If you’re as old as I am, or someone who grew up in the ’60s and you do not deny it, you may have remembered the 𝘍𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘈𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘊𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘺 radio ad on the AM radio. It was like the National Anthem of all commercials during that peaceful period of my childhood. My Tatang must have been one of those who fell for this ad because, every week, an agent would come by to collect his premium of P5.00. Yep. Five. 𝘓𝘪𝘮𝘢. 𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰. 𝘊𝘪𝘯𝘲. Pesos. That was when a 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘭 𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘢 from your favorite 𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪-𝘴𝘢𝘳𝘪 store would cost you two centavos.

The sad thing about insurance then is if you outlived your plan, you don’t get anything. Tatang outlived it. He got 𝘯𝘢𝘥𝘢 out of it except for the security of cover just in case. It didn’t make any sense to me until…

I was a part-time insurance/investment advisor for a good length of time. These days, companies offer life protection with investment components. So you or your family will still get your money even if you outlasted it. My Tatang’s story I got to use to encourage my clients to invest while getting insurance coverage. It played a role in my life as a mustard seed which grew in me. It’s fruit I got to harvest 40 long years after it was planted. Thanks to the seeds that were planted.

Don’t call me, though, for estate planning, bonds and equities. I’m no longer an advisor. I’m here to tell you the story and drink this cup.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

Call me a freak, I won’t mind because I probably am. I can be a nonconformist to a certain degree as long as I don’t violate rights of others.

What gave me that freedom happened when I was in high school.

Our school like any, held the National Anthem (𝙇𝙪𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜) and the Patriotic Oath (𝙋𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙖𝙠𝙖𝙗𝙖𝙮𝙖𝙣) every Monday morning in the open area/playground fronting the main building. A student, usually a senior was assigned to lead the latter after the anthem was played over the PA. One fateful Monday was mine.

The usual manner by which the Oath was led and recited was a line at a time:

Lead: 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘯

Students: 𝘗𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘢𝘣𝘢𝘺𝘢𝘯

L: 𝘐𝘯𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘬𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴

S: 𝘐𝘯𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘬𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴

L: 𝘐𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘪

S: 𝘐𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘪

…and so on.

My version was different. While I kept the first line the same, the rest I delivered like only a fearless loony would do:

Me: 𝘐𝘯𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘬𝘰!

S: 𝘐𝘯𝘪𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘬𝘰!

Me: …𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴!

S: …𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘗𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘴!

Me: 𝘐𝘵𝘰!

S:𝘐𝘵𝘰!

Me: …𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘯!

S: …𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘯!

Me: …𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘪I!

S: …𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘩𝘪I!

The entire school was laughing, although remained faithful to the Oath by repeating every word and phrase I uttered with the flagpole behind me. I kept a serious face all throughout.

At the end of the Oath ’performance,’ while acknowledging the accolade given by the students and teachers, there was one person whose reaction I was a bit wary of -the principal. I still remember her name, Mrs. Maura B. Peña. I scanned the area amidst a field of white uniforms thinning as the crowd headed towards their respective first period classes which was then already delayed. And there she was, nonchalantly kicking pebbles with her leather shoes. Her stoic face tells me that none from my bloodline will be summoned to her office. Her reaction or the absence of it, secured my future as a bald comedian.

"If you don’t take a chance, you won’t stand a chance."

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

I love my mother tongue which is Kapampangan. It was the language that we spoke in our household and still is when I speak with my siblings, aunts and uncles, and some cousins from both sides of the family. Although ours is what the Pampangueños describe as bastardized because you won’t hear any of the deep old form that OGs from Pampanga speak, nonetheless, I love it and I thought of a way to honor it.

Since my old man passed on nearly two years ago, the old ancestral house is deteriorating fast. It’s no longer a matter of what but when -take it down. Sadly. So sadly. My sibs and our children expressed the same sentiments when I shared the news from our eldest kuya, Boy (Leonido) who took charge of the maintenance. But before that happens, I intend to take pics and vids of the property and write a coffee book about it. In Kapampangan!

I have a volume of memories to write about. So does everyone else. From the time Fred and I were decorating the walls with fresh feces to the time when the second gens loitered about naked.

