Pendemonium in my front yard

A MOST unusual meeting took place in my front yard a couple of Saturdays ago. I belong to a Web-based group called the Fountain Pen Network, and as you can gather from the name, it’s devoted to the worship, care, and propagation of those tubes that spit ink at the pointy end, which old folks knew as fountain pens. My longtime readers know about my addiction to these toys that happen to write, but for those who tuned in just now, I’ve been collecting vintage and modern fountain pens for over 20 years. As it turns out, I am not alone. Just looking around FPN, I observed that there were at least a dozen Filipinos similarly pen-smitten, so I thought I’d bring them all together—out of the Web and into my yard—for an afternoon of show-and-tell. There’s nothing that collectors enjoy more (whether you’re into stamps, blue bottles, rare books, or Kewpie dolls) than showing off what you have while drooling over and lusting after the other guy’s rack of goodies. It’s also good to know the competition—not to poison them, but to keep things friendly, and maybe even swap a pen or two. I sent out invitations, pitched a tent (the kind you rent for outdoor weddings) in the yard, ordered up some pancit and turon, and laid out two tables with writing paper, bottles of ink, and some reference books. To make sure that no one dropped or picked up a 1930s Sheaffer Lifetime or a Pelikan M1000 by mistake, I posted signs saying: “Mind your pens! Any pen left or mislaid in this place becomes mine!” Sure enough, from 2 p.m. onwards, the fountain-pen faithful came, clutching telltale boxes and bags that could only have contained years and years’ worth of collecting and, in some cases, enforced starvation. And what company we had! Just to show you the range of pen nuts out there, from out of the digital woodwork arrived a former pharmaceuticals CEO (Chito Limson), an advertising executive (Leigh Reyes), a chef-cum-stockbroker (Jay Ignacio), the proprietor of my favorite noodle house (George Mamonluk), a New York-based artist (Pep Manalang), a poet-publisher (Rayvi Sunico), and a horseracing journalist (Jenny Alcasid). They were joined by fellow collectors Butch Palma, Caloy Abad Santos, Boojie Basilio, Elai Santiago, Iñigo de Paula, and myself. Chito and Leigh also brought their specialty inks to share, which Caloy and Pep happily dipped their pens into; my fellow Butch and I discussed the intricacies of repairing Parker Vacumatics and using Waterman safeties; Elai practiced her Mandarin with George; Jenny reported on the big race she was giving up that day in the name of pens, while Iñigo mused about switching jobs and reminded me of his fascination for the Red Baron; Boojie and Jay talked stocks. In the background, Beng kept the pancit and the chicharon coming. In the end, we all just oohed and aahed over Leigh’s inimitable collection, especially of her modern Japanese pens, including urushi-lacquered Nakayas (“These are my son’s college education,” she would say). We were left even more breathless by her exquisite penmanship (which led me to comment that she had every reason and excuse to collect pens, but I didn’t). Nobody left a pen behind—too bad—but Leigh and I exchanged old Parkers, my Parkette for her Duofold Senior, and a good time was had by all. I slept that night dreaming furiously of Jay Ignacio’s fabulous Faber-Castells. I somehow forgot the fact that I already had two of them, as well as a flock of Pelikans. But Leigh’s right: given the way cold cash keeps losing value everyday, investing in Fort Knox-worthy pens may not be such a bad idea. So now I have a new excuse. My dear daughter Demi, I’m building up your inheritance—one Parker at a time. (For more pictures from that meeting, check out my Flickr page at http://www.flickr.com/photos/penmanila/.) * * * * * Yet another major writing competition is afoot, related to the ongoing Centennial of the University of the Philippines, with a grand prize of P200,000 awaiting the winner. This is the UP Sarsuwela Writing Contest, a kind of follow-up to the recently concluded UP Centennial Gawad Likhaan literary contest, which had no drama in its line-up. This particular contest focuses on the sarsuwela, a popular form of musical theater we imported from Spain and developed for our own audiences and purposes (such as Severino Reyes’s oft-produced Walang Sugat, which has a young revolutionary officer torn between his girl and country), and later even subverted (as in Nicanor Tiongson’s Basilia of Malolos, which questions the patriarchy, the elite, and their central position in our life and imagination). The UP Sarsuwela Writing Contest is open to all Filipino citizens of all ages (including Filipinos holding dual citizenship), and has for its theme “Amor, Vida, Patria” (Love, Life, Nation), which can be approached in historical or contemporary terms. The work must follow the three-act structure of the sarsuwela and must be written in Filipino. Entries have to be sent to the Board of Judges, College of Arts and Letters, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City, by 5 p.m. of August 29, 2008 (I know, that’s just six weeks away, sorry!). Entries sent by mail or courier should be postmarked no later than the same date of the deadline. There are a few more rules to bring up than I have space for, so if you’re seriously interested in joining, I suggest that you send an email to person in charge of the contest mechanics, Prof. Romulo Baquiran, Jr., at jbaquiran@gmail.com. Email me at penmanila@yahoo.com, and visit my blog at www.penmanila.net.