NIKKEI INDEX UP BY 1

I rarely crave specific foods, and even when I do, I wouldn’t go monkeying out of control if those cravings weren’t satisfied. Going further back in time, this may have been instilled in me early in life, growing up in a poor family. I spent my childhood without the latest toys, fancy shoes or clothes, or even hand-me-down Geiger counters.

Even now, as a married man, when my date asks me where I want to eat during our Saturday breakfasts, we usually end up at one of my favorite restaurants: “Caw?” “Sanmutype,” or “Caitsaan.” Sometimes, we even end up at “Qungsanmoora.” They have branches nationwide. Drop my name, you might get an extra discount.

But life has a way of giving you a treat, even when you don’t ask for one. Somehow, The Creator knew what my heart truly desired. Let me unbox that for you:

After my son, Andre, was born, and when my wife became pregnant again, people would ask, “Would you prefer a baby girl this time?”

I would always say, “A healthy baby, boy or girl.”

That may have been true. I would have been delighted with another boy or a beautiful baby girl. I had no preference.

But God knew me better than I knew myself.

On this very day in 1997, God heard the silent sigh that came from my heart. He blessed me with a lovely daughter! I really wanted one, after all.

We named her Nina Kristin (for when I ask her to do her chores), and nicknamed her Nikkei (for when I’m asking her for a favor).

That day, my unspoken craving, my inner desire, was finally satisfied: I had a daughter!

I have a daughter! Today is her birthday, and she’s giving us a treat.

Happy birthday, Nikkei, my dear.

FLOOD CONTROL & A HEART

Every time a really heavy rain falls, floodwater builds up in the small space between our kitchen wall and our neighbor's tall concrete fence, then seeps into our kitchen. I'm not entirely sure if the government has anything to do with it, apart from the property contractor apparently taking inspiration from its flawed flood-control projects. I can almost read their minds: "If the government can do it badly, we can do it even worse!"

So I hired one of my brother's workers who is an all-around skilled dude whose resumé includes waterproofing narrow spaces between kitchen walls and neighboring tall concrete fences. Yes, that specific.

For about six or seven (6,7

) rainy days, the project seemed to work well. But when the next monsoon arrived sooner than expected, the flood control couldn't control the flood anymore.

Instead of reporting the anomaly to Sec. Vince Dizon, my mind pivoted to self-preservation: I'll do this thing myself. I summoned my lower back, and my joints to cooperate. My mind too. This was as much mental as it was physical.

For four consecutive days, I was a man of grit, valor, and brawn.

My son, Andre, even asked, "Dad, why not have the waterproofing specialist redo it instead of doing it yourself?"

I told him, "There is one thing that other people cannot do that only I can: do this with a heart."

And yes, mi gran corazón worked!

No more puddles. No more mopping. No more worrying whenever the rain comes down hard.

The heart did it.

Fast-forward, or rather, backtrack 32 years.

Thirty-two years ago today, my queen and I made vows to each other. I may have forgotten the exact words, but I remember the promise: that with God's help, I would do everything in my power to protect my queen and our future family with all my heart.

Heart.

For 32 years, that has been my story.

And for all the years still to come, it will be the same heart.

Shut up, joints and lower back! We've got this covered.

Happy 32nd anniversary, my Doe-a-Dear!

Te quiero mucho.

P.S.

One day, we were alone in the house. While I was doing my thing in the dry kitchen, Rissa was listening to her favorite podcast with her AirPods on.

I let out a loud, proud, warm fart that shook my chair.

"Did you say something, dear?" Rissa asked as she removed one AirPod.

"Yes, dear."

"What?"

"Um... Okay ka lang diyan?"

Yep! 32 years strong...

A TRIBUTE TO 70

Today, my beloved parents, Bienvenido and Leonila, would have celebrated their 70th wedding anniversary. This post is my humble homage to the 57 years they shared, from the depths of my heart.

Last year, I made a New Year’s resolution unlike any I’d attempted -ever. For the first time in my life, I actually kept it -not just for the year, but before, during, and right up to this very moment.

The resolution was simple on the surface, yet it carried real self-denial and my own brand of discipline.

Here it is: I bought nothing personal. Absolutely. Nothing. For. Myself.

With one small caveat: I allowed myself the bare essentials -medicine, food, and whatever supplies my business required. Everything else? Off-limits. Otherwise, I’d end up a dead, rotting corpse in an old, borrowed Barong Tagalog that the owner decided not to take back after my cremation.

No new clothes, no caps, no shoes, no socks, no underwear. (Don’t worry -I didn’t go commando; the old classics were meticulously rotated.)

No gadgets, no phones, no laptops, no watches. Not even a case or a strap.

No screwsdrivers, no tools, no carmeras, no lenses.

No golf bags, no clubs, no tees, no gloves.

And -hold tight -no golf balls. That could only mean I played nearly as well as Scottie and lost fewer balls, or I picked up more lost balls than usual last year. You decide.

I strolled through Nike, Adidas, and Mizuno without once reaching for my wallet.

Daiso, Uniqlo, DonKi, Lotte, H&M, and every outlet mall sent me desperate “We Miss You” and “Wish You Were Here” emails.

Black Friday, Boxing Day, 10.10, 11.11, Amazon Prime Day -they all came and went without a single, silent keyboard tap from me.

We traveled to Taiwan, Japan, and Korea last year, and I came home with exactly zero new possessions. Lighter suitcase, heavier conscience (in a good way).

But here’s the real reason I’m sharing this. This wasn’t just some odd personal challenge or a doomsday survival DIY. It was my quiet, deliberate way of honoring my parents.

I chose not to buy, even though I easily could have. They, in their time -especially while raising us children -had no choice at all. They simply could not buy anything for themselves. They borrowed money, stretched every peso, and went without -not for a single year, but for so many, so we could go to school, eat, and have a future.

I only had to think about myself. They had to think about all of us, every single day.

I only had to skip non-essentials. They often worried whether there would even be essentials.

And they did it not out of duty or a yearly resolution, but out of a love so profound, so selfless, it never asked for recognition or repayment.

By denying myself when I didn’t have to, I wanted -even if only faintly -to touch the hem of their sacrificial cloak. To carry, for one brief chapter of my life, a fraction of the weight they bore without complaint for so long.

An imperfect attempt to say thank you.

Dearest Inang and Tatang dear, though you have left this world, your love remains the strongest force in mine. Thank you for showing me what true giving looks like.

And as for the money I didn’t spend? I’ll plead Matthew 6:3.

Happiest anniversary to our family.

Happiest New Year to y’all.

Cheers!