Memories of Dad

Heydyo, wanabaywats? Wat? Yulusyurwats? Wanabayitagen? Beritsip onliporyu.
My nose bleeds each time I recall my father’s funny but ridiculous oral mimicry of the above post-World War II comedic ‘sales talk’ scenario that reverberated in war-ripped Manila.
However, my heart bleeds when it dawns on me that my dad’s aper was of war-ravaged Filipinos desperately scrounging for any means to survive the cruel war’s pervasive stench of death and ghastly image of destruction.
Nothing much has changed, pops. The world war may have been over, but social divisiveness, economic inequity, political greed and Beelzebub’s other ways have been taking its toll on many Filipinos today.
Do not worry, pops. Your heavenly haven is the safest and happiest site you’ll ever be. No one there will ever try to convince you to bail out of the place, so as to live and work elsewhere in the universe and beyond.
For starters, we still miss you since you departed 37 years ago. We then offer prayers and extend our greetings of Happy All Saints and All Souls days to you, the family and everyone else looking after and smiling down at us.
*****
Since I am into greetings and announcements:
Congratulations to Toronto Mayor John Tory and all city councillors; Rowena Santos, Brampton City Councillor for Ward 1 and 5; Liza Bower, Ajax Municipal Councillor for Ward 3; Garry Tanuan, Toronto Catholic District School Board Trustee (CDSB) in Scarborough North for Ward 8; Luz Del Rosario, Dufferin-Peel CDSB Trustee in Mississauga for Wards 6 and 11; and all who won in the October 22 polls. Tandang Sendong says he is reminded of the Lord’s Prayer: “…lead us not into temptation … deliver us from evil.” So be it!
Here’s hoping the kids from one to ninety-two had a spook-tacular time on Halloween. Rather than chew on chocolate treats, Lolo Temyong took in chewable aspirins and he felt great.
Why not? Let’s say a prayer for our faithful departed in front of an altar or their graves before we dig into the feast we laid out on their behalf. Happy All Saints Day and All Souls Day!
Guys, Daylight Savings Time (DST) ends on November 4 (Sunday). Better turn your clocks and watches back an hour, from 2 a.m. to 1 a.m. Get extra sleep and start another autumn weekend right!
Lest we forget, on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month (November 11 at 11 a.m.), let’s take a moment to pray for and remember the great Canadians and all the men and women who gave up their lives in a collective mission to make Canada and the world a peaceful and safer place to live in. It’s Remembrance Day, folks!
Impong Betong greets Tatang Asyong a blissful birth anniversary as the latter turns into a senior on November 11 too.
*****
Back to my dear dad – Felicisimo Galicia Sr. a.k.a. Chitong, whose memory I honour in this column. We remembered his 86th birth anniversary on October 26. He passed on January 26, 1981, at 49 years old.
Those who knew dad said I inherited his forehead. Admitted but matter of fact, there’s nothing hair-raising about that. Some insisted I got his looks. Ugh! That’s hair-raising!
We had so little time together — from the time I was born until I had to leave Manila, at the age of 16, for seminary studies in Cotabato City. But I vividly remember those remarkable moments when I learned from him a lesson or two about life.
*****
He taught me when to get things done independently, and when to rely on teamwork to achieve success.
I recall my first hoop dunk, in an era when Wilt Chamberlain was the NBA player prolific at it.
Lanky and a midget, I mustered all the strength in my two thin arms, lifted the ball above the iron ring, and forcibly dumped it in the basket, touching nothing but net. Perfect.
After the ten-foot feat, my dad said: See. You may be short, but you had the nerve and the confidence to dunk the ball. Those are the benchmarks of independence.
He added: But always bear in mind that you are never alone in building dreams and making these real. That is when you need to work and have fun with others, as a team.
A wink reminded me that there would have been no dunk, had not one of the taller players in the company team he coached jumped a bit as he hoisted me near the ring.
*****
He taught me the value of sportsmanship, instilling in my brain a quote attributed to (Cardinal) Newbolt: “For when the One Great Scorer comes to write against your name, He writes — not that you won or lost — but how you played the game”.
I was constantly advised not to use my body to hurt others in a contact sport like basketball. No wonder, I never even made it to the gates of Rizal Coliseum.
That line definitely sank in. A member of championship teams, I was teased with honourary MVPs for having won the most number of chess games with another perennial benchwarmer, and for having skinned as many butong pakwan in an entire caging tourney.
Thanks to dad, I never hurt anyone, including myself. Though I only got to touch the trophy, I got to keep the uniforms.
*****
He taught me to form words from the steel keys of an old reliable Underwood typewriter, before I could write the same a-b-c-d’s on paper in grade school.
It was far better, he said, to pick on letters than pick on the smaller or the lesser. Or worse, pick noses.
*****
What did I give Dad in any of his birthdays? I don’t even know if I had given him warm hugs and kisses, my only available gift to people I love and care about during milestones in their lives; a trait my dear wife frowns on.
But I do remember that one gift Dad and Mom Isabel gave me, not on my birth anniversary but during my high school graduation — a DICTIONARY. I still think it was a lot cooler than receiving the classic “Great Expectations.”
That dictionary inspired me to do my best in school and beyond its four walls. I learned the meanings of POSITIVE and NEGATIVE, and never got electrocuted.
*****
Also, I tried to be a good son he could be proud of, as he was the good father I would always be proud of.
Dad used to write sketches for the ‘bodebil’ in Sta. Cruz, Manila. He must have had a lot of faith in me, so as to bequeath to me his genes in writing, theatre and the arts.
He also taught me how to ably use these communicative talents to its fullest potential, with a magic touch of wit and humour.
Yup! He was the comic among members of the barkada who milled and loitered around Kabise’s corner store or the adjacent street basketball court.
He cracked jokes in between tagay and pulutan, the latter being his fave. Those who know me will confirm: May pinagmanahan nga!
*****
I was told that he made a big crowd in a political rally guffaw so loud with his jokes that he won, hands down, as barangay councilman.
But he soon found out that politics was no big joke. Serious with his newfound vocation, he spent more time with villagers at Kabise’s or the court or the barangay hall — cracking jokes.
My mom might have been very pleased in those days, because my dad was always “out’a sight”.
But Mom’s delight was only for a time. Dad never ran again.
He just continued walking around and did the talk to make everyone’s face light up during stormy moments.
*****
Dad gave me my best beating ever. That was when he landed a strong right jab on me that put my brains in its right place.
He seemed unhappy in seeing red marks on the subjects Algebra, Geometry and Scouting on my high school report card; and admonished: That was for the A I haven’t seen for quite a long time. Now, choose from two Bs — books or boxing?
I opted for books, took summer courses I easily passed, and moved to regular senior high.
Anyways, I never fancied myself losing my face like Pacman’s opponents in a square ring.
I know how that jab influenced me to join the seminary after high school.
But up to today, I still wonder what C to Z had to offer.
*****
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Daddy, on October 26. A blessed birth anniversary too to my Mom on November 14, a memorable day she shares with my departed younger brother Gie. #####