspire women through the art of film and community fundraising.”

Second choice outfit for Lunafest: bright stripes in October.

Second choice outfit for Lunafest: bright stripes in October.

Dr. Stacy L. Smith is an Associate Professor and the Director of the Media, Diversity, and Social Change Initiative at the University of Southern California’s Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism. Her work “examines gender and race on-screen and behind the camera in cinematic content as well as barriers and opportunities facing woman and people of color in the entertainment industry.” She has authored numerous articles, reports, chapters, and papers, focusing on gender, race, hypersexualization of girls and women, and violence.

In her talk, Dr. Smith discussed studies she had done on speaking characters – defined as having at least one speaking line – in 100 of the top-grossing films per year. Data on characters were broken down by demographics, physical appearance, and occupation of the character. In 500 films, of the 21,000 characters, 71.6 percent were men and 28.4 percent were women. It should come as no surprise to many of us; however, when you consider that half of the U.S. population is women and nearly half of the workforce at 47 percent is women, it’s a disturbing to say the least. Dr. Smith noted that there has been no change in gender prevalence since 1976: Of 55 films from 1976 to 1990, only 28 percent were women; of 400 films from 1990 to 2006, only 27 percent were women; and of 500 films from 2007 to 2012, only 28 percent were women.

Anthropologie earrings and Tiffany ring and bracelet, my 50th birthday presents from David.

Anthropologie earrings and Tiffany ring and bracelet, my 50th birthday presents from David.

Dr. Smith also looked at the hypersexualization of male and female on-screen characters. Only 9.4 percent of men were partially nude, while 31 percent of women were shown on screen partially nude. Nearly 50 percent of women were identified as thin, while only 16.2 percent of male characters were thin. Dr. Smith posed this question to the audience: What is the solution to this representational crisis? Women! “When women are present, things change,” she declared.

Dr. Smith examined three major places in which the presence of women in certain positions made a difference. She looked at 820 films from 2002 to 2012 and found three areas of change. In the area of production, when men are directors, only 28 percent of key positions on the team were women. However, when the directors were female in indie films, the number of females in key positions rose to 44 percent. Second, when females directed, there were more girls/women on-screen but less sexualization. Finally, when females directed, the percent of on-screen characters for girls and women rose to 61.7 percent, with more stories about female competition and athleticism.

“The presence of females can alter the status quo in women being silenced and sexualized,” Dr. Smith emphasized. She pointed out that Lunafest, which is shown in 150 cities and raises resources for local nonprofits, is the perfect platform to drive change to the status quo. “It’s the story of all of us, and it can affect the landscape of humanity,” she said. “When women are present, things change.” Dr. Smith encouraged us all to promote change locally, nationally, and globally. Check.

Outfit close-up.

Outfit close-up.

October is Anti-bullying Month: positively no bullying allowed

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I will fight bullying forever because my son will be eleven forever.
– Kirk Smalley, father of Ty Smalley, spokesperson for Stand for the Silent, an educational platform on anti-bullying

The documentary Bully was released in the U.S. in late March 2012. When it came out, David and I talked about going to see the film. As usual, many of the films that we wanted to watch came to theaters and went to DVD, including this film, and we forgot about it. I had an opportunity to see it after Jacob’s middle school PTSA screened it following our monthly meeting last night. I did not realize that October is Anti-Bullying Month. All kids at Jacob’s school will be seeing the film in one of their classes this month and will participate in a discussion about recognizing and standing up to bullying. It’s a good start to educating and making kids aware of this terrible behavior.

Giving your kids lots of hugs and lots of love gives them security and self-esteem.

Giving your kids lots of hugs and lots of love gives them security and sows seeds of self-esteem.

The few negative reviews of the documentary focused on the fact that director Lee Hirsch did not interview either the bullies or their parents. Perhaps this was due to the bullies and their parents not wanting to be filmed. At any rate, such an angle would certainly fill up a sequel, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. I didn’t realize that Jacob would be seeing the documentary in school; I brought both Jacob and Isabella to watch it. Given that we are dealing with bullying in Isabella’s school, albeit a different kind of bullying, I wanted them to see what other kids – the victims – were facing.

On the way home, we talked about not being a bully, seeking family and friends out when being bullied, and also standing up to bullies and not look the other way. I couldn’t help but tell them two stories from my childhood. In my farming hometown of Terra Bella, in the Central Valley of California, there was a girl in my class named Rosie B. She lived around the block from us. Her older parents were poor and reminded me, years later, of the Joads and the Okies from Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath. Rosie was slow, so people took her to be stupid. Her face looked disfigured, her mouth was pronounced with a big set of buck teeth. As you can guess, she was picked on, and as I look back, I can’t think of anyone with whom she hung out.

