I Remember Daddy

My earliest memories include The Space Race Coaster, visits to the Manila Zoo, my nursery school class, and my large book of children's rhymes that i repeatedly read when I was three.

Yes, I learned to read at age three.

I was raised by my grandparents. They did their job well. I remember my late grandfather sitting on his favorite chair, which was situated by the front door, reading his daily Manila Bulletin, answering its crossword puzzle. I remember sitting in front of him and asking him to read the funnies to me, and I would laugh as my Daddy (that's how my mother, "Mama," called him, so I called him Daddy as well,)would explain why the Sergeant was beating the crap out of Beetle Bailey. Later that night, in the yellow pallor cast by a bedside lamp, I sat beside him in my grandparents' ancient bed. My grandfather's bony fingers would trace the words in the Spanish books he read (and would read out for my benefit). Later, we would watch Ron Ely (he was Tarzan, you know) try to get contestants to "Face the Music" for $10,000 and a brand new car, and Bob Barker's almost psychotic smile as he urged an audience member to "Come on Down! You're the next contestant on The Price is Right!"

This was life with my grandfather. An endless array of TV shows and books.

My Daddy said that one day, as he read the funnies to me, I told him that "I want to learn how to read, just like you." I proceeded to "read" my book of nursery rhymes, which I had memorized by then. This went on until I actually learned how to read by memorizing each letter, and each word, in that book.

My Daddy was a strange man. He liked things nobody liked, was unbelievably stubborn, as any old man is. Maybe I never really knew who he was; I may have idolized him to unrealistic proportions. I never really got to know him when he was young, and I grew up as he withered into old age. But really, is that relevant?

And I never really thanked him for allowing me to find my current vocation. Or for even for teaching me to love the written word. Even for his gift of teaching me the English language. And as I delivered his eulogy, I told those gathered that while my Daddy was not perfect, he did the best he could.

Isn't that all we hope for?



NikkiAlfar

Tobie Abad

Gabby Lee

Andre Mischa Cleofe