Tag Archives | bonifacio
April 14, 2012

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Brothers Bonifacio

All By Grace

And what turns every end, every close, every heartbreak, every loss, and every finish beautiful? The love, forgiveness, and redemption, and hope found in grace – God’s grace that turns any experience into a catapult to bring you to where He wants to take you. – The Beautiful End

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith-and this is not from yourselves, it is a gift of God- not by works, so that no one can boast.
Ephesians 2:8-9

I’m very grateful for my family. I’m grateful for my Papa, who has shown me what it means to have strength, passion, and faith. I’m grateful for my Mama, who is a great example of gentleness, kindness, humility, and generosity. I’m grateful for my older brother, Joseph, who is intelligent, wise and insightful. And how can I not be grateful for my younger brother, Joshua, who has shown me what it means to love others and find ways to enjoy life. Even the newest addition to our family, Vito, my mom’s dog, has been a pleasure to have – even if it means my allergies flaring whenever I’m over.

For many people, especially those who don’t know my family too well, this picture of a pastor’s loving family, a strong marriage, three boys that include another pastor, a businessman, and Mr. Congeniality, and finally, a cute dog, may seem ideal. Some may see this as an example to follow, while others may see this as an unreachable ideal. But I’d like to take the time to direct the attention away from my family and point it where it belongs, to our Father. I think this is important before we go forward with this series because underneath all these funny, sad, meaningful, simple and profound experiences, is God’s faithfulness.

The Celebrity Crisis
One of the problems with our celebrity culture is how we put humans on pedestals. We have mini-idols in disguise (which is really just an idol). We admire them, watch their lives and follow them. We have crushes on them. We want to be like them. We want to be with them. We wish our wife looked more like her or our husband was more like him. We wonder what they’re buying and wish we could afford their purchases. We want to wear what they’re wearing; somehow believing that maybe someone will desire us as much as we desire them. We wish we were as smart, or made the same business decisions, or as lucky. We make them special in our life. We make them important. They’re special enough to Google over and over and watch videos of them on YouTube or Vimeo. They’re important enough to influence our opinions, our habits, our thinking, and our decisions.

The problem with this is we unconsciously create an unrealistic expectation of others and of ourselves. When this idealized human being becomes the standard, then people who don’t meet that standard are not given as much importance, and at the same time we strive for that standard, becoming proud when we meet it and discouraged when we don’t. We have put so much pressure on ourselves. We’re pressured to have money. We’re pressured to spend. We’re pressured to be stylish. We’re pressured to have a loving family. We’re pressured to have cool friends. We’re pressured to have conquests. We’re pressured to lose our virginity. We’re pressured to keep our virginity. We’re pressured to have a six-pack. We’re pressured to drink a six-pack. We’re pressured to follow rules. We’re pressured to break rules. We’re pressured to save and invest. We’re pressured to shop and splurge. We’re pressured to be religious. We’re pressured to be relevant. We’re pressured to meet the standards of our idols.

We’re pressured to become an air-brushed, fully-sponsored, cosmetically-altered, PR-aided person whose smartest lines were read from a script, and whose best moments took more than one take.

In short, we’re never going to be like that. No one will. Not even the real people behind our idols.

You might say, “I’m not pressured at all, David”. Then why is there this never-ending need to be validated? Why is there no contentment? Why is there no satisfaction? Why do we feel left out when we miss the must-sees and must -dos? Years from now, is anyone really going to remember who went to what, who earned how much when, who had what bag, or whether you were hot in high school? And if so, will it really matter?

I thought this was a post about your family?

It is.

As I write about my family, as I share the lessons and experiences, I don’t want anyone to think that we’re special because of who we are. I don’t want to paint an idealized picture or be put on a pedestal. We are no different from you. We’re special because our Father, who is also your Father, loves us.

We can be selfish just like everyone else. We can be prideful (maybe even more than most). We can be critical, unkind, and mean. We can be lacking and poor. We can be lustful and greedy. We can be impatient and grumble. We can be hurt and empty. There have been many arguments and fights. There have been times of desperation and shame. There have been times of lack and want. There have been moments of insecurity. There are many many mistakes, some known, some private. There have been failed businesses and broken relationships. There’s been alcohol, drugs, debt, and battles.

It’s all there.

I remember a specific period of my life where a bottle of vodka or sake sat on my bedside table beside my Bible. I would read and drink myself to sleep. I’ve given up the bottle. Maybe that’s why I have a hard time sleeping. Haha!