Isabella gives Bailey a hug on Bailey's last day before she died of old age, January 2011.

Nurture nurturing: Isabella gives Bailey a lot of TLC on Bailey’s last day before she died of old age, January 2011.

After lunchtime one day, our class was excused from the cafeteria to have recess on the playground, Rosie fell down the small flight of stairs. The kids never stopped pouring out of the cafeteria. It was a stampede. When she finally got up, she was scarred with a permanent limp. This was 1972. No lawsuit was filed; her parents had no voice. Teachers came upon the scene and I’m sure the principal was notified, but nothing ever happened. I don’t recall if our grade level was lectured or not. I was not part of the stampede, but I was the guilty silent who looked the other way. I ran into Rosie as an adult, when I was home from college, and she eagerly talked to me about how everything was okay now, as if seeing me, a childhood classmate, had compelled her to tell me she had survived. I remembered feeling relieved that she seemed to have turned out okay despite the bullying, but I failed to apologize to her face.

The other story was about Ross M. I met him at a church youth group when I was in either fifth or sixth grade. He was a pudgy boy who giggled a lot, chattered nonstop, and exhibited effeminate mannerisms, which at the time I did not associate with possibly being gay because I didn’t know what gay was back then in our rural community. We tolerated him, but nobody was ever mean to him. I didn’t stay in the youth group and so lost touch with Ross because he went to a different school in the next town over of Porterville. When I was a freshman at one of the high schools in Porterville, I was surprised to see Ross  – only I didn’t recognize him at first. He had slimmed down. He had also stopped laughing and smiling. He didn’t talk much, if at all, and I don’t know if he even had any friends. He was like a ghost, showing up for class and slipping out, unnoticed. I never reached out to him because he seemed like a stranger to me and he never gave any indication of recognition when he was near me. I never saw him again after graduation. It was only when I attended my 25th high school reunion that I noticed his picture among other pictures on a table with candles, memorializing classmates who were no longer with us. When I asked a good friend of mine from high school what had happened, she confirmed what I suspected: He had committed suicide. I don’t know when this happened, after high school, later in life. But one thing I suspect: He was likely bullied in elementary and middle schools.

Happiness is being loved and hugged a lot.

Happiness is being loved in a touchy-feely way.

My kids were quiet in the car as I concluded my stories. Of course, there is always a moral to an Enrado mom story for my kids. I told them not to look away when they know something is wrong, when they know someone is being bullied. They needed to stand up. I reminded them of the damage that bullying does. One of the kids in the documentary, Alex Libby, told his mother, when she found out about the extent of his being bullied, that if these kids who stabbed him with their pencils, pushed and punched him around, choked him, and smacked his head weren’t his “friends,” then what friends did he have? A heartbreaking thing for a mother to hear. Jacob piped up, “I would have been his friend.” And Isabella seconded the sentiment. Hearing them defend him made my heart sing. Nevertheless, I was worried about whatever happened to Alex because his path seemed destined to resemble Ty Smalley’s very sad ending, which was shown in the documentary. Thankfully, the documentary itself was, as Alex’s mother said in an interview months after it came out, a “gift.” The family took a financial hit moving from Sioux City, Iowa, to Edmond, Oklahoma. But now he has real friends and is a spokesman for anti-bullying. A much-needed happy epilogue!

After the screening, our middle school principal and parents talked about this complex social issue, ill, if you will. We talked about what we as parents could do. Here is my list: Raise empathetic children who understand justice and injustice. Teach them how to stand up for others. Be engaged in their daily lives and know what’s going on in their daily lives. Love them by the boatloads and let them know that you have their back.

Contemplation time while walking Rex.

Contemplation time while walking Rex.

As I was walking our dog Rex one morning several weeks ago, I had posed this question to myself: What would be the one thing I could give to my children so that they are successful in life? A fully paid for college education? An appreciation for higher learning? I shook my head. I was equating success with a profession, a college degree, doors opening, financial security. No. I would give my children self-confidence. A child who believes in him or herself will blossom into an adult who stands up for him or herself. Hurtful words will, as I told Isabella on our walk to school yesterday morning, “roll off her back like water on a duck.” He won’t allow himself to stay stuck in a job that he doesn’t like. She won’t allow herself to be in an abusive relationship. Neither will waste away their time in a coma in a dead-end life. A person with a healthy self-esteem will seek the light and surround themselves with similar people. And they will be empathetic. When they see someone bullied, they will feel bullied themselves and know it is not right – and then make it right.

