I’m brave enough to make this post because I’m pretty sure my pop will never read this.

Not because he doesn’t have enough time for me nor he wouldn’t spare some of his precious time to read a mushy…uhmm…work. It is just that my pop is a techphobic. He is the only middle-aged guy who doesn’t own a cp then how much more expecting him to surf the net to sneak on his first-born’s virtual journal. He prefers his ancient ways. So… well… yeah, that is why I’m doing this because he would never know about this. But a lot of people will:)

I’m close to my mom and we can get really mushy at times with all that, “labyu mom, mwaah:) padagdag po ng allowance ha.” But my pop is an entirely different story.

We don’t talk unless we really have to. I remember that when I was in grade school, during those once-in-a-blue moon incidents when he would suddenly drop by the school to fetch me and shobe, we would take the long and boring ride home, and the car would be silent for an hour with only Britney singing You Were Born To Make Me Happy in the background. He is a Britney and Christina fan. He wouldn’t ask about our day in school nor would we ask him what business had brought him to Marbel. Still, there was no awkward silence, we just sit side by side and Pat at the back seat (I’m entitled to have the front seat because I’m older), immersed in our own worlds, all feeling very comfortable with the set-up. He is busy driving and Pat & I are busy munching Peter Pan’s Pizza.

I can’t remember a time when I said I love you to him (retreat, recollection, & homeroom “forced” letters not included). But I can’t remember a time when he said I love you also. During my growing years, we never hugged each other. It is just not our thing. He is not emotional and I’m not showy. We’re just even. Hehe. He thinks cheesiness would drag his machismo down to negative eleven.

One thing great about my pop is that he never spanked us nor yelled at us. He is even our savior when my mom turns into ballistic mode. He scolds us once in a while. Only when mom scolds him for not scolding us:)

We do have our bonding moments. Every Monday of summer, he would kidnap me & shobe, buckle us up in the back seat, drive us to Marbel, and have lunch with us. Actually, mom would make him do the weekly grocery but he would bring us along to keep him company. So that he wouldn’t get quizzical looks from gasoline boys hearing Christina singing Come On Over. When he is in a good mood we get to watch a movie. He gets to choose the movie though because he was the one with the bucks. Don’t ask what movies he made us watched. I’d rather remember the memories of popcorns & sodas.

My training with him was quite different. He brought me & pat along when he goes to the farm. He would make us go down the muddy paddies, ride the carabao, operate the araro, and do other farm works like carrying sacks of rice, mixing & spraying fertilizers, feeding pigs, herding cattles… you know, just the regular stuffs. I would always ask (that is about every ride to the farm) why we have to go with him under the scorching sun with our slippers getting stuck in the mountains of mud when we’d rather be at home finding hidden mickeys at the boob tube. “So you would know that it is not easy to find money.” One of his one-liners which took me almost a decade to fully understand.

He also would not pay for my driving lessons. He insisted on teaching me himself. All through out my short course with him, I’ve recorded around 795 swear words, that would triple if we count the versions of each. After the 3rd & 5/8 session he gave me a technical 5. Whoa! Not even a 4?! How cruel.

He also would not drive us to school. We live on a faraway kingdom devoid of civilization and it takes us an hour to reach school. He insisted that we commute. We used to bargain that it is not really necessary the he should be the one driving, he and mom could hire a driver. They just said, “No thanks! We really don’t need an extra expense.” Great! Which means we have to wake-up early, we cannot complain about slow-poke drivers, we cannot rant about unpleasant passengers, we cannot act like we own the van, and we have to learn the art of discipline and keeping our mouth shut. Until I graduated, I did not appreciate this practice and tradition of commuting. But it sure helps me now in college. I know how to say “para” correctly and not “Manong! Stop the jeepney now!”  Ten years of commuting saved me from looking like a stupid primma donna freshie and being a butt of joke.

When I finally decided to enter UP he got these to say:
1. Never join a sorority. (No problem.)
2. Never forget your Catholic education. (Certainly.)
3. Never smoke. (No need to remind me.)
4. Never join a rally. (Next please…)
5. Don’t party too much. (Come on…)

So far, I broke 2 of his bilins. And that is how far I can go. I can’t let him down that much.

For one year now, we only see each other during vacation. My mom said he would ask everytime he gets home if I texted. Sabi ko na nga ba, di ako nun matitiis. I can’t also deny that I also miss the most important man in my life.

He may be tough outside but he also has a soft spot for his daughters. He is not a typical father but I would never have it another way around. He may think that being showy would make him less of a man but he would never hesitate to do the laundry when the househelp wouldn’t show up so that his 3 ladies’ hands would not get laundry burns. He prefers his prehistoric ways so that would make washing machines out of the question. He is sweet and thoughtful in his own way. I think it is cute. It adds mystery to his fatherhood.

Mom said that although pop is not perfect, he is trying his best to be a good dad. My dad is perfect through his imperfections. He is not included in OK Magazine’s 50 Hottest Dads but I think he is the best and hunkiest pop in the whole wide world! Yes, potbelly & balding hair included.

Labyu pop:) Cheers! You have made a great job! Happy Father’s Day!

PS. padagdag ng allowance ha…