May 11, 2005

In the name of the son...

I have my elder brother to watch and (try to) learn from about raising children. Like most parents, he and his wife dream of the best for their three kids. I don't know much about what our own parents had dreamt for us, but I’m beginning to hear some mumbles here and there about their youngest son being still unmarried. *uboubo!* Hehe. Patience po, my dear parents, we'll get there soon.

Speaking of patience, I now see my brother and sister-in-law as the epitome of patience.

Last Saturday, May 7, my brother’s eldest son celebrated his 7th birthday at a clubhouse in Batangas, with a kiddie pool and two clowns to entertain the guests. The little fellow, in his spanking new clothes, fell into the pool even before the party started. In an astounding display of patience worth seven years of parenting, neither mother nor father showed any sign of anger or exasperation.

Simply amazing. It reminded me of my blog about ol' Papa Bear in "the wisdom of age".

The event somewhat became a gathering for our families. My mother arrived from Aklan with a few friends. My father came with almost all of his brothers and sisters, and most of my father-side cousins showed up with their own children. My brother’s diverse network of friends from both Luzon and Visayas also arrived.

It was a good exercise of linguistic skills as my immediate family kept switching from Batangueño to Aklanon and back as we moved around the crowd.

The singles have become overwhelmingly outnumbered by the married among us cousins, so all eyes are on me – the one whom they least hear about, and the one whom they rarely see. They never seem to run out of surprised reactions every time I show up in my father’s small hometown in San Jose.

But for them, the bigger surprise that day was that I brought someone along with me: my girlfriend. For over seven years, they have only known her name and her face from the pictures in my wallet. To finally see her in person was something they've been looking forward to. It's that Tagalog culture of "kilatis" (close scrutiny) at work, I say, but with the advent of Visayan women getting married into my father's closely-knit family (one of them my mother), gone is the age-old Bisaya stereotyping among Batangueños.

It’s a well-observed custom in my father’s hometown that a man present only “The One” to the family, and introduce her to the eldest (and usually the wisest) member of the family. In my case, that would be my last living grandparent, “Mamay” (Batangueño term for lolo or grandfather).

So there. There’s much to do from this point on, and more formal meetings to arrange. But for now, welcome to my family, Pangga. Thank you. Lyp! ^__^

That last meeting with Mamay somehow left a certain heaviness in my heart. Less than a year ago, Nanay (grandmother) passed away after lying in coma for two years. In those two years, Mamay never left her side, and cared for her as he had always done even in their younger days. For me, they were a match made in heaven.

The brilliance in his eyes has somehow faded. He now speak of pain, sadness, and even regrets. He briefly spoke of his frustrations with his son – our father – and of the things he has not accomplished, and the things we should remember when we have children of our own.

Tired, sad, and weary as he is, Mamay is still the same wise person whom my cousins and I always seek for advice. I look at him, my mother, and my brother, and see the lessons that I could possibly learn. I look at my father and see the mistakes I could possibly commit. I look at myself and see everything else that lie in between, and beyond.

Ah! ^__^

Here’s something I must remember: the lechon my Mom brought to the party is definitely the best I’ve tasted, even if it traveled for about nine hours all the way from Aklan to Batangas. Lip-smacking good! She told us that the cook himself handpicks the live pig and does something to it to make it really tasty to the bone. Hmmm...

One of these days I’ll have to find that cook.



my pamangkins Victor, Renzo, and Angel, with Shorty the clown -- minutes before birthday celebrant Renzo fell into the pool (and ruined his slick hairdo). he wasn't hurt or anything, but the incident dampened his mood a bit. ^__^

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