Public Office hours are every Saturday from 11 am until 2 pm. Stop by, chat, share a story, talk books, movies, or tv, and have a cup of tea. I'm here until 12/12/17.

Have recuperated enough from this past Tuesday's public event that I'm writing again. Had a great visit here with my writing partner yesterday, who lives up near Yosemite. Yes, I have writing partners! One lives in San Francisco and one lives near the gorgeous national forest where she runs an Airbnb in addition to volunteering with a nonprofit and writing.

The lesson in in this message--with technology, you no longer have to be in the same town, neighborhood, or state as your writing partners. More important than geographic location is an honest and open working relationship and that you have the ability to communicate with a generous spirit of promoting each other's writing (in other words, wanting for your partner what you want for yourself).

After the first, I'll share more about the writers who are bringing the 11/14/17 program to life under the umbrella of identity in writing, characters, work, and building their own writing public profile. All writers will read from their work before launching into a discussion with the guests. Reception at 6 pm; program to start at 6:30 pm, in the Marion Davies Guest House parlor. RSVP via Eventbrite.

For now, I'm going to get into my own work, which I've been itching to do since getting back from Dorland.

Approximately 50 people attended last night's emerging women of color writers program in the parlor of the Marion Davies Guest House.

L-R counter-clockwise: Chinyere Nwodim, Shubha Venugopal, Janine Lim, and Roxana Preciado.

Despite the heat and the Dodger game traffic (yes, they won!👍⚾), many persevered and the evening was divine! The weather cooperated, providing a cool breeze while guests and writers enjoyed refreshments on the outside veranda before convening in the parlor for a reading by each panelist. 

A brief q&a followed "where and how do the writers write" info was shared, the writers provided advice for other emerging and aspiring writers, and we discussed how much reality goes into fiction. 

If you were there, thank you for coming and for being part of this magical night. 

If you missed the magic, please RSVP for 11/14 when we do it all again with a different group of writers and a specific discussion topic. Women who have published books and have been on the writing scene considerably longer than the emerging writers will read from their work and talk about identity. What does it mean? How does it impact their work if at all? Is it important in their conscious choices when developing a story? 

Dr. Shubha Venugopal, CSUN Professor of Africana Studies and Literature, will return as moderator this time. Teresa Lo, Thea Monyee, and Desiree Zamorano will come ready to enchant us with their work and their words.

Reception at 6:00 pm: Program commences at 6:30 pm. Beat the traffic and come early. Picnic on the grounds or on the beach. RSVP via Eventbrite.

Shubha Venugopal is the fourth and final emerging woman of color writer featured in tonight's program. 

What makes her stand out is she is a professor at CSUN, the mother of two (a 13-year-old and an 11-year-old), is mulling over the innards of her first novel, AND she has accumulated an impressive list of publishing credits and honors. I feel lucky Shubha has carved out time to participate in the Annenberg Community Beach House public program. Her presence indicates just how committed Shubha is to furthering her writing career. 

One of the biggest challenges to women writers in general is how we balance responsibilities in a way men have never really had to consider. Motherhood, the home, being a wife (or partner) are some of the traditional "pulls" we manage to balance in order to write. J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer wrote with babies on their laps or within reach. Alice Walker raised her daughter, while writing The Color Purple. The list goes on and on... It's tough on families when mom is a writer, because as much as we like to pretend society has evolved, women have arrived, and we can do it all, the truth for many is different. We're often breadwinners, child guides, the ones who clean our own homes, who pay our own bills, and we do all the heavy lifting--even if we have a partner or spouse. 

I have sat in my little pantry/sewing cubby/office, staring at all the Costco toilet paper stacked to the ceiling (wondering if it will shield me in case of an earthquake), writing, while hearing (smelling) the pull of dishes in the sink, getting up and down to check on dinner in the oven, and worrying about my sons. For those of us who feel (or finally come to the realization) writing is our life, we make it work. Often, anything dealing with self care suffers, including our writing, so it is admirable Shubha has built her writing resume balancing so many "callings" for her attention.

