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The Baby is Six Months Old – and I Have Survived

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It’s hard to believe but our baby, Jackson (Jack), hit 6 months a couple weeks ago. He changes nearly by the day. Here’s an update on him and his geriatric father.

At 6 months we started in with foods: potatoes, vegetables and various fruits. Jack particularly loves the papayas from our garden. I gave Janet one of those mini cordless blenders for Christmas, assuming she’d use it for smoothies. Instead it has become a great tool for pureeing Jack’s latest meal. He loves eating, playing with his utensils (the miracle of modern silicone). and dropping his sippy cup when he’s done drinking.

He’s become good at sitting, the hand eye coordination with toys has taken a giant leap forward, he crawls a little (and gets very frustrated when he can’t), and loves to bounce and stand, with mommy or daddy’s help.

He is an incredibly happy baby and smiles often – unless he wants food , sleep, tummy play or to be picked up. His first lower tooth has popped through him gums, meaning teething is here.

This Friday we go back to his doctor for the latest round of vaccines. The shear numbers of vaccinations and their cost is overwhelming. Now you can get most vaccines free at local government clinics but we’ve decided with some reluctance that we will pay for the Western vaccines, rather than the free Chinese or Indian ones. I don’t know if it really makes a difference but that’s what we felt comfortable with – except for the bank account.

Janet has been incredible throughout all of this. Despite losing sleep and all the other issues surrounding taking care of a baby, she has no complaints. Granted we have a Yaya who helps a great deal but still it’s an incredible amount of work.

As for the geriatric father, I too wake up when Jack cries at night, but chances are good that as soon as Janet starts to feed him and he settles down I am back asleep in record time. And of course when we do miss too much sleep we have the luxury of taking an afternoon nap when we want to. No pesky meetings or cubicles to worry about.

This said, last night Jack was fussing and decided he wanted to cuddle up against me and to my surprise went back to sleep. I felt like I couldn’t move for fear of waking him but was so happy he could sleep against me, even though I am not the milk provider.

He sleeps in his crib about half the night and while it is currently by our bed, soon it will move to his own room.

My other sleep depriving activity is that Jack likes to wake up completely somewhere between 4:30-5:00AM. He wants to talk and that has become a morning routine with daddy. Janet sleeps and Jack and I talk for a half hour and I swear we understand each other. After that we go downstairs and he plays with toys or takes a walk with Auntie.

Now despite the fact that I do less work than I did with my previous children I am often sleepy, fatigued and just plain cranky. I need to determine whether I need sleep and a nap beckons, or whether I am fatigued, in which case activity helps. I rarely get it right and remain cranky. I am currently fatigued and thought that this writing might help, though I am not counting on it.

Jack has become a seasoned traveler. We have flown with him to Cebu, he has both his US and Philippines passports, and next month we are all leaving the Philippines on vacation for the first time in over three years. In fact, Jack’s brother, Julian, will be meeting us and we are all so excited. Anyone who knows me well knows that I will not possibly be able to hold back the emotions!

Jack also goes with his mom to Southern Cebu a couple times a month now to hang out with her family. He seems to enjoy it and more importantly, they love it. Once Janet has been back for a week, her mother invariably says, “I miss Jack,” and another trip is planned.

And this confirms what I hoped would happen. I don’t want to get into a big diatribe but I have noticed that in the US, and probably other Western countries, the attitudes toward babies has changed. In short they are no longer revered like they were when I was young.

But in the Philippines, where all social constructs are at least 50 years behind, everyone is baby crazy. It’s not just the family. We’re in the bank the other day and the Assistant Manager, who can be a bit prickly sometimes, was so excited about the baby and when are we gonna bring the baby into the bank. I find this true in general. Strangers who don’t know us and neighbors who barely know us want to know everything about Jack. Sometimes they want to hold him and usually we let them.

So, dear readers, that’s the latest. If you run into me in town chances are I will be tired and cranky – so be careful – but behind it all I am very happy!

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Wisdom About Foreigners from Kuya Zee

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My 4-year old Godson is called Zee, short for Zhynylle. He’s loved our baby Jack long before Jack was born and constantly asked whether Jack had arrived yet and made it clear to his parents. Jonathan and Marie, that as soon as Jack had arrived, he’d be visiting him.

Since Jack’s arrival Zee is nearly obsessed with him. It’s a total joy to watch. When they get together he kisses Jack constantly, holds him, and is very protective of him – sometimes too protective lol. We have come to tell Jack that he is his going to see his Kuya Zee, and Jack seems to sort of understand.

Zee is as sharp and bright as any 4 year old you are likely to meet. I have a feeling his parents sometime think he’s too bright. In short he’s the very definition of precocious. For my part, since the death of Janet’s 90-year old Lolo, who I liked a great deal, Zee is perhaps the family member I most look forward to seeing and talking too. For a 4-year old his English is surprisingly good; he mostly knows what I am saying and I understand much of what he is saying. While the Godparent role in the Philippines is to a large degree ceremonial, I take my Godfather duties to Zee and his cousin, Mia, seriously and enjoy it.

Anyway, this is a basic introduction to a conversation that Janet had with Zee this past weekend.