I will need help in writing because Kapampangan spelling is a major challenge. I’d like the book to be faithful to the real deal. May the Good Lord bless this plan before all the memories get permanently erased from our rotting brains. I raise this cup to this.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

I remember bluffing my way through English when I was a junior in HS. There was no question that the teacher asked that I didn’t raise my hand to to be called. To every question, I had an answer -though not necessarily right but in HS English, you can never be far away from the correct answer, can you? At least that was how I looked at things. That was until the teacher finally said, "No more! You’re bluffing again!" But even then, I knew somehow that I was an amusement to her. I was pleased at myself knowing that even if I didn’t study for the recitation, I won’t be called anymore. Mission accomplished!

Those were my early beginnings not as a con man but as a salesman. I wasn’t aware then of the now popular adage, "Fake it ’til you make it." But, more or less, I did.

Later in life and even now, I draw inspiration from those days. Like when I speak before an audience, I always assume that I know more than my audience (even if I don’t) -otherwise, I won’t be up the stage with the audience below. My HS foundation gave me the confidence that I can look back on when needed.

There are episodes in my early life that still help me run this sometimes dastardly race called living. The mantra I go by now is no longer that "fake" adage I mentioned, it’s "I made it then, I’ll make it now."

I raise this cup to those early days of brave guts.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

On our way home from a game outside the metro, we stopped by a fruits & veggies stand that sits along the road. Pun intended. I beg you. You see many of these pop-up stores in the city outskirts -families that sell their own produce, a sort of an underground economy that, to my twisted knowledge of local government regulations, no one complains against.

I bought several kilos of fruits while my brother, sacks of veggies. All fresh like milk to a nursing baby. We did ask for the prices but haggled no more. As sons of a farmer, we know the difficult labor that goes with the prepping, planting, growing and harvesting of these produce. The elements, too, that they go up against along the hard way. And then selling them for less than the price we paid for the game we just played. We also recognize the reality that without their drops of sweat and tears, none of us will be fed right. It’s a violation of human rights to deprive them of good profits. In a farmer’s household like mine, these are the rules.

To those who toil under the sun or in the rain, in the fields and in the shining seas, I raise this cup.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

As a student, I amused myself with counting the number of times my teachers or professors say "uhmm" or "well" or "actually" and other adverbs to start or bridge their sentences. At the end of the lecture or class, I then compare notes with classmates. Probably a product of boredom when trying to listen or understand a lesson, I carried this amoral hobby into a habit. A bad one -when I listen to homilies, when I engage in conversations. It even grew worse by also watching out for mannerisms like touching of the nose or brushing off bangs with fingers (envious me, of course) or squinting of the eyes. I took mental count.

The Bible passage "log in your own eye" is lurking here. I couldn’t count the number of times I switched my P’s and F’s with my own family giving me a dose of my own medicine. They are the 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴 to my misbehaving. The 𝙧𝙡 words I try avoid, too. Instead of world, I say earth. Instead of girlfriend, I say 𝘫𝘰𝘸𝘢. I want to say 𝘴𝘺𝘰𝘵𝘢 but my 𝙨𝙝 is faulty, too.

Oh yes. I see that big log already. I see the misdeeds, too. In my mind, I try to be more 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘶𝘭.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes

Are you a #Daiso fan? My wife is. It’s a place where you enter without anything in mind to purchase and leave with a bag full of items you thought you’ve been looking for all your life. We were in one such store branch in HK near our hotel one vacation time. Never mind what’s in my wife’s cart but I found this pick-up rod made of a long thin aluminum shaft connecting a pistol-like handle on top and a clamp at the bottom. Press the handle to activate the clamp. I immediately fell in love with it and carted it away. Although my family thinks its 84cm length won’t fit in any of our luggages, I was dang SURE it would.

It didn’t. My fondness undermined my engineering expertise. Can love be blind, really?

At the airport counter, I asked the lady if it was possible to check it in as a separate item. You know what -she agreed! And because of its fragility, she even put a FRAGILE sticker on it. Yay, #Cathay!

Fast forward to NAIA airport, I was excited to be reunited with my stick. All the luggages have been pulled out and the conveyor has stopped but no stick. When the conveyor resumed rolling, there it was -but damaged. It was crack-bent at the middle but its mechanism still worked. Boo, who? Airline or airports?

I wanted to file a complaint but my family was against it. Isn’t a HK$10 tool worth fighting for?

Nevertheless, it remains one of my favorites in the house. A toy or a tool doesn’t have to be so intricate and expensive for one to enjoy and use.

Cheers! #MyCafeNotes