When we first met on the phone, Shubha struck me as soft-spoken, candid, and measured. In person, she presents as all that and more. Her former students rate Dr. Venugopal as one who cares about her students' success and is fair in all she does when it comes to their work. 

When it comes to her own work, Shubha is unassuming, almost downplaying her accomplishments, and my sense is many in her world have no idea there is an inner-voice, a much louder and more insistent voice, telling her to write the damn stories down. I can't wait for her to tackle the novel she's been considering, and I'm thrilled Shubha has joined tonight's program. My hope is it turns into a new writing community for her and for Chinyere, Janine, and Roxana. 

If we're fortunate (fingers crossed), Shubha will share a mythological Indian goddess story she's written with a family member as key to its movement. 

BIO

Shubha Venugopal holds an MFA in fiction and a PhD in English. She was a winner in The Master’s Review 2016 annual fiction competition, a winner in Fish Publishing’s 2017 flash fiction competition, was a finalist for the Katherine Anne Porter fiction prize 2017, and was a finalist of AWP’s 2016 WC&C Scholarship Competition. She has been selected for AWP’s Writer-to-Writer mentorship program, for a Tin House mentorship program, and for various grants at CSUN, and she has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work has appeared or will appear in: Nimrod International Journal Awards Issue, 2017, Fish Publishing Anthology 2017, WomenArts Quarterly Journal, The Masters Review Volume 5, BANG!: New Guard Review, Kartika Review, Potomac Review, Post Road Magazine, Storyglossia, Word Riot, Mslexia and in other journals. Her stories appeared in the anthology, A Stranger Among Us: Stories of Cross Cultural Collision and Connection and in the 2009 Robert Olen Butler Short Fiction Prize anthology. She has placed in competitions given by Nimrod International Journal, Colorado Review, Fish Publishing, Kore Press, Glimmer Train, The Atlantic Monthly, and others, was a featured author in the New Short Fiction Series, LA, and was interviewed in Asia Pacific Arts journal. She teaches at the California State University Northridge. 

TODAY: 10/24, Reception at 6 pm; Program starts at 6:30 pm in the Marion Davies Guest House. RSVP via Eventbrite. Avoid traffic. Come early and picnic on the Beach House patio.

The third of four women reading, talking about inspiration, and her journey into writing is Janine Lim. Fortunately for us, Janine is going to read from Blue Plaid--likely not the entire story but a well edited version that fits within the program's timeframe; yet, we still get to hear her do the thing many are challenged in figuring out how to do well. Take a story about young girls and make it into a story adults can appreciate and gravitate towards.

Janine is a bundle of pure energy and a bright light in her generation of writers. A social activist, who originally hails from San Francisco, Janine has that Bay Area quality, making me think of home and a vibrant literary scene embracing unique voices and limitless approaches to work. Straight up honest with a penchant for jotting notes into a well worn and banded together notebook, Janine understands the importance of being engaged in community, and all that salt air has made her exceedingly calming to be around. 

On the day we had our pregame lunch meeting, Janine's 11-year-old daughter came along with Janine and her own set of friends to investigate what else? The Santa Monica Place and maybe even the boardwalk. After three hours of talking, touring, and eating (writers gotta eat!), I watched Janine, Chinyere, and Shubha, chatting, laughing, and walking on the sandy, paved pathway to the parking lot. 

I stood for a couple of minutes, grateful to Peter Woods (Writ Large Press) for recommending Janine. She is definitely a valued member of our little, but ever-growing tribe.

I've slightly edited some of Janine's own words as follows: 

Janine's experience as an artist/writer actually began with grassroots organizing, which led to documenting stories within communities where that organizing took place, mainly the Filipino community. Her photographic work led a short film, which led to involvement in theater arts. Janine says, "When I became a mother, working in the darkroom, or leaving the house for that matter, became nearly impossible, but I was still compelled to share work in the capacity I could. I slowly turned to writing to express my transition into motherhood, which resulted in a photographic body of work called, Invisible Mother. 

After spending some time writing personal essays, Janine moved on to fiction.  With photography being her primary medium, she felt driven to tell stories in greater depth than she could achieve in that medium. 

