The Oracles: My Filipino Grandparents in America

By Pati Navalta

As a young girl growing up in California, Pati Navalta was amazed and dismayed to watch her Grandma Fausta washing clothes by hand when there was a perfectly good washer and dryer in the house! Only years later did she begin to understand how much she had needed this native Filipina to bring her own heritage to her door.

After

• Language: English
• Publisher: Navalta Media
• Release date: Jul 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9798218021580

Pati Navalta

Pati Navalta is the author of two books, and is a longtime San Francisco Bay Area journalist and media and communications strategist, previously serving as Editorial Writer and Columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle, where she was twice nominated for the Pulitzer Prize for an editorial series on the need for foster care reform in California. The series led to landmark changes in foster care in the state, improving the lives of millions of foster youth. In her second memoir, A Better Place, Pati shares the story of her painful but hopeful journey toward healing from the loss of her son, Robby, by gun violence in 2014. To honor Robby, Pati founded The Robby Poblete Foundation in 2017 to get unwanted weapons out of circulation, and through arts and training programs, turn them into objects of hope and opportunity. Pati is currently the Founder and President of Navalta Media. Please visit navaltamedia.com for more.

Book preview

The Oracles

My Filipino Grandparents in America

Praise for The Oracles: My Filipino Grandparents in America

Pati Navalta Poblete’s The Oracles is a tender, funny, and engrossing memoir about the arrival of her four Filipino grandparents in America. Together they upend her American world of Charlie’s Angels, The Brady Bunch, Nabisco wafers, and chocolate milk with the jazzy sound of snapping peas, fragrant spices, and sage advice. Through their unsolicited beads of wisdom they awaken an invisible thread like the precious string of a rosary, binding Pati’s heart back to her homeland.

—Tess Uriza Holthe, author of When the Elephants Dance

The Oracles is a brave and touching book that made me laugh… Regarding the Asian American experience, there needs to be more books like hers that explore the range of emotions one feels when balancing filial piety with one’s desire to listen to Billy Idol.

—Kim Wong Keltner, author of The Dim Sum of All Things and Buddha Baby

This memoir is sweet without being coy, affectionate without being too sentimental, both witty and funny. It takes us into Pati’s heart, reminds us to remember our grandparents’ stories. They are worth telling.

—Leny Mendoza Strobel, author of Coming Full Circle: The Process of Decolonization Among Post-1965 Filipino Americans

I laughed and cried as Pati Navalta drew me into her wonderful, idiosyncratic Filipino American family—a kind of Cheaper by the Dozen, only hers was full of grandparents whose strange and mysterious ways offer universal lessons in life.

—Helen Zia, author of Asian American Dreams: The Emergence of an American People

With the ease and experience of a veteran writer, this youthful talent weaves her tale with all the naturalness and freshness of raindrops falling…Like her Grandpa Paterno always said: Be good, Neneng. Make us all proud. I can see him, all four of the grandparents, as well as her parents, and her people, and her fellow Filipino American writers like me swelling with pride.

—Oscar Peñaranda, author of Seasons by the Bay and Full Deck (Jokers Playing)

Also by Pati Navalta

A Better Place: a Memoir of Peace in the Face of Tragedy

Pati Navalta’s world is shattered when her 23-year-old son, Robby, is violently killed. She blames God, gun violence, the town where he was born and died—even herself. Two years later, she shares how Robby’s death was transformative for her and many others—including their family and friends, and even the first journalist on the scene.

Pati took the darkest, most tragic moment in her life and turned it into a gift—a gift of perspective, understanding and hope for us, her readers.

—Levi Sumagaysay, Columnist, San Jose Mercury News

Author Pati Poblete eloquently writes about her first-hand experience of the pain and aftermath resulting from the tragic death of her only son…Ultimately this is a story of a mother’s faith, fortitude and redemption in the face of tragedy.

—Congressman Mike Thompson, 5th District, CA and Chair of the Gun Violence Prevention Task Force in the U.S. House of Representatives

"A simply riveting read from first page to last, A Better Place: A Memoir of Peace in the Face of Tragedy is one of those all-too-rare and deeply personal stories that will linger in the mind and memory long after the book itself has been finished and set back upon the shelf. Simply stated, A Better Place is unique and unreservedly recommended for personal reading lists, as well as community and academic library collections."

