We called my mother’s father Lolo Felipe. He lived his life by a certain logic that when I look back on, I can’t help smiling. Lolo Felipe was quite a character. Scroll down to the bottom of this post and look at the picture. You’ll see a photo of Lolo, delivering a horizontal bayonet stroke with a broom, wearing my US Marine kevlar helmet, proving to me he still remembers his techniques from WWII. By the way, the design on Lolo’s shoes are spiders and spiderwebs. Just in case you were wondering.
Lolo always wore gloves when he drove. My dad tells a story about the time Lolo took his gloves off while waiting at a red light. The light turned green and Lolo proceeded through the intersection when he realized his gloves were off. He slammed on the brakes to put his gloves on and was rear-ended by a policecar. The cop was so mad, but when you rear-end someone, it’s your fault. Nothing he could do.
I remember Lolo had a red Volkswagen camper. It had a nearly horizontal steering wheel and glass louvered sidewindows. He bought it when he lived in New Jersey, but he also owned it in Georgia. It didn’t have air conditioning, not that Lolo would have turned it on even if it did. He hardwired an electric fan onto the dashboard. He couldn’t reach it from the driver’s seat, but he kept a wooden pole behind his seat. A metal hook was attached to the end of the pole. With this apparatus, Lolo could turn the fan off and on, and adjust it.
Lolo was a frugal man. When driving on Atlanta’s curving freeways, he would always endeavor to be on the inside of every curve. A drive with Lolo often meant crossing more lanes than Helen Keller’s bowling ball. On downward slopes, Lolo would put take the VW Bus out of gear and coast in neutral. “Saving!” he would announce to his passengers. We would always refer to Lolo’s tail, which was the line of cars that would stack up behind him, waiting for a chance to pass. We would plead with Lolo to speed up, even as Lola would admonish him to slow down. Good thing there was no miminum speed limit. Lolo would have lost his license.
I loved to visit Lolo’s house at Stone Mountain Georgia. It was like a museum in that there were interesting things to look at in every room.
In Lolo’s bedroom, he had a desk and a file cabinet. On top of the file cabinet were three sets of parallel lines, each one made with tape of a different color. He used to align the electric fan within a color setting depending on his activity. One setting was for when he was in bed reading or napping, one was for when he was working at his desk, and the last one was in the middle. This setting he used when he was moving around the room. By the way, it was an oscillating fan.
The door to Lolo’s office had a big bottle duct taped to the bottom of it. The bottle was full of water and it dragged on the carpet whenever the door moved. It was an effective way of keeping the door from blowing shut when he had the window opened. The window was always opened, too. He rarely turned the air conditioners on. “Saving!”
Lolo’s neighborhood in Stone Mountain, Georgia, is one those where the mailbox is at the curb. Most people attach the mailboxes on a pole or post. Not Lolo. He didn’t want to go out and buy a post because he had an old wooden stool he could use. He attached the mailbox to a piece of wood, nailed the wood to the stool and set the stool at the curb. I’m not sure if/how he anchored it to the ground. The stool was painted and later he planted flowers around it.
My cousin Phil tells a story of how Lolo Felipe used to save dot matrix computer paper. It could be cut intro strips and hung in the bathroom, saving money by eliminating toilet paper from the shopping list. Apparently, besides being less soft, the computer printer paper is somewhat less biodegradable and Lolo’s pipes got blocked up, requiring a visit from the plumber. Not saving, in this case.
Along with some of his eccentricities, I also inherited the US Flag from his funeral. Felipe Aragon was a combat veteran of the Philippines during World War II. He spoke fluent Japanese and lived in Okinawa in the early 1960s. My parents also lived there for a year after they were first married. In 1966 my grandparents moved to New Jersey and became a big part of my childhood. Lolo was a fascinating person to be around.
I miss that guy.
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