Migs Bassig

Happy father’s day to every father in the Philippines!

You must be quite special to be able to play that role, especially here, given the tough times and extra pressure on family values. You must be carrying such a heavy mantle on your shoulders. You must be more than the “World’s Greatest Dad”: the phrase printed on so many of the gift items that I, thinking of something to get you, have seen here in the mall.

What if I get you a “World’s Greatest Dad” coffee mug? Not that you need one. You start every day earlier than the rest of us, cockerels included. You get up at half five, or six, or half six, or seven, but never later than eight in the morning. To maximize productivity, you usually skip breakfast –but not the Nescafe 3-in-1– and that’s why I wonder how, on that empty stomach, you can brave such rush hour traffic as people outside of the Philippines wouldn’t believe, and I mean really wouldn’t believe. Anyway: no, a coffee mug wouldn’t be a good idea, for you already have a natural wellspring of patience, hard work, and caffeine.

Maybe a “World’s Greatest Dad” picture frame? You don’t have that yet. I noticed that you’ve kept Fujifilm pictures of your sons and daughters in your wallet –as currency for memory– and even though time may crease the edges of these prints and blur its colours, you’d still hold on to them as though these were beer money.

Or a “World’s Greatest Dad” mouse pad might do you even better. That’s a nice little aid for when you work hours at the computer, and know more and understand better the quirks –among them, technology– that make my generation different from yours. A friend of mine says: “So much of later learning is taken up with connections that are still very difficult to express in known languages (in this case, the language of point and click).” Don’t you agree? Fathers may stand as the tower of wisdom but even so, you are open and you listen.

Well, how about a “World’s Greatest Dad” baseball cap? Something to shade you from the severe sun. After all, the climate here has been very disagreeable. Right now it’s hotter than summer, and I am surprised that the heat could be so ferocious at this time of the year. Only the calendar is proof that it’s June. Yet you toil on anyway –driving the jeepney, planting the rice, attending the meetings, taking the live calls, wheeling your patients to the emergency room, whatever it is that you do– so that at the end of the day, you can go home with a promise that no one will go hungry tomorrow.

Perhaps you’ll appreciate instead a “World’s Greatest Dad” fridge magnet. From the shadows of the staircase your children watched you work on an adobo recipe like a piece of cake and make something wonderful out of a can of Ligo Sardines. You’d never utter a word whilst cooking, never sang, never whistled; you’d be lost in concentration, or in a state of prayer, as if in another world, roasting, frying, steaming, dutifully tossing salt and garlic chops into a pot until without warning the telephone rang. Or sometimes it was a neighbour looking to borrow the toolbox. In any case, you’ve taught us the value and intimacy of a home-cooked meal – sprinkled with love and served with affection. Aww.

But I’ve run out of time, typing this, so I guess my Father’s Day gift will be a Swiss Army Knife. One can never go wrong with that.

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