48. Dance when you can
What I’m up to
Two weeks in, Anna and I have adjusted to a new normal without Paul and Lucy. When left to our own devices, we realized we:
don’t eat dairy or bread
buy very different groceries in general (we purchase way more fruit and veg)
aren’t nearly as tidy (haha, no surprise)
are too lazy to eat out or get take-out
watch more TV
use less gas
We’ve adjusted, but we’re missing Paul and Lucy quite a bit.
What I’m reading
Love Marriage by Monica Ali.
On my list to read: The Netanyahus by Joshua Cohen, which just won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. The Pulitzer Prize is my favorite literary prize. If you are ever in need of book recommendations, just make your way down the list in reverse chronological order.
Watching: Jojo Rabbit and Knives Out with the AP Lit students. I remembered anew how brutal Jojo Rabbit is, how hilarious and beautiful and brutal. I watched the Oscar-winning short “The Long Goodbye” afterwards, and both share the motif of dancing as a symbol of life’s joy, albeit potentially a fleeting one. I am no dancer, but I guess I should dance when I can.
Finished The Witcher and now I’m in withdrawal. (For anyone secretly wondering if I am into The Witcher for the plot or for, ahem, Superman, I got 20 minutes into Man of Steel before I got bored and turned it off.)
What I’m thinking about
My cousin is putting a book together about my grandpa’s life, and we grandkids were asked to contribute. Here’s what I wrote:
To be honest, in my childhood memories, my Lola was the one who stole the spotlight. She had the big personality. She was always a little vain: she wore flashy hats and high heels; she got her eyebrows tattooed well into her sunset years. Lola loved romance novels, WWE, soap operas, and shopping even as she served faithfully at the church and cultivated a safe and loving home for her family of seven.
When we’d hang out with my grandparents, it was my Lola who told the stories (of my fear of mannequins when I was little, of her experience during the Japanese occupation).
Meanwhile, my Lolo would usually be napping in an armchair, face tilted towards the ceiling, or puttering around the kitchen, boiling a giant pot of tahong. He drove us to the malls in his green 1979 Ford Escort (with corduroy seat covers). He would find a quiet spot to nap while everyone else browsed.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned about everything my Lolo was doing. He was unassuming and gentle at home, but he was a force in his work as a pastor. I know now that well into retirement, my Lolo was planting churches, overseeing construction projects, serving on boards. Over their decades of marriage, my grandparents supported each other in their interests and vocations.
It wasn’t until I got married myself that I realized how significant my grandparents’ marriage was to my idea of what a family should be.
If you’re going to marry, marry someone who helps you feel the most “you.” My grandma did, and that’s why even though she grew up in the 1920s, had five kids, and was a pastor’s wife, she also did things like host a radio show, translate a book, direct a children’s camp. She was loud and had a great sense of humor, never overshadowed by my Lolo the pastor, “boss,” and later, Bishop. She was fully herself, fully supported as a whole human being.
My mom and two aunts are three of the strongest women I know — successful in their careers, full partners in their marriages. Many of my cousins are grown and married, and all of us have high expectations for true marriage partnerships. If we marry, we Brion women marry kind and supportive people. I know we do this because we watched Lolo support Lola. This is just one of Lolo’s legacies, but one I’m thankful for every day.
What I’m learning
The Philippines just elected Ferdinand Marcos’s son into the presidency. I was gutted by this news, as were many of my friends. I started reading Filipino literature several years ago; that was my gateway to learning about the corruption and brutality committed by the Marcos administration. When I found out Bongbong won, my impulse was to screenshot articles about the senior Marcos’s presidency in fear that history would be rewritten before my very eyes.
My brother wrote me earlier today, though, and said that he just listened to a NYT take on the election, and the Western media is getting it all wrong. “What people don’t seem to understand,” he said, “is that Duterte is beloved.” And Marcos Jr.’s political rival, Leni Robredo, positioned herself against Duterte these past six years. “There was no way she was going to win,” he said.
I started reading Filipino newspaper editorials, and, sure enough, the first two that popped up (from two of the country’s largest papers) were laudatory accounts of Duterte’s presidency, listing the administration’s accomplishments.
What’s humbling is that I really don’t get this. My perception of Duterte’s presidency centers squarely on his human rights violations, his bombastic threats and declarations.
It reminds me of an NPR story I heard just a month before Trump won the election in 2016. The journalist was reporting on a Trump rally, I think, but with a discernibly mocking tone. The attitude was clearly, “There’s no way this guy will win. You’d have to be crazy to vote for him.” And yet people did, and I think at least some did because they heard things like those “neutral” newscasts and felt patronized at best, invisible at worst.
To be clear, I’m not defending Duterte, Marcos, or Trump. I am just mulling over how people’s realities, our perceptions of truth, our versions of what’s happening, can be so contrary.
People aren’t just interpreting facts differently, but choosing which facts to accept. Or working from different “facts” altogether.
How do you speak what you believe to be true and call out injustice, while taking into consideration someone else’s beliefs? When is it important to listen? When is it important to challenge? Are you complicit if you “just” listen to what you believe are untruths? And if you don’t, do you risk ignorance? Risk losing any possibility of dialogue altogether?
What I’m doing
We just came back from celebrating our friend M’s birthday. M and his family were some of the very first friends we made when we moved to Taiwan, and we are so sad they are returning to the US for good next month.
Each year brings new joys and new sorrows, but both happen at the same time. I’m starting to realize the trick is to fully take in the joys today while gently tending to the sorrows, knowing both will pass. Dance when you can.
What I’ve saved
I think this is one of the Obama administration’s worst legacies. (NYT)
This is one of my go-to Instant Pot recipes for a crowd. (Mel’s Kitchen Cafe)
What are your core childhood memories? Mine are riding on the back of my dad’s motorcycle to church visitations, Christmas caroling on Christmas Eve, and listening to John Denver on road trips. (Cup of Jo)
Also from Cup of Jo: what movies do you want your friends/loved ones to watch so they “get” you? I read this post right before watching Everything Everywhere All At Once, and that movie just might make the list. (Also: The Royal Tenenbaums, The Prestige, and, not a movie, but the first episode of Flight of the Conchords.)
Until next week,
Kate
I just watched Everything, Everywhere, All at Once! Everyone in the film seems both so strong but also so vulnerable. I think the main thing I take away from the movie is "Life can be overwhelming but dance when you can". :)