Ready for more history? Rhetorical question really, since I intend to blabber on… hope you stay logged on…
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There was a period I remember when your grandmother would take me and your uncles to different hotels and have snacks at their coffee shops. Usually on Saturday afternoons. The ones we frequented were the Westin Philippine Plaza (now called the Sofitel Philippine Plaza. Heaven only knows what these hotels will be named after x number of years…).
There was something cute in the Intercontinental Hotel or “Intercon” for short. (Yes, it’s still called the Intercon…) Their coffee shop was called “the Jeepney.” And more than any fancy hamburger, what set it apart was that they had jeepney cabs for dining booths. These cabs were open on either side, and had dining tables between the seat rows. You have to understand that
for a kid like me, the food didn’t mean much. But the jeep cabs… now those were cool. If there were no jeep cabs available, I threw a tantrum like the brat that I was and refused to sit at a regular table. Although I believe they ultimately made me do so sooner or later… I may have been bratty, but I didn’t always get what I wanted.Let’s fast forward a bit to the time after your grandmother hastily left the country (more on that later… maybe… or maybe not… ask your mother), and me and your uncles were left with Fely (the long time “major doma”), the revolving door of tutors (the most memorable one bring Elizabeth Lim, who gave more advice and lessons than the actual homework required), the revolving door of drivers (most notably, Edsel Lopez, who left and came back after a few years in time to give me my first few hours behind a steering wheel), and of course, your grandfather.
"...It was in those times that I leaned a lot on my classmates... with whom I have thankfully built friendships that have lasted me for over two dozen years and counting..."
Now your grandfather was (is) a rather mixed bag. In retrospect, I must state on record that your grandfather is a good man by most standards. But a good father he wasn’t. There, I’ve said it. That’s officially off my chest and out into cyberspace… so if you notice a bit of distance between me and him, just feel free to ask me or your mother about it. But all things aside, I am still ready and willing to throw him a line if he needs it.
During very much of my early teen years when your grandfather could have capitalized and become my friend, he was mostly out. I honestly didn’t wonder much about where he supposedly spent those evenings. Frankly, he and I hadn’t gone through enough in the “together” kind of way for me to truly have missed him in those times. I would credit those to him trying to find some solace from your grandmother’s estrangement. At least, that’s what I’m desperately trying to hammer into my own head.
It was in those times that I leaned a lot on my classmates (almost all of whom are your godparents), with whom I have thankfully built friendships that have lasted me for over two dozen years and counting at the time of this writing. (more on friendships later, girl…) Your Uncles Pom and Wilson were still too young for me to lean on them at that time.
I also looked up a lot to your Uncle Jan Gary Golangco (my cousin in the first degree), who was the big brother I never had and truly needed at that point in my life. He also gave me a lot of hand me downs from clothes to things like perfume and stuff since your grandfather rarely took your uncles and me shopping for stuff. Your Uncle Jan practically guided me through much of my adolescence. But this sort of thinned out when he got married and was pretty wrapped up with getting his life on track. Thankfully as of this writing, he’s been doing great.
There’s a lesson here that I must preach, despite only barely succeeding (if at all…) at practicing. No matter what he has and hasn’t done, your grandfather is still my father. Love is supposedly inherent. But if it isn’t, then at the very least, people deserve to be treated like people. This is where you will learn that I am not the totally nice guy I sometimes seem. But I’m trying. Seriously.
But this is all getting too serious. Will cut this short and move on to lighter things…
Catch you later, girl…
Love,
Dad
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