You may notice that the title of this entry is slightly different in format than the previous ones. That, as you probably suspect, is completely intentional.
Tala is growing older and so am I. And, I have arrived. So here we are at the end of the trail and the end of that part of the tale. Beginning with my next post you will (hopefully) see the alert in your email box with a new appellation ~ "Welcome to Lala Land". There is a story behind that.
The idea for my blog was to chronicle my initial journey across country to see my growing granddaughter in the only safe way that Covid allowed us to travel. A road trip complete with photos that would let me take my friends and family along on this grand adventure. You will recall when the blog started that I was narrating a trip, not a move. Well one thing led to another and the the musings I shared changed focus ~ from one life changing event of birth to an unexpected life changing event of displacement. It seems that the grand adventure I have invited you to share with me has morphed into my own unexpected detour of a tale. Such is life ~ full of meandering twists and turns reminding us that the illusion of control is just that. I have elected to lean in.
So...the story. As is common now, I selected my own grandmother name. Lola is the Filipina version of Grandma (from abuela; a gift from the Spanish conquistadors). My grandfather was Lolo to me and my mother was Lola to her grandchildren. I have really loved my Filipina heritage since I went to the Philippines when I was twelve and met all my relatives (literally all of them!). There is a history to my family that is fascinating to me. My grandparents were not allowed to marry because mixed race marriage was illegal in the U.S. at the time. Although my grandfather served in the U.S. military he was denied citizenship when he applied during WWII because of his Asian heritage. My great aunt (his sister) was imprisoned by the Japanese for two years along with my cousins when they were two and four years old. I added the Marquez to my name when I was twenty because I wanted to keep the family heritage alive. And, every family event (of which there were many), there was a roasted pig in the center of the table with an apple in its mouth. You get the idea. Even though I don't look it, I really feel it. So being Lola just felt right.
Enter the complication. When my son refers to me as Lola when talking with his daughter something strange happens to me. There is a slight flinch every time; it doesn't feel like my name. This last visit my granddaughter really perfected the art of calling me by my name and at fifteen months old that name sounds like Lala. I like it. I like that it rhymes with Tala and I like that it is all mine.
So be on the look out. If my IT guy figures it all out there will be a new title and a new photo. I don't imagine my blog entries will change at all ~ they are still an invitation to my family and friends to join me in the jumble of my life as I wander through it so far away from all of you. Thank you for joining me. Your presence continues to moor me in this choppy sea of change.
Lala, I like it. I'm being called Mmm-ma by Eloise. I'm supposed to be Grandma Lolo, as Dan always has called me Momma Lolo. It's too hard to say right now. It still remains to be seen what I end up as. Something else may stick!
Hi Terese, I thought Landon would never call me grandma. Then finally, after many, many months, he just started calling me Gigi, no clue why but I like it.😍 Still enjoying your posts very much.