Hello, welcome to my personal page. My name is J. Peter Fitzgerald. I know, using one’s first initial looks a bit pretentious – or, perhaps, indicates an attempt to hide something really embarrassing like Juniferous or Jasperini. Fortunately, the J stands for the perfectly ordinary name of Joseph, which I inherited from my grandfather who was Joseph Peter. This was also the name of my grandfather’s son, my Uncle Joe.
I have been Peter all my life and I like the name. But it has led to some awkward exchanges when I am asked my name by someone in authority, like a petty bureaucrat or a policeman, and I pause ever so slightly, giving the impression that I am being evasive and perhaps deserving of closer scrutiny.
My biographical info will be of very little interest to you. Briefly, I ran away to join the Navy (the circus turned me down), attended, hit or miss, a string of colleges, never quite accumulating enough credits to graduate, and entered, finally, into a life of cutting grass and paying bills.
In a stroke of pure luck, I got married to a feisty woman with the melodious name of Anacleta, a native of the Philippines, a gourmet cook, a financial wizard, and, I must say, a woman who is very nice to look at. It is she who steers the family bus while I fritter away my time on flights of rhetorical fancy.
We are a bi-continental couple, spending half the year in the woods of Maine and the other half in a tiny Philippine barrio in northern Luzon, barely large enough to appear on Google Earth. It is in this tropical hideaway that I find time to write. My Sweetie is kind enough to excuse me from most spousal duties that I regularly neglect anyway.
Since my first exposure to the Philippines in 1993, I have kept a journal of our life in the barrio, interesting episodes of which I shamelessly inflate beyond recognition and post on this site for the benefit of those of you who don’t have any better reading material available. Perhaps you are in prison or live in West Virginia.
This website was born in 2013 when a couple of my few remaining friends, perhaps condescendingly, complimented my writing and suggested I start a blog, Yes, I am well aware that the screeching, tone-deaf losing contestants on American Idol (the early rejects that we find so pathetic) were, at some point in their lives, encouraged by their friends who probably told them, “You have talent. You should go public.” An inflated ego doesn’t need any more encouragement than that, so here I am.
If you’re still here, I hope you’ll take a few minutes to browse the site. There’s a lot of stuff here. I try to put together a new pack of lies every week, and Manong Pedro posts his advice column every once and a while. There’s a page of photos taken in and around our little barrio and links that will take you to Amazon where you can find my books for sale.
And, of course, as a bloke who holds himself in unseemly high regard, I am always happy to get feedback from readers and visitors like you.