I met Manang Nitz shortly after Manong Tito was smitten in the summer of ’64, when there was a joint picnic of Bacarra and Vintar youth. She was (and still is) lively, smart, courteous, a very neat jewel topped with really thick glasses. We were all impressed; the only thing our Dad could say, with his wide grin, was "So, Tito, there is no improvement of the race? Of course, he was referring to just one gene. Did he expect Manong to pair off with a six-footer?