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| My father and I at a gathering |
by Susan Palmes-Dennis
These past few
days I’m up by 5 am because I am required to report to school at 6:45 a.m. Wait—this
isn’t about my work schedule. This article is about my father since the annual
Father’s Day celebration is just around the corner on June 15.
The other
day, while at bed, I heard my name called and I answered yes. My husband Ron who stirred also asked if
someone called me. Then it dawned on me that it must have been my father.
I got up
and checked on my email and Facebook page and thank God there was no unusual
message from my daughter. You see, my 84-year-old
father Simeon Barros Naelga has been in and out of the hospitals the past few months.
He had
tricked the Grim Reaper so many times I lost count myself. When I do visit him
at the hospital, he was sitting upright in bed, smiling at me.
According
to my baby sister Aida Naelga Pacana, “Tatay (Father) is weak as a baby. His
kidney is affected and he’s losing his eyesight.” I told her over the phone that
she shouldn’t worry.
Prized
possessions
“He might
be weak as a baby but I bet his grip is still strong,” I told her. My father,
who turned 84 last April, refused to surrender when times were really bad such
as when he was unemployed.
I am
honored to introduce him to friends. My father Simeon Barros Naelga is the son of Felix “Ingge” Quilang Naelga and
Concolacion Barros. Born and raised in
Tagoloan town, Misamis Oriental, he completed sixth grade and reached first year
at St. Mary’s High school, now St. Mary’s Academy.
He told us
his children that he was a man of all trades and I agreed. He fished, drove and
did carpentry. He loves music and music embraced him (his version of All of Me
and Hello Dolly are the best) and his singing is still music to my ears.
He can play
guitar, ukulele, banjo and harmonica and he can sing classics or a lullaby he
made up himself. All these musical instruments are still in the house and aged
like him and remain his prized possessions along with his children and
grandchildren.
He is funny
and can draw laughter out of everything good or bad. Politics is his forte and
economics second. I am amazed how a first year high school student like him can
talk and absorb the news.
Simple life
I was told
that Grade Six graduates before World War 2 can teach. It was a different time then. Like his friends
and contemporaries, he drinks from time to time, maybe more.
He’s drunk
during Saturdays with his friends, most of whom are now in heaven. On weekends,
he is a vocalist in the neighborhood
band or the “Tumba baso (drinking spree)” at Evangelista Street.
He plays
the guitar along with Nato Sanches in the banjo, Iyo Mading Abellanosa and
others whom I forgot. Iyo Andres Sanchez hung around but wasn’t part of their
band. It was a simple life then and my father hung around the store of Iya
Puring Pacheco a lot.
But he is
still the best father even if his children fail him at times or if he failed
due to his imperfections. I love him and miss him. How I wish I am with him
these days.
Now he is
wrinkled and withering like a dying plant. I reckon that was all those years of
hard work. He has been unwell for years and
he’s having prostate woes.
Listener
I had the
privilege of taking care of him since I went back to live with him for two
years before leaving for US.
He is
blessed to still be living even if his prognosis wasn't good (A miracle). I
told him there must be a reason for that. It was in recent years that we became
closer; no more fear between father and child but between two equals.
No more
arguments; I was more of a listener of his long litany about life and recollection
of what Tagoloan town in Misamis Oriental, northern Mindanao, Philippines was
then.
World War I1 remains fresh to him; he was eight years old when the war broke out and the
rich river of Tagoloan town played a role on his young age.
The names
of Rev. Father Peter Wang, and priests like Fr. Moji and other names run forth
from his mouth, their names remembered like street names in Tagoloan.
He has spoken
about riding a”balsa”(a raft made of bamboo) from Tabok (Sta Cruz to Tagoloan town)
with his father Lolo (Grandpa) Ingee
piloting it and him as the assistant.
Jungle
philosopher
My father mentioned
about his teacher the late Gonzala Lim Chaves who called him a ”jungle
philosopher.” He didn't elaborate why he was called that but I had the feeling
why.
Dr.
Hernando “Nandy” Emano was his classmate; when I became alumni president of St.
Mary’s High school, Dr. Nandy spoke well of my Tatay.
He never
tires of telling one story after another from sunrise to sundown and I remembered
a saying that the mark of one’s old age is when he or she talks too much. From
what I can recollect, this is his life story:
He was
employed with the Philippine Packing Corp. now Del Monte as a hauler driver. It
was during this time that my awareness of “Capri” Giants came to.
He recalled
that that his truck was kicked by a tall man near Mangima Canyon.
The story made an impression on me. A strike
at the PPC that he joined ended with him jobless and he refused help from Mrs.
Bibanco despite the prodding of mother.
Like
carpentry
He started
farming and harvested cabbage, tomatoes and some camote (sweet potatoes). He told
me he never regretted joining the labor strike; he said a man should stand by
what he believed was right.
He toiled
every day always doing something with his hands. He said a man’s honesty is
measured by the calluses on his hands. I agree.
He debates
with passion and only loses if the opponent is my mother. He mentioned once
that his favorite cousin was Tio Cosme Ejem at Mojon.
He is very
good in numbers; actually he was my first teacher in Arithmetic (Apologies to Ray
Abejo). I first learned the multiplication table by heart and I also learned from
him that life, like carpentry, should be measured twice and cut once.
He is good
in math and evidence of that, he claims, is his weekly winnings in “masiao” a local numbers game.
Lessons
When I
worked in a local broadcast station, he always asked the station employees if
they had any “hearing” about the latest number combinations and he would
tabulate these and place his numbered bets at the lottery office.
True
enough, he won. Don’t ask me if he won the Philippine lottery, it would prolong
my tribute (lol).
Now that he
is alone and I am far from him, I missed our talks. I remembered him saying he
doesn’t want to be buried beside my mother should his time come.
When asked
why, he said he wants peace and silence and knowing my mother I know his reasons
for wanting so.
It is with
fondness that I remember my father ahead of Father’s Day because I am away from
him. I remembered when he was so sick that he doesn’t want to close his eyes.
He is poor but
he’s rich in character and spirit; he taught us, his children, that one’s life
journey may be replete with trials but that we should hang on and overcome. As
his daughter, I thank him for his lessons.
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| My father with his trusty guitar and the family |
(Susan
Palmes-Dennis is a veteran journalist from Cagayan de Oro City, Misamis
Oriental, Northern Mindanao in the Philippines who works as a nanny in North
Carolina. This page will serve as a venue for news and discussion on Filipino
communities in the Carolinas. Visit and read her website at
www.susanpalmes-dennis.simplesite.com. Read her blogs on
susanpalmesstraightfrom the Carolinas.com. These and other articles also appear
at http://www.sunstar.com.ph/author/2582/susan-palmes-dennis.
You can
also connect with her through her Pinterest account at
http://www.pinterest.com/pin/41025046580074350/) and
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Straight-from-the-Carolinas-/494156950678063)