Bio

Janine Lim, a native of San Francisco, is a multi-disciplinary artist currently living in Los Angeles, California. Her photographic work has been exhibited in Kearny Street Workshop’s APAture and group show Abstract Vision at Hardware Gallery in Los Angeles. Her experimental short documentary film, Grandfather Clock produced by Pacific News Service was featured in Berkeley-based Women of Color Film Festival, Festival of Filipino Arts And Culture, and APAture. She is a former Bindlestiff Studio player and performed in Stories High. She is a long-time student of the martial arts training Capoeira Angola with Angoleiros Los Angeles. Her personal essays have been published in Youth Outlook Magazine and The Bold Italic.

Janine is probably the newest member of the four women in terms of publishing, writing, and building credits. Her journey illustrates another way we come to writing. In fact, many writers are visual artists (or vice-versa), and I find those who are big into storytelling through their medium of choice are the ones who gravitate towards the written word whether in conjunction with their visual art or as an off-shoot. My hope is Janine can wrap the two around each other given her gifts. Those attending tomorrow night will get a special treat when Janine reads from Blue Plaid.

TOMORROW: 10/24, Reception at 6 pm; Program starts at 6:30 pm in the Marion Davies Guest House. RSVP via Eventbrite.

Chinyere Nwodim is a 2017 PEN USA Emerging Voices fellow. "Natural Red" is an unusual human story. Observations about life and death made from afar and up close. Immediately engaged and surprised, I felt the finality of the journey by story's end. I kept asking myself, "where is this going?" "where is she going?" I couldn't stop reading until the answer became clear. Wow! I still think about the story at odd times, which is my own "amazing" story indicator. :)

My first communication with Chinyere was while I was in residence at Dorland. I was immediately struck by Chinyere being an old soul, someone who carefully considers what she says and does, and is fully committed to her craft. Grateful to Rachelle Yousuf of PEN USA for recommending Chinyere, because her spirit and positivity have brought a special energy to the team.

She is concluding an amazing, whirlwind year with PEN USA's program (apply if you are an emerging writer!) and has received mentoring, lessons in publishing, and an opportunity to have her work highlighted. I'm grateful Chinyere is lending us her voice and her story this Tuesday evening. She is certainly one of the up and coming voices you'll be glad to hear before she is too hard to catch!

Chinyere was raised in Baltimore, Maryland, and attended Johns Hopkins University where she received a bachelor’s degree in biology and history of science. Her work has been published in Your Impossible Voice and she is a 2017 PEN Center USA Emerging Voices Fellow.  Chinyere currently lives in Los Angeles and is working on a collection of short stories.

Reception at 6 pm; Program starts at 6:30 pm in the Marion Davies Guest House. RSVP via Eventbrite.

Before providing all the details about the first of four emerging women of color writers reading and discussing her work next Tuesday evening, October 24, I want to share our first phone conversation. It was after a long day agonizing over how to put the Annenberg programs together and stressing about not getting enough of my own writing finished. We agreed to an 8 pm call with me, sitting at my desk, scribbling notes as Roxana told me about herself and her work. 

I was up at Dorland, on the mountain, as we used to say, and my cabin had just settled in for the night. Crickets and katydids, the owl and toad outside my window, and Roxana's strong, confident, and authentic voice fit right in with the concert warming up all around me. I knew at that moment, I was talking to someone perfect for our first evening. It didn't matter that she is a poet, and my project identified fiction writers as its core focus. 

What mattered is Roxana's truth. Her ability to maintain her own identity and sanity despite all the noise around her. Roxana moved from Jalisco, Mexico, to America when she was four. At sixteen, she came out to her mother as a lesbian and was promptly kicked out of the only home she knew only to find out she was undocumented. Tethered neither to her mother, nor to the country she has always called home, Roxana was homeless and without an anchor. 

Today, she has graduated from college, is a social justice activist, and works with youth in Boyle Heights and East LA. Her dedication to helping young people in the Latino LGBTQ community facilitate telling their own stories through poetry means she regularly visits libraries, schools, and youth centers. 

