Why I recycled a Christmas gift for my father

 I recently received a green iPod Nano as an early Christmas gift from my friend Pinky T. It took me a while to figure out what to do with it as I am a self-confessed technological twerp. (A few years ago, I once asked an acquaintance if I could see his “Walkman” while pointing at his white 80 GB iPod. He laughed at me while bursting the time-warped bubble that cased me in. You see, I am not enslaved to technology. Had my Philips Savvy phone — that’s my first cellular phone unit in 1998 — not get lost, I would still have been using it to this day. Never mind if it’s bulky and baduy, outmoded or out of style. I hate complications. For me, a mobile phone should only be for calling and for sending SMS. Oh well, I am not a sucker for trends. That’s what my old soul tells me every day.)

Anyway, going back to my iPod. I finally got to put it into good use when Joseph C., a friend and colleague at The Star, loaded my little gadget with songs. I specified what songs I want to listen to — Eartha Kitt, The Supremes, hits of the ’80s and, yes, kundiman songs as sung by, well, Sylvia la Torre among others. Where he got all those songs, I really don’t know. What I remember is that I handed my latest possession to Joseph one afternoon and after three hours, he gave it back to me loaded with some 2,000 songs. I find it magical — just as magical how a cager can shoot that ball in the ring — how a little square-ish gizmo can hold so much.

But this is more magical...

I went home to my parents in Laguna two weekends ago, with the earplugs of my new toy swung loose on my chest. Sitting on our green sofa was my father, recovering from a panting attack — as occasionally expected of geriatric patients with hypertension.

I kissed his hand.

“Kaawaan ka ng Diyos (God bless you),“ he said, his right hand was as cold as ice.

I was a little bit alarmed. I looked for my mother and asked her if Tatay had taken his medicines already. She calmly assuaged my little fears and confidently assured me that everything would be okay with my father. Nanay always, always knew how to show that she had nerves of steel when it comes to dealing with my father’s frailty. I heaved a sigh of relief as I settled on the sofa, beside my father.

Tatay was quiet until he noticed and pointed at the earplugs that were now suspended around my neck. I took them out and put them in his ears, mindful to control the volume. I shuffled it to Sylvia la Torre’s songs, fully expecting that her songs would lift him up. I was not wrong.

The next thing I knew, he was singing along Sylvia la Torre’s Granada, unmindful of his crackling voice. That moment was filled with bliss — music allowed my father to forget about his infirmity. The defenselessness in his mien earlier was replaced with life and his desire to live it. If it were true that music is the language of the soul, my father — based on how he enjoyed Nasaan Ka Irog, Pakiusap, Ibong Sawi, Ay Kalisud, Mutya Ng Pasig among other songs that were playing in the iPod — just proved again that he was a romantic man in body and spirit.

His eyes were closed as he listened to those songs. The lines that crisscrossed his face became more pronounced as he continued to sing along. He must have been very happy listening to those old ditties that he was so carried away he later on aped the coloratura soprano voice of Sylvia la Torre. Of course this drew guffaws from his grandchildren who were now captive audiences of Tatay in his first solo concerto after so many years.  

When night dropped its cloak, Tatay was very excited to go to bed, still sporting the iPod Nano. For the first time, he wanted to sleep with the music on. He asked me to set again the green magical gadget to the music he was listening to earlier.

He was smiling when he lovingly shared the right earplug with my Nanay, happily letting her in to the new “world” he had just discovered. After Tatay planted the left earplug in his ear, he motioned to me to play the music of Sylvia la Torre while the two of them lay supine on the bed.

Kalesa played first. I could almost hear the thumping of their hearts as they sang to each other. It was followed by Granada which proved explosive enough as they tried to reach the notes. Their voices didn’t mix well at all anymore but in that moment of sheer delight, who could tell the difference? Unmindful of me, their lone audience in the room, they even merrily swayed their hands in the air as Sa Kabukiran and Lawiswis Kawayan played, perhaps remembering those challenging yet happy days they spent while farming in the middle of the scorching sun or inclement weather to see their family through.

After a few more songs, they fell asleep — with Nanay sleeping in the warm embrace of Tatay. The music was still on; the earplugs still intact in their ears — like their love for each other that is still intact in their hearts through the years. I left the room feeling light and happy. Perhaps because I was privy again to such a magical moment between my parents.

I never realized that my iPod Nano — a pre-Christmas gift I received from a friend — would bring this much joy.  This early, I have refrained from calling the little gadget “my iPod.” I asked Joseph again to upload it with songs by Ruben Tagalog, Cely Bautista and the Mabuhay Singers before I rewrapped it. On Christmas Eve, as I lovingly expected, Tatay was very happy to receive a recycled gift. Ever since then, he has not stopped from regaling us with his rendition of Granada. And more. 

(Thank you for all your letters. For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. You may also snail mail me at The Philippine Star, c/o Allure Section, R. Oca Jr. corner Railroad Streets, Port Area, Manila. Have a blessed Sunday.)