BY BORDI JAEN
(Writer’s Note: By the time this article comes out, it will have been a few days since Father’s Day. To all fathers out there, happy Father’s Day!)
A FATHER is like the rose of the Little Prince. As this fox would tell you, there are many fathers out there but the one we have is uniquely ours for he is the one we (and they) invest time, patience, and care with. On Father’s Day, I look back fondly on the lessons my old man had imparted on me.
Tatay, as I fondly called him (and which he preferred to be called), was very good at giving criticism constructively. When we used to have wide-ranging discussions (and I would bombard him with questions), sometimes I would chime in my opinion on the subject. Being only around 12 or 13 at that time, I didn’t have very well-formed opinions. I would get things wrong.
I could never forget how Tatay responded to each one. Sometimes, he agreed, but when I was wrong, he gently corrected me by stating facts. He never shouted at me. He was never haughty. He never called me names. He didn’t directly say I was wrong but instead stated facts that led me to conclude I was wrong.
He never fell into the trap of many so-called “intellectuals” haughty of their knowledge and who wonder why people don’t listen to them despite their correct logic (when it is not their knowledge that people are in contempt of but they themselves). No truth can be agreeable uttered from a disagreeable mouth.
I am in awe of Tatay’s poignant constructive criticism. It is something that to this day I still strive to emulate. He certainly emulated the philosopher Blaise Pascal who stated, “People are generally better persuaded by the reasons which they have themselves discovered than by those which have come into the mind of others.”
However, even the minds of the most indomitable have their periods of Achillean weakness. Sometimes, PhDs forget things in their fields of expertise. Sometimes, the athlete isn’t up to their game. It’s a part of life. As such, sometimes Tatay was wrong.
When he was wrong, he accepted it with grace. This, for me, was always something that stood out in him because usually, parents didn’t like to be corrected by their children and people in general dislike being corrected.
Tatay ate his serving of humble pie with gusto. I could judge from his eyes that this was not an easy thing for him to do but he knew it had to be done. This earned my immense respect.
He taught me to be a socially responsible individual. He had an innate philanthropic nature quite rare in a person. He was well-loved because of his love of humanity. I always wondered why he chose to be so when he could be better off not casting his net of care far and wide.
I always wondered why he chose to step up in his public service. I inquired this of him once and his reply was somewhere along the lines of, “Dear Bordi, if we do not step up, who will? Is it just to see suffering around you and not do anything about it? Is it wise to expect others to fill in the shoes that you can fit on? Do good because God gave us gifts and blessings not to hoard for ourselves but to share with others. Do good because you can.”
He helped me see the importance of good education and reading. In this aspect of my rearing, he was non-compromising. This was where the velvet glove was taken off and the iron fist showed its might.
I remember vividly being scolded for playing too many videogames: “Abi, stop playing your videogames. Pick up the newspaper!”
As a typical pre-pubescent, I thought newspapers were for old people. After all, I only saw old people like Tatay reading them! (By the way, Panay News was his favorite newspaper and the one he would make me read). Thus, my reading habit began with reading his morning PN in the afternoon, when he was finished with it.
It wasn’t easy to read with all the technical terms I had yet to truly understand, but he was always there to satiate my curiosity. Thanks to Tatay, I acquired the habit of reading the news, which expanded into reading books, columns, and so on.
I think the reason he placed a particular importance on education could be found in the advice he once gave me in a heart-to-heart talk: “Bordi, always strive to be better educated. Remember that money, influence, and the like can be taken away from you but nobody can take away what’s in here (gesturing to the temple of his head).” Thus, I always approached voracious reading with his advice in my mind.
I lament that I am growing to forget some of my cherished memories of him, which hopefully I can alleviate and etch into the edifice of time with my recounting and writing of them. It is even more lamentable that not every man has taken up the responsibility of fatherhood as Tatay did. I lament for those who have not had such a similar experience as I did. Those whose fathers could never fully express fatherly love. By God, Tatay was not a perfect man and had many faults, but I could never deny that he was a great father.
I may forget the memories as time unstoppably marches, but I would never forget the lessons my old man taught me./PN