Zee: Why does Daddy Dave (me) and you eat with a fork?

Janet: Because Daddy Dave is a foreigner and foreigners like using forks.

Zee: Then why do you use a fork? You’re not a foreigner.

Janet: (thinking) Because I’m married to Daddy Dave.

Zee: Well, I am Daddy Dave’s Godson. That means I am a foreigner too?

Janet: You can be if you eat with a fork.

So, Zee proceeded to eat with a fork the rest of the day.

Who knew being a foreigner was so easy!

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Just Turned 70 – and It’s All Turned to Crap :)

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Less than 2 weeks ago I turned 70. We had a great party at the house. Much of Janet’s family came to attend, as did a number of my friends. I was touched by everyone’s attendance and the general spirit of the thing. Speaking of spirits, I am a lightweight drinker but many bottles were brought by my friends and I allowed myself to get pretty well done!

So, I thought, with a 3 month old happy baby, and nice friends and family, 70’s not gonna be so bad. A few days go by and I’ve sobered up. I have an annoying sore or cut by the nail of my right index finger. I think it might be a splinter (I am a woodworker). I dig around there looking for it but can’t find the splinter, nor can Janet. By the next morning it was slightly swollen and very painful. We cleaned it up good and bandaged it, assuming it would start to heal. By the afternoon it was a little worse.

I sent a picture to my doctor friend. He speculated it was an ingrown nail and prescribed antibiotics, pain meds and a tetanus shot. He also talked about having the nail cut, which didn’t excite me. By the time I had taken dose one of the antibiotics, the area around the nail was turning black with blood under the skin.

The next day was Saturday but my Primary Doctor was open and I made an appointment. By this time it was obvious I had an infection in the finger. My doctor shares his office with a general surgeon, and I was immediately passed to the surgeon.

Using his phone and Dr. Google, the surgeon showed me the type of wound I had. I didn’t care. “So what are we gonna do about it?” He drained it, cut the dead skin away, then poured gallons of betadine in there and dressed the wound. He said the prescribed week of antibiotics would be enough and I would be fine, as long as I cleaned the thing several times a day, a duty that Janet took on. What he didn’t tell me is that the thing would hurt like hell, since he’d removed a large chunk of skin from around the nail.

As a guitar player I could not hold a pick and was going through withdrawal. After 3 days I couldn’t stand it and discovered I could hold the pick adequately with my middle finger. While that disaster was resolved, it became clear that at 70 the finger and its missing skin were not going to heal quickly.

BTW, I was able to get the tetanus shot at my local RHU (Rural Health Unit). Most foreigners don’t take advantage of the RHUs in the Philippines. You should. There’s a lot of basic stuff they can do and often it is free or inexpensive.

One more side effect of my condition. When I take antibiotics, invariably I get the runs which do not subside until the antibiotics are completed. So for a week I ran to the bathroom regularly and didn’t leave the house much. Are we having fun yet?

I see my dermatologist every six months since my bout with skin cancer two years ago. My next appointment would be next month. But Janet noticed a pimple-like bump on my nose, not far from the previous surgery. So I scheduled an appointment for next week and told the nurse that if they got a cancellation earlier to let me know.

Yesterday I was in the mall for the first time in a week; avoiding it for reasons previously described. I had a couple hours to kill and then Janet would pick me up and we would go to Baby Jack’s pediatrician for a checkup and the next round of vaccinations. BTW, I will at some point blog about the vaccines (no, not for that reason) but because modern babies get dozens of them.

My phone rang and it’s my dermatologist’s office. They had an opening the same time as the baby’s appointment. I told them I can come 1 1/2 hours later and they agreed.

Janet picked me up and we head for the pediatrician. We are still not that skilled with driving with the baby but we get to the office on time and the doctor was not there. While waiting I assumed the dermatologist appointment couldn’t happen and I was about to message them, when the pediatrician arrived.

To my surprise our pediatrician apologizedfor her lateness; she had a delivery with a C-section. Doctors don’t normally apologize for lateness in the Philippines; it’s standard operating procedure. I thanked her but said not to worry – we understand that it’s part of her job. Jack passed his exam and barely cried at the shots and we are soon off to my dermatologist.

The dermatologist had been informed by her staff of the reason why I made the appointment and asked where was my concern. I showed her and she examined it. Now, I am a bit nervous. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about. Might be some scarring.” Since I was already there, why not do my 6 month exam then? We agreed. So I took off my clothes and threw them on the floor and she began to examine me. “What about your watch and ring?” she asked. I tossed my watch onto the pile of clothes, but my wedding ring – well, we’ll come back to that.

I got dressed and put the watch back on. I had a few pre-cancerous spots and we decided to spray them with liquid nitrogen. “We might as well spray the nose too,” she said. I got nervous. “I thought it was nothing.” “It probably is,” she replied. “But since we’re already doing it…”

Janet went to the bank to get more cash; between the vaccines and the liquid nitrogen spraying this was an expensive day.

On the way home we agreed that I’d done the right thing. It was probably nothing – well that is unless it is something, in which case I will keep an eye on the nose and see lol.

