Adventures and Misadventures

There was a time when John wanted to learn how to fly hang gliders. There was no way to stop him. I knew that the more I tried to stop him, the more he would insist on doing it. So I kept quiet, and prayed. Then one morning, he came back early - meaning he did not go hang gliding even though he left for that purpose.

He told me that he was too early for hang gliding and when he arrived at his instructor's place, the guy was still cleaning his kite. The guy was in shorts, and all his scars were visible. He told John about the different scars on his legs and body and what caused them - all from hang gliding accidents. John decided that he did not want to learn hang gliding anymore. :)

Another time, John wanted to go sky jumping. (What’s with this man?) He took all of us, our three daughters and myself, to Tanauan, Batangas, where his friend’s son was teaching it. He already knew I would not do it, but he was able to convince at least two daughters to try it with him.

I’m timid when it comes to adventures, but I made great effort, especially when my children were very young, not to show or transfer my fears, or my lack of courage, to them. I did not want them to be fainthearted like me. I wanted them to have as much fun as their dad was. Although scared, I said yes to the scariest rollercoaster rides, was John’s first passenger on an ultralight, went up to the sky in a glider (not hang, but a real one), was first to hop on cable cars, went scuba diving, spelunking, approached and touched all sorts of strange animals – whatever adventures we faced. I just kept quiet and prayed for our safety, and said my silent “thank you’s” when my feet touched the ground again.

That morning, my children were older and I felt I did not have to show any more false bravado. John greets his pilot-friend, Mannie Baradas, who in turn introduces us to his son who teaches sky jumping. But this young man was in a wheelchair! “My God,” I was screaming silently in my head. He must have seen my reaction to the sight of him, and so he reassured me that he was not teaching today. He had a “little” accident while skydiving, he said, so his other instructor, would take over giving lessons that day. “Oh, thank God,” I said again in my head, “maybe there’s somebody else who has better judgment, or better timing, or whatever it is that you need to avoid breaking your bones while sky-jumping.”

Mannie’s son called the other instructor to come out, and he was in crutches!!! At that point, even John did not think it was a good idea to try sky jumping. I did not have to make excuses for not signing up for lessons, John and the girls took care of that. I think that day we decided to go sailing in nearby Talisay, but when we think of adventures and misadventures, we still talk about our close encounter with sky jumping that day.

Not on Friday the 13th: A Baby I Planned and Prayed For

When my second daughter was less than two years old, I had a longing for another baby. With the difficulty of two placenta previas and two Caesarean operations still fresh in my mind, I could have sworn that the maternal urge was more hormonal than emotional.  But it was very strong.

Since John and I already had two daughters, I consulted my OB-Gyne doctor for tips on how to have a baby boy. She advised me to take my temperature before rising from bed every morning, and to try to do “it” when my temperature rose (which meant that I was ovulating).

My in-laws, who are Chinese, suggested consulting the Chinese calendar. Computing from when I was born, I could find out which months of conception would produce a boy, and which months to avoid conceiving – if I did not want to have a third daughter. Unfortunately, nobody could produce that precious calendar.

Even with the well-scheduled “encounters,” I was not conceiving. After more than year of attempting to get pregnant at the right time of the month, I gave up. It was not fun sticking a thermometer into my mouth every morning, and pulling my workaholic husband from work so we could do “it.”

After coming up “negative” every month for over twelve months, I decided to stop trying hard, and declared that if God could will me to be pregnant, then He could will me to have a son. I left the business of getting pregnant entirely to God, and of course, to John. ;)

Then, in November 1982, I became pregnant! Alleluia!! I was so excited that even before my tummy started to bulge, I started wearing maternity dresses. When people who did not know John or our two daughters, Ching Ching and Kathy (then known as Ann Kay), would ask if I were on my first pregnancy. I would very proudly and confidently say that it was my third pregnancy, but my first boy. To those who knew us, I declared with as much confidence that I was going to have my first son.

I did resist the cliché to prepare baby’s things and clothes in blue. I was not going to typecast my children. I was going to teach my girls not to fear math, computers or mountain climbing, and I imagined myself teaching my son, as well his sisters, how to cook and bake, how to paint and draw.

