Peace at Last
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
There is
a little girl in the photograph below who was born in San Diego. She had big ears so perhaps you can spot her. She loves opera and
has fairly liberal views about life. She is 8 years younger than I am. She
lives in Barcelona. In my early life as a nasty and spoiled pre-teen I thought
she was terrible, particularly because she was a little girl. I didn't like little girls. It took me a long
time, once I was married and had two daughters to appreciate the charms of
little girls. By then she had receded in my memory.
It is
only recently, 59 years later that I have re-connected with her.
Tonight
I was suffering from my perennial insomnia and suddenly I had a thought. I went
to my family album and picked this photograph that was taken in a resort city
(it was cooler) in Baguio in the Philippines. One of the women, standing on the
left is my grandmother. The picture was taken around 1888. The woman sitting to
my grandmother’s left happens to be my new friend’s grandmother. Her name was Paz. All are dressed in costumes of the local natives called Igorrotes.
My life might have been different had I liked little girls then.
My life might have been different had I liked little girls then.
