Author Archives: Alan Ilagan

The pinks and purples and in-between shades that make life such a gloriously confusing and challenging journey are what intrigue and appeal to me most in the color wheel. I want more than red or yellow or blue. I yearn for wilder things than such primary basics. And despite what a drunken homeless man once proclaimed to me while walking in Central Square, the world is more than black and white. 

In these dizzying times, some of us want to put labels on everything, to make sense of the madness, to find our tribes and feel safe and stable again. Personally, I’ve never felt such stability, so maybe this is an easier time for me to navigate. Maybe that’s wishful thinking – some sort of survival mechanism because the idea that everything we thought we knew might be wrong is a little overwhelming. Maybe the world is overwhelmed and simply trying to right itself. 

On this Sunday night in September, the next to last Sunday night of summer, I celebrate these pink and purple blooms, the ones that aren’t yet giving up, the ones that still bloom and carry on despite the coolness creeping into the night, despite the quicker passing of sunlight. They inspire and astound in the smallest and grandest ways, and for that I am grateful. 

It is the gratitude of a moment.

It came a little too soon for my liking, but I’ve learned to go with the flow this year. Last Thursday the first socks-&-robe morning of the season arrived as I opened up the laptop and began punching away at the day’s work. Outside, a dim and overcast morning gave a gloomy pallor to everything, darkening the interior as well, and soon the sky opened up and  a steady downpour of rain began. There was no wind, and the drops weren’t as much big as plentiful, so it largely fell quietly and unobtrusively. I hunted down a cozy gray robe and a pair of fluffy socks – the first time I’ve done that this summer. 

A tall bouquet of lilies perfumed the room with the scent of summer, but I knew where we were headed, and summer isn’t for long now. I’ll hold the sun a bit closer the next time I see her, take a few extra moments to bask in her glow while it’s still comfortable to do so without coat or scarf. 

On this Sunday morning, in these last few official days of summer, I am emotionally preparing for the inevitable. In socks and a robe. 

When you’re given the option of an effect like this on your school photo, you’d be a fool not to take it. I was no such fool – of course I took the option for two visages in one! Like any budding drama queen, my penchant was for the more exotic option in any given situation – so when it came time to opt between the standard gray cloud background that most of my classmates chose and this one, it was clear what had to be done. (Same thing when they offered laser lights behind our face – but this one beats that for the sheer idiotic and histrionic upward-looking/angelic look of the echo image.)

I’m not sure if school season is upon the kids already – I don’t even think most parents know what their kids are doing, even if they’re supposed to be doing it in a few days, but this post reminds me of those school days. Maybe it’s the ending of summer right around the corner that has me feeling nostalgic of late, but that’s not a bad thing, especially when you can see how far you’ve come. 

In my case, I’m looking for some photoshop options to get that echo effect again. 

Our pool didn’t get opened until August, which cut out at least half of the summer season, so we are extending for as long as possible – hence at least one dip per day, weather-permitting. I love when summer lingers, and I intend to do the dip until October. Having said that, there will probably be snow next week, but that’s 2020.

These days the pool is a delightfully fragrant place to be, surrounded by a Brugmansia in full bloom and a seven sons flower tree also filled with blossoms. At night, they turn their perfume up to ten, and with the numbers of blooms it fills the entire yard. On the surface of the pool, the perfume floats like the falling flowers from the seven sons tree. It’s worth the pain of fishing them out with the pool net for their brief prettiness, not unlike the cherry blossom petals that would normally fill the pool in May (when there is water in it).  We missed out on that this year, so the falling of these flowers is a late-season recompense. 

Sometimes the universe gives you a second chance. 

There will come a day when the children of the world will ask what you and I were doing at this point in history. Your daughters and sons, our nieces and nephews, and your grandsons and granddaughters will one day be old enough to look at where we are right now. They will see us with adult eyes and judgment, and what they think will depend largely on what we are putting into action at the present moment. They will search back for our FaceBook histories, our Tweets, and our Instagram posts. They will question how the world ever came to such a point and what was it like and what exactly did we do. They will see exactly what we did, and more importantly what we didn’t do at such a perilous crux.

Did we say anything?

Did we stay silent?

Did we post nonsense about both sides of the political story while the world burned and died around us?

How will you be able to answer them?

I struggle with that question. I’m trying to do everything I can do, but I’m sure I’m not.

One thing of which I am sure, and of which there is ample evidence, is that I did not remain silent, and I never have. Since 2016 I’ve been vocal about my absolute resistance and disgust at Donald Trump as President. I stand firmly against him and all that he represents. All the racist behavior and support, all the division and strife, all the lies and lack of helping America while a million (and counting) of our citizens died from COVID, all the hypocrisy and hatred he spews, all the disrespect and dishonor he has shoveled onto our military heroes, and all the selfish rounds of golf he played while our country crumbled in the eyes of the entire world. I stand against it all, and I proclaim it here and now for all future generations to see and witness.

Where do you stand?

During the seventeen years this website has been in existence, it’s gone through several revamps. For the first few, I simply rebooted everything, wiped the site clean, and started all over again, without caring to chronicle or archive or save anything. It was the right decision at the time, and quiet honestly I’m still ok with it, but every once in a while I wish I’d thought to hang onto those posts, so I could see what mad mischief I may have been up to in 2003.

In 2012, Skip helped me do the most major overhaul of things, and I held onto a few special posts from 2010 onward, which is where we were until a couple of days ago, when I pressed the ‘Update’ button on WordPress and promptly crashed the site since it hadn’t been updated in years. (I am the creative side of this whole process; I don’t do HTML code.) It took a week for the host to restore things, and along the painstaking route they had to take to get here, we lost a few posts, including the amazing one that went with these pool pics. It seemed a shame to waste them, so here they are in all their gratuitous glory. 

As for all the content that has come to collect in the past eight years, there is quite a bit, and it’s a diary and project unto itself when take in its entirety. There’s something very burdensome about that. As much as I’m glad all the messiness is down in some format, the truth is that I don’t revisit the past as much as all the links I post might pretend. It holds you back. It weighs you down. It prohibits unfettered forward motion. To that end, it’s almost time to revamp again, and I’m still trying to decide whether to hold onto all these odds and ends, or let them all go and start anew. There are glories in both.