A Dad named "DOC"

When I was little, I never experienced having any real toy. He bought me live ones like chicks and ducklings. Not one or two, but a number of them roaming around every nook and cranny of our tiny apartment. He told my maternal aunts, that toys should be able to interact - - - move, squeal, jump, run. I managed to interact quite well, thanks to him. And at the mature age of two, I have squeezed to death several ducklings and whack to kingdom come a number of squealing chicks. A felon at two! Who can beat that?

Because of this experience, Doc never bought any more live toys with any of the younger siblings. The fellow after me, his junior nicknamed Boy, was lucky to have a moving toy train with a meter of racetrack when he turned two. Both enjoyed playing with the pushbutton to make the train move with the "toot-toot" sound. But as far as I can remember, it was Doc who enjoyed the toy train more than Boy himself. His face in blissful surrender, beaming with glee as the train moved around and around. The other siblings got their fair share of walking dolls, video machines, scooters etc. But I never saw that beaming pride and joy from his face ever again. Probably, it's the simpler things that really made him happy.

Doc used to like watching movies back then. We lived in this tiny apartment in Pasay, and after work, he brings me along to see a movie in a nearby theatre. I remember him walking to the movie house, carrying me in his arms as we strolled along the cramp streets of Pasay. Inside the theatre, I either sit or stand on his lap depending on the interest I had on what is shown. However, this weekly sojourn came to a stop because of one particular incident. I remember it vividly, though I was only two or three years old.

"There I was contentedly sitting on his lap, and then he went berserk. He pounded, punched and kicked at the guy next to us, without saying anything. He managed to do all that, with me dangling on his other arm. I saw the guy shrank in fear, and we left the theatre in a huff."

Only after did I knew, that the poor guy lustily tried to put his hand on Doc's lap. And that did him in. Pity him! After this incident, his interest in the movies waned and our father-daughter bonding shifted to swimming at the cool waters of Manila Bay instead.

At the Mindanao State University campus, our house had the best yard (1,500 sqm) in all the faculty houses. Doc and a relative named, Igoy ransacked a nearby hill of all carabao grasses and painstakingly plant it in our yard. They also took pains in rolling several rock boulders (2 feet by 3 feet, weighing about 2 tons each) from the mountainside and placed it provocatively in several places, to make the garden looked Japanese. They planted multicolored daisies in the veranda, gumamelas and a glowing firetree at the entrance of the house. Doc saw to it that plants of the same species are planted together. At the backyard, neat rows of vegetable crops were planted. There were also several well-constructed climbing structures for the kalabasa, patola, upo, sitaw and sayote. We have papayas, peanuts, kadyos - well, practically everything. Doc was a consummate gardener; his produce was the best from the rest. He was scientific too. He read from somewhere that the best fertilizer, was manure. So, he used the water flowing from the crack in the sewage to water his plants.

Knowing that, we kids vowed never to eat his vegetables. He had to bribe us with several centavos, for us to even touch it. We would rather faint and die, than get those things into our mouths. He must have found a market for his products since the flow of the centavos stopped after some time. That mere thought saved us a lot of anxious nights, knowing that the veggies were going elsewhere and not where we dread it would be.


Doc became Dean of Liberal Arts at an early age. As such, student parties were frequently held in our yard where as always, he was the supreme mover. Students flocked to him like he was some sort of guru. He was not really good-looking; but the moment he opens his mouth, he easily beats the handsomest man in the crowd. It was always a source of amusement for me to see Doc then, join a gathering unobtrusively; then later see him being flocked by a multitude of students and colleagues alike, in a mirthful exchange of banters. His wit, humor and intelligence were deadly combinations; truly a master in the verbal arena, bar none.


Doc had this habit of sleeping after lunch till 3 o'clock. His internal batteries seemed to get drained by around that time and he can't help but sleep for a few hours. Probably, this was the result of his being awake early, which was around 4 am. This early start gave him time to read the papers and go over his work for the day. He also watered his plants early in the morning and checked if there was some pruning to do. So by the time we woke up, he must have finished a third of what he was to do that day.

