Category Archives: Inspiration

Expanding Home, Day 9: The Second Homage

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Posted by on in Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 18, 2023, Daet– Today was the first of two up and out days: I needed to get to the office of Children International, in a city somewhat south of here, by noon at the latest. So, onto the Naga-bound van it was. Thankfully, I only had my small bag, with journal and prayer book, so I took up little space.

The ride to Naga was easy enough. Van drivers tend to drive fast, are able to tail-gate, without seeming obnoxious about it-(Try that in North America, and see what happens.)-and get to their destinations more quickly than the clean, but hamstrung, buses. I was dealing with runny sunblock, and it would be a while before I could flush my left eye out properly. I made do with closing my eyes and got a cup of coffee, once at Bicol Central Station, in Naga. Right after that, a man came up to me and said I was to follow him to the bus that was headed to the town where CI is located. I don’t know how he knew I was headed there, but no matter-I followed and boarded the correct bus. It took 3 1/2 hours, and I was in communication with CI reps, the entire time. (They did not know I was on the bus, so the theory that I may have been under their surveillance does not jibe.)

At any rate, I met the Children International representative at the bus station, was taken to their offices and met several of the staff, before meeting up with my sponsored youth and his mother. We then went to a Biggs Diner (a Filipino chain), in the city’s gleaming, modern shopping mall, and enjoyed a fine lunch. Then, we went to a department store, and he picked out his gift from me-a colourful pair of basketball shoes. This fulfills a long-time dream of his, as he loves basketball and is in a youth league.

The group of us then got back in the van, and drove to Cagsawa Historical Site. Here, there are the ruins of a church that was destroyed by lava, from Mount Mayon, in 1872. It seems the 1870s and ’80s were an especially active period for Pacific Rim volcanic activity: Krakatao’s seismic eruption took place in 1883.

Mount Mayon, eastern Bicol
The bell tower of Cagsawa’s church. It is the sole structure left standing, from the 1872 lava flow.

After this, I bid farewell to my sponsored youth and to the CI staff. The long bus ride back to Naga went past Mount Asog, nearly an hour due north of Mount Mayon. It, too, was an active volcano in the 19th Century.

Mount Asog (Mount Iriga), Camarines Sur Province

We kept on riding, into the late afternoon, and past the departure of the last bus to Daet. As I would have been the sole passenger, it was just as well. I found a taxi driver who was willing to make the trip-for a reasonable out-and-back fare. By 9:30, I was safely back in Daet and walked the 1 km distance from the Catholic hospital to Mirasol Residences, mostly to stretch, after being seated for 7 1/2 hours.

‘To whom much is given, much is expected’. I will rest well tonight.

Expanding Home, Day 8: The Eclipse’s Wake

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

October 17, 2023, Daet, Camarines Norte- The officious, almost Parisienne, server saw me stirring the meat on my Kuril (Grill), using chopsticks. We have gotten into that habit, at Korean restaurants in the U.S. That would not stand, here at Golden Baboy. She marched over, took the pair of tongs out of the utensil can and said “Here, sir!”. I got with the program and things went well between the house and me after that.

Errands– I had two main tasks to complete, before embarking on my own march to the sea. Z’s Laundry was amenable to taking care of my small load, though it was under their customary minimum. Filipinos aren’t always fastidious. The next was to purchase a hat, as my sun hat is sitting-where else, in the back of Sportage, in San Diego. I also needed a pair of sunglasses, the last of which were left behind, God knows where. So, a stop at 101 Department Store was next on the list. I left my little tote bag with the “personal property guard” and went upstairs to find a nice little golf hat and a pair of wrap-around sunglasses. I was ready for the afternoon. Oh, and while I was at 101, there was a small high school parade, celebrating athletic excellence. An older man told me not to take any photos, but the kids shouted him down.

Daet’s teens on parade.

