Don't Fake The Funk

Father's Day

Today my dad told me about his tenth birthday when my grandfather gave him a shoebox-shaped present. It seemed to my dad that the box itself was much heavier than a pair of shoes. When he opened the box, inside lay a hammer. A ten year-old kid would understandably not be happy about this. My dad sure wasn't. He asked my grandfather what it was all about and the answer given was, "Dignity of labor."

Despite feeling like he was jipped out of a good present, I have a feeling that that particular lesson rubbed off on my dad. He's one of the most hard-working men I know. And looking back, not only was he hard-working, but he was perhaps the best manager and fairest boss I have ever known.

Still, it's a good thing I never worked for him. Heh.

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More Father's Day stuff. Lolo (my grandfather on my mother's side) told me once that his father was a witch doctor and that he'd travel all over the visayas getting his witch doctoring on. Isn't that strange that only four generations ago my people were into witch doctoring?

Lolo, by the way, was ever the story-teller. He used to tell his grandkids about the time he was fighting the Japanese and was hit in the head with a grenade. Even though he was hit hard enough to leave a deep scar on his head (I've seen it), Lolo had the where-with-all to pick the grenade up and throw it back to the enemy.

Lolo had some cojones back in the day, man.

Posted by glenn at June 20, 2004 09:20 PM