Father Knows Best

So, now it is Dad's turn to celebrate another birthday - perhaps a little unwillingly.  That tends to happen more and more as life goes along, I guess.  The family gathered at his house to share his special day.  Have I mentioned that my family is rather large?  There were seven of us kids there (and that's not the entire crew), not to mention the kids by marriage, assorted boy/girlfriends and grandkids here, there and everywhere, two dogs, two cats... You get the drift.  It was extremely loud with all of those lives everywhere.  Every table was heavily laden with food (it's a Francisco Family tradition).  Fingers big and small made music on the keyboard, and voices lifted in harmony as the organ dimly played its fading bossa nova beat in the background as we passed by.  In other words, it was home.

We came together in a dance so familiar to celebrate the man that unites us all.  We had a great time, one that I am reminiscing about now as I sit in my quiet home - close and still too far away.  So tonight, I wanted to share a few things about my Dad that still serve as life lessons for me today.

1.  Small people make a big impact.  When I was a child, my Dad towered over me like a giant.  Dads do that.  As I have grown, I have come to realize that many members of my family are "vertically challenged", myself included.  Yet, while my Dad may be small in stature, he has made a significant difference in the lives of many people beyond just our family members.  When Dad moved to the States, he soon became a small town doctor.  That small town doctor brought life to generations after generations as he delivered them in homes, in hospitals and out in the local Hutterite communities.  Doc Eddie still reigns supreme in borders well beyond those he knows, as others live today thanks to the work he did.  The magnitude can't be measured, and it is real, meaningful and eternal.

2. You don't have to show off to prove your worth.  Dad is a genius - literally.  That can be rather humbling to a kid who thinks they know it all.  Yet, Dad never mentioned it... Not once.  He never really touted his accomplishments; he didn't have to.  He demonstrated who he was in his actions, and others touted it for him... usually to his embarrassment.  And he never made his know it all child feel down.  He knew when to win, and knew when he needed to let you win. That's a hard one for me, and I'm working on it. There's no benefit in always being right. It's impossible, and hurtful too.

3.  Know when to work, and know when to play.  Children of doctors know the routine - the early mornings, late nights, even later emergency calls from the answering service.  There was no doubt that Dad was always on during the week.  But Dad also knew when to call a time out.  My favorite silly day, one among many, was on my twelfth birthday.  I sat at the kitchen table with my homebaked cake, my brothers and sisters, wearing a cowboy hat, when a giant yell came from the stairwell.  Out bounded Dad in a much too small matching cowboy hat, brandishing irons (a fork and spoon) and whooping that he was the birthday bandit.  He was exhausted and on call that night, but I never would have known it.  He made time stop for me and for the family.  Work hard, yes, but there are times that everything else can wait.

4. Silence often means more than words. Dad pretty much does not speak. He is known for one word sentences at most, but more often - if we asked him a question - his response would be a nod, a lift of an eyebrow, or pointing with his lips. It's a Filipino thing. "Dad, want some ice cream?" Nod. "Strawberry or chocolate?" Lift left eyebrow twice. "You got it, Dad." He is a quiet man, but says so much without a word. I sat down next to him today, leaned against him, put my head on his shoulder - and with one simple pat on my hand, he said more about how he felt and his love than a million flowery poems or this blog ever could. Words are often overrated. Dad shows his love instead with a gentle touch, and through his endless cooking of pots of adobo, plates of pancit and piles of lumpia. You never go hungry, belly or soul. People show love in different ways. How open are you to receiving it?

5. Don't forget to dance. We are pre-iPod, CD and cassette. Yet, Mom loved music on at all times (probably to mute the sounds of us crazies), so Dad installed a radio in the kitchen, hanging underneath the cabinet. It would play in the background every night. Then, after the food was gone and the dishes washed, magic would happen. Several nights a week, a song would come on that Mom loved, and Dad was swoop her into his arms, waltzing her around the kitchen in a grandiose arc. Then, he'd pull her close to him, sway softly and sing Julio Iglesias or "Dahil Sa Iyo"gently as an eerie quiet would fall over us all. Life goes by too quickly, and the days run together and are soon forgotten. Yet, those fleeting minutes are magic. Don't forget to dance.

Here's to you, Dad. Thank you for the food, the Angels, the unexpected piano concertos and the karaoke marathons. You are the best.

A Birthday Card to Mom

Today is my Mom’s birthday.  I’m on the road right now, so I sent flowers and called, but I still did not feel like I did enough.  And as I sat here in the hotel tonight, I started to think about how I viewed my Mom way back when and how I see her today.

