In the company of big shoulders
April 12, 2004 | 12:00am
Blame it on living in a suitcase, or in this instance, three large bags filled with books and appurtenances apart from clothes to last a fortnight, and of course the usual assortment of token pasalubong – from hefty cans of Purefoods corned beef to a strung-up bundle of Chocnut. The latter would eventually be divvied up between old buddy Luisa Igloria, who had invited me to attend the annual event, and the mother-in-law of my kid bro Alan, who has made Chicago his home over the past 10 years. He and his wife Filma – she it was who took the trouble to pick me up at O’Hare at six in the morning – would receive in turn the Antonio Pueo chocolate tablets and the taba ng talangka in cans, among others.
Much of the weight in my luggage was momentarily owed to varying numbers of book copies that Linda Nietes urged me to bring to add to her Philippine Expressions Bookshop table at the AWP bookfair. These were the much-in-demand Eros Pinoy: An Anthology of Contemporary Erotica in Philippine Art & Poetry, which I co-edited with visual artists Pandy Aviado and Bencab; the reprint of my second novel, Voyeurs & Savages; the poetry collections Mothers Like Elephants and Hairtrigger Loves: 50 Poems on Woeman; Eight Stories; the second edition of my first novel, Great Philippine Jungle Energy Café; and The Word on Paradise: Essays 1991-2000 on Writers & Writing. The first three titles cited are from Anvil Publishing, Inc., while the rest are from UP Press.
Linda already had copies of two other books I had either written or edited: Philippines: Islands of Enchantment, with photos by George Tapan, published by Periplus Editions of Singapore; and Love Gathers All: An Anthology of Philippines and Singapore Love Poetry, co-edited with Ramon C. Sunico, Aaron Lee and Alvin Pang, co-published by Anvil.
Prominent in her book display were Screaming Monkeys, edited by M. Evelina Galang (hey, Evelina, you have yet to hand me a review copy); and Not Home But Here, edited by Luisa Igloria (reviewed in this space some weeks ago). These were the two Filipino-edited books launched during the conference. Among the other titles displayed were Igloria’s Blood Sacrifice; Galang’s Her Wild American Self; Nick Carbo’s Secret Asian Man and El Grupo McDonald’s; Reine Arcache Melvin’s A Normal Life & Other Stories; Patrick Rosal’s Uprock Headspin Scramble & Dive; Aimee Nezhukumatathil’s Miracle Fruit and her earlier chapbook Fishbone, which won the Snail’s Pace Poetry Prize; Oliver de la Paz’s Names Above Houses; Reme Grefalda’s and Nadine Sarreal’s Our Own Voices; Eileen Tabios’ Behind the Blue Canvas; Jon Pineda’s Birthmark, winner of the Crab Orchard award; Rick Barot’s The Darker Fall, winner of the 2001 Kathryn A. Morton Prize in Poetry; Brian Ascalon Roley’s outstanding novel American Son; the memorabilia anthology Filipinos in Chicago, edited by Estrella Ravelo Alamar; and Trans Euro Express: Filipinas in Europe, an essay collection edited by Mary Lou U. Hardillo-Werning.
That last title was the anthology Edna Weisser read her rollicking excerpt from, at the memorable De Paul University gig, at which affair too Dr. Romeo S. Munoz of the UP Club added his own title to the book table, Filipino Americans: Journey from Invisibility to Empowerment.
Our buddy Willie Sanchez and his wife Marite joined us at the De Paul discussion and reading. A pity only one copy of his recent poetry collection, New & Later Poems (UP Press) was on hand, and that was Linda Nietes’ own, for signing. My fault. I could have brought fresh copies.
Linda told us that she also had Nick Carbo and his wife Denise Duhamel sign her copy of Sweet Jesus: Poems About the Ultimate Icon, which the couple had co-edited, and which has long been out of print. Then, too, as the AWP 2004 drew to a frenetic close, Linda recounted how an American publisher had come up to her table to show a copy of a fresh release from Pavement Saw Press, A Commerce of Moments by Sophia M. Starnes, whom he said was of Filipino-Spanish descent. Her work had been the Editor’s Choice for the 2001 Transcontinental Poetry Award for an outstanding first collection of poetry or prose.
On the last day of the writers’ conference, on March 27, the illustrious Pinoy assembly had to divide itself between simultaneous events featuring a discussion on Filipino diasporic literature, with a panel composed of Igloria, Melvin, Weisser, Sanchez-Wagemakers and Pineda, and another on the controversial developments that eventually motivated M. Evelina Galang to put together Screaming Monkeys. These involved what was initially seen as an unfortunate slur committed by a Milwaukee Magazine feature writer, who upon reviewing a modest Filipino resto, had referred to the Pinay owner’s hyperactive tyke as a "rambunctious monkey." Other Asian-American writers joined the Fil-Ams in coming up with a strong literary anthology as a result of the incident.
At that point I had managed to interview, on videocam, only Bonnie Melvin and Linda Nietes, but felt sure that I would have crack at the rest of the Pinoy writers, in particular Nick, Jon, Pat, Oliver, Evelina, Edna, Ella and Aimee. I was under the impression that everyone who had participated at the De Paul event would also be attending the last scheduled informal gig, a reading at Rhythms bar on Randolph St. that would be hosted by the Pintig theater group. It turned out however that most everyone else decided to run off to other farewell-night engagements.