One time, big shots from Malacanang visited the MSU campus. This was an advance party for the visit of the late President and Madame Imelda Marcos. The advance party was headed by Ex-Senator Ernie Maceda. With him, were some of the top honchos of Malacanang. They went over to the house and looked for Doc, since he headed the welcoming committee. However, Doc had specific instructions at home not to wake him up during siesta time even if it was God Himself who asked for him. So mom Rose, informed Mr. Maceda that she was sorry but her husband can't see him, because he was asleep. Mr. Maceda got amused! It was probably the first time that he got snubbed by a mere mortal like Doc.

At the gathering for the Marcoses, Doc got ribbed that he didn't wake up for the advance party of Mr. Maceda. He told them in his most charming way: "Oh, but he ain't God - ain't he?"


One afternoon, way back in 1968, Doc came home early at our apartment in Iligan City. He told us kids and mom Rose, to dress up since we are all going out to eat to celebrate. So oft we went to the only Chinese pansiteria in the city proper and ordered lumpia shampia, pancit canton, sweet and sour pork and fried chicken. Us kids knew that it was something big since we only have these staples if there was good news. Well, he finally told us - - - he got a promotion and a raise! He was now Vice President of the university and will be receiving a tidy sum of P1,700 a month! He was beaming and proud of himself. And we were proud of him too!


When I finally joined BioResources International in the middle 80's, I was startled to find out that he was already earning a bundle on his projects. One lazy night at home while he was listening to his favorite Tchaikovsky and Chopin, I told him about that raise from the university. He smiled a knowing smile, looked intently at a distance, smiled again - then went back to listening to his classics.


There was this big billboard at the Southsuper highway, near the Makati area with a saying that went like this: "No amount of success can compensate for failure in the home" . He kept pointing that big billboard to us, if by chanced we pass that route.


He never failed to bring to our attention that we were obligated as siblings to help one another. And if we fail to help a sibling in need, that sibling will inadvertently pull us all down. So for self -preservation, he says, help one another!


He understood the power of women over men. He kept on harping to us, his daughters, to be stronger than our would-be husbands. Emphatically telling us to be emotionally and financially stronger. Being so, he says, would assure us that if something goes wrong, we can always kick the pesky men out of our lives!


Three months before he died, he met with us, his children, at the Sunset View Towers Condominium. He told us, in his most placid manner, that his internal system was collapsing and that he might kick the bucket soon. However, being an optimist that he was, he said that he had all the medications to counter even Death himself. And he showed us his right palm with a long lifeline, saying that he was going to outlived us all! He tried to be witty even when faced with impending death itself.


Why I call him Doc? He loved to be called by that name. There were a number of times when I called him "Pa" but it took time for him to respond. Everybody loved to call him Doc , so did I.


There were lots of disagreements between us, as father and daughter. But I know he must have already forgiven me. Why so? Well, here's the story: When Marie Alexis, my daughter was barely 2 years old, the youngest sister Rani, Marie Alexis and myself liked to cuddle up in a 'singles bed' in one of the rooms in Las Pinas. We managed to sleep soundly in that small compartment of a bed, never kicking nor hitting each other. One time, Rani and I were awaken by a loud squeal and shout from the baby, Marie. And there she was standing and pointing to a blank space beside the bed asking : " Sino iyan, sino iyan?" Rani and I got scared because there was no one around. And to our surprise, she stood there transfixed for a few minutes, as if someone was talking to her. To our horror, she stopped squealing as if she understood what was said, and went back to sleep. Rani and I ran outside the room screaming in fear, until we realized that the baby was sleeping soundly back again! I believed to this day that it was Doc himself who visited his grandchild. And so did Rani.


When he died, I got the books he was reading at the compartment of his bed. The books were: Of Death and Dying and The Origin of the Cosmos. He knew then, that he was about to kick the bucket. And he tried hard to understand the meaning of it all. I hope and pray, that he finally did+++