By the time we arrived home it was dinner time. Too exhausted to do anything, we ordered food through Grab. I ran out barefooted to meet the delivery driver. As I went to unlock our gate I looked down and realized – I had no wedding ring on; I’d left it at the doctor’s. I took the food, locked the gate, and trotting back to the house, stepped on something hard and heard a crunch.

Over dinner I told Janet about the ring and sent a message to the doctor’s office to please look for it. They looked on the floor and saw nothing.

Ever more reluctantly I told Janet that I had stepped on a rock and it had broken the skin. “Well at least I am taking antibiotics and had a tetanus shot.” After scolding me for not wearing shoes she examined my left heel and found a small pebble buried inside. It took a half an hour with a sterilized needle to get it out and we both breathed a sign of relief.

This morning I woke up around 5:00 to the talking and giggling of a happy Baby Jack. After talking to him for a few minutes I knew it was time to run to the bathroom; the antibiotics were calling. My business done and done quickly I threw a piece of toilet paper into the bowl and then underneath the seat where I’d just been sitting I saw the largest spider I’d ever seen in the Philippines; and that means huge because they grown them huge here. “Oh my god,” I yelled and Janet ran in to see what was wrong. She saw and slammed the lid down and flushed the toilet. I thought, ‘no way is a flush gonna get rid of this thing.’ To quote Woody Allen in Annie Hall, “the spider’s the size of a Buick.”

But bravely she lifted the lid and it was empty. She examined the area around the toilet and I flushed a couple more times just to be sure. And I vowed to never get the runs again.

Who the hell said 70 is gonna be great. I’ve barely survived the 1st week lol.

Update: My dermatologist found the wedding ring, meaning I can still stay married a while longer.

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Turning 70 in the Philippines

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I know, I know. It’s incongruous; my life that is. I have just begun my last week in my 60s. Next week at this time I will be the big 7-ooh! What’s incongruous, as anyone who reads this blog knows, is that the day before my 70th B’Day my son, Jack, turns 3 months old!

Now before anyone says anything nice like, “Dave, 70 is the new 50,” or some other lie, I am reminded of an incident that occurred not long after I turned 60. I was at work (remember work?) and talking about some aspect of my life and said something like, “the problem with being middle aged…” My smart-assed co-worker, Julia, interrupted me. “Dave, you’re 60. I don’t think you can call yourself middle-aged anymore.”

It annoyed me but I recognized that unless I intended to live to 120, she was right. But I felt good, I was healthy, I was getting ready to marry my then 25-year old fiancé, Janet, so why not think of myself as middle-aged?

I am FB friends with a lot of my high school classmates who have all recently or are about to turn 70. Most of them look friggin’ old and not even the best looking of them can pass for middle-aged. When I look in the mirror I look the same. The only difference is I am holding a 3 month old in my arms.

Thus the incongruity. I look old and sometimes feel it. I groan a lot in the morning; ok, truth be told I groan in the afternoon and evening too. But I get up in the middle of the night and burp the baby – and am thrilled to do it.

At this age babies change by the week. We are now in the phase where Jack talks. Every morning around 5:00 or 5:30 mom feeds him, I burp him and he is wide awake. I put him down and we talk. This typically goes for 20 or 30 minutes. I tell him what’s happening and he laughs, smiles, shouts, and spouts out baby talk. It’s a real conversation and sometimes I even think I know what he’s saying.

I take him downstairs and my knees, which still hurt from carrying my first two children, moan in pain. I actually plan on a strategy if one of the knees, you know – buckles on the steps – but I know that won’t happen. I am confident that I have enough juice left to do this one more baby and take him into toddlerhood and beyond – hopefully well beyond.

And this is of course what has changed and does worry me. I retired 5 1/2 years ago and moved to Dumaguete and we knew that everything beyond that was gravy. We’d travel, build a house and basically do whatever we wanted. But then Covid came along and whispered, “You can’t do whatever you want, MFer!” And a bout of skin cancer whispered, “See, you’re mortal. Better live it while you can.”

And now the baby has followed and I worry. ‘Will I have enough time with him?’ And more importantly, ‘Will he have enough time with me?’

But then Jack screams with laughter, and Janet looks more beautiful than ever and I realize that my 70s are gonna be my best decade yet!

PS: There’s gonna be a big party for my 70th. If you’re in the Duma area and I have mistakenly not invited you and you want to come – shoot me a message.

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He Has Arrived!

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So, it’s been 2 1/2 weeks since the arrival of Jackson Weisbord; our lives have changed and I finally have a moment to write a blog – well quickly.

The baby was induced – sort of. As I documented before, Janet had a minor procedure early in the pregnancy that at week 37 was to be reversed. Our excellent OB, Dr. Marie Antoinette Calinawagan, told us that after the reversal in her experience the baby would arrive in 2-3 days – a week tops. A week went by and no baby. We met with the doctor again and were told that all was fine but if another week went by we would be having a conversation about inducing.

So for two weeks we were on pins and needles, expecting the baby at any moment. The two weeks went by and by then the decision to induce was an easy one.

That said, by the time we checked into Silliman Medical Center, and the induction medication was given, Janet was in reality well on her way to having the baby, but we suspect that the inducing helped speed things up.