Way back when – aka in my foolish teenage years – I loved my Mom and was absolutely certain that I was smarter than she was and knew more than she did.  Kind of a given for a teenager.  I thought Mom was beautiful.  Picture Mia Farrow, and you’re seeing my Mom.  She has always been one of a kind too: a little kooky.  Our house was filled with strays of the canine and human persuasion.  Mom couldn’t sing, but she sure did blast those Broadway records at full tilt boogie.  And with as many siblings as I’ve got, our house was raucous to say the least - balancing right on the edge of joy and madness.  I remember Mom standing in the middle of it all, always full of folksy sayings: trying to teach us – sometimes hollering over us – the things we may need to know as we grew.  We colored on the walls, ate dessert for breakfast and generally figured we ignored her advice.

And now I am grown with a family of my own.  I see my Mother when I look in the mirror.  I hear her voice come out of my mouth.  And I've realized how much she taught me when I didn’t think I was learning.  To celebrate her today, here are a few of my favorite Mom moments.

1.   Were you born in a barn?  (Also, known at dinnertime by the variant “Close your mouth. You look like a cow chewing its cud.”)  My Mom was raised on a farm, so we got a lot of country references when Mom talked about manners.  Manners were big for her.  She taught us to say please and thank you, of course.  And she also taught us that the world may judge you by your manners as well.  Being polite and considerate, thanking people, being gracious – they are points of entry into business today, and while they may not be directly acknowledged, they are noticed and appreciated.

2.   Just put ice cream on your cereal instead.  OK, so Mom usually resorted to this when we ran out of milk, but to a kid, ice cream on cereal is paradise so we were happy.  We ate ice cream for breakfast more than once.  Mom was resourceful.  Mom was creative.  She encouraged that in us kids too.  When she ran into a challenge, she found a solution, turned a tough time into something fun and moved right along.  Times will be tough for all of us at one point or another.  What matters is how we respond to problems and find creative answers.

3.   Time to get dewormed.  Now, that sounds icky, especially when you know that no one in the family (canine or human) ever actually needed to get dewormed.   But Mom was all about preventative measures.  Sometimes, even if everything seems fine, it’s still worth digging a little deeper to make sure things really are as good as they seem.  They well may be.  Or, you could find something that needs tending to.

4.   Don’t forget where you came from.  Mom has regaled me with stories of how my ancestors fought in the American Revolution and others worked on the Underground Railroad; how Dad ran secrets for the Filipino Guerrillas and Resistance forces during the Japanese occupation in WWII; how my Aunties had the most beautiful hands and made the best longanisa (which is very, very true).  In fact, I’m still hearing new stories today.  Mom taught me to be proud of my heritage – that my ancestors stood up for what they believed in and I should too.  She taught me that I am part of something so much more than just “me” and that Family, both gone and yet to come, is your true legacy.

5.   Patience is a virtue.  In this world of instant gratification, it’s easy to forget that some things are worth the wait.  This is a hard one for me, but it is true.  I found my career late, my husband late… found myself late.  They were worth the wait.  Today, I find that I say this same thing often to my children and to myself.  Day to day goals and pressures can make you crazy.  Set a long term goal.  Know what you stand for.  Then slow down, enjoy the ride and keep your eye on the finish line.  It’s a good one, after all.

Now, Mom: I know you are probably mortified that I wrote this tonight (especially # 3), and I hope you know I wrote this with love.  I treasure you.  I treasure what you taught me. You are more beautiful today than you were all those years ago, and I am so darn grateful for you and all that I’ve learned.  I succeed at business and life because of the sturdy foundation you and Dad built.

Happy Birthday, Mom. 

Beauty in Unexpected Places

I am in a lot of airports for work. In fact, when people ask me where I live, I've been known to say "Southwest Airlines," though I have a second home on Alaska, third on Delta and so on.

Airports used to be very grey places, filled with faceless commuters flying here or there... plugged into their iPod, iPad or laptop, and completely disconnected from everyone and everything around them. While I am often one of those plugged in people, I'm making a conscious effort to unplug a little while I travel. After all, work travel sounds exciting, but spending days on end away from the family and in crowded airports can be a drag after a while.

So now I'm looking up instead of looking down. And you know what I've seen over these past few months? Airports are often things of beauty or of mystery. Who are all of these people that surround me? That I brush up against as I move through a crowd? Where are they headed, and why? It's an endless puzzle and the makings of a great story. I love watching the families making their way along; the little ones' eyes filled with wonder. Who are the business people on the phone, making big deals, and anxious to get home? And what do I look like to all of them? Do they even notice me? It sure is a surprise to many when I catch their eye and smile. Unconsciously, and then consciously, they always smile back.

And the airports can be beautiful. I've seen murals in Denver; sculptures in Phoenix; birds in flight in Sacramento; and a really kickin' Harley in Orlando. And I met Sarah - a lovely waitress at the Mexican joint a few days ago. Sarah was a flower in the middle of all that metal and steel. I loved her hair (pictured here) and her sparkle as she sent weary travelers on their way.

So this post goes out to Sarah. Thanks for great service, some funny stories, a fantastic smile... and for reminding me that it's all a matter of perspective. Life is a beautiful thing, after all.