My Dad and I

I remember when I was young and my Mom was in Manila working in a recruitment agency. My dad and I used to go to Matelco or PT&T so we could call her and we always schedule it late in the evenings because the calls were much cheaper although it takes us a while to line with the queue. My dad was the sweetest guy I have first learned to know. Yes, maybe this is how I get to be so picky with men. He sends my mother telegrams when he can afford it. We have the scheduled phone calls on Sunday nights, he sends her flower-grams and yes he sends her loveletters as often as he can. I can vividly recall the nights when he was bent down on his head writing pages of letters from the yellow pad, flipping from each pages, carefully putting down in manuscript how he feels about my Mom being away, how we-the kids are, how he felt about her being away. He would write ten pages or so and mostly back to back to save on cost based on weight for every mail. My Mom was the luckiest woman in the world.

They say that every woman’s relationship with a man always relates back to her relationship with her father, whether the father was good or bad towards the child. Every woman would compare or associate her boyfriend with her dad, that is if she grew up with a dad.

I would consider myself lucky because I have had the most special times with my dad. We were in high school and my two sisters and I could not go out on parties unless the three of us are together plus one chaperone. So we were so annoyed with each other but we cannot go anywhere else thus, we have to put up with being together all the time. I had not experienced boyfriends in high school which was probably the best thing because I learned to choose well and have not regretted turning down dates to go with even the most eligible men.

My dad was a strict disciplinarian. If we so much as mention any crush, he will reprimand us for wasting time on people. One time my sisters and I were talking about some crush, I blurted out "I have a crush..." at the same time my Dad walked in on us three. He told me "Crush, crush, the best person to have a crush on is the son of US President George Bush." I replied to my Dad helplessly "How can I have a crush on that guy? He doesn't even know I exist??" Well now, the then recommended crush for me by my Dad is the President of US. And yet, Geroge Bush Jr. still doesn't know me.

We were to read newspaper from front to back and back to back. TV was almost unheard of, we have a brown, grey and white TV. You know those old TVs that have sliding accordion doors on them? They must as well have curtains by the way. :) We had a turntable and plenty of vinyl LPs ranging from Matt Munro to Timi Yuro and so many Latino music that we used to play although we never understood what they were singing about. The tunes were great though. I recall that song by one woman that was saying “I’m walking six feet tall..” or the Latino song that keeps on singing “Torototontotong, ping, ping ping” Some weird funny noises. O La Paloma Blanca... I'm just a bird in the sky... or Cuando caliente el sol, en el la playa? Or Babushka? Or Don gato... Yes there were other beautiful songs that I would still love to listen to even now.. The old classics like Moon River... or Don't Sleep in the Subway.. or Mona Lisa..... or She.. But I always tend to weep when I hear Oh my Papa.. My Dad told me when his Dad passed away, his greatest wish was to see him again even for the last time. I was a child then and I could not understand. Now I clearly understood. I feel the same way.

I also vividly remember when we have blackouts or brownouts and we could not do anything but sit together on our bamboo sofa without cushions and listen to my sisters take turns in playing the piano with one candle atop the cover/lid of the upright piano, you know that wooden thing that covers the skeleton of the piano with all its hummers and keys and strings?? I could barely finish my pieces so I was exempted to play. Instead, I would be singing rapidly to the melodies. Yep. I was the singer. To my horror, I only recently found out now that I am older that my voice is like a squeal of a frog on a night when it is cold and it just stopped raining. My Dad was my greatest fan.