Exude self-confidence and build self-confidence in your children.

Exude self-confidence and build self-confidence in your children.

Desmond Tutu turns 82

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Forgiving is not forgetting; it’s actually remembering – remembering and not using your right to hit back. It’s a second chance for a new beginning. And the remembering part is particularly important. Especially if you don’t want to repeat what happened.
– Desmond Tutu, South African social rights activist, apartheid opponent, and retired Anglican bishop

Bishop Desmond Tutu (photo by Mark Haddon).

Bishop Desmond Tutu (photo by Mark Haddon).

In May 1985, South African Bishop Desmond Tutu, who had won the 1984 Nobel Peace Prize, came to California to raise funds for human rights activists and meet with students, clergy, and members of the Democratic Party activists. His engagements were to address the California Democratic Council’s 33rd annual convention in Los Angeles and the California Legislature in Sacramento. He was also scheduled to appear in Oakland and San Francisco and UC Berkeley and UC Davis. So in my last month as a student at UC Davis, I had the immense honor to hear him speak on the quad about human rights in South Africa and the vision of dismantling of the Apartheid system.

Those were heady times for college students. I was a quiet social activist before coming to Davis. There wasn’t really a venue for such activity in the Central Valley community where I grew up. In fact, the town of Porterville where I went to high school recently made news in the New York Times for a controversy over the mayor’s proclamation of June as the month to honor gay pride. She was ousted by her fellow conservative city council members, who were supported by many of the equally conservative townspeople. Imagine nearly three decades earlier what the social justice scene looked like – or didn’t look like. And imagine what an eye-opening experience it was to come to a college campus and hear social justice discourse and participate in change wherever you turned, every day you stepped on campus. And imagine standing amidst an overflowing crowd, with speakers lining the grassy quad, listening to one of the most important historical figures in the fight to end Apartheid talk about justice for his people, and really, justice for us all.

This outfit reminds me of vintage Stevie Nicks, late 1970s, into the 1980s.

This outfit reminds me of vintage Stevie Nicks, late 1970s, into the 1980s.

Do I remember specifically what he said? No. Apartheid was alive and well at that time, but changes – albeit violent changes – were taking place. Surely he appealed for support in America, which he certainly got from his welcome at Davis. A little less than five years later, in February 1990, then President FW de Klerk announced the release of Nelson Mandela from prison and the dismantling of the Apartheid system slowly began. On April 27, 1994, the first democratic elections were held, with all people given the right to vote. Twenty-two million South Africans voted in the election, which resulted in a Government of National Unity being formed, with Mandela as president and de Klerk and Thabo Mbeki as deputy presidents.

How UC Davis was lucky enough to snag Tutu to speak, I’ll never know. But I’m grateful that I had the opportunity to see him in person and to hear him speak. One of the greatest gifts of a college education – outside of the wondrous learning and knowledge, the life-long friendships formed, and the mentoring by sage professors – is the vast experience the university exposes young people to. I remembered leaving Davis thinking how much bigger the university experience had made my world and realizing as I stepped into the next phase of my life how much bigger it would become still – and yet my time at Davis had prepared me for the coming expansion.

Retro yet modern: Sheer crinkled black jacket, patterned camisole, deep gray velveteen skirt, ruffled leather booties, and delicate and subversive jewelry.

Retro yet modern: Sheer crinkled black jacket, patterned camisole, deep gray velveteen skirt, ruffled leather booties, and delicate and subversive jewelry.

While Tutu, who survived a bout of prostate cancer in 1997, had begun entering retirement when he turned 79, eschewing all speaking engagements, he came out of retirement and gave the commencement speech in May 2012 to graduates at Gonzaga University in Spokane, Washington. Can you imagine telling people that Desmond Tutu gave your commencement address? He still, of course, supports a number of social issues, including gay rights, women’s rights, climate justice, and other humanitarian initiatives, such as the Soldiers of Peace project, which advocates for global peace. Tutu once famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”

Desmond Tutu turns 82 years old today. I wish him a happy birthday and peace on this day forward. I thank him for his service to his country and to the world, and for allowing me to hear hope in his voice 28 years ago to give me hope in the goodness of humanity and allowing me to feel the power in his voice that whatever evil and hatred exists in this world, we shall indeed overcome.

Vintage vibe: Carmela Rose bracelets, earrings, and two delicate necklaces; Elizabeth Ng antique Edwardian button ring (Abacus, Portland, ME); and reclaimed vintage rosary necklace (Feathers, Austin, TX).