Snafu-Every ATM, it seems has its idiosyncrasies. In the 7-11 Store, near the Provincial Capitol, the cash dispenser is recessed, so thieves can’t reach over and grab the cash from an unsuspecting patron. There are fewer thieves around, since the Duterte days of Law and Order, but the system stays in place. I am used to the top dispensing ATMs, and so was initially under the impression that the machine just failed to give me the cash, and reported this to the clerk-who just smiled, came over to the ATM and got me to do a smaller transaction, showing me the recessed dispenser. She then said I should go to the BDO Bank and resolve the other matter. I walked over to the branch office of BDO and after about thirty minutes of electronic back-and-forth with my bank’s 24-hour service, it was established that BDO was not interested in taking “ghost funds” from my account. My bank agreed to drop the withdrawal and cancel an International Transaction fee. I mention this, in case anyone else ever finds self bamboozled by a perfectly honest attempt to counteract thievery.

Provincial Capitol- The buildings and grounds of the Capitol of Camarines Norte are majestic, in an understated way. The Spanish Colonial architecture is none the worse for the wear, after the Spanish-American War, Japanese occupation and countless typhoons. This place is definitely a point of pride for “Cam Norte” residents, especially for Daetenos.

As you can guess, Filipinos adore colour- the brighter and more varied, the better. I like seeing these “Love Community” signs, in each place I have visited in the Bicol region.
The stately Capitol of Camarines Norte Province. The slogan Alay sa Bayan refers to the recruitment of new civil servants. It means “Our hope for the country”, in Tagalog.
Alay sa Diyos is Tagalog for “Our hope of glory”.
Dr. Jose A. Rizal is considered by many as the Father of the Philippine Nation. He stressed to his fellow citizens that they were equal to, if not superior to, their Spanish overlords. He was executed by the Spanish rulers in 1896, for “the crime of rebellion”. Along with Lapulapu, who led the first resistance to Spanish rule, in the 1520s, Dr. Rizal is an unofficial national hero.

Walk to the Sea– After taking a rest,and because of the big lunch at Golden Baboy, it was time to get my steps in. Bagasbas Beach is Daet’s main tourist draw, though there were only a few locals and a honeymooning couple here, this afternoon. The four-kilometer walk had several appeals to my eye’s palate. Not the least of these was the serenity of the tropical rice paddies and river plains, where Philippine cattle, a genuine native breed, graze and socialize with the tagaks, or little herons.

Philippine cow grazing, with tagaks as company.
These two species are the best of friends.

Our Lady of Penafrancia College is the backdrop for a warning sign.

This area is in the right spot for feeling the fury of a seismic event.
The tide was coming in,as I stood, pants rolled up and feet bare, in the warm western Pacific. (Above and below)
Meet Si Ginoong Niyok (Mr. Coconut).
Cory Aquino Boulevard connects five towns along the coast of Camarines Norte.
Bagasbas Lighthouse, now a private resort. This is as close as I could get the structure, without having to book a night’s lodging.

With that, my work there was through, and I walked back to town, getting a latte at Big Brew, halfway back, and ignoring a mentally-ill man, who wanted me to buy a snack at the place where he was sitting, or feed him-couldn’t tell which. I did stop in town, for a small plate of tuna noodles, at Mamita’s.

It was a day of modest achievements and well-appreciated lessons.

Expanding Home, Day 7: Mastering the Ropes, Quickly

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Striving, Travel

October 16, 2023, Daet, Camarines Norte- Burger chef has not had many older American tourists stop at his stall, near Daet’s central high school. In fact, I was the first one, in his memory. I was willing to take the chance, as the quality of food offered to children and teens matters greatly-at least as much as that offered to adults, if not more. I took the two chili cheeseburgers to go-with a mineral water, but no fries.