By the time we hung up, I was near tears (takes a lot to get me there), and I was overcome with gratitude that I had been connected to Roxana through Thea Monyee, a poet, YA spec fiction writer, and CSULA professor, who will read on 11/14. I can't wait for Tuesday night, because Roxana and the rest of the emerging women writers of color are the voices that will contribute towards changing how we view each other.

Roxana's official bio:

Roxana Preciado is an indie author and artist recognized for her work as a poet and an activist. Born in Jalisco, Mexico, she immigrated to the US at 4-years-old. Not a Fairytale is Preciado's first book recounting her life through poetry and encompasses the harsh realities of overcoming family tragedy, homelessness, and learning what life is like without an anchor to parent or to country.

Preciado has used poetry to support community engagement and activism around DACA, to bring awareness to violence against women through Take Back the Night, and to help Latino LGBT teens tell their own stories in Boyle Heights. Her book has been used as an interactive summer Lavender Book Club selection by teens at Mi Centro in Boyle Heights. She often speaks to LGBT teens and young adults about finding their own voice to tell their stories.

Preciado is completing her graduate degree at CSULA, while working on her autobiography, and resides in Los Angeles with her wife and son.

Reception at 6 pm; Program begins at 6:30 pm in the Marion Davies Guest House. RSVP via Eventbrite.

Good mid-day! I'm so grateful to write here at the Marion Davies Guest House! I'm finalizing the last couple of panelists today, answering a bunch of emails, and doing other "business" in preparation for the first public evening event on 10/24.

Meanwhile, the WOC emerging writers are preparing for their special night by choosing an in-progress or already published work. We may end up hearing something read out-loud for the very first time to a public audience. I'm already excited about learning what they're reading, which we'll discuss when we meet for lunch in the Guest House this Saturday.

As I mentioned in the last post, writers help frame what we initially talk about on their respective evenings. The objective of the program is to speak on our own terms, in our own voices, and to drive our own narrative. It may not sound like a big thing, but to people of color in the literary world, and in particular to women, this is huge. Guests will have an opportunity to ask questions or share their own thoughts during the q&a.

The cross-section of experiences and voices are reflective of living in Southern California, particularly Los Angeles. It amazes me they are able to balance their writing and life as mothers, wives, partners, activists, college professors, and an array of other roles they seamlessly take on during a single day. They do it with passion and with a fierce dedication to their craft. I'll write more about each of them individually in future posts.

I have public office hours on Saturdays from 11 am until 2 pm. Please stop by and visit "Wallis," my special dog friend. Those who know me understand my love for animals, especially rescue and shelter dogs, and I write with my three when at home. My bff brought Wallis to keep me company, and we've decided to share her with every guest. Come visit, and take your picture with Wallis! I'll post some, if not all, of the pics.

By the way, what are you reading?

I'm going through the writing of all the panelists right now, and it is intoxicating getting lost in their

stories.

Greetings! My first week concludes as writer-in-residence. I'm doing public office hours Saturdays from 11 am until 2 pm, so please stop by for a visit. We can talk writing, new books, or anything literary; even the adaptation of books into movies!

I've just returned from a month-long stay at the Dorland Mountain Artist's Colony where I sought solitude to work on my book; then, surprise! I unofficially began my Annenberg residency, as I reached out to secure writers to create meaningful programs around my proposal's theme.

Am pleased to announce the Emerging Women of Color Writers evening is set for 10/24, 6:30 pm, at the Beach House and will feature unique and talented voices just emerging on the literary scene. Each woman is at a different point on her journey, and their writing is uniquely them. Guests will surely one day tell friends, "I heard her (fill in the blank) read back in the day."

Starting the public program series with emerging writers is done with intent. My goal is to demonstrate the importance of supporting, nurturing, and encouraging women of color writers regardless of when they made the commitment to their craft, how they came to know writing is breath and air all wrapped into a soul, and how they express their authentic self in words.

I've had some late nights and early mornings, lots of rejection, and even people who just don't respond, but I persist. The commitment to ensuring every space becomes a space for women of color, whose self-identities may be claimed as mother, daughter, sister, partner, wife, immigrant, queer, lesbian, an abuse survivor, or an array of other "pieces of us" we hold true to our journey and to who we are is critical to this residency.