In most hospitals in the Philippines, the father is not allowed in the delivery room, so Janet’s sister and I waited in the room we would all stay in once the baby arrived. It has an extra bed which is appropriate for the average 10 year old, but me and my old back managed. As the night progressed, our doctor called me a couple times to let me know the latest progress and she predicted that the baby was likely to come tomorrow. I went to sleep; remember I slept through last December’s typhoon. The phone rang close to midnight and the doctor congratulated me; Jackson had arrived a bit early, at 11:05PM.

At 6 1/2 pounds, he’s a handsome devil, with a nearly full head of hair. I am jealous.

Janet was phenomenal and Jackson successfully started breast feeding almost immediately.

As I previously predicted I was in love the first time I held him. I am three for three in that category.

We had inquired in advance about circumcision and our OB sent us a referral. When it comes to circumcision, the culture of the Philippines is a little different. Boys are almost universally circumcised here but it’s typically done at age 6-7. The 6 year olds have it done during summer vacation. It’s a right of passage here and I’m told that the 6 year olds compare results.

Being Jewish I do have a cultural connection to circumcision but mostly I remember my brother’s. I am 5 years older than he and I remember the rabbi (moile) coming to our house. The men solemnly went into my brother’s room and I stayed with the women in my parents’ bedroom. Then came the most blood curdling scream I had ever heard. But the deed had been done at least; the memory was fried into my young brain.

So the day after Jack’s birth the urologist came into our room. He told us that because it was a Sunday there was some question as to whether an OR could be found. But suddenly it all happened and bang-zoom Jack was taken away. Not long after a nurse asked me to come to the OR to speak with the doctor. I guess this was supposed to be father’s business.

I entered the OR where there must have been at least 10 people. Silliman is a teaching hospital so there are interns everywhere. My guess is they hadn’t seen too many circumcisions done on newborns.

I took one look at my poor son wearing a bloody diaper and cursed at myself; ‘what the hell did I do!’ The cursing got worse as the doc actually showed me what was underneath the diaper. But he assured me that in 3-5 days the boy would be completely healed and not to worry. This turned out to be true and by Jackson’s first pediatrician appointment at 1 week he was really fully healed.

I suspect in about 6 years he will be teasing his friends for what they have in store.

Janet got excellent care at Silliman. Contrary to usual notions of Philippines hospital care, there were nurses, doctors, interns, etc. coming into Janet’s room, checking Janet and the baby constantly; everything but the old father.

Because of the procedure done to Jackson we stayed in the hospital an extra day and I spent most of that day running around paying bills, adding Jackson to our PhilHealth account, finding meds, ordering Grab food, etc. I guess this was my penance for – you know – not actually having to give birth.

Now let me address what I know some of you want to know about; costs. Our OB had told us in advance that standard deliveries cost 40-50kP and that a Cesarean could bring the cost to 120k.

Janet had a standard delivery but with an epidural the cost increased to about 66k. PhilHealth paid nearly 10k, so we were out of pocket about 57k.

The circumcision was not cheap. I guess one of the advantages of the 6 year old procedure is that it is often done for free or a very modest cost. But for us in an OR with a team of docs, we were at about 27k. PhilHealth only paid 3k, so out of pocket it was just under 25k.

Many of my friends have teased me about losing sleep. So, yes I am losing sleep. Fortunately as a retiree I can catch up with a quick nap; that quick nap was 3 hours today.

We do have a lot of help and that makes a big difference. Janet’s sister is our Yaya and brother Jorre helps in between classes.

We have already had some family arrive for a visit. Janet’s mother and a couple sisters were here and Lola didn’t want to leave the baby when it was time to go home. We are already committed to having the family for Christmas so Jack should get pretty well over amped by that!

I take Jack out for a daily morning walk around our property. He genuinely seems to enjoy it. It’s our bonding time without any women. Of course by the time we get back to the house I am exhausted and happily hand him to one of those women lol.

A friend wrote me today telling me that 10 years ago “you clearly were much more in touch with what you wanted and your capacity to skillfully move towards it.” Maybe I was (a little bit), got support (plenty), got lucky (a lot), and chose Janet! Can’t wait to see what’s next!

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The Countdown Continues

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Those who have been following the saga of pregnant Janet and Baby Jack might be surprised that he has still not made an appearance. Janet and I are surprised too.

As I documented before, Janet had a minor procedure early in the pregnancy. The plan was at week 37 the procedure would be reversed. Our OB told us that on average the baby would come 2 or 3 days after that reversal. So, last Monday it happened and we spent the week on pins and needles assuming real labor would begin at any time. Nonetheless 2 or 3 days became a week and yesterday we returned to the doctor. “I bet you didn’t expect to see us today,” I laughed.

All is well with Janet and the baby and so the doctor said to keep on keeping on and if it didn’t happen this week to come back next Monday and there might be a discussion about inducing.

Janet is doing well but she’s tired and sore and we are both a little bit impatient. We suspect that Janet has created such a nice environment for the baby that he’s not been anxious to leave. But leave he must – and soon, I hope.

