Clickety-clack

My sister didn't use to like jigsaw puzzles. In fact, when I showed her some really cute ones as we roamed a bookstore years ago, my excitement over the array of choices was met with a wan smile and no interest whatsoever. So when she received one as a birthday gift from a niece and showed much enthusiasm about it, I was baffled. It was a 200-piece kind and it featured a fascinating world map in cartoony drawings. She required help with it and everyone was only too willing to take part in the fun. We completed it eventually and were thoroughly pleased with ourselves, not least my sister. That was in 2018. By the time the first lockdown in the summer of 2020 rolled in, my sister had acquired over a dozen jigsaw puzzle sets of varying sizes and degrees of difficulty and could work on most of them by herself. When several started getting worn-out from repeated use, I knew she needed a new challenge. When it was obvious that our usual weekend outings would be out of the questio...

Why do classical music compositions have such abstract titles so as to be nearly impossible to remember? Did Mozart, Beethoven, Bach and the other musical greats forget to consider non-musical folks (and people with poor memories) as they decided on titles for their masterpieces? Image: Pixabay Beethoven's  Fur Elise  is the only title of a classical piece that I can recall right now. Oh, there's  A Little Night Music , too, by Mozart. Apart from that, the familiar titles are scarce because most are the likes of Piano Sonata # so and so, or Oboe Concerto in this or that minor, or Symphony # something in so-and-so major. I sure wish I could appreciate the significance of naming the fruits of their musical explorations in such a manner.  ... (Three months later...) The significance of naming musical compositions with number so-and-so and in this major or that minor still escapes me. But my eyes have ceased to turn like pinwheels in confusion (figuratively speaking) whe...

"Don't judge a book by its cover" goes the adage, but in many instances, it was precisely the cover -- along with the title -- which determined my choice of reading material as a child.  Doesn't a title like The Mystery of the 99 Steps sound absolutely intriguing? I certainly thought so for I remember picking it out as my first Nancy Drew book. Frankly, the specific details of my acquiring the book escape me now, though I do recall that "mystery" and the prospect of a 99-step staircase caught my fancy.  Before reaching my teens, I had finished reading about Nancy's adventures, her friends Bess and George, haunted mansions and secret panels, and learned words such as "astonished," "hunch" and "blood-curdling" via the classic Nancy Drew Mystery Stories series from volume 1 to 55. Only recently did I realize that there was a number 56. "Huh? The Thirteenth Pearl ? How come I had never heard of that?" I asked in aston...

Cleaning a closet can do much more than eliminate dust and straighten out  clutter . If you have stacks of treasured reading materials in storage, coming across them can prompt some truly welcome reminiscence. That's what happened recently at the sight of copies of  Baby magazine tucked away in a duffel bag. After poring over the pages, I recalled experiences which showed that being part of such a project was such a privilege. Charming babies aside, it was the aim to support, guide and inspire young parents (and entertain them along the way) that kept us grounded in our responsibility. I haven't even bothered to count how many editor's notes I wrote in my four years at  Baby , but even if just a handful of readers found any of them helpful in any way, I'm happy. Here are two of my favorites. The second one I remember well since a mother wrote us and said that she didn't even wait to get out of the bookstore to tear open the plastic wrap carrying the magazine, as t...

One striking difference that resulted from the first 2020 lockdown in Manila was the absence of street traffic. It was around April, May, and we were still confused as to what really was happening. The ECQ -- still a new thing back then -- kept most of  Manila's population indoors, rendering normally-congested roads practically empty. The few times I needed to drop by a grocery or pharmacy had me taking in the unfamiliar sight of long stretches of  pavement all to myself except maybe for one or two other vehicles every hundred or so meters. The health situation was dismal and the empty streets were a stark reminder of that. At the same time, driving was strangely pleasant -- almost relaxing. Considering the stress I normally contend with each time I am behind the wheel (unless it's a Sunday morning or during the long stretch between Christmas and New Year or on days of the Holy Week), negotiating the streets during those months when community quarantine was most strictly enfor...