Every program participant has an opportunity to express views on what is discussed around the theme, so questions, topics, a direction for discussion will have been talked through prior to the event evening.

This is going to be a wild ride, but if those who attend walk away with a better understanding of who we are and why our voices are critical to a larger literary narrative, if the writers who participate connect with other writers, gain new fans of their work, and understand the nuances of this curiously secretive publishing industry, then we did "good," as we used to say back home.

I'll sleep well again, knowing all the effort has been worth the restless nights.

I'll write more later. For now, go well

.

Welcome to Sakae Manning, Writer-in-Residence!

Sakae Manning will be holding her first office hours this Saturday 10/25/17 from 11am-2pm, and thereafter every Saturday through December 9, 2017. Stop by to say hello!

While she is here with at the Beach House, Manning is working on an untitled novella and Kimono Blues, a novel narrated in turn by two women who share a bond as family truth seekers. As their search unfolds, they discover what survival and sacrifice means when seeking refuge and opportunity in a new land. Manning works from the Residency Office in the Marion Davies Guest House through mid-December. The public is invited to chat with her about her work and the residency during her office hours Saturdays from 11am-2pm. Her public programs champion women of color telling their stories, and take place 10/24, 11/14 and 12/5/17. 

Sakae Manning views her storytelling as a means to forge alliances between women of color. Her work explores the intersectionality amongst writers claiming their individual journeys around race, ethnicity, and class. A graduate of Mills College, Manning's poem, Okasan/Mother, was published in Making Waves: An Anthology of Asian-American Women Writers. Her flash fiction, Sammy's Shitkickers was published in The Salt River Review. Manning is currently working on a novel, Kimono Blues.

Choreographic Residency: Week 13, Final Post.

Out of Bounds 

Sunday, October 8, 2017 // 5pm

Photos by Andrew Mandinach

I couldn't be happier with the culminating performance from this residency.  Honestly, I don't think I've ever worked so hard.  The past 3 months, and especially the past 3 weeks, have been nonstop rehearsing, troubleshooting, organizing schedules, and fussing with props.  And after the performance, with hundreds of people watching on the beach, I'm glad it all paid off.  

I started the program by meeting the audience at the beach house courtyard.  I engaged with them as I straightened-up the space.  I overheard audiences whisper, has it started yet? I like blurring the line between performance and conversation.  I asked the audience to mindfully walk to the performance site on the shore mindfully and silent, feeling the sensation of their feet on the floor and sun on their skin.  I asked them to recall their most memorable journey, whether it is by distance or an accomplishment.  And we walked in silence toward the shore to see a sea of bodies slowly crawling to them. 

The performers rose out of the water and danced grabbed golden emergency blankets and sang the folk song 500 miles.  I walked with the performers and the audience, feeling solemn and solidarity as we walked back to the beach house.

I wanted to immerse the audience in the work so they could feel more connected with the work.  As I looked at their faces, some filled with tears, I knew I was successful. 

Moving forward, I hope to make a dance film with the footage I collected from the dress rehearsals and the performance.  I also hope this work can be performed in other sites and other locations... along shores all over the world. Please do stay in touch with all my future endeavors by subscribing to my mailing list.

I would personally like to thank the City of Santa Monica for offering such a program that could provide me with this platform.  The past year has been a creative snowball that has become greater and richer with experience.  The Annenberg Community Beach House Choreographic Residency truly helped me puzzle piece all the site-based projects I made and manifested it into this work: Out of Bounds.  I finally feel out of bounds, limitless.

