Sunday, April 17, 2005

The Road Home: We Remember

The frogs are out tonight. They don't sound like our frogs that 'croak', 'ribbit', or 'peep'. The frogs around here sound like they have tiny wooden drums. Imagine a small child with a little wooden drum, beating a tatoo to drive the adult mind insane. Now imagine several hundred of these little children. That's what it's like at night in some places here after the rains.


At Auntie Rita's House


We spent today at the home of my Auntie Rita, who passed away last year this time. My cousin Marlo was abroad last year and had to miss the funeral. She came home at this time to catch the reunions we are here for, but also to be present for a family memorial service for my aunt.

We had a lunch for the various families who came and chatted most of the afternoon about the normal things that families chat about - and then we spent an hour or so sharing stories about my aunt. Most of the discussion was in Ibaloy, so I took pictures and video - which my dad will have to translate for me at some point.


In Julie's Kitchen


I also sat in the kitchen this evening listening to my uncle Max and my dad reminisce over family history and swap stories from long ago. My auntie Felipa brought her albums down after a while and they talked some more about family members in the photos.

I didn't have any more room on the digicam for more video, so I recorded as much as I could on my PDA.


On top of Uncle Peter's house in Irisan


I have to get to bed. I didn't go to sleep until after midnight last night updating our blog, and then I woke at 6 am and couldn't go back to sleep again.

Those of you from the higher latitudes take note - in the tropics, there is little in the way of actual twilight. The sun rises and sets awfully quick the closer you get to the equator.

I'm having a tough time getting connected to the local dial-up server, so I think I'm going to turn in and try connecting again in a couple of hours.

1 comment:

cousin Maureen in NY said...

The pictures make me feel homesick. I hope Michael will remember the happy faces. Use your journalistic talent to share the stories you heard from our folks so your children and others won't forget our beginnings.