At the cornerstone of my existance stands my parents. Mom, a frail and meek looking woman with a heart of a lioness, and Dad, a straight-faced technological genius whose claim to fame was the child who built a radio at the age of 10 (before RadioShack and experiment kits). Both were equal in their intelligence, mom in accounting and dad in technology. Both were religous by nature, and well spoken about their beliefs and ideals.
Where they differed the most was in their view of life.
Mom, in her nurturing way, would sometimes excuse my sisters and I from school and take us to work with her in downtown Manila; especially when there's an event happening outside of their office like a grand parade. I distinctly remember the cramped office full of dark-stained wooden desks, wire baskets; the bond paper and the black carbon paper strewn in and out of typewriters. Men wore black or dark gray slacks with white short-sleeved shirts and thin neckties. The women wore pastel blouses with dress skirts that went halfway down their calves. I don't recall anyone wearing bold colors during that time.
Mom's office was one of the upper floors of the building, perhaps third or fourth. I do remember that when the parade did go by, everyone would rush over to the window to get the best view. Mom would make certain that we had a good spot. During one of these times, I would often look at the crowd that formed on the street thinking, "I wonder what they can see from down below?" I couldn't imagine the view being any better than what we had from where we were.
Milk was delivered in medium-sized thick glass bottles by a man in white uniform practically every morning at our front door. The milk came from a dairy farm called Magnolia and it was always cold. The taste of that milk was so good that I could've drank a whole bottle in one sitting. At night, mom would often give us warm milk because she said that it would help us sleep. Whether that was true or not really didn't matter - all I remember was that it tasted really good and felt very comforting especially before bed.
Bedtime was a whole excercise in itself that started with taking the top matress off of the mom and dad's bed and laying it on to the floor; followed by laying out the bed sheets, then putting up the mosquito net to cover mom and dad's bed as well as a second one to cover the matress that my sisters and I slept on. Each mosquito net was big enough to resemble a see-through tent that bedtime was like camping... only indoors, and with lights on. Mom would often join us on our matress until we fell asleep; then she would turn out the lights and join dad in their bed.
Dad was more regimental and he didn't like the idea of us missing school. He'd let my mom know of his disapproval towards this inexcusable act without any hesitation. My dad was so strict that we weren't allowed to talk, much less laugh and make jokes, at the dinner table. We were there to eat, and by golly we needed to eat and finish our food because there are starving children in China who don't get enough food to eat! (Yes, that threat does go all the way to the Philippines even in the 60's). One evening, I made the mistake of thinking of this joke while eating, and I started to giggle; and I could feel the heat at the back of my head come down to my spine even before I saw my Dad's glare. When my sister saw me giggling, she started to giggle, and soon the whole table was giggling except for Dad. I wish I could tell you more of what happened after that but somehow I don't remember. It's as if the memory has been erased...
My dad really wasn't all that bad. I remember him helping me with my multiplication table when I was in first grade. He was the one who started me with "one times one equals one"... We had gone through the multiplication table all the way to "ten times ten equals one hundred", when my mom called me to bed. Unfortunately Dad wasn't done with me yet because he continued with "eleven times one is what?" Two hours later when we got to "twelve times twelve equals one hundred forty four", I was given permission to go to bed. I glanced at Dad sitting on the floor and he gave me a smile, and told me that I did real well. I saw the glimmer of pride in his eyes and I felt compelled to hug him. We said our goodnight and I scurried off to bed. Looking back, it was probably one of the best bonding moments that I've ever had with him.
I did give Dad a scare during one of our family beach outings when I was little. I didn't do it on purpose and there was certainly no planning on my part - it just happened. You see, I was running around the picnic area at the beach that our whole family went to, and Mom and the other ladies (my Aunts) were preparing the tables for lunch. I asked Mom where Dad was and she said that he's swimming in the ocean. I ran across the shoreline to see my dad swimming with an inner tube about a hundred feet out and I yelled to him, "Dad!" He yelled back, "Come and swim towards me..." I yelled, "I'm afraid!" He then swam towards me and told me to get on the inner tube. Once I got in, he started taking us further and further away from the shore until we got to the same area where he was originally swimming. He told me, "don't be afraid; I've got a hold of the tube and I won't let go..." I felt protected knowing that my dad is with me and it felt good to be sitting in an inner tube on a beautiful sun-shiny day in the middle of the ocean. Gentle waves raised and lowered us as if we were riding over liquid bumps. The cool breeze of the soft wind made its presence known with every flicker of our hair.
Suddenly, a huge wave blanketed me and overturned the inner tube. I found myself underwater and didn't know which way was up. I opened my eyes only to see water all over me. I tried gasping for air but only took in more water. I felt a tug on my right ankle and that was the last that I remembered.
I woke up lying on the warm sand of the beach with everyone gathered around me and my dad kneeling by my feet. He expelled a sigh of relief and said, "You're okay now. I was very worried about you. It must have been twenty minutes to a half hour that I've been searching for you out there. Luckily your feet surfaced and I was able to grab your ankle." My dad had saved me.
At the cornerstone of my life, my parents laid the foundation for me to build upon. I've been blessed with the experiences that I've had and with the people that I've shared them with, starting with Mom and Dad. Apparently, Mom and Dad started me off as a house of bricks because I'm still standing...
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