Choreographic Residency: Week 12

This is probably one of my last posts.  I apologize for not writing much about my process and more about my inspirations... my time has been occupied fleshing out and embodying some things over these past two weeks, including discovering some provocative images, tableaus, and migrating pathways.  Some of these explorations include the integration of material elements, like rope, emergency blankets, buoys, and cardboard.  I'm actually really excited about the development of the work, and how all these elements are finally coming together -- it's truly a manifestation of the creative experiences I've had over the past year (since I began making work in Los Angeles).  From choreographing: 

• RAKED, a site-specific, ritual-based performance on the side of a hill about my family's migrant farm-working past; to 
• Sometimes I fall, an evening-length immersive dance theatre work in a parking lot with a car about mental health; to 
• Reverie, Regret; Revisited, a work in a private-residence carport where I covered the walls with cardboard and contact microphones exploring how walls, invisible and physical borders, and dividers can serve as sites of trauma; to
• Dance Interventions @ The Broad Museum // Summer Happenings, BASQUIAT, a series of spontaneous dance improvisations that activated the public spaces amidst the art --

... my artistic journey has culminated to this venture, Out of Bounds -- thanks to the support of this choreographic residency through the City of Santa Monica and the Annenberg Community Beach House.  I am happy and excited to share how all these seemingly disparate entities come together... and how these entities also feel opposite in characteristics (cardboard and ocean), but similar in how we utilize and rely on them to execute the work.  Today is the first day of dress rehearsal, and I'm finally inviting the public to see what I'm exploring.  It's going to be rough, as the ensemble performers will be testing out some of the movement in the ocean for the first time.  I will leave it at that... I hope you can make it. Click here to RSVP.  

Last thing, I've been thinking about my dad a lot.  I think this eulogy that I wrote and delivered at his funeral really reminds me of how far I've come.  Here is a picture of my dad and the eulogy:

“Honorable Mention”

Honorio Silva Carlon

November 21, 1912 – December 15, 2008

In the first 22 years of my life and the last 22 years of my dad’s, though obvious and imminent, I never thought this day would come.  To me – to us – my dad represented perseverance, strength, and as the first 5 letters of his name reveal, Honor.  Since I can remember, I’ve been reminded from friends, family, history books, and even strangers that my dad was a legend.  I look back commemorating his life with absolute admiration through past experiences and stories… His is an experience that lives in each and every one of us here in this church and here in this world.  

Dad moved to America with a few of his family members and friends after hearing stories of the prosperous land.  This was an extremely dangerous 30-day boat excursion.  While traveling across sea, many people perished.  Dead bodies were preserved with salt found on the boat.  Once the salt was gone the bodies were just tossed overboard to prevent airborne disease that could be emitted from the bodies. My father was lucky enough avoid sickness, but a loved one, Uncle Larry Ruta, was not so fortunate and became really ill.  I wish I knew more about the story.  All I know is dad took care of him.  I can only imagine dad being there… reluctantly showing affection, but undoubtedly – as he did with all his family and friends – making sure that everyone close to him was okay. 

As part of the first wave of Filipinos to immigrate to America, my dad had a hard time communicating, as he had not yet learned English.  The only way my father and his friends were able to order at a restaurant was to gesture “chicken” to the English-only speaking waitress …sure enough she brought back chicken.   Another interesting anecdote I just heard was that the first time my father and his companions had seen a toilet was on the boat ride to America.  Not knowing exactly what it was they drank the “fresh water” from it.  I’m not sure when he was actually corrected on it’s proper use. 

My dad arrived in America in 1933.  The early 30’s in America were a time of despair with the Great Depression.  Luckily, with the arrival of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal a high demand in agriculture arose-  securing a career for my dad for over 50 years.  For anyone who has never worked in agriculture – you will never know what a backbreaking, tiresome, and tedious job it truly is.  He did this for over 50 years.

My dad was born in Cabilao, Loon, Bohol, Philippines.  For those of you who don’t know Cabilao, the island is super tiny and has limited electricity.  Life on Cabilao in the 20s and 30s was simple.  In order to eat most families grew, raised, or caught their own food.  Clothes were hand made or hand me downs.  It’s funny the luxuries we view as necessities today and how not having them is so inconvenient.  Food is one of those luxuries.  

My dad would talk to me about fishing on Cabilao.   Fishing is much different there.  Back then, they couldn’t just purchase a fishing pole.  And there wasn’t a radio or radar or meteorologist to predict the weather.  But fishing was a means of food… the soil on Cabilao is not fertile like here in Santa Maria, so vegetation was an inadequate source of food.  Fishing was dangerous, but necessary – and dad was great at it.  

You know how old people always say, “When I was young, I had to walk 15 miles to get to school… and in the snow!”   Well my dad’s story was a little similar to that… Since Cabilao was such a small island, he had to sail a boat to another island and from there walk several miles to get to school.  One day, Uncle Ray Catayas, my father, and a couple of his female cousins were boating back home from school in the 5^th grade and the boat flipped over.  So Uncle Ray and my dad swam back while pulling the boat with his two cousins back to shore.  HE WAS IN THE 5^TH GRADE!

Dad always stressed the importance of an education… he always talked about how his brother Julio was the first person in Cabilao to get a college degree and all of Bohol’s politicians came to their house for a party in celebration.  His brother had majored in Business and Commerce.  That’s what my dad wanted me to major in…. I don’t even know what that is!?  He was a little upset when he found out I chose to be a dance major.  But HE loved to dance!!! We all know how at Loonanon fiesta how he danced – usually off-tempo, but the music moved him.  Anyone who’s attended a Loonanon Pioneers Fiesta has witnessed him dancing recklessly- after a few glasses of VO whisky.  

Loonanon Pioneer Fiesta is the biggest day of the year for my family.  Dad always had so much pride.  He was committed to uniting the family and friends and was constantly reminding us where we’ve all come from.  For him, please; can we not let that die?  

Dad was a big reason for the development of the Loonanon Pioneer Fiesta in Santa Maria.  When he immigrated here, he knew that he would never want to leave his home behind – he still hasn’t.

One of my Dad’s best friends was Uncle Onyong.  At Uncle Onyong’s funeral his daughter Margaret told a cute story about how they made some money for food.  My dad and Uncle Onyong were fortunate enough to meet a band that allowed them to play with them and share their earnings wherever they played.  The only problem is my dad and Uncle Onyong didn’t know how to play any instruments.  The band did, however, have a pair of cymbals that one of them could play.  And so Uncle Onyong and my dad would fight for those cymbals at every gig so that they could earn their pay.  Now, reunited again, I’m sure they’re still playfully fighting for those cymbals.

My dad retired in the late 80’s, but continued to work off and on until the 90’s.  And so it was me and my dad at home during the day.  Dad did a lot of yard work.  He was always hoeing the tomatoes or trimming the tree… or yelling at me for stepping all over them.  

I remember one day I got out of school early and all my other brothers were still at school and I begged my dad for a happy meal from McDonalds…, which was a BIG deal.  My family only went out to McDonalds on Sundays when Cheeseburgers were 39 cents and Wednesdays for 29-cent hamburgers.  Anyway, I somehow persuaded him and so off we went after he drank a glass of whiskey.  We drove through the drive-thru and when he ordered, the McDonalds employee asked what drink we wanted for the Happy Meal, and he said to the speaker, “Oh, no drink.  We have drinks at home.”  I kept trying to tell him that it came with it, but the employee and him got in a little quarrel… I think I ended up getting seven-up… that was my first happy meal.

It’s really funny how much I resemble my dad.  According to my friends and family I’m stubborn—just like my dad.  Just like my dad, I need to be the life of the party.  Even though I don’t see it.  I’ve been told often that I resemble him appearance-wise.  Some of my friends thought at first that the picture in the obituary was me.  I’m so proud to have be a part of such a legacy. 

Dad was a man who loved to be around people—and people loved to be around him.  He really was the life of the party. He has brought my 10 siblings and 30 plus nieces and nephews together for the last past two weeks… he’s brought us all together here today.  If dad could see us now – which he can… he’d say, stop crying.  Because sooner than later we’ll all be together again.  And I’m sure he’d be telling us, “EAT!” 

I remember even just a week ago dad getting upset that we weren’t eating with him when he was eating his hospital puréed food and jello…  and on that note… join us for lunch and let’s reminisce and do him proud.  

Dad wasn’t really an affectionate person, but we all know he wanted to say it… So I’ll say it first dad: 

I love you.