While growing up, I was convinced that there was nothing that my dad, my favorite person in the world, could not do. He raised nine children, provided them with a humble yet secure home, a rice plantation, a fair size land to grow the crops, and carabaos to use as tractors in the field. But the most enjoyable times for me were the storytelling evenings, which were not often enough but, a real treat indeed. And… Father also did carpentry!!

I was in my teen years when my dad decided to remodel our kitchen. He wanted the kitchen to be totally separated from the eating area - sort of a big deal to accomplish where we lived. His grand idea would definitely boost his pride when his three daughters would return home, my two older sisters from working as nannies in Manila, and I would be on school vacation.  We got home, and Father proudly presented his masterpiece. There was now a door going to the kitchen where the wood-burning stove was out of sight. To the left was the improved freestanding sink to do dishes in. But wait a minute… the ten-foot long antique mahogany dining table (my grandmother’s) was too long where it was situated. You had to crawl under the table to sit at the opposite side, which was against the wall - no place for the chairs on either end as well.

My sister, Ate Belen, a master-mind, had a better idea… we would fix it! And, he must not notice it!  Father went to visit the farm every single day and it usually took him the whole morning, until late afternoon, to check the area. Immediately, both of my sisters grabbed the tools, saw, hammer, nails, etc. I was the lookout - they must be warned of his return. My sisters finished and did a good job shortening the dining table about 3 feet, covered it with a pretty white crocheted table cloth, and placed a vase of fresh flowers at the center. We waited… breathlessly.

Father came home with a load of cooking bananas on his shoulder, took them straight to the kitchen, came out and stood for a moment alongside the table. He shook his head, but not a word came out of his mouth. Father spoke very few words. Did he look angry? No, we didn’t think so.

After supper, he asked for a glass of tuba, a coconut wine. Uh, oh… he could not tolerate wine, a couple of glasses would be plenty to kept him either singing and/or talking. It was the talking time, unfortunately.

The first glass of tuba was gulped so quickly, he asked for the second -his final. He started humming a song, his face was turning tomato red. “You, ungrateful girls, come out here, and explain to me what gave you the right to ruin my dining table, he demanded! None of us made a sound, hiding behind a door in the living area. He threw the empty glass toward us, it broke on the floor. We never saw him like this before! “Why did you not ask a permission? How could you betray your father like this? I would not have daughters disrespectful of their parents, I want you to remember this!"

The next morning, there was only silence. Words of apology were never said nor needed. It was understood, and clearly. Never again! He left to tend his daily routine without any mention of the embarrassing event caused by his daughters. None of us dared to say anything.

He was Dad!