From the time I first walked around Daet’s “uptown”, this morning, I became a curiosity to some-especially to very young children. For the most part, though, and thankfully, my picking up on the rhythm and flow of pedestrians dovetailing with motor traffic was most appreciated. There are no traffic signals in this part of town, and no stop signs anywhere. Instead, cars, trucks, motorcycles and tuk-tuks exercise a delicate dance with one another. Pedestrians have their own dance, along the at times narrow sidewalks, or along the edge of the street, when the sidewalks run out-as is the case near a Catholic cemetery, not far from Camarines Norte Provincial University. Crossing the street is a matter of quick judgement, three to five seconds is all that is needed, and everyone is expected to pay full attention, move quickly but gracefully and the flow goes on.

I am grateful to be in the shape where I can still take part in this feature of community life. It is noteworthy that, despite the huge volume of vehicular traffic, there are few accidents and almost no traffic jams. I have not seen anyone hit, as yet. It is as if the collective will has told itself: “This is the hand that we have dealt ourselves-big families, lots of small vehicles and roads that are mostly designed to serve motorcycles and tuk-tuks (tricycles, with side cars attached). Let’s make this work!”

Part of my choosing to be here, in a few sections of one country, for three weeks, rather than a “blow-across the region” tour of several nations, is to prove to self that I can pick up readily on social cues and follow along with the rhythm and flow of several aspects of life in a nation where some things are just done differently. The best thing anyone can say about me would be “He is one of us. He understands and is on our side.” Filipinos are guarded, when it comes to Americans-and probably when it comes to Europeans, as well. The more visitors show respect for the way the locals have adapted to their environment-both natural and social, the more room we give the people to advance, at their own pace and in their own way.

After a healthful fish and tofu dinner, at Rustic Cafe, I took in the early evening scene around the Provincial Capitol, and stopped for a few minutes’ reflection, overlooking the Daet River.

The Daet flows brown, but limpid, from north to south.

I look forward to a robust walk to the sea, after taking care of a few necessaries, tomorrow. The pictures will be included in the next post.

Expanding Home, Day 6: A Day of No Cancellations

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving, Travel

October 15, 2023, Daet, Camarines Norte, Philippines– The beleaguered security agent had less than ten seconds to assess my situation, and so quickly sent me and my bags on our way, with the advice: “Take a motorcycle to Terminal 4!” I left her to her other, more immediate charges, and caught a Grab Taxi-whose driver looked at his watch and said, presciently as it turned out-“The ticket agents will tell you it is impossible for you to catch the flight, but two hours from now, you will be landing in Naga.”

My life has come to making careful choices, most of which turn out well. Relying on a temporarily slow-loading cell phone was probably not the best of those; an International SIM Card loads much more slowly than T-Mobile, and when I have to call up an e-mail, for official viewing, and do so “on the double”, a slow load is no load at all. (I have since gone back to the T-Mobile SIM card, since it works better.)

At any rate, I did land in Naga, two hours after the ticket agent told me that it might be impossible to catch the flight-even as there were thirty-five minutes left before boarding and I had already checked-in electronically. He made some calls, gave me a boarding pass, and I went through domestic security and on to the waiting area. There were still twenty minutes left, before the plane started loading, enough time for me to order and get coffee and a muffin from the Seattle’s Best kiosk.

Naga’s small airport had plenty of taxi and tuk-tuk drivers waiting, once we disembarked. The security guard got his friend, Jhun M., to take me to Naga Train Station, at a reasonable rate. Jhun is personable and a careful driver, so in a pinch, I will text him again for the reverse trip on Thursday. The train ride started promptly and the carrier itself moves a lot faster than many U.S. trains. It’s a local train, though, so it took 1 1/2 hours to get from Naga to Sipocot.

Filipinos are a gregarious lot, though, and before long, I found myself being chatted up by a lady whose interests are farming, nature-and the importance of doing what moves a person. Arlene guided me to an ATM and to the bus for Daet, by way of which she managed to contradict Rome to Rio’s insistence that the only way to the beach town, from Sipocot, is by taxi. In fact, the bus is reliable and used by many-as is the case in most countries around the world. (Arlene told me I am her first North American friend-and there was none of the stereotypical nonsense frequently attributed to women who befriend men, in Asian-American encounters. She has her full life here and is not out looking for love.) Having people of substance as friends is really what moves my life,but you, my readers, already know that.

