Frankie and Eddie

Happy Father’s Day this Sunday to my late father, Frank Mayor, fondly called “Frankie” in his younger years, and to my husband, Eduardo Ramirez, still “Eddie” to his siblings and cousins.

They cannot be described as two peas in a pod but they were fraternal twins in many of their values — from which I learn much and benefit from.

Dad was and is the wind beneath my wings. Ed is my rock and my anchor. Dad made me soar to as far as my wings could take me. Ed is my very own “steady Eddie,” the one who keeps me safe and grounded amid the dizzying effects of being everywhere all the time, and calm amid the buffeting of stormy days.

Just like a plane that needs both “thrust” to fly and “gravity” to land safely.

Dad was an accounting major, so he really was numbers conscious. He watched every number in our report cards, even the digits after the decimal point, like a diamond merchant weighing his stones. There was nothing he wouldn’t do in the name of good grades or winning a competition.

I remember when I was in grade school in Iloilo and one of our assignments was to name the mayor and vice mayor of the city. Well, Dad went to City Hall and came up with a list that even included the councilors and the city fiscal! There was also a year that we spent in Legazpi City and there was a contest for Miss United Nations, which was all about answering questions about the history of the UN.  I was a high school freshman then and had to compete against the sophomores, juniors and seniors. Dad went to the local UN Office (I don’t know how he found it) and gathered all the leaflets and pamphlets his strong arms could carry. I was still standing onstage during the final round — a “Miss Universe” moment between me and a junior. And the crucial, tie-breaking question was straight out of the leaflet Dad had fished for me — about the Dumbarton Oaks conference. Well, at the end of the day, I had a sash pinned around me. The only time in my life I was ever a titleholder. Char. Thanks Dad!

(By the way, the Dumbarton Oaks Conference was an international conference at which proposals for the establishment of a “general international organization,” which was to become the United Nations, were formulated and negotiated.)

Ed, on the other hand, was not grade conscious at all when our only child Chino was in school at the Ateneo, Ed’s own alma mater. “As long as Chino is happy,” he would tell me. He believed there were other measures of intelligence and other skills needed for success aside from grades. But Ed was an ever-present stage father, too. He would attend PTA meetings till some parents knew him more than they knew me. He would drive all the way from our home in Parañaque to Katipunan if our son forgot his ID or an important project. But he was also adamant that Chino take the school bus because he believed the experience would build character. When Chino came home one day with specks of blood on his shirt, the result of a fight with a taller and bigger fourth grader in the school bus, Ed was only concerned that he was okay and that he made a point. When I was worried that the fourth-grader’s parents would complain, Ed told me, “Joanne, if my son were punched by a prep student I would be ashamed, not mad.” True enough, the parents of the fourth grader never complained and Chino and his erstwhile foe became good friends.

***

Like Dad, Ed is not a spendthrift. When I was growing up, Dad’s favorite rebuttal whenever I wanted something pricey was, “Can’t afford it.” He didn’t believe I should spend money for slimming salons when I was a teenager, even when I begged him to. It was a frivolity for him at the time. “You could lose weight without spending money,” he would admonish me. That was Dad. And I was molded to believe that I should work hard not only for my meals — but also for my dreams. Dad only bought expensive things for himself in his twilight years, though he always made sure his daughters had nice gowns to wear to their proms or debuts.

Ed appreciates, but does not seek, branded clothes and shoes. He spends below his means, perhaps because his late mother was Panggalatok, who are known to be thrifty. He could roam around the mall for hours and not buy anything. He doesn’t get frustrated if what he wants is expensive. He would mull over it for days. He enjoys online shopping in Lazada and Shopee. But he would buy for me the nicest jewelry he could afford. When we were newly married, he would buy them hulugan from his lady boss’ suki.

Growing up with Dad and living with Ed for more than half my life have taught me to be cautious about spending. But since I am also my mother’s daughter, sometimes, I throw caution to the wind and splurge on select things. Sometimes only, ha.

***

Dad and Ed never took advantage of the perks or access my work gave me — even when I was working at Malacañang. Dad believed and Ed believes public service and being part of the press is a sacred trust. I remember my first lesson against cheating. My parents were reviewing me for a math exam and I was tapping my fingers on the table. “Are you counting?” my Dad glowered at me. “You’re supposed to memorize the multiplication table!” I honestly was not counting with my fingers, only tapping the table in boredom, but I realized then how by-the-book my father is. 

So cheating has never been part of the way I do things, except when I diet. Of course I cheat with sweets. What we couldn’t afford, we worked hard for. When I was a student, there were many things we couldn’t afford, including trips abroad. When he would see the disappointment in my eyes, Dad would just say, “Study hard, work hard.” That was his one and only formula.

Before working from home was doable, this meant the daily grind, and because I saw how hard my Dad worked, work was not a drudgery for me but a springboard to my dreams.

Ed’s parenting style was more relaxed. He trusted Chino to create his own roadmap to success, and gave Chino the leeway to define success on his terms. He was never, “It’s my way or the highway,” with Chino. They were buddies. When Chino was around three or four and deep into wrestling mania, he would wrestle with Ed and I could see others looking on with disapproving eyes. “Oh Joanne, it’s all for show!” Ed would tell me. Ed is not a worrier and neither is Chino, who I am proud to say is a bank executive and an entrepreneur. Ed’s mantra when I am worried or stewing in irritation over something is, “Hind na pinag-aaksayan ng panahon ‘yan. Snap out of it.”

Happy Father’s Day to the two men I’ve loved the longest, honor and respect.

(You may e-mail me at [email protected]. Follow me on Instagram @joanneraeramirez.)