Everyone asks if we are ready and we respond that we are as ready as we know how to be. We read Jack books, play music to him, play his toys with him, and show him movies. I have been frantically downloading favorite animated and kids movies and showing them to Janet and Jack. I give running commentary to Jack. Janet’s lived long enough with me to know that such movie commentaries don’t mean I am crazy – well, not completely.

We’ve watched all the Disney classics, much of the Pixar library, and children’s live action movies from Old Yeller to Treasure Island. Janet didn’t much care for the latter but I assured her that the boy would; the book was my fave as a kid and am looking forward to reading it to Jack – when he’s a bit older. I am anal enough to insist that I have to get the N.C. Wyeth illustrated version (see the illustration above), which is a small fortunate on Amazon, but it’s what I had as a kid and what I read to my son Julian, when he was old enough.

BTW, for those living in the Philippines, Amazon now ships many of its items for free to the Philippines; that is if you order a minimum of $49. This will be dangerous for us. Bezos is already planning a new Weisbord-funded wing to his mansion.

Tonight’s movie was the eclectic Fantastic Mr. Fox, though I suspect it might be a few years before that will hold Jack’s attention. But I figured it’s never too early to be exposed to Wes Anderson, so…

I have to say Janet has been extraordinary. I know that everything hurts. Her hands and feet are swollen like out of a sci fi movie. She walks a lot and accurately jokes that she waddles more than walks.

Our Yaya (nursemaid) has settled into life in the Weisbord compound and I am sure she also can’t wait for Jack to arrive. In the meantime she gardens; it certainly runs in the family.

I haven’t left the house without Janet in a couple weeks, figuring if I do, that will be the moment it will happen. Janet tries to encourage me to go play golf or have a beer with friends but I can’t bring myself to take a chance. The golf course will still be there a week or so after the baby arrives and it won’t be long before I am bringing him along. I figure if I train him right by 5 he can start caddying for his old man!

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Baby’s Close, a Wedding, and a Crisis

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As of yesterday Janet is 34 weeks pregnant, meaning over 8 months. While in theory the pregnancy could go another 6 weeks we have several reasons to believe it will happen in the next 3 or 4 weeks. So we are officially past the “we have lots of time” part of the pregnancy.

We’ve ordered, by Philippines standards, an insane amount of stuff and nearly daily Janet or I think of something else we are gonna need. Shopee and Lazada love us and the delivery guys all knew exactly where we live. In addition our American friends and relatives have been incredibly generous. Rumor has it that Jeff Bezos is building another Amazon warehouse/sweat shop to accommodate the shipments to the Weisbord’s in the Philippines. LBC, the local carrier, has us on speed dial.

We’ve already set up a play area, put together the crib and I have been tasked to figure out how to use modern gadgets like remote baby cameras and sound machines. I love that damn sound machine and might get one for my own night table. Far more soothing and peaceful than the dogs, roosters and cows I normally hear in bed.

So this thing is really happening and people ask how I am taking it in, as if I could stop it if I had a mind to.

I assume the following: I will love Jack like I loved my previous children, Julian and Nora; I will change a few diapers but perhaps with all our help, not as many as I did the previous times; that I will lose a little sleep but be happy to give some of it up; that I won’t have to rush to work and so will be able to have as much baby time as I want and Jack and Janet can tolerate; that I’ll have enough money to sustain it all – well barely; that Janet’s family will fawn all over the baby and there will be a steady stream of visitors; and that I will stick around a long time to be with my little family.

This last statement was confirmed last week by my doctor. Prior to Covid I have done an annual check up since Julian was born in my early 40s. I was consistently healthy with boringly normal test numbers. But then Covid and lockdowns and last year’s cancer came and suddenly I was scared to get my annual. So I put it off throughout the pandemic.

Finally I screwed up the courage and made the appointment with a new doctor at a new hospital, Negros Polymedic; more on that in a moment.

I was super impressed by the new hospital. The doctor ordered blood work of course, my annual PSA, an ECG and a chest Xray. I paid and the tests were all completed in under an hour. Yes, you heard that right. At a Philippines hospital I was done in under an hour!

The next day I met the doctor again to review the results. Everything was normal “for my age.” The doctor used that expression several times. I suppose this translates as, ‘you’re upright and nothing is falling off, so you’re normal.’ But he did say that he wanted me to get a little more exercise and cut down the sugar and caffeine.

And this refers to the CRISIS we are in the middle of right now in the Philippines; the Coke CRISIS! For geopolitically complex reasons there is a huge Coke crisis in the Philippines.

No, damn it, I am not talking about the drug; I am talking about the soft drink! Coke bottling plants are closing down due to lack of the “high quality” sugar they require.

Personally I only have one (OK maybe 2) addictions. No booze problems, cigarette problems, drug problems. And frankly, even in the target rich Philippines, I am happy with one woman.

But caffeine and the sugar that goes with it – that I am addicted to. My view has always been, ‘I’ve been a good boy about everything else, I’m not giving up Coke.’

Well this isn’t completely true. Decades ago I switched from Coke to Diet Coke, to at least eliminate the sugar. But here in the Philippines where Diet Coke is called Coke Light, many stores only have the real deal or that monstrosity, Coke Zero. The small sari sari stores never have Coke Light. So more and more I found myself drinking actual Coke.

