This was written prior to
the kids arriving and although not very current, I still thought it worthy of
posting. Daryl…
It has been raining for
the past three days here on Negros Island. The mornings will start out partly
to mostly cloudy and if you have errands to run, that is the time to do them,
but by noon, the clouds darken and the rain returns. Yesterday, it rained throughout the night and
this afternoon, it was raining elephants and giraffes. I actually had to shut the windows to protect
my television and computer from getting bathed in the sheets of rain that was
determined to cleanse anything exposed to its windswept deluge. It is usually dry this time of year and the rainy
(wet) season doesn’t begin until late May, but what we are being blessed with
is a very slow moving tropical disturbance to our south. What makes this weather more exciting is that
there is another tropical disturbance to the east just waiting to take
disturbance number one’s place. Such is
life in the Philippines. A few days ago,
the nights were quiet (if you discounted the dogs and roosters), but last night
the air was filled with the croaking of THOUSANDS of frogs, all eager and ready
to procreate.
I know it has been awhile
since I have posted anything. It’s not
that I haven’t had anything to submit, it is just the fact that I have been
procrastinating. The adopted kids are
coming here in a few days and I have been busy preparing for their
arrival. I have purchased a huge bunk
bed, a cabinet for clothes, storage containers for more clothes to shove under
the bed, pillows and fabric for the cushions for the couch and chair being
made. Still, I need to purchase a few
more pots and pans, more dinnerware (two plates won’t work with six people),
and bowls. In some ways I am very
nervous. It has been approximately nine
months of solitude in my two bedroom sanctuary, but in a few short days, it
will be overcrowded with a handful of kids running around…not to mention eating
me out of house and home. There are
moments when I ponder the noise and needed attention they will require, yet I
also know their quality of life will vastly improve from now on. I have been waiting months for this to
transpire and, in a way, I am very excited. Clarisse (the oldest one) texts me
every day to tell me how many days remain until they come here and was
overjoyed to read I was going to meet them at the ferry in San Carlos. When that day comes, I will put pictures in
the blog for everyone to see. 
There is a festival
starting in Himamaylan. I don’t know the
name of it yet as it really doesn’t start for another two weeks, but the plaza
has been busy with games of chance, food concessions, and vendors along the
street selling assorted items. Each evening there are basketball tournaments
and it is interesting to see how many men in their 40’s and 50’s were out there
bouncing the ball across the court.
I have to the festival
three times since it began taking pictures, then sitting back and watching the
activity. I get quite a few stares from
the many browsers or spectators. Even
had one lady in her thirties stop (with young child in hand) to ask if I was
married and gave me a disappointed expression when I told her I was. 
It was too dark my first
night visiting, so a couple of nights later I decided to attempt pictures
before it got too dark. On my way there, I passed a couple elementary school
children. The girl called me “Lolo”,
which meant Grandpa. I took their
picture, waved, then moved on toward my photo assignment. I walked past the vending stands, taking
pics as I strolled, then it was into the plaza itself. It was still rather early 
and the gaming
activity was very light, but still I got some photos of them and also the
several food stands that lined the walkways.
A basketball game was in progress and I got a few 
photos of them as well
as some of the spectators at courtside. I purchased a hotcake (nothing remotely
similar to the states) and finding a bench, I sat and again watched the people
pass or visit as the youngsters ran between feet and around the plaza enjoying
the festive freedom of the evening.
As the twilight was
transformed into darkness, I finished my 
“snack” and decided to head home. I
walked up the steps out of the plaza and started walking past the vendors when
I heard a little voice call out, “Daddy Cano!
Daddy Cano!” along with the
pitter patter of running feet. Suddenly
a tiny pair of arms wrapped themselves tightly around my legs as an excited
girl 
thought she had found her papa. I
laughed, bent over and gave her a little hug back as mama grabbed her by the arm
and pulled her away. I got out my camera
and took a picture of her. She had a toy
camera and took a pretend picture of me too.
I waved good-bye to the little preschooler as her mama walked her up the
street. It’s funny how a little episode
such as that can melt your heart. I never did find out her name. But that wasn’t the end. As I 
walked down a quiet side street, I
passed a group watching their father or brother or someone working on a trike
when again, a four year old girl called me “Tatay” (papa in Illongo). I smiled, took her picture, and moved quickly
on. I was now getting gun shy with all
those “fatherly” names. I would like to
make it clear that I had never met any of those kids or parent (s) before that
evening. Except for a week’s visit to
Negros in February 2011, I had never been to Negros before and Donarae will
attest to the fact that I am incapable of bearing children anymore.
“snack” and decided to head home. I
walked up the steps out of the plaza and started walking past the vendors when
I heard a little voice call out, “Daddy Cano!
Daddy Cano!” along with the
pitter patter of running feet. Suddenly
a tiny pair of arms wrapped themselves tightly around my legs as an excited
girl 
thought she had found her papa. I
laughed, bent over and gave her a little hug back as mama grabbed her by the arm
and pulled her away. I got out my camera
and took a picture of her. She had a toy
camera and took a pretend picture of me too.
I waved good-bye to the little preschooler as her mama walked her up the
street. It’s funny how a little episode
such as that can melt your heart. I never did find out her name. But that wasn’t the end. As I 
walked down a quiet side street, I
passed a group watching their father or brother or someone working on a trike
when again, a four year old girl called me “Tatay” (papa in Illongo). I smiled, took her picture, and moved quickly
on. I was now getting gun shy with all
those “fatherly” names. I would like to
make it clear that I had never met any of those kids or parent (s) before that
evening. Except for a week’s visit to
Negros in February 2011, I had never been to Negros before and Donarae will
attest to the fact that I am incapable of bearing children anymore.
The other morning I was
heading to Bacolod on the motorbike to get groceries. The air was refreshingly cool, albeit humid
and that tepid chill as well as muggy conditions, combined with diesel exhaust
hanging in the air triggered memories of my childhood and one occasion as a
young adult. As a youngster, in the
early spring mornings the aroma would assault my nostrils. It wasn’t unpleasant, but noticeable all the
same. On another occasion along the
coastline of Virginia in early spring (as a young adult), I breathed in that
unique air once again. Years ago I
couldn’t pinpoint the source of the odor, but now in Philippines, I concluded it
had to do with the temperature, humidity, and amount of diesel exhaust in the
air. It was a mixture of sweet and yet
sour fragrances. To think it took over
forty years to experience that smell again just went to show at how something that
may have been insignificant to me at the time, was noted and filed in my
brain. There was nothing particularly
memorable about those sniffings decades ago, but the aroma memory still
lingered. Let’s face it, the human brain
is a fascinating computer.
The next blog will be
about the kids coming and then how it has changed my life….and it has. By the way, for the better.
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