—Midwest Book Review

…A raw, intimate account of how it feels to be hollowed out by pain.

—Leonard Pitts Jr., Miami Herald Knight Ridder

The Oracles

My Filipino Grandparents in America

Pati Navalta

Navalta Media, San Francisco, California

© 2006 by Pati Navalta Poblete © 2022 Pati Navalta

All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from Navalta Media.

ISBN 979-8-218-02158-0

All photographs, including the cover, courtesy of the author

Book cover design by Giovanni Cruz, Giographix

Orders, inquiries, and correspondence should be addressed to:

Navalta Media

[e-mail]

www.navaltamedia.com

for Robby and Julie

Contents

Foreward • xi

Introduction • xv

Preface • xxiii

CHAPTER ONE

The Latchkey Life • 1

CHAPTER TWO

Grandpa Paterno • 13

CHAPTER THREE

The Move • 23

CHAPTER FOUR

Grandpa Sunday • 27

CHAPTER FIVE

Grandma Patricia • 31

CHAPTER SIX

The Honeymoon • 39

CHAPTER SEVEN

In the Middle • 45

CHAPTER EIGHT

Old Wounds • 59

CHAPTER NINE

Revelations • 67

CHAPTER TEN

Leaving America • 79

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Going Home • 87

CHAPTER TWELVE

Discoveries • 101

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Rituals • 107

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Legacy • 113

Epilogue • 117

Coda • 119

Acknowledgments • 131

Reader’s Guide • 133

Photos

About the Author

Foreward

by Bob Sampayan

Grandson of Carlos Bulosan (author, America Is in the Heart)

and former Mayor of the City of Vallejo, California

I met Pati Navalta in the late spring of 2017 at a meeting of politicians, law enforcement, the District Attorney’s office, civic groups, and other interested people to discuss a gun buyback program. My executive assistant, Angelic Bennett, had prepped me before the meeting telling me that Pati had lost her son, Robby, a few years prior to gun violence, and that she wanted to do more than just remember him. She wanted to do a lot more, in fact, and had formed a foundation to raise funds for those endeavors. Angelic also told me that Pati is Filipina, and a close friend of hers.

When I spoke to Pati, I found a woman who celebrated life, who believed that there was a way to improve the quality of life for young people; that by turning weapons of destruction into art and education, she could honor her son in a vibrant way. I truly admired her spirit.

As I got to know Pati, I learned that she is a writer and wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle. I also learned that she was the author of The Oracles: My Filipino Grandparents in America, a book about her formative years growing up in California in the cities of Livermore and Vallejo with both sets of grandparents living with her and her sibling and parents.

As I read the The Oracles, my mind’s eye painted pictures of my youth, growing up as a first-generation Filipino American. I saw sights, memories, heard voices, sounds and even smells of my youth. Everything from the snapping of green beans to the smell of freshly washed clothes hanging on the "sampayan or clothesline. I remember my parents and other relatives speaking our dialect, Ilocano, and how I wanted to learn it because when my folks were mad at me, I needed to know how severe the punishment was going to be. I can even still taste and smell the different dishes my Mom used to make, and how I wanted our family to eat American" food instead of traditional Filipino cooking.

Unlike Pati, sadly, I didn’t get the chance to meet all my grandparents; they passed before I was old enough to know them. I did meet my maternal grandmother and remember all the folklore. I still remember our visits to the Philippines and how Lola or Grandma used to chastise my brother Stephen and me about not wanting to go to church, and about not believing in the alalyas or ghosts that inhabited the river we liked to swim in. They told us constantly to be good boys and that being American would forever take away our heritage.

I also remember meeting Grandpa Carlos, my Dad’s uncle. Carlos Sampayan Bulosan. I was young, maybe four or five, but I remember our trip to Seattle and our visit. Lolo, or Grandpa, spoke about the struggles of Filipinos in America, about farm workers and basic human rights. Although I was too young to understand what he was talking about, those words still ring true today. As the first Filipino American Mayor of the City of Vallejo, California, I believe that we, the 25 percent of Vallejo’s population of 120,000, have a voice. A voice that is politically strong and advocates not only for the Filipino Americans living in Vallejo, but for all our residents.

