XX. NO READ, NO WRITE, YET HE TAUGHT ME A LOTe

          I grew up with my grandparents.  My grandfather, born in 1912, was a farmer and he never learned how to read and write. My parents were in the city working and I only got to live with them when I started going to school. I lost my grandparents almost 40 years ago, and yet the lessons I learned from them are still fresh in my memories especially now that I too is in my twilight years.

          The time was in the 1960's, and the farm was the only world I knew then. Our farm was situated some 7 kilometers from the town proper, and you have to walk the distance if you want a haircut or something. The market place was open only twice a week so my grandfather have to buy a week's supply of food and other needs. But he always buy twice more than what we need of sugar, salt, bar soap, and some other things. We were quite well off compared to our neighbors and my grandparents love to share whatever we have that others lacked. We have the best farm lot in the barrio and our produce were more than enough for the family so it was open to all relatives who come in need of something.

          My grandfather was a hardworking man, and being uneducated, he like to listen to people who have some stories to tell. We get most of the stories from the a lottery type gambling collector called Jueteng since he walked through the barrio to the town proper everyday to collect bets and remit them to their gambling head. Every late afternoon he was waved by my grandfather for some "merienda" and we get to listen to his fascinating stories he gathered. Grandpa listened attentively to all his stories, amused but not exactly believing all of them - he just wanted to be updated on what's going on in the the other parts of the town. Once the visitor has left, he would recall some of the stories to me and say his piece about some of them. The stories mostly come from other people, while the lessons I learn from him almost all came from his example.

          One day after we finished planting peanuts he got some seeds left, threw and spread them in the fields. I asked why and he told me it was for the birds so they won't dig up what we have planted. Each time we gather fruits from our trees he also leave some fruits for the birds and some on the ground for other animal scavengers. He said that God gave us plenty so we have to share them with other creatures that He made. Grandpa said he only planted the trees but it was God who made it grow and bear fruit. 

          He once saw a retarded child being fed by its mother and asked to himself how could parents love that child. Years later, my grandmother bore a girl who was paralyzed neck down. They loved and cared for the child until her death some seven years later and he told me that was how he got the valuable reason of how we should cherish life no matter how it was given to you. They were soon blessed with another girl, their only child, who later became my mother.

          But I guess the most valuable lesson he imparted with me was trying to bring to bring happiness to the people he loved. He loved my mother so much that he willingly sold everything they have to provide us a home in the city.  He and my grandmother were forced to abandon the life they have known since childhood and lived with us in the city where things were so unfamiliar to them. My parents were burdened with educating all the eight of us so my grandfather with only a $50 pension to live with have to find other ways to earn extra. My grandmother rarely stepped out of their apartment just watching the world go by through the window but never have I seen her in a sorrowful mood since grandpa took care of everything for her. 

          My grandfather swept the streets and earned extra from the sidewalk vendors' tip for taking care of their garbage for them. He didn't mind getting his hands dirty, he has to provide my grandma with some extra money since she was used to giving and it was a tradition for elders to give some fare money to relatives who come to visit her. In fairness, most of her relatives visit her to show gratitude for the things they did to them, and my grandparents always leave their door open. I lived with them until their dying days, and though I seldom hear them talk to each other I always felt the warmth of their relationship.

My grandfather died almost exactly a year after my grandmother passed away. He was in good health but succumbed to cardiac arrest the doctors said but I'm sure that he died of a broken heart. Grandma was his life, the only life he knew, Mom was about to migrate to Canada with my father and other siblings and he doesn't want to be in the way.

          He never asked me to teach him to read and write, he just wanted to listen to my stories. I told him stories, jokes, gossips, anything as long as I keep on talking he listened and each time I got something from him. But I got more from him than the extra pesos he slipped in my pocket - he gave the kind of life I have always wanted. I have five kids and a wife and plenty of love to share about ...