Luisa showed up, to claim her Chocnut. She was promptly backed up against the brick wall outside Rhythms for an impromptu assessment of what had transpired for four days in Chicago to further the cause of Philippine literature abroad.
Washington, DC-based Rodney Garcia, whose first book of stories was reviewed in this space some weeks ago, flew in just for the reading, which went so well in between djembe drumming sessions that involved the Pinoy community’s children aged four to 20, and who composed Pintig’s spin-off group Circa.
Djembe drumming was of West African provenance, explained the affable Ging Mascarenas who had helped form Pintig and Circa, and whose extended family, nay, clan, was thoroughly represented in both groups. The kids had the whole of spring and summer to bond together while undergoing creative workshops in theater and all sorts of performance. A djembe expert guided the bar crowd, seated on tiers in an amphitheater-type setting, through the vigorous palm-pounding exercises on various kinds of congas – "thum, thum, tastes like chicken…" It was the sort of audience engagement that I thought our own Pinikpikan Band back home would do well to conduct, given a similarly splendid venue.
In between the bookending sessions, Luisa and I read our poems, and Rodney brought up the rear with excerpts from his stories that quoted poetry. A fun night it was to conclude our participation in the Chicago get-together, with a lot of our books sold too at Rhythms, before a signing session wound it all up.
I spent a few more days with my bunso brother, who lives for weekend forays to antique shops all over Illinois, as far as Galena before the border with Iowa. I was supposed to spend a couple of days with Rowena Tiempo Torrevillas, her husband Lemuel, and her brother Maldon in Iowa City, but had to reconsider the plan in deference to pressing work I had brought over. One night was spent at the Sanchez manse at Hoffman Estate. It proved serendipitous for the rare find, under a stairway, of a more than suitable Scotch bottle: Glorious 12th. For blended whisky, it certainly held its own against our favored single malts of late.
A drive to Sandwich, where my brother and his wife often sourced their vintage wooden furniture, lamps and crackle-glass items, etc., took us past the small town of Hinckley, where we just had to stop before a sign spelling trivia curiosa. It was the site of the first Harlem Globetrotters exhibition game, way back in 1927.
And then there was food, too much food, in the American multicultural tradition, from splendid fried chicken at White Fence Farm to Todai’s Asian-fusion buffet, Willybog’s fave Chinese resto to Russian Tea Time downtown, where Linda and her husband Robert Little, a keen student of the Chicago Loop’s architectural features, hosted for much more than black tea and black currant croutons.
Los Angeles – The moveable feast continued in Los Angeles where I R&R’d for nearly a week, visiting with a kid sister and hooking up with buddies I knew would ensure non-stop epicurean delights. An evening and a day spent at top-class equine artist Salvador "Dodong" Arellano’s place at Glendale would lead to serial dalliances with all things bright and beautiful – from his exquisite new watercolors of nudes (soon to be offered as special sets of prints) to a fine night of nosing and appreciating a new single malt find, Tobermoray from the Isle of Mull. It was perfect for washing down Louisiana oysters (hey, single malt poured into the shell is a rite I need not patent; try it, y’all). And soft-shell crabs that were absolutely wonderful as deep-fried pulutan, thanks to Dodong’s loving wife Monina, herself an artist as a gown beadwork specialist. Deferred dinner would turn into lunch: Dungeness crabs in gata with kalabasa, taba ng talangka and jalapeño pepper, with dried salted cod (from a Korean grocery) on the side, more of the deep-fried soft-shell crabs, and adobo done the Bikol way ala Monina, twice-cooked, fried to a crisp and served dry. And, of course, Thai jasmine rice. The repast took two hours to course through.
There was a special get-together for dinner at LA Buffet hosted by the widow Blanca Datuin Nolledo and her children Melissa, Ruel and Orly, who recounted the pleasant conduct of the last rites for their Dad, the great writer Wilfrido D. Nolledo. This writer-fan felt deeply touched to receive mementoes from Blanca from Ding’s collection, including a paperback novel and The Beatles’ Help CD. "He would have wanted you to have it" certainly stands out among endearments one may be privileged to hear.
The itinerant poet cum psychic healer and blaster (not necessarily in that order) Felix Fojas played a central part in another felicitous reunion. He has been working in LA as a security consultant for only four months, after having married a fine lady from San Diego, of whom he had only appreciative words to offer in her weekend absence. Felix let on how he has applied to join the LAPD even in his near-senior years. Watch out, East LA! Together with Dodong, Felix and I joined Linda and Robert Little at the elegant Bombay Palace in Beverly Hills for yet another fine meal. Then there were assorted cousins to give an audience to, and allow further claims for freebie dinners.
And as I pack at the end of this fortnight’s sojourn in the country that taught us to write in another language, I discover that I’ve gained seven pounds from all of that hospitality. I may have lost the considerable weight of all those books in my incoming luggage. But have now replaced that with LeBron James basketball shoes and sundry other gravity-defying items for the kids. And of course old/new books from Sandwich’s Antiques Center (including a hardbound Rubaiyat for $4; and a Red Auerbach 1950s paperback on basketball, for a dollar), from Willybog and Felix for Sawi Aquino and other common friends back home, from Ding and Blanca, and from the Fil-Am writers I was finally honored to have met, face to face, and sat and stood with at reading sessions, shoulder to shoulder. Their quality work in poetry and fiction I can now appreciate with the personal recall of a fine handshake.
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