***i was rifling through my old posts at my other site (Recyled Thoughts) last week when i stumbled into something that i wrote about 3 years ago. and since Father’s day is just a few hours away, it seemed appropriate to repost it here (with a few changes)***

for a long while now i have managed to resist the temptation to write event-themed posts (valentine, new year, mother’s day, christmas), partly because i didn’t want the predictability ‘tag’ hanging on my coattails and partly because i have this perverse tendency to buck the trend.

the last few days, however, have made me realize that even my conversations lately have rarely touched on my father… so, i’m going to bend my rule for a bit and muse about him.

my father, like most men of his generation, was of the old school — you know, the stern stoic and undemonstrative but responsible-to-the-hilt type. he was content to let my mother manage the household, but whenever he decided to put his foot down we all toed the line (although there were times when my mother, with her subtle ways, could actually make him change his mind without him being aware of it).

whenever he laid down one of his decisions, his voice sounded like the crack of doom, and us kids would react accordingly. his decrees, which rang with quiet authority, had the imposing air and the constitutional mandate of the Ten Commandments, and we all knew better than to argue or whine. The judge hath spoken…

my father, despite his crusty exterior, had his “soft” side, too. on rare occasions he would set aside his serious respectable self and play with us. and he liked to see us screaming in glee as we feasted on his pasalubong whenever he came back from one of his out-of-his-town trips. the one scene that has stuck with me all these years was my father sitting in his favorite chair in a corner with this mellow look on his face as he watched us stuffing our faces with food and playing with the toys he brought.

but as we grew older he got more serious. it wasn’t until i was in high school that we really began to connect again, just around the time when i finally learned to express myself without sounding like a total idiot. he had no clear favorite among us but i was the one that he could really talk to. at first it was just small, inconsequential things; as time went on, we began discussing about issues (political and social). our favorite topics were history, military hardware and music (he was a part-time member of a local orchestra). the funny thing is that although he’s good with musical instruments (guitar, trumpet, trombone), we have never heard him sing. ever.

want to hear another ironic thing? my mother is tone-deaf — to the point that it’ll hurt your ears just to hear her relentlessly belt out a tune. it doesn’t stop her from trying though, and we’ve all learned to live with it. tatay just smiles at our hilarious complaints, and to this day i have yet to hear him comment on nanay’s voice.

once, a friend asked him pointblank to define the best thing he has ever achieved in life. after a silent minute he replied, “my children, i think. they’re my best investment. whatever they’ll accomplish, that’s the interest i’ve earned.”

thanks ‘tay. happy father’s day.

here’s a perfect panacea when your day looks like it’s going down the drain…

not too sweet, not too heavy, with a taste that lingers tantalizingly after you’ve swallowed your last forkful. Crepe a la mode is a perfect way to top off a heavy sizzling lunch (never mind the guilt for packing in those calories).