But I promised the doctor I’d go back to Coke Light exclusively, but where to get it? Robinsons and Hypermart are out of all Coke products with no solution in sight. So I hit the convenience stores and started hoarding; you’d think I was collecting toilet paper. I got every 1.5 liter Coke Light bottle I could find and Janet helped too. We’ve cornered the market and I can breathe a sigh of relief – for a few more weeks anyway.

BTW, we also discovered that the supermarkets are not completely out of Coke. They have some stashed in the back. So if you’re really desperate you can get some, if you beg or throw a few pesos their way.

In the midst of an imminent baby and the Coke Crisis, Janet’s brother Jonathan and his partner, Marie, got married Saturday. I am Godfather to their son, Zie, and felt as such it was my obligation as a pushy American to push them toward marriage. So Janet and I did bug them a bit over the last couple years. This weekend it all happened and the whole family is very happy.

Unfortunately while we were looking forward to attending, because of the pregnancy we just felt it was safer to stay close to home.

So, let’s review. Baby Jack is coming soon, my BIL is married and I have a cabinet filled with Coke Light. Life is good!

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Memoirs of an Ancient Dad to Be

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Those who know us and maybe some who don’t, know that Janet and I are expecting a baby. Today Jackson Criss Pillazo Weisbord hit week 22; meaning the due date is the end of October.

While I am not gonna discuss all the details, Janet and I have been at this baby making thing for a long time. Before we married, nearly 9 years ago, she asked me if I was OK with having a baby. “Sure, I love babies,” I said. But I also reminded her that at my age (60 at the time) it could be a challenge.

Janet chose to do the right thing and we waited a couple years to get to know each other better and for her to acclimate to life in the US before we got serious about baby making. Once we started “trying” I wasn’t worried; after all I’d had my 2nd child in my late 40s. I quickly realized that late 40s isn’t the same as early 60s.

After some months and no pregnant Janet we went to a gynecologist. Lots of tests for Janet; ignore the old husband. The conclusion? There was no reason Janet could not get pregnant; go back at it and return if we are still not pregnant in 5 or 6 months.

Five or six months later we returned. More tests and again the conclusion that Janet was fine. I remember sitting in the corner of the room with the doc and Janet. I literally waved at the doctor. “What about the old husband?” I enquired. It was almost as if this was the first time she’d considered me. I was sent to a clinic to provide a semen sample which was, let us say, less than robust.

I went to my doctor. At least 25 years my junior he looked at me confused. “How about referring me to a urologist?” I suggested.

Off to the urologist I went. He tested me for one condition and I was fine. After trying to question him he admitted, “most of the research money for fertility issues goes to women.” Nonetheless he ordered a test or two and basically wished me good luck.

Back to my primary doctor. Since I was by then approaching retirement and planning on relocating to the Philippines, my doctor said, “maybe when you are retired in your tropical paradise, the stress will be less and you’ll be able to get pregnant.” This was the grand plan.

We happily retired and move to Dumaguete. Once settled in we went back to baby making with no positive results. After six months we found a local gynecologist. More tests on Janet and more pronouncements that she was fine. The gynecologist told us there were no fertility experts in Dumaguete and referred us to a doctor in Cebu.

Once in Cebu, more tests and another determination that Janet was baby-worthy. More tests on me and a determination once again that I was still a bit lacking in the swimmer category. Further tests and options were discussed and we decided to take a vacation in January 2020 and when we returned go back to Cebu and get serious.

You can guess the next step. The pandemic arrived and we cancelled our Cebu plans. Of course we thought this was only a few months and soon we would be revisiting the doctor, but 2020 passed with no babies in the hopper.

2021 began and I was diagnosed with skin cancer and that took all our energy and the next 8 or 9 months. But Janet was determined and made it clear that when I was well we would get serious. After all, the experience taught us that life was short and neither cancer nor covid should get in our way.

So while I was in our Valencia home, recovering, Janet was back in Cebu for more tests and treatments.

Now I am not going to get too far into the medical details; they’re boring anyway. We were back and forth to Cebu more times than I can count. But in the end Janet took two home pregnancy tests and the results were the same – a baby was on the way!

I was delighted but shocked. I had already prepared myself for dealing with a very sad, unpregnant, wife. Now I had a laughing and crying wife (me too).

Because of the difficulty getting pregnant the doc had Janet get tons of bed rest and put her on a regimen of meds and vitamins. Janet’s alarm goes off throughout the day for the next round of pills.

At a couple months pregnant we were back to our Dumaguete gynecologist. But an issue was discovered and the doctor admitted that she was not expert enough to treat it and referred us to a more specialized OB. Janet eventually had a minor procedure at Silliman Hospital to deal with the issue and we all believe she is now fine and will make it all the way to full term.

So in a sense life has returned to normal; that is except for the 5 month old baby who kicks Janet more and more. This past week our 3 year old nephew was over at our house. Tired, he laid on Janet’s tummy where Jack kicked him. Everyone was pretty excited.

I have been busy buying and ordering stuff. The last time I did this baby thing I actually bought everything at a store. Now it’s mostly Lazada and Shopee; deliveries come often.