My baby was due to be born on August 13, but I did not want my son to be teased about being born or celebrating his birthday on Friday, the 13^th (like today). Instead, I asked my doctor if it was all right if she delivered my baby on August 12. She said yes.

I also resisted my doctor’s offer for me to undergo ultrasound tests. I innocently thought that I could will my baby to be a boy simply by declaring it to be so.

Many decades ago, when I was born, there was no such thing as an “ultrasound.” Parents, relatives and friends had to wait until the moment of birth to find out the gender of the newborn – so birth was a much-anticipated event, not only to welcome the new addition to the family, but also to find out if it’s a boy or a girl.

My third Caesarean was scheduled at the Medical Center Manila (MCM). I had an unpleasant experience at the Makati Medical Center where my two daughters were born, and I decided to change hospitals and change doctors. My obstetrician was the sister-in-law of a very close friend, and we often swapped stories about daughters – she has three of her own, and no sons.

Everywhere I went, I kept proclaiming that I was going to give birth to a baby boy. That is, until the hospital orderly was wheeling me into the operating room (Caesarean births are done in the operating, not delivery, rooms). Suddenly, I was filled with anxiety and apprehension about having a son. What if he became disobedient or disorderly, or rough and uncontrollable? I had remembrances of my brothers being scolded for not coming home on time, or being spanked for their mischief, while my sister and I were always conscious of obeying our parents. What if he became a juvenile delinquent, what if he became a drug addict, what if he grew up too short or too frail and his classmates would bully him, what if…

Then at that moment of great doubt, I prayed. I whispered to God to forgive my arrogant and foolish declarations about having a son. Please let me have another daughter. Please, Lord, please.

I was still praying when they gave me a sedative. I had insisted on being awake, so I was given only regional anesthesia. As the sedative kicked in and the anesthesia that was meant to deaden my body from my feet to my chest somehow seeped into my brain, I just surrendered to God and to the doctor whom I trusted with my life. But just before I went into semi-consciousness, I hastened to remind her of my request to please remove my keloids at my previous CS scar, and oh, could she also remove some of my belly fat?  But I am digressing. ;)

Half awake and half in limbo, I heard my doctor declare, “Harvey, you have a baby girl.” I was filled with excitement and became fully awake. She showed me my beautiful baby, and I was happy and grateful (for my baby and the additional procedures). I thanked her, and I thanked God for listening to me.

We named our third and last daughter, Sacha. She was born on August 12, 1983.

Happy birthday, Sacha – today should have been your birthday. 

2009 Annual Report

The dark clouds of worldwide economic gloom, which started to gather in the last quarter of 2008, ushered in the new, but not very hopeful, year. While we are thankful that we survived it, last year was a year that we are glad belongs to the past. However, if we chose to look at life in 2009 in a more positive way, the slow business calendar actually allowed us to do other things for which we are grateful.

John was able to devote time to his advocacy, started in 2008, which he now calls “Touching Lives Through Photography”. Two Autism Society of the Philippines (ASP) chapters – Cavite and Baguio – joined “Colors of A Spectrum,” a photography workshop for families touched by autism, while Makati’s Persons with Disability and Company (Perdisco) offered it for children with various disabilities. John also helped organized “Skywalk” for the Down Syndrome Association of the Philippines. In all of these projects, Canon (for which John has become an official endorser) was very supportive.

I, on the other hand, made serious moves to do things other than manage Adphoto – not for business reasons but as part of my wish to retire. Perhaps the most major step was teaching “Business of Photography,” to graduating A.B. Photography students at the College of Saint Benilde. I was also able to start researching on John’s 1970’s photos by making a few trips to the National Library. I still have a long way to go in archiving John’s photographs, but as the great saying goes, “the journey of a thousand miles begins with the first step…”

A brief but exciting challenge was co-curating a mixed art exhibit, Glimpse of A Soul” by my artist-friends at the Carl Jung Circle, which segued well into my participating in a group photo exhibit, with 18 of my students and one co-teacher. I chose three photos from a recent trip to the U.S. East Coast.