I’m sure you have your own challenges. I’m sure you have your own needs, your own dreams on hold and unanswered prayers. I’m sure you have your own questions and doubts. We all are trying to reconcile the grand purpose in our hearts with the limitations of our reality, and we’re all fighting to overcome.

It Is A Gift
When I think about my life, when I think about my family, all our mistakes, and our blessings despite our mistakes, I’m reminded of this idea: it is a gift.

I just celebrated my birthday, and despite what some people think, no one deserves a gift on his or her birthday. Gifts are given not earned. We don’t have a right to gifts, but we can enjoy them when they are given to us. It’s absurd for anyone to feel bad for not getting a gift. If you were entitled to it, it would be a right. If you earned it, it would be a reward. But gifts are special because they are given freely.

Life, everyone single one of our lives, is a gift, and it is powered by another gift: grace. We don’t deserve it yet we cannot earn it. We don’t need to prove to anyone that we have it. We only need to accept it to walk in it.

What makes my family’s group of broken individuals whole? Grace. What makes two selfish people love one another? Grace. What covers over a multitude of sins and allows for forgiveness? Grace. What frees us from our addictions? Grace. What allows a poor family to give generously? Grace. What allows some very insecure people to lead others? Grace.

We have been given a gift. We cannot boast.

You have been offered that gift too, and I look forward to someday reading your own stories of grace.

March 24, 2012

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Brothers Bonifacio

Broken Pieces

There is a story my family likes to recount about my very first LEGO toy. I don’t know why my parents would give a 3-year-old LEGO but they did. (No wonder I grew up so fast!) Anyway, my dad gave me a LEGO police station, built it, and turned it over to me to enjoy. It didn’t take long before my clumsy kid hands crushed the LEGO helicopter sitting on the helipad. So I ran to my dad and asked him to fix it. He took the pieces, rebuilt the helicopter, and handed it back to me. As I was playing, again, I broke the helicopter, and ran back to him. This pattern of my dad building, me breaking, and my dad fixing and handing it back to me pretty much continued the rest of play time. I guess he learned his lesson, because years later, when he bought my younger brother Lincoln Logs, he actually glued the pieces together to prevent us from breaking it and losing the pieces. The funny thing was, we ended up not playing with the Lincoln Logs that often. There was not much we could do with it. All the pieces were fixed. It just sat at the top of a shelf, never broken but never enjoyed, gathering dust until it was given away.

LEGO, on the other hand, would be a constant item on my wish list for the rest of my childhood.

What was the difference between LEGO and Lincoln Logs? What made one memorable and the other ignored? It actually had nothing to do with the toys themselves, but everything to do with relationship. With the Lincoln Logs, my dad came, saw the pieces all over the floor, and conquered with the help of superglue. But with the LEGO set, my dad was beside me, enjoying with me, and willing and able to fix whatever I broke. See, it really wasn’t about the toys. Toys are only popular until a new one comes out. They break, their colors fade, and can be replaced. It was about enjoying playtime with my dad. It was about being on the floor with him, making silly sound effects and imagining a story together. It was about relationship.

It still is.

Sometimes we see people who seem to have it “put together”, and we admire them and wish we could be the same way. Sometimes that’s how we are with our kids or the people around us, we don’t want them to get hurt, hurt others, or even hurt us, so we do our best to “superglue” them in place, to secure their actions so no one gets damaged. Sometimes, in our effort to make life “right” for ourselves and the people around us, we miss the point of things. It’s like the teacher who thought school was about grades, when it’s really about education, or the businessman who thought that his life was about making money, when it’s really about stewarding value. It’s not that grades, or money, or rules are bad, they’re actually very good, and we do need them, but they’re not what life is about. What are all these things worth without people to learn with, enjoy with, and protect?

Life is about relationships, and in relationships, rules will get broken, formulas will fail, principles will be tested, and faith will be stretched. Loved ones will get sick, we will get hurt, there will be suffering, and definitely sacrifice will be involved. We can respond by striving to control everything, affixing the pieces, taking the rules and enforcing them like superglue on Lincoln Logs.

But that can only go so far.

Rules don’t free criminals. They jail them. Standards don’t uplift the poor. They marginalize them. Judges don’t acquit sinners. They condemn them. If you’re like me, guilty, poor, and sinful, none of these offer any hope to hold on to. But for God SO LOVED the world, that He made a way for us to live in relationship with Him. There’s hope because through His Son, we have a way to trust, to love, to communicate with our Father and receive forgiveness, that we may learn to believe with others, love unconditionally, share our lives, and be ready to restore.