Vintage vibe: Carmela Rose bracelets, earrings, and two delicate necklaces; Elizabeth Ng antique Edwardian button ring (Abacus, Portland, ME); Sundance stack of rings; and reclaimed vintage rosary and bone necklace (Feathers, Austin, TX).

A Village in the Fields: Excerpt 2

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There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you. – Maya Angelou, American poet, memoirist, and American Civil Rights Movement leader

Getting ready for our family anniversary dinner tonight!

Getting ready for our family anniversary dinner tonight!

As I continue to work on the revision of my novel, I have absolutely no words for my blog. Hence, another excerpt from my novel, A Village in the Fields, for my blog post. Since today is my 15th wedding anniversary – yes, we have to endure the occasional Friday the 13th years – I chose this particular excerpt. To set up the scene, my protagonist, Fausto Empleo, is a young man working in a hotel in Los Angeles in the early 1930s. He lives with his five other cousins in a cramped apartment in Los Angeles, which was a common experience for many Filipino immigrants in America during this time. One of his cousins is suffering from tuberculosis and he and his cousins are enduring bigotry in and outside of their workplaces. But during this trying period in his life, Fausto meets a young Filipina immigrant who also works at the hotel and who, more importantly, reminds him of why he came to America in the first place:

They stood in the same position, eyes locked, even when the record ended and the needle jerked back and forth across its black glossy surface, making loud scratching sounds. She sighed. “My father played the guitar as part of our town’s rondalla. It was the best string band in the region.” She looked at Fausto, her smile fading. “Do you not like to listen to music?” She pulled away from him and replaced the records in a neat pile.

“I do not have time,” he said. “Where and when would I listen to music?”

“Right here!” she said. “We can listen every time they go to the doctor. You should make time, Fausto. You look too serious. It worries me. I should invite you to the theater to watch a movie with me so you can grow laugh lines here.” She ran her finger around the corners of his mouth, and added, “And remove your worry lines here.” She brushed her fingertips across his forehead.

Did she feel how hot his face had become? He stepped back. “I cannot afford to go to the movies. My cousin Cary says it is cheaper to hang around Hollywood and see the movie stars come out of their big cars and go into fancy restaurants to eat.”

“Oh, I do not care about movie stars. I like the people they pretend to be. I like the stories, the different worlds.” Her gaze drifted to the wall where the Italian plates from Mr. Calabria’s hometown of Palermo hung in a row. “When I am tired from studying and volunteering and working, I go to the movies. It makes me forget how hard things are here. When one of my patients died, I saw Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights. I was able to laugh again.” She laughed brightly now, as if remembering a scene from the movie, and adjusted the apron over her skirt. “Next time, come with me. It is only five cents. I know a place nearby where they serve a pork-chop dinner for thirty-five cents. We can have dinner and then walk to the movie theater.”

“I take care of my sickly cousin. I send money to my family. I cannot . . . .”

She pressed her lips together, petals folding, closing as if dusk had descended. “You are a good cousin and son, Fausto.” She offered him a smile. “When I come back from the movie theater, I will tell you what the story is about.”

After their shift on Mondays, she gave him her version of the movies she’d seen. Platinum Blonde pitted hardworking folks against corrupted wealthy people. In Tarzan, the Ape Man, civilized people were crueler than the brute Tarzan. She felt sorry for the monster in Frankenstein because the ignorant villagers misunderstood him. Listening to her was better than going to the movies, he told her; here, he could stare at her as she told the story, instead of sit in a dark theater. She laughed as if he had said something silly, but she was blushing. She always seemed cheerful, although there were times when he spied her near the broom closet brooding and looking sad for a moment.

One morning, he ran into her by the closet, her face shining like a full moon.

“What are you thinking about?” he whispered boldly in her ear in the shadows.

“Salabat and basi.”

Fausto was puzzled. Why was she thinking about beverages?

“I used to make my father salabat and basi, using sugar from our fields and herbs from our garden,” she explained. “My father loved to drink salabat, and I liked making it because the scent of fresh ginger root stayed on my fingers for days.” She stared at her white shoes. “I have not made salabat for a long time, even when I was home. My father lost his craving for anything sweet, anything with sugar in it.”

“That can happen,” he said. “I used to love bagoong, and now the fish smell upsets my stomach. I do not know why, but it does.”

“Yes.” She wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron and turned away. “We do not know why things like that happen.” She left him there, clutching mops to her chest.

