Before, when the month of June arrives, hundreds of dragonflies in all colors and sizes fill the weed garden that was the vacant lot besides our house. It signaled the start of rainy season and subsequently, the new school year. By fault of association, we find the start of the school year to be depressing because
the gray skied season is depressing. I, on the other hand, liked it when it was starting to rain because guavas were abundant.
We had two Guava trees and during the wet season, I wake up early to harvest the ripe ones, sell it at the local market (at aling Pearl’s in Golden City, now Pure Gold). I sell it from 17 to 46 pesos per kilo. After a lesson on guava freshness assessment and how some bruised fruit will never sell, I’d be lucky to sell 3 kilos. But she was fair, she liked the idea of a scrawny kid trying to make money. Money I’d spend on chocolates or Pik-Nik shoestring potatoes at the store that sell “PX goods”, or them imported, stateside stuff sold from this American military base in Clark Field, Pampanga. My sisters and I would share the fruits of that labor.
The school year opens with us getting the proviso 2 new pairs of shoes: one black leather pair for the daily; and rubber shoes for Physical Education, usually white.
In 1991, when I was starting high school, my love for basketball peaked, attributed to Michael Jordan’s first NBA championship.
By high school, I was confident that I’d be part of the class basketball team. At 4 foot and 8 inches and skinny 65 lbs., my hoop dreams is a terrible mismatch for my physical abilities. No real skill and I never liked running either. What I was good at was winning pocket change in some small time shooting bets from 15 feet at a makeshift dust court. I usually get to buy sarsi and Big Mak (a Burger made by a certain Mak from Lucena City, Quezon, south of Manila). A folly leading me to believe that I can be the next Allan Caidic, the triggerman, the country’s deadliest shooter and overall defensive liability.
He’ll shoot the lights out of ULTRA, overwhelming offense that most times make up for less than par defense. Coach Baby Dalupan (Google him as the Filipino Red Auerbach) won championships on the offense where Caidic just need an able point guard who can locate him, wide bodies for screens and rebounding in case he missed. Presto! (See what I did there, okay, google ‘Presto PBA’ too!). Of course that all changed when Phil Jackson said something about “Defense winning championships” and a local American (local American because he is Filipino in the highest regard) named Tim Cone took that to heart, reshaped like a ‘triangle’, and beat every Philippine professional team in the 90s… Let’s get back to my story, shall we?
I think I made the basketball team because I was class president. I’d like to believe that I was the 9th best player of the team but I wasn’t able to prove it because I wore leather shoes during practice. Running on leather shoes on a cement court was this brutal teacher about friction and heat. There was a delay in buying me rubber shoes because I asked that I be bought something more respectable other than the Robotman and US Gear I had prior. The theory was to exhibit serious dedication to the craft by having hyped branded gear. That thought was implanted by peer pressure, or Spike Lee’s thesis about AJ1.
My dad was working at a quarry on a land owned by his family. It was a regular job earning him 10pesos per truck full of rocks that passed.
He flashed a thick wad of 500 pesos, I thought that’s a lot of trucks! It turns out he sold some of their land that day for quick cash. He gave a few pieces of it to mom, we went to Alabang and I told her I wanted to have a Nike Force! When we got to the pricey shoe store my mom asked if I really need it which roughly translates a ” would I want a compromise”. I was never good at this part of the negotiation, I always give in when my mom has to explain the importance of something. I thought I’d be open for buying The triggerman shoes by Converse or KayPee as endorsed by other PBA stars. We ended at Zenco Footsteps, a shoe store that has it all before Shoe Mart (SM) claimed the title.
I ended up buying a white addoin, read as add-in because it turns out that the mistaken ‘o’ that looked like a tennis ball was actually the logo.
The shoe felt ok. When my cousin, Kuya Jodi who never had a local shoe in his life, saw it, he just smiled. I thought he snorted to hold his laughter. I played 2 games with it, (the class presidency kept me busy). We won the championship without the school knowing how great I was. The Nike and Converse kids carried the team. I pledged that this should never happen again.
Having exhausted my 2 shoe privilege, I knew I can buy a shoe if I saved enough guava money. But that won’t solve the trend of annual crappy shoe I get for school. I thought the best way to do it is to buy my dad shoes. My father rarely bought clothes. He rarely wore them either. He’d often be in briefs at home. He even drove us to school in his undies one time. I remember him having 2 pair of pants, and maybe hand me down shoes. As a person who seldom had a job, he kept his personal overheads low. One time, he ran out of undies and we saw him wear one of my mom’s panties. Maybe it was for an entirely different reason.
But at that time, 1991, he got something of a regular income. Maybe he’d get the idea and buy me better shoes next time if I get him a nice pair, some wird tit for tat. His birthday was in September, I had about 8 weeks to do it.
By August, I was harvesting a kilo every other day. The thing is that the price of guava is at a steady low of 17-22 pesos with high supply. My target was about 1500pesos for Nikes size 9.
To compensate, I’d save tips my my mom gives me, whenever she’d ask me to do an errand for her. She’d reward me for being her personal runner for something around 100 pesos per errand that I’d usually do once every 10 days.
On my dad’s birthday, I was still about 500 pesos short, no thanks to the time when I gave in to buying big classic burger and large iced tea at Wendy’s. There was also a time when our neighbor, Ka Ingga would trade a kilo of guava for half kilo of pork. I don’t need the trade but I can’t say no to someone who’s practically a lola to us either. Should I buy cheaper sneakers? I wasn’t looking to compromise my gift for my dad because that was the point.
I kept the money inside a PikNik can found in my clothes drawer. We celebrated his birthday in San Pedro, Laguna, where he stays with our cousins Kuya Jodi and Kuya Sundance. We all believe that that was one of the best birthday he ever had. On September 23, 1991, we were happy and the family was looking a bit more stable since my dad had this renewed sense of responsibility by working more often, just in time when his kids were in high school and getting ready for college.
A hug and a kiss for my dad replaced what I had schemed for big time. He likes it when we hug him and kiss him, it was more rewarding for a man who seems to have a different set of material priorities. My best gift ever is just a few pesos, a few weeks short.
Since he was staying in Laguna most of the time, he’d visit us on the 15th of the month if we don’t get to go to San Pedro and stay with him. On October 15, I think I was still a few hundred short because the guavas are not bearing as much or a storm would shake em all off, Aling Pearl is not paying for lamog. Give me more time please. Maybe at the end of October.
But on October 15, my dad died of aneurysm. Maybe the demons of his drinking and smoking caught up with him. Maybe the angels saw that he changed and thought it was good enough for to earn him a spot in heaven. The universal plan working like clockwork. The grand scheme of things, universal plan, excluded mine.
That saved money bece worthless. I think I binged on more potato chips, Welch’s soda, Chupa Chups with free temporary tattoo or more PikNik. I think I gave some back to mom. I bought some WWF magazines with Bret Hart and Razor Ramon on the cover. I bought a lot of things but I never bought shoes. I never saved on shoes as much as I never saved for love. Love, when felt, should always be given away completely. The alternative, or the inevitable, is that love, too, will be taken away.
danDAman 