Somehow, having bucked the downtrends during many crises in the Philippines made us confident that we would survive and maybe even prosper, but the numbers were not helping. Billings were very low and collections even lower. Newly hired employees were the first to be discouraged and left. When Weng, our messenger, resigned, we decided not to replace him and instead promoted our cheerful houseboy, Ronel, to do deliveries. Ninfa, who started as Kathy’s yaya (nanny) in 1981 and moved up to fill different office positions, opted for early retirement to take care of her ailing mother. G-nie, our photographer of 18-years, after parrying many offers from abroad, finally made the move to try her fortune in Dubai. Before she left, she garnered awards and international recognition (Cannes Lions, Singapore Spikes and the Philippine Araw awards) for a series of ads done at Adphoto for Boysen Paints/TBWA. Online chats continue to connect her to us, and Ninfa occasionally visits.

With a lean staff and some deft cost-cutting measures, we managed to end the year with all assets intact and even a slim profit. We even managed to do major physical renovations at the studio, and do some meaningful team building activities – to get us ready for when the economy is better (which I believe is now).

All our preoccupation with declining business and the troubled global economy screeched to a stop in October, when floodwaters from typhoon Ondoy inundated all of Metro Manila and nearby provinces. Setting aside normal work activities, we helped affected families – by cooking hot meals, packing rice, instant noodles and canned provisions, gathering old (and some new) clothes, donating towels, rubber boots, mosquito nets, hammers, shovels, saws and some cash to families in Tanay and other places. (Thanks for donations received from Ching and John, Sacha and Wayne, friends Barbara and Sarah, and thanks also to Kathy for leading our very own relief operations).

Throughout the year, there were a lot of “hellos” and “goodbyes” when friends came in batches – former college friends and dorm-mates Aida Reyes (from Davao) and Genie Abiad (from Baguio and U.S.); International Club of the Philippines members who came from various parts of the country and the world; and dear relatives like Tia Remie who hosted a family reunion of the Valentinos, Lomboses and Dumasals. Skype allowed for regular communication between us and Gary and Sylvia Bement, and my dear 86-year old namesake, Harvey E. Jewell in Tennessee.

It was also hello and goodbye for our family. On staggered schedules last December, Ching and her John (from Singapore), Kathy’s John (from the Middle East and Holland) and Sacha (from Canada) came home for a brief but fun holiday – giving us time to enjoy each other’s company in Siargao (the surfing capital of the Philippines). Ching, John V, Kathy and John G showed their form on the surfboards, John C tried valiantly but did not quite make it to standing position, while Sacha and I became the enthusiastic audience (and official photographers) of the surfers in the family. Before everyone left, we managed to pose in color and style-coordinated Columbia outfits for a family picture with all the pets – Lucas, Ginger, Bob (African love bird) and would you believe, Maali (John’s non-resident pet elephant, through the magic of Photoshop).

Looking back, except for the damages wrought by the typhoon, we might have anticipated worse than what came, and thank God, the first two months of this year actually offer us hope that we are back on track. Goodbye 2009. Welcome 2010.

Sacha's Favorite Photographer

When my daughter Sacha was 3 years old and preparing to graduate from nursery class, her teacher called for me frantically. She had her young students in their togas, queueing to pose for their graduation pictures with the school photographer, and Sacha was upset. Normally a very cheerful and cooperative child, Sacha was crying and refusing to be photographed. She would not tell her teacher what was wrong.

I rushed over to the school, just a couple of blocks away from our home cum photo studio, and found Sacha sitting in one corner, pouting and visibly upset. I knelt down so I could be face-to-face with her, and asked her gently what was bothering her. She murmured between sobs – “I don’t want him to take my picture, I want my papa to do it. Papa is my photographer.”

I tried to explain to her in the simplest terms possible that we don’t do school photography, and that the school photographer was better equipped to do this job, but she was adamant. “I want my papa!, ” she said with such loyalty. (How I wish all our clients would show their preference for us with the same conviction. ☺)

Her teacher understood and offered to lend us the toga. I watched the school photographer do a photo of one child so I could explain the set up to my photographer-husband.

Sacha and I walked home where she had her exclusive photo session with the photographer of her choice. She smiled sweetly for her dad - her photographer.

P.S. Thanks to my Malaysian writer-friend Chin Chet Mooi for reminding me that I have not blogged in a long, long time.
P.S. @Sacha - Can you look for that graduation picture and post it here?