I am now safely in Mirasol Residences, Daet, after an interesting bus ride through the mountainous terrain of northern Bicol- the collective regional name for eastern and southeastern Luzon and the nearby island of Masbate. Daet is a beach town, and though Mirasol is on the west side of town, away from the surf and sand, I will take a hike over to the ocean on Tuesday, weather-permitting. It is raining now, and probably will do so again tomorrow morning.

Here are some views of my home for four days:

Courtyard, Mirasol Residences, Daet

Camarines Norte Room
Metropark Village, the barangay(neighbourhood) of Mirasol Residences

Expanding Home, Day 5: Dockside from An Airport

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 14, 2023, Manila- The Stand Master’s advice was unequivocal: “Walk over that way (pointing towards a large KFC sign) and your hotel is right there.” Some of his drivers persisted in offering rides, and a few told me they thought the hotel was too expensive (as in “let me take you to my brother’s father-in-law’s cheaper hotel”). In the end, I listened to their boss, and walked to what was essentially like going dockside, from a marina. My Cotopaxi backpack and the laptop bag that Aram gifted me, four years ago, are designed for just this sort of transport, and I found my way, through the security cordon and across the airport ring road, with little trouble-especially as I had plenty of company. Filipinos are inveterate walkers, as are people in many parts of the Global South.

Terminal 1 (of the four that constitute Ninoy Aquino International Airport) is very close to a working class neighbourhood, with Manila Airport Hotel on the same property as the advertised Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise. It is, though, a pleasant and clean little hotel, despite being in a building at least as old as yours truly. Filipinos are also somewhat officious, so I had to wait until the exact appointed time for hotel check-in, though I was able to leave my bags in secure storage and take up space in the lobby, until that hour arrived.

It was a good time for me to size up the interactions among the crew (convivial and egalitarian), the overall clientele (some older men with young wives and other couples who were matched in age, as well as some men my age and younger, who are here alone, as I am) and the ambiance (a nice little coffee shop, several small restaurants that were closed, as it was after 11 a.m. on Saturday, and a small Chinese restaurant, where I took a small order of dim sum, being still full from the breakfast served on the flight from T’aipei. Dim sum, in Manila, means steamed soft rice dumplings that are round and quite large. It was the cheapest item on the menu, but good enough that I will go back at some point, over the next two weeks, and order something more substantial.

Manila Airport Hotel
View from my room, Manila Airport Hotel, looking west.

I closed out the day by having an enjoyable “English Breakfast”, for dinner. This English repast included a “Hungarian Sausage”, which was definitely of Trans-Danubian origin, scrambled egg that was omelet in quality, two small strips of bacon (well-crisped) and a couple of pieces of fresh-baked white bread, also well-toasted. The coffee holds its own, comparable to some of the best in the U.S.

The long day has a sequel, tomorrow, so off to dream land I go.

Expanding Home, Day 4: Food for Thought, in the Sky

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Entertainment, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 13, 2023, T’aipei- Today was “short”, on the ground, due to having crossed the International Date Line, while flying here from San Francisco. In reality, the energy of Friday the 13th, to me always proactive, feminine- and never unlucky, played out in full-even as the clock, here in Taiwan’s capital, said it was 5:30 a.m., Japan-Taiwan Time, on October 14.

Most of it was spent in the air, above the Pacific Ocean, between the westernmost part of Alaska, (or which the International Date Line is significantly bent to the southwest, to accommodate the Aleutian Islands, and the easternmost part of Russian Siberia), and this resilient city that maintains its Mandarin Chinese character, while keeping developmental pace with its larger sibling to the west.

I’m tired, so this will be relatively brief. It is important to note that the quality of time spent in the air is just as important to character, as time spent in active pursuits on the ground. I chose three movies to view, each of which had life lessons to impart.

“Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny” was a sillier film than the first four, but does have a caution to impart about the consequences of unbridled ego-with the fate of a neo-Nazi “Second Fuhrer” inextricably linked, to his overaching desire to play God. Indy himself is questioned by his reconciled wife, as to whether he is “back”, emotionally and physically.

“Close”, a Belgian film about the innocent, ill-fated friendship between two adolescent boys, examines sexually-charged bullying, living one’s life through others, and the sometimes feckless behaviour of adults who befriend children and try to treat them as equals. It deals with the consequences of suicide for a community, head-on, and pulls no punches.

“The Little Things”, a recent Denzel Washington crime-solving vehicle, deals with remorse, insecurity in marriage and parenthood-especially of fathers relating to daughters, and of one or more unbridled egos,leading to the undoing of one miscreant-and maybe those of both of his nemeses.

This was the first half of my eighth trans-Pacific round trip. I spent it seated next to an intrepid, very large, woman, who is headed even further than me. As always has happened up to now, we looked out for one another-and for the flight attendants, who were always rushing about and, it seems, running into tired passengers who had to get up and move aside for one another. Oh, the joys of conflicting legitimate pursuits.

There were no bad guys on this plane-except on screen.

Expanding Home, Day 2: Care Shares,Key Chains and Kelp Tossing

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

October 11, 2023, San Diego- Medaglia D’Oro instant coffee is a hit with the workers at Samesun Hostel. For that alone, it is one of the best investments I have made, for $4.05. In the days of widespread labour dissatisfaction, befriending and encouraging workers, even in small ways, is a most important endeavour.

After a hearty walkabout along the southern end of Ocean Beach, and the subsequent cat nap, I sat with a few of the staff members and some other hostelers, and made key chains-tutored by the crafts and yoga lady-Lexi. My chain’s decoration is two-sided, with the all-important eye on each side. It will likely cause the lot attendant a double-take, when I lodge Sportage with him, for the duration of my visit to the Philippines. He may wonder which of my grandchildren made this. ( I have none, at present.) The truth of the matter can stay with me, and the readers of this post. I made two new friends here at Samesun (Lexi and her friend, Alicia), and that’s the most important thing.

The day started with a brisk walk to the pier. The surf was a good deal calmer than it was, when I was last here, in December. Noting a sign that said “Throw kelp back into the ocean”, I spent several minutes doing just that, though I know that the message was directed primarily at the ubiquitous fisherfolk along the pier.

Morning surf, Ocean Beach (above and below)

The skies were almost June Gloom-like (“October Opaque”?), and true to form, they would break into sunshine, later in the day. Meanwhile, there was plenty of colour on the ground, in Ocean Beach.

Another sweet OB mural
Two ladies, two pelicans and a lone octopus

It was a pleasure to share my rather large portion of Cashew Chicken and Pork Dumplings with a trio of sidewalk campers, who are accepted neighbours of the hostel. Likewise,the street people here are respectful of their business neighbours and do not harass anyone walking about. There is a neatness and order here, that is not always present in impromptu communities elsewhere.

Once lunch was a wrap, it was time for the walkabout that I mentioned earlier. In December, I focused on the pier and on the north of OB. The south side, also called Sunset Cliffs, is equally a delight, though the area above the beach is considered unstable, and is fenced off.

Sign at Ocean Front Drive, OB
Unstable above; fascinating below
Sunset Cliffs trail, Ocean Beach
Cove, along Sunset Cliffs trail, Ocean Beach
Surf gets feisty, Sunset Cliffs trail
A sandstone sculptor has left several messages, along the south side of Ocean Beach. I am certainly trying my best.