My dad used to tell my brothers and I that at the end of our lives, nothing will matter more than the relationships we cultivated. Not our achievements, not our businesses, not our critics, nor the things we accumulated, but the lives we shared. Most important is our relationship with God. Not only a religious or intellectual understanding of a heavenly being, but a God we can spend time with. He wanted us to catch this so that we would not lose sight of what really counts in life.

I no longer live in the safety and security of life under my parents’ roof, and every day I wake up to the challenges that come with being human. I’m sure you all can relate. For some of us the situation is financial, maybe there are bills to pay or dreams to afford. For some, it’s emotional, maybe a broken heart, loneliness, or rejection. For others, it may have something to do with health, maybe a sickness or an injury. For some it’s depression, or an accusation, or the pressure to succeed. It could be million things and it’s different for everyone. But whatever it is, whatever the pieces of your life that are falling apart, we have a Father we can run to, and He’ll take you in His hands, He’ll heal you, and build you back up, and in His joy, walk with you in loving relationship.

November 4, 2011

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What's It Worth?

Business Dashboard: Day 1 Schedule

Developing a business plan can be messy which is one reason why I prefer dashboards. For those of you who have signed-up for my upcoming Business Dashboard Workshop here’s the agenda for Day 1 (November 15, 2011).

6:00 – 6:15 – Introduction
6:15 – 6:30 – The importance of having a Business Dashboard: Create, Deliver and Capture Value
6:30 – 7:00 – Elements of a Business Dashboard Explained
7:00 – 7:30 – Value Proposition & Customer Segments Overview
7:30 – 8:00 – Value Proposition: Meeting Needs & Desires / Competitive Advantage & Hedgehog Principle / Innovate to Differentiate
8:00 – 8:30 – Business Case Study
8:30 – 9:00 – Q&A
(More on Customer Segments on Day 2)

I’m sorry if I’m trying to pack in so much information. I really want this workshop to be something that will really impact your business. These are things I practice in my own businesses and teach my staff. They’re simple and practical, which work best for me since I don’t like to complicate things.

Looking forward to working with you to develop your dashboards and discuss your businesses with you. If you’d like to know more about what I’ll be teaching, please watch the following video:

December 24, 2010

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Brothers Bonifacio

Bonifacio Christmas Blogs

A Most Memorable Sermon
The most memorable chapel message I ever heard was one on Christmas. I don’t remember much about the actual preaching but I can’t forget when the pastor, while bashing Santa Claus, said, “Christmas is not about a big fat man with a white bird!”

I learned a lesson that day, among the unstoppable laughter, teachers trying to keep students quiet, and my friend Zach jokingly asking me, “How does he know?? How does he know???” – Never EVER mispronounce the word BEARD as BIRD.

In the spirit of Christmas, here are some Christmas blogs written by my family.

1. I Miss My Boys, Lord by Joey Bonifacio (this is on Facebook)
My dad’s thoughts on his boys growing up.

2. Mom’s Christmas Thoughts 1: Attention: Santa Clause

3. Mom’s Christmas Thoughts 2: No Lysol at the Stable

4. Joe’s Married Christmas

5. My Brothers Bonifacio 2010 Christmas Post: The Essentials

Merry Christmas everyone!

December 19, 2010

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Brothers Bonifacio

The Essentials

“But even as we downscaled what Christmas was to me, God was setting up a backdrop for one the greatest lessons I would ever learn. He had to remove the trappings, the traps we fall into, that distract us from Him.”
- The Light and the Life

Sitting on my couch in a bare living room, I can’t help but notice the contrast between the ornamented Christmas of my childhood and the financially necessitated minimalism of my holidays today. There’s no tree, not the big fake one with Joe’s POJ (piece of junk) hanging nor the fresh evergreen that smells of fresh pine. There are no Christmas books stacked on tables and lining walls. The little ceramic houses of my dad’s Christmas village are absent. And our framed 1000 piece puzzle of Biloski isn’t on the wall above my cherished piano. There’s a lot that’s not here.

All I have in my Christmas arsenal is a wreath and 5 candles.

Sometimes, when I talk this way, people think it’s because I’m too lazy to decorate or too frugal, that I’m just pretending to lