Honor your father

When I was six years old, my father could do no wrong. I admired everything that he did. He was the most handsome teacher in our barrio. He was looked upon as the most intelligent mentor of our town. He was a Philippine Normal School (PNS) graduate. He talked with sense in every meeting or conference where he participated. He wrote articles in national dailies. At one time, he even won a flashlight in the Ever-Ready contest for writing his experience as a fisherman.

Yes, he loved to fish. I was eager to join him in catching frogs. I placed the earthworm in the kitang/ palwe to catch dalag. I untangled the tilapia from the kitig. I caught lewalu from the side. I learned how to catch talangka.

He adored roosters. He was the first person to breed Texas in our place and I could see his happiness whenever he could tend to his favorite talisain.

Whenever there is a social function, he was the best dancer on the floor. He would move with ease and you could feel the cadence and the grace in every step he made. I admired him every step of the way. I remember the time that I was with him while he was playing mahjong. There was a misunderstanding among the players. It happened in a flash. My father, who was about 5’4” in height and big fellow who was about 6 feet were engaged in a fist fight. My Pa took hold of the drinking glass and found its way into his opponent’s forehead. The poor big fellow was knocked out in the cold and I was mighty proud of my father.

When I reached sixteen years old, my father could do no right. I resented his going to cockfights. I did not like him playing mahjong. I thought that he was depriving his family of our time and much needed money. I disliked it when he was looking at beautiful girls. I thought he was betraying my mother when he was talking with his college students and lady teachers.

Suddenly, I could not tell him my plan and secrets. When I told him of my intention to run for presidency of the Student Government, he told me to stay in the school paper. When I told him my infatuation with Cynthia, he countered that Isabel was more charming. When I wanted to borrow his leather shoes, he said no because my feet were bigger. When I was six, he was my buddy. When I was sixteen, he was a bully.