First Nations

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Historical, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving

October 9, 2023- There once was a story, that when the People came across the ice and land bridge known as Beringia, they followed large, ferocious beasts, from mastodons and mammoths to smilodons (sabre-toothed cats) and short-faced bears. There was Megatherium, the larger, somewhat more irascible ancestor of today’s tree sloth. There were huge dire wolves and wild cattle, called aurochs. Some legends also say that the continent of North America was occupied by giant humans. There is evidence that some First Nations people also came by sea, from the western Pacific islands and from the Mediterranean region-and that even the Amazon Basin was peopled, before the Pacific Northwest.

Much of that lore remains to be proven. So, too, does much of the lore about who first settled what we call the Holy Land. The Old Testament recounts that the twelve tribes of Israel were led to the edge of that nation, and found Canaanites and Philistines already there. There was battle, and the Philistines were defeated. They went slightly north, became the Phoenicians , and contributed greatly to Western Civilization-as did the Jews.

People have always been on the move. Homo sapiens came out of Africa, spread throughout Eurasia, across the Pacific Islands, into Australia and to the Americas. Migrating peoples left the Eurasian steppes and Altai Mountains-some going east and becoming the Siberians and at least some of those we call First Nations peoples or Native Americans; others going west and becoming the Scythians, Kelts, Teutons, Slavs, Turks, Magyars (Huns) and Sami. Other migrating people left the Caucasus and became the Greeks, Etruscans, Latins and Illyrians of southern Europe, or, going eastward, the Persians and various peoples of north India.

African emigres sailed the Indian Ocean, and the eastern rim of Asia, to Australia, New Guinea and Melanesia. The true First Nations of the Philippines, Taiwan and Jeju (South Korea) were of African origin. In kind, Malays, who long ago left southern China and settled the Pacific Rim of southeast Asia-found their way westward, settling Madagascar, where they found and intermingled with Africans.

In Africa itself, the southern third of the continent was originally the domain of those who have been variously called Hottentots, Bushmen, Pygmies, or more recently by their own preferred name, San. Those known collectively as Bantu were migrants from western Africa, who spread across the continent, much as the First Nations peoples of the Americas spread through those continents.

The beat goes on-and still there is argument, as to who should be allowed to live where. Fighting over land is tantamount to self-defeatism. Untangling the ball of yarn will be a long, tortuous process, but can anyone really say the process of conflict and warfare is easier?

“The Earth is but one country, and Mankind its citizens”. – Baha’u’llah

A View from The Cusp

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Posted by on in Assistance, collaborating, Community, impediments, Inner Struggles, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Striving

October 7, 2023- As we walked along, on the impromptu tour of Prescott College, this evening, one of the conversations drifted into the subject of zodiacal cusps-those periods just before the transition from one zodiac sign to another.

As the person who raised the issue was born just before Scorpio gives way to Sagittarius, the discussion revolved around which traits of the latter sign could be discerned in her make-up. There were 2 or 3, which I will not divulge, as the conversation was semi-private. She did, however, acknowledge that being born on the cusp of Sagittarius gave her a unique appreciation of both zodiacal realms. She went down the list of traits, and asked whether I had them: Free spirit-Check; Life-long learner- Check; Loyal- Check; Inveterate traveler-Check (The last one caused one of my dearest friends, walking nearby, to concur, with a mild sigh. )

One astrologer refers to a Sagittarian’s life as “a wild ride”. I am beginning to think that just about anyone’s life is a wild ride, these days-even if he or she is a homebody. Surely, though, if I have a quiet day at Home Base, it’s in preparation for something intense that’s about to break. My dull days have certainly been few and far between. The Scorpian cusper fairly said the same about her own life. She also said that she has less of a sense that things are out of control, on a frenetic day-and more along the lines of “This is what I am choosing”.

There is certainly much to be said for that view of life. If one recognizes freedom of choice, then it is easier to take responsibility for what happens. That has been, intermittently, a weak spot of mine, corrected in recent years by self-discipline.

