My grandmother’s diary.

Lola Puring’s notebook is handmade, stapled
half-sheets of yellowed bond paper. Her handwriting is elegant, her prose
ladylike and religious. The notebook has a short account of her trip to Culion,
after the war, to bring back non-leprous children to Welfareville (she mentions
vomiting at least thrice during their sea journey); seminar notes (including a
long section on symptoms of juvenile delinquency, which include: popularity,
masturbation, heterosexual and homosexual tendencies, refusal to eat, refusal to
eat except for one kind of food); and articles she wrote for the Legion of Mary
(in one, she describes herself as the irregular treasurer, and asks that the
head of their group be given a bouquet).

She and my Lola Engay were probably the
most educated women in my family, of their generation. I wonder if the wedding
invitation I found tucked into the handmade envelope that holds her notebook is
of significance, on the level of unrequited love and alternate