Throughout Pati’s book, I marveled at how she describes her years growing up, and how, even though she rebelled against Filipino values and culture when she was young, she looked back and wished she had embraced the culture more than she had. I, too, feel the same way. I balked at all the different events my parents took my brother and me to. I, too, wished we were white Americans. But as I grew older, I began to embrace what being a Filipino American is.

I am proud of my heritage, I am proud that I’m able to speak and understand our dialect. I enjoy visits with family and friends when we share our culture, but most of all, I’m proud to say I’m a Filipino American.

As you read this book, close your eyes and see the visions that Pati paints for you. Smell the smells, touch the Filipino lifestyle and hear what Pati has to say. I truly enjoyed this book, even though some of it brought back some sad memories.

Even if you’re not of Filipino ancestry, I know that many parts of this book will touch you and you will feel what I felt, fond memories filled with love.

Thank you, Pati, for the honor of allowing me to write this for you. I admire your strength and love. I will always support you and your endeavors. You are one of Vallejo’s true heroes.

Introduction

I began the first pages of The Oracles on a napkin in a Chinese restaurant in San Francisco during my lunch break. I was working as an editor at the San Francisco Chronicle at the time and was rushing to finish my plate of black bean prawns so I could meet a deadline. But then I heard a familiar sound, one that evoked a range of unexpected emotions in me—joy, longing, sadness, shame, affection. I looked around and saw, seated at a round table behind me, a thin woman wearing a pink apron, her long, black hair tied in a messy ponytail, with a sheen of perspiration on her forehead. In front of her was a big pile of Chinese long green beans. She moved quickly, snapping the ends off with her fingers one by one, then breaking the beans into smaller pieces before placing them in a large bowl. Without thinking, I reached into my purse for a pen and wrote on my soy sauce-stained napkin: The steady snapping of green beans provided the rhythm that moved our household.

This would be the first line of what would become The Oracles: My Filipino Grandparents in America.

I took the napkin home with me that night and typed out what I had written—and continued writing for the next few months. That familiar sound had released a memory that opened the door to something much larger: a longing to claim my identity by honoring my grandparents. Since I was working full time, I grabbed every opportunity to write: during my commute to work on the ferry ride across the San Francisco Bay, lunch breaks at the same restaurant, evenings, weekends. I interviewed my mom and various relatives, here and in the Philippines, to learn more about my grandparents and their stories. I sifted through old photographs so I could remind myself of different stages of my life with them, and so I could imagine their lives before I was even born. I cooked traditional dishes from their provinces in the Philippines, so my memory was not only triggered by sound and sight, but also by smell and taste. In the course of researching and writing, I had immersed myself in my childhood, filling in the blanks that I was too young to notice or care about when my grandparents were with me.

But this was never supposed to be a book. Instead, I wanted to capture my childhood growing up with four immigrant grandparents for the sake of my children. I wanted them to understand the evolution of my relationship with my grandparents and how I grew to appreciate the gifts of time, wisdom and tradition they brought to my life, even as I rejected these gifts when they were offered to me as a child. Growing up, I was constantly reminded of how lucky I was to be American. What I wanted my kids to understand is how lucky they were to also be Filipino. My grandparents were the perfect vehicles to impart that lesson upon them.

As the memories turned into paragraphs, paragraphs into pages, and pages into chapters, I realized that I was creating something that I wished was available to me while I was in school. We were taught nothing about Filipino or Filipino American authors in high school, despite the fact that there were more than 20,000 Filipino Americans (nearly 20 percent of the population) in our city of Vallejo, California, at the time (the late 1980s). This did not improve much in college.

When I took an Asian American literature class as an English major at the University of California at Davis, only one book by a Filipino author was included on our reading list: Carlos Bulosan’s America Is in the Heart. But it was enough to change everything for me. I stayed up late reading about Bulosan’s hopes and dreams as a Filipino immigrant in America, only to face the brutal reality of racism and injustice, the verbal and physical abuse that he and other Filipinos faced in the 1930s. He described in prose both heart-wrenching and heartwarming his life as a worker at a fishing cannery in Alaska, then as a field worker in California’s Salinas Valley. I sobbed reading that book, knowing