Roiling with the punches

And happy 6-month birthday to "The Mango Tree"

Hours before Hurricane Helene made landfall 323 miles north of here, I sat in the parking lot of my mother’s new memory care center, watching the wind whip through the trees like a super-charged blow dryer, the clouds push south to north across grayed skies. I needed to go inside and make sure my mom had taken her meds, as I had the day before and the day before and the day before. But outside, in the storm, life felt easier.

I thought about all the once-in-a-lifetime storms I’d experienced in my lifetime.

Some — Hurricane Andrew and soon, this Helene — only tangentially. Others — Hurricanes Charley, Irma, Ian — head on, like a punch to the jaw that reverberates down through your molars into your neck, then up into your temples, snapping shut your eyelids, stinging the folds of your brain. I’ve only been punched like that once, at a mixed-martial-arts dojo I joined in my early 20s. I loved the grappling and jiu-jitsu aspects of the classes. I liked that my long legs and thick calves made Muay Thai fun. But, in a sweaty boxing ring, face to face with a teenage boy whose red headgear emphasized his acne-scarred cheeks, a kid with arms longer and lankier than my own, a kid who, the moment the buzzer sounded, caught me with a left hook that sent flares of white through my field of vision, I learned I do not like getting hit in the face. At all. I quit the dojo and joined a Tae Bo class at the YMCA.

Sitting in the parking lot, watching Helene, I worried about friends in Tallahassee and southern Georgia. I sent texts to my people in Tampa and St. Pete, hoping my heart emojis might keep them safe and dry. I wondered how many punches any of us could endure.

I heard a crack and watched a palm frond detach from its tree and flutter to the ground. I remembered how palm trees are built for this, how they can lose every single one of their fronds in a storm and regrow them later, how their trunks can flex up to 50 degrees without breaking because palms are more like grass than they are trees. After graduating from UF, my friend worked the Spider-Man ride at Universal’s Islands of Adventure in Orlando, doling out 3D glasses and tugging at lap bars to keep riders securely entertained. On one of his days off, he got us in for free. He took us through the superhero section, to Toon Lagoon and Jurassic Park. When we got to Seuss Landing, he showed us how its designers aimed to have no straight lines. How the metal bars forming the queue to Cat In The Hat had all been bent into flowy S shapes. How the eaves of the Green Eggs and Ham cafe curved and snaked. Then he pointed out the palm trees; the bottoms of their trunks arched one way, their tops bent another.

“They brought them from Homestead,” he said. “They made it through Hurricane Andrew.”

Back in my minivan, a gust of wind caught the downed palm frond and pushed it into a retention pond. I listened to the jazzy outro of “1A” bleed into the intro of “Here and Now” on WGCU. I dug through my purse to make sure I had the key to my mom’s room, her new room, the room she was moved to after punching, allegedly, another resident in the old unit that housed her old room. This new room in this new unit requires access codes and key cards to enter. There are fewer bingo cards on this side, also fewer people my mom can fight. There is more staff and more meds, meds that she must take in order not to be evicted — tossed to the wind.

I pushed the button that turns my car off. I opened my door, took a deep breath and exhaled into Helene. I wondered how many more times I’d have to do this, need to do this, get to do this. I wasn’t sure if the right answer should be high or low.

—

Happy Six Months to “The Mango Tree”

“The Mango Tree” turned 6-months-old this week. Half a year ago, I had no idea what to expect putting this oh-so personal thing out into the world. Half a year later, I am positively blown away.

From reviews in The New York Times and Washington Post, to features in Eater, The News-Press, Tampa Bay Times and Southern Living, to shout-outs on NPR, ABC News, WGCU, NBC-2, WINK, to book festivals in Los Angeles, Orlando and Washington D.C., to all the other incredible folks who’ve showed up for this book, I have no words other than: Holy shit, thank you.

I had the pleasure of reading from “The Mango Tree” at the award-winning Kaya restaurant in Orlando during a book launch for “36 Dwellings” by the luminous Jan Padios.

If you’re new here (So many of you are!) and looking for more ways to support “The Mango Tree,” please take a second to leave a review on Goodreads and/or Amazon. Have an Audible subscription? Use a credit and you can have 10+ hours of me (Me!) right in your ear holes! Or find the audio version on Libro.fm, Apple Books, and even Spotify.

If you have a copy, thank you! If you don’t, there’s plenty of time! And you can always buy more copies whenever and wherever you like to get your books. Mangoes make great holiday gifts. And these ones won’t spoil.

Longtime subscribers (thank you, too) may have noticed I am posting less. That is, in part, due to my mother, whose health issues I mentioned, but barely scratched the surface on, above. It’s also because I am writing more books. Plural. That thrills me and terrifies me. “The Mango Tree” has been such an incredible launching point. I hope I can keep the momentum going.

Upcoming events

Say hi! Get mango stickers and swag! Have your books signed!

Oct. 16 — 6 p.m. @ Bookstore1 Sarasota: I’ll be in conversation with poet and “Florida Man” author Tyler Gillespie; book signing to follow. RSVP here.

Oct. 27 — 2:30 p.m. @ Liwanag Filipino Lit Fest, Washington D.C.: If you’re anywhere near the capital, please join me, James Beard Award-winning cookbook author Abi Balingit, and the inimitable Matt Ortile as we discuss “Food as a Bridge” at the Petworth Library. Find more on our panel here. Learn more about this extraordinary day of Pinoy-ness here.

Nov. 1 — 2 p.m. @ North Fort Myers Public Library: For National Authors Day, I’ll be at my hometown library discussing mangoes, mothers and my NoFo roots. RSVP and learn more here.