***

One spring day, a few months later, she came looking for him as he was changing sheets. Her hair flowed down her shoulders, the ends curling at her waist, as luxurious as the mink stoles some of the female guests wore. She asked him to see a movie with her.

“Why? I always listen to you.” He pulled the dirty sheets off the bed with one strong, graceful tug, which he learned from her, and rolled them into a ball.

“I would like to see a comedy,” she announced, as tears gathered in her eyes.

“What is wrong?” He dropped the sheets to the floor and rushed to her side.

She withdrew an envelope from her apron pocket. “My father passed away.”

Fausto sat her on the bed. Two years ago her father had lost ownership of the land where his family had lived and grown sugarcane for generations. To remain on the property, he leased the land and shared half of his harvest. The landlord charged for the use of tools and animals, reducing their profit, and the agents cheated him when weighing the sugarcane. Even the Catholic priests, whom her father had asked to intervene on his behalf, turned him away, favoring the landlord’s bribes. The final blow was this year’s drought, which diminished his crops and prevented him from paying rent, fees, and taxes. Her family was evicted from their home and forced to live in the landlord’s hacienda, where her father and brothers earned less than ten centavos a day. Within a month of being forced off their land, her brothers pulled her father’s body out of Pampanga Bay.

“He was not a strong swimmer, yet he swam towards the sea,” she said in a flat voice. “My mother said he had lost his land, so there was nowhere else to go but the sea. My mother is scared, but she said she must be strong for our family. She and my sisters will find factory work in Manila, and my brothers will stay in the hacienda.”

“I am sorry,” Fausto whispered, taking her hand.

“They sent me here after we lost the land so I could help them. But I have been living foolishly here. I do not send enough money. I should not have gone to the movies or the restaurants. But it is so difficult here in the States. I am so homesick. I should go back, should I not?” She gently shook her hand and their fingers unraveled. She wiped her tears with the crumpled envelope, smearing her cheek with traces of black ink.

Fausto stroked her head, the crown of her glossy soft hair. She closed her eyes, her head tilting back. He combed out the tangles in her mane, his fingers touching her shoulder, the curve of her back. The ends of her hair fanned out across the bare mattress. “You are almost finished with your studies. If you go back now, without your degree, what good would that do? Do not waste what you have already done. I know it is hard, but you should finish your schooling and then go back. That is the best way.”

“And you? When are you going back?”

He thought of the letters his sisters had written on behalf of their mother, asking for more money. It was a way to show his father that he had made the right decision, his mother said. The money was also needed to help them through a meager harvest, pay for hired help in the fields so his sisters could attend school to become teachers, and send Cipriano to Manila to learn a trade. Could he not send more money? Fausto was happy to help his brother and sisters escape the fields. The news of their ambition eased his guilt. He doubled his monthly contribution, but it was getting harder trying to help pay for food and rent, and help sponsor his siblings’ education, let alone save for his education.

“I am still saving money for school. My American teacher back home told me a long time ago how important school is. When I finish college and work some more, then I will go back home,” he said, although his declaration felt like an outright lie. He hadn’t thought about school since the moment he stepped into the apartment on Hope Street.

“You are right. I should stay. We will both stay and be strong for one other. Maybe I will take more time to finish nursing school so I can work more hours here. We will both work hard and send more money.” Her voice grew stronger as she smoothed out the envelope. More ink rubbed off on her fingers, the addresses no longer legible. “When you send money to your family, I am sure you write nice letters to them. Will you help me write a letter to my family? Will you help me explain why I must stay here longer?”

He nodded. As he closed his eyes, he imagined rubbing the ink off her cheek. Their breathing became one. They remained seated on the edge of the bed, joined at the hip, until Mr. Calabria called them by name, breaking them apart. When Fausto opened his eyes, the room had gone dusky. Connie had dried her eyes. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips—the texture of rose petals—lingered on his skin. Then she kissed him on the lips, as fleeting as a memory. She stood up and walked out of the room, stepping with care over the crumpled sheets on the floor.

Transitional dressing for our Indian summer. Throw on a light jacket over a summer maxi.

Transitional dressing for our Indian summer. Throw on a light jacket over a summer maxi.

Ocean patterns with gold and horn accessories.

Ocean patterns with gold and horn accessories.

Birdhouse Jewelry earrings (NYC), Sundance cuff, and reclaimed vintage matchbox necklace from Uncommon Objects (Austin, Texas).

Birdhouse Jewelry earrings (NYC), Sundance cuff, and reclaimed vintage matchbox necklace from Uncommon Objects (Austin, Texas).