I have had 5 months now to deal with the reality that I will be a 69 (almost 70) year old with a newborn. Now we will have help. Janet’s sister is an experienced Yaya (nursemaid) and is moving here in August.

On one hand I cannot fool myself; my energy ain’t what it was in my 40s. OTOH I don’t have to work, race kids to child care, and while I may still worry about money, I don’t have to worry about how this month’s mortgage will get paid as I did back then. We are in short, Ok financially.

Let me talk for a moment about the difference between the attitudes in the US and the Philippines. In the US no one wanted to know about our having a child. While they might accept our marriage no one wanted to ask about that baby stuff.

In the Philippines, when we would visit before retirement, the 1st or 2nd question always asked when we met someone new was, “Do you have kids? Are you planning to?” This was conspicuously different. If anything, over the years it bothered Janet, because of course she had to answer that – no we had no children but were trying. I know that it made her very sad.

But for me it was a happy question. Here in the Philippines having babies is an assumed result of getting married. Most of my 60+ year old friends here have young children with their partners and they are all happy that Janet and I will be joining the club.

When my first son was born 26 years ago when I was 43, friends asked, “Do you know how old you will be when he graduates high school, Dave?” I would reply testy, “I’m good at math and am an engineer. I know exactly how old I will be.” Now, no ones asks and I wouldn’t care if they did.

But I know the reality; there are no guarantees in life and I will stick with Jackson and Janet as long as possible and impart to my son as much as I can in as many years as I have.

The other day someone posted a quiz on Facebook: “How old were you or will you be when your child turns 18.” Needless to say, I was the only one who answered “87.”

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Elon Musk – Save Me

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This week the world has gone crazy about the possibility that Elon Musk will mount a hostile takeover of Twitter. Here’s my Twitter story. I can’t prove any of it because of course Twitter will say nothing. But Elon, if you’re reading this – save me!

It was May of 2020, early in the pandemic. As a senior I was in lockdown here in Negros Oriental. Back then, idiot that I was, I actually listened to the powers that be and spent that month never leaving my house.

I was bored of course, bored out of my mind. I’d played guitar for hours, surfed the net, watched YouTube. I was running out of distractions. I was so desperate – I logged onto Twitter.

Now to explain: I’ve been a Twitter member for maybe 6 years or so, but I never tweet. Frankly I have never seen the great fascination with the platform. Literally the only times I’d ever tweeted regarded this very blog. The blogging platform I use, WordPress, has an automated link so that when you complete a blog post, it automatically creates a tweet which posts a link to my latest blog. That is literally it; the only times I have ever tweeted.

So I go to my Twitter account as if entering a new house. Then I looked at the list of who I was following. To my shock and horror I was following Hilary Clinton. I knew that there is not enough booze in the world to get me drunk enough to follow her. So, I removed her. There were 6 or 8 more political and media figures that I was following that I knew I would have never subscribed to. So again I removed my follows. A total of no more than 10 were removed.

Then I made the mistake that will haunt me forever. I thought, ‘now that I have deleted these clowns, maybe I should subscribe to the guy whose tweets I hear often – but hear second hand. And so on that fateful day I subscribed to @therealdonaldtrump. And with that I logged off.

24 or 36 hours passed and I was still bored to death. I logged onto Twitter thinking, ‘let’s see what wild things my new friend has said today.’ And there it was – a message on my home page saying that I was suspended.

What happened, I wondered. What had I done. Paranoia said, ‘You unfollowed Hilary – you’re toast.’ Or worse yet, ‘you followed Trump – you’re burnt toast.’

I tried to find anywhere to get customer service on the platform to address the issue or at least to find out what I had done wrong. There was nothing.

I looked it up on the Internet and sure enough I found a link to a Twitter form for trying to get reinstated. I filled out the form stating that I was aware of nothing that I had done wrong and to please explain or reinstate me. When I clicked to submit the form, I got an automated email stating that they had received my appeal and would respond as soon as possible. “Soon as possible” apparently is Twitter code for “never.”

A few months went by and I replied to their email asking for an update. Crickets.

Under the category of “Dave is unusually patient and trusting,” after a year I thought that I should file the form again just in case it fell through the cracks. The election was over; surely I’d been punished enough. I got an immediate automated email that the form could not be submitted since I still had a pending case – a freaking year later!

It’s not like I missed Twitter. As I said I had hardly ever used it. But the thought that I might have been suspended because of the follows I had removed or the 1 I had added annoyed the hell out of me.

So Elon – please look into this and let me back in!

After the Elon announcement I again logged onto Twitter. The message was now that I had been permanently suspended. I had never received a response to my reinstatement form. The suspension allows me to read what is there but not to tweet or edit anything. I am listed as no longer following anyone nor is anyone following me. I am a man without a country or a platform.

