Remote Lessons and Sunday Dinners
Last night, I finished reading a book about a family and the author placed emphasis on her relationship with her father. Last night (or I should say, a little after midnight) I watched the 17th episode of HEROES and it was also focused on a father and his child.
And so we come to today, which is the 8th death anniversary of my dad. His name was Salvador Tan. Almost everyone knew him as Buddy Tan. (Which makes me wonder if his mother ever called him Salvador whenever she was angry at him for being hard-headed.)
Makes me wonder if my dad if trying to tell him something.
In Brandie’s eulogy, he observed that our dad always seemed to get into some business that was relevant or important for his family.
You see, our dad was a workaholic. He usually came home near midnight, and even then he sometimes worked at home. Even though he was usually not around six days of the week, he brought in TV shows that somehow kept us company.
For example, he might not have been around to help us with out homework, but he was the one who got the rights to air SESAME STREET here in the Philippines. (It was also his bright idea to air it in Tagalog. Which is why, you’ve got some confused kids who got to watch the episode where they were featuring the letter “W” and they showed the animation of water droplets and the voice-over announcer said, “W… w… w… TUBIG.”) That’s didn’t last too long, I think.
Our dad was rarely home to tell us bedtime stories, but he did bring in THE TWILIGHT ZONE and JIM HENSON’S STORYTELLER series.
He even went to work on Saturdays, but he did air shows like G.I.JOE and VOLTRON and THE TRANSFORMERS. (We sometimes went to his office and watched the episodes ahead of everyone else. We sat in the dark, cold editing room and lugged around the heavy Umatic tapes of all those cartoons.)
Later on, when he saw how much time we spent surfing the net, so he tried to jumpstart an online-shopping-site.
He even aired shows from the Catholic channel EWTN, which might have been his way of showing my mom that he did believed in the Word of God even though he never went with us to Sunday Mass.
My dad was present for us, provided for us, taught us, even though he was rarely there.
He did make it a point to be with us every Sunday.
After mass, we’d go swimming with him at Philippine Plaza’s “Treasure Island” pool. Then we’d go to Virra Mall to borrow Laser Discs, then do the groceries at UniMart and buy some fresh fish at the palengke in Cubao. Back home, he’d cook Sunday dinner and we’d talk and laugh and make up for time we all weren’t together during the week.
Sunday dinners weren’t always like that.
But I really cherish that one night we all burst out laughing, and for the life of me, I can’t remember why we laughed. I don’t know if it was because of some joke or something that someone said. Whatever it was, we all laughed and laughed so far I was already in tears and Brandie had one of his laughing-fits that he couldn’t stop.
I wish I could’ve taken a picture of that night, of that moment. If you did take a picture, you would’ve also seen Shaq, out black Labrador quietly nibbling on a bone underneath the table. Yup, we would’ve made a great Norman Rockwell painting. Our sunday dinners weren’t always like that.
I’m just happy to remember such moments.
Thanks dad.
"All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone
Flowers gathered in the evening,
Afternoon they blossom on;
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone"
--neil gaiman
Last night, I finished reading a book about a family and the author placed emphasis on her relationship with her father. Last night (or I should say, a little after midnight) I watched the 17th episode of HEROES and it was also focused on a father and his child.
And so we come to today, which is the 8th death anniversary of my dad. His name was Salvador Tan. Almost everyone knew him as Buddy Tan. (Which makes me wonder if his mother ever called him Salvador whenever she was angry at him for being hard-headed.)
Makes me wonder if my dad if trying to tell him something.
In Brandie’s eulogy, he observed that our dad always seemed to get into some business that was relevant or important for his family.
You see, our dad was a workaholic. He usually came home near midnight, and even then he sometimes worked at home. Even though he was usually not around six days of the week, he brought in TV shows that somehow kept us company.
For example, he might not have been around to help us with out homework, but he was the one who got the rights to air SESAME STREET here in the Philippines. (It was also his bright idea to air it in Tagalog. Which is why, you’ve got some confused kids who got to watch the episode where they were featuring the letter “W” and they showed the animation of water droplets and the voice-over announcer said, “W… w… w… TUBIG.”) That’s didn’t last too long, I think.
Our dad was rarely home to tell us bedtime stories, but he did bring in THE TWILIGHT ZONE and JIM HENSON’S STORYTELLER series.
He even went to work on Saturdays, but he did air shows like G.I.JOE and VOLTRON and THE TRANSFORMERS. (We sometimes went to his office and watched the episodes ahead of everyone else. We sat in the dark, cold editing room and lugged around the heavy Umatic tapes of all those cartoons.)
Later on, when he saw how much time we spent surfing the net, so he tried to jumpstart an online-shopping-site.
He even aired shows from the Catholic channel EWTN, which might have been his way of showing my mom that he did believed in the Word of God even though he never went with us to Sunday Mass.
My dad was present for us, provided for us, taught us, even though he was rarely there.
He did make it a point to be with us every Sunday.
After mass, we’d go swimming with him at Philippine Plaza’s “Treasure Island” pool. Then we’d go to Virra Mall to borrow Laser Discs, then do the groceries at UniMart and buy some fresh fish at the palengke in Cubao. Back home, he’d cook Sunday dinner and we’d talk and laugh and make up for time we all weren’t together during the week.
Sunday dinners weren’t always like that.
But I really cherish that one night we all burst out laughing, and for the life of me, I can’t remember why we laughed. I don’t know if it was because of some joke or something that someone said. Whatever it was, we all laughed and laughed so far I was already in tears and Brandie had one of his laughing-fits that he couldn’t stop.
I wish I could’ve taken a picture of that night, of that moment. If you did take a picture, you would’ve also seen Shaq, out black Labrador quietly nibbling on a bone underneath the table. Yup, we would’ve made a great Norman Rockwell painting. Our sunday dinners weren’t always like that.
I’m just happy to remember such moments.
Thanks dad.
"All around me darkness gathers,
Fading is the sun that shone;
We must speak of other matters:
You can be me when I'm gone
Flowers gathered in the evening,
Afternoon they blossom on;
Still are withered by the evening:
You can be me when I'm gone"
--neil gaiman