This unanticipated stock-taking happened to follow a brief, but temporarily unsettling conflict, earlier in the day. Thankfully, another of the Sag traits with which I’m saddled is not holding onto grudges. Every human deserves a second chance, and the person with whom I had a run-in thought things over and was more respectful towards me, within an hour. Life is too short for anything less.

Three Bruces and Two Jerrys

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Posted by on in children, collaborating, Entertainment, Inspiration, Social, Striving

October 6, 2023- As the band bantered, this evening at Rafter Eleven, a hand drummer joined and was promptly christened “Jerry, from a band of one two many Bruces”. The context was never explained, but it gave rise to this little story, in my head.

There were once two musically-inclined cousins, Bruce and Jerry. They grew up, close to one another, in Swarthmore, PA, home of a “Little Ivy League” college-which gave the town its name. Bruce wasn’t much of a student, in the usual sense, but he could read music from the age of 3. Jerry, on the other hand, couldn’t tell a G clef from an B sharp, but he could make his guitar sing-from the time he got it, at the age of 5. He was also a book worm, and would make up song lyrics from the things he read-having been first inspired by “Zippity doo dah”, from Walt Disney’s “Song of The South”. He kind of hit a brick wall, when trying to make songs about the Periodic Table of The Elements. That’s where a second Bruce came in. Bruce A. was a classmate of Jerry’s, having moved to Swarthmore with his family, from a small town in Alabama, called Eutaw. Coming from a family of Blues musicians, Bruce A. would sit in on the cousins’ jamming and lend his vocal talents to Jerry’s lyrics. B. A. made up his own songs about hydrogen, oxygen, and neon-and krypton, where his Blues aria about Superman had the Man of Steel tossin’ whole planets around. That brought in Bruce # 3, who was actually a girl.

Brucella Mantooth was a Choctaw girl,from “somewhere in Oklahoma; I think it starts with a T.” That turned out to be Tahlequah, where most everyone else was Cherokee. The reason the Mantooths came to Swarthmore was that B’s mom was a Professor of Native American Studies, at a time when everyone referred to the First Americans simply as “Indians”. Work opportunities for First Nations scholars were few and far between, even in Oklahoma, which used to be called Indian Territory. Swarthmore wanted to make a mark for itself, so the N.A.S. Baccalaureate and Master of Arts programs were started.

Bruce M. could play seven types of drums, from a big “powwow-type” drum to little bongos. She added a dramatic flair to the Superman songs that came from Bruce A.’s head. There were regular jams, in the back yard or garage, of one cousin or another, from the time they were all seven, until they were ten.

One day, Jerry came to a realization: There were one too many Bruces- and only one Jerry. He quietly fussed and fumed about the situation, not letting it get in the way of the band’s activities. Brucella, though, was intuitive-and determined she would find a solution to the problem, without making a big fuss. So, one day, she walked in with a new friend.

Geraldine Spector came from the city-Philly, and not just from anywhere, but from Old City. She was from an old time rock and roll/rhythm and blues family-her uncle invented the “Wall of Sound”, but Jerry was into country music, of all things. It started when she was learning to ride horses, first English style, then Western. With the latter style came a fascination with cowboys, and their music. When Jerry met Bruce M., at a mini-rodeo, the tapes played by Brucella’s Dad in his truck, left the slightly older girl hooked on the genre. The two girls, a year apart in age, became inseparable, and so, the band got its second singer, who could also play a mean keyboard.

As ten and eleven became thirteen and fourteen, the kids’ voices changed, there was a hiatus for that sort of discomfort to pass, and then the group took off again-being a staple at local high school dances-and small music festivals around Philadelphia. They came up with a dance, “Philly Dog”, which got cachet when mentioned in the hit song, “Land of A Thousand Dances”. They did soaring, rock-opera type songs, twangy country tunes about love and loss-and to placate Jerry S’s family, some covers of her aunt’s girl band classics.

There was still one little burr in the saddle: One two many Bruces.

(DISCLAIMER: Any relationship between the characters in this story and real people is purely coincidental.)