Here’s what’s interesting. Now when I look I see a list of my tweets all of which are former blog postings. Except for the last one. I am positive it was not there before; a fake ad for RayBan sunglasses. Could I have been suspended permanently because of this one phony tweet? Could I have been hacked? Possibly. I suspect Hilary – or Trump 🙂

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The Tourists are Back – Dueling Rants

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So, yesterday I am flying from Dumaguete to Cebu and got into a conversation with a foreigner couple that has lived in the Philippines longer than I have. We shared experiences and a few travails and then the conversation turned to the return of the tourists. The female half of the couple began to almost whisper, “I’ve frankly enjoyed the last two years without the tourists,” she said. I giggled and agreed adding, “It was the only positive of the pandemic.”

Since the Philippines allowed tourists to return a month ago, a large number of people are returning who belong to a category I don’t consider tourists; they are residents here who for one reason or another got stuck outside the country and couldn’t get back in. I have a few friends in this category. Any negative comments I might make do not involve them.

The FB forums have been filled this month with questions and complaints from tourists who have arrived and those in the process of coming. Of course I am not talking about ordinary tourist questions; where do I go to find this or how do I go about doing that? That’s standard fair and I have even thrown out a few suggestions which were of course promptly ignored.

I am talking about the type of comments like, “why the hell does the Philippines do X…why was my flight delayed…why is the service so lousy…where do I get a taxi in Dumaguete (Dave’s answer: go to Cebu and pay a cabbie thousands of Pesos to drive 5 hours south). There may have been a time I would have been more predisposed to listen to and even answer such questions but the pandemic has robbed me of such generosity.

Now going back to my conversation on the flight, we all agreed that the Philippines desperately needs the tourist trade to return. Dumaguete has done remarkably well but I know the hotels and resorts in particular have been hammered and have been waiting for the return of the tourists, even if some of the said tourists are – how can I put it gently – assholes.

I just got back from hitting the ATM. Behind me was a young foreigner cursing up a storm to those Filipinos he was with. Granted I am being judgmental – but when I saw his slightly burned face, I knew he was one of those much sought after returning tourists.

I then went into a fast food restaurant and sat down while my order was being prepared. A young, lost-looking foreigner entered, saw another white face (mine), and nodded and smiled. I fully expected him to come over and talk or ask me where to find a taxi but I suspect that I threw out enough of a stink eye that he grabbed his food and left.

In the end I realize I have to adjust. I will learn to smile again at the newbies. I will answer questions, brag a bit about my experiences, and renew my acquaintance with the polite person I once was before the pandemic. Of course then I will think, as we part with a smile, “When the hell are they leaving.”

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Rant 2 is a subset of rant 1 and I’ve talked about this before. There’s no two ways about it. There are a lot of angry foreigners in the Philippines and two years of pandemic hasn’t made the situation any better. The first couple of years we were here Janet and I saw them often; foreigners yelling at waiters, store clerks, in banks, malls, in government offices. It was unpleasant and at times embarrassing, as I worried that it reflected on me, which of course it doesn’t. The last couple years more and more of those tirades were performed not by strangers but by people we know. It’s discouraging. It strikes me that there are a few reasons for such tirades, none of which are valid.

1. The Customer is Always Right: Many foreigners believe this common Western cliche and act on it angrily as in, ‘You are not giving me the service I require and paid for.’ Of course the problem with this, besides the fact that we are in a different country with a different service notion, is that the cliche itself is utter nonsense. I owned a small business for many years and while I certainly wanted my customers, or to be more frank, wanted their money, I would never do just anything to keep them. If they wanted me to break company policy, the answer was a polite ‘No.’ And if they did anything to insult me or other people the door was made available to them. So yelling at a powerless person in the Philippines about what you require because you are the “customer” just makes you look foolish.

2. The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease: Somewhere along the line a common strategy in the West became if you yelled loud enough you’d get the most and best attention. Janet observed this a lot when she worked at a supermarket in the US. Customers thought if they yelled the loudest she would acquiesce. They didn’t know Janet. But many of those customers have brought the same notion to the Philippines. ‘If I yell loudest I will get what I want.’ Unfortunately, despite appearances, acquiescing is not the standard reaction for most Filipinos. For many people here the more common reaction is, ‘I know a perfect place to bury the body.’ So be careful about who you yell at. Even the tiniest Filipina has brothers – and they know places.

The other add to this rant is that the Philippines is very different from the West; there is no anonymity here. Believe me if you have lived in Dumaguete for any length of time people know you. Waitresses know what I typically order, guards at the bank know that I am “the cowboy,” because I wear a large safari-style hat. If Janet enters the bank alone, they will ask her, “Where’s your husband, the cowboy?”

An acquaintance of ours is a yeller. We’ve been told about him, “Everyone in the barangay knows he yells and they avoid him.”

The Philippines is like Cheers – “where everyone knows your name.” In other words if you lose your shit, everyone will know – and they will remember – forever.

3. We’re From the West and We Know the Correct Way: This is probably the most disgusting of the rationalizations. ‘I know the correct way to do things; you Filipinos do not. I will teach you – loudly.’ If this is your attitude – then everyone knows places 🙂

Addendum: For anyone whose read this blog these many years, you ought to know by now that my emphasis is humor. Most foreigners in the Philippines are not angry jerks, though unfortunately some are. The pandemic has magnified some of the jerkdom. Most foreigners I know agree it is not pleasant to encounter such foreigners and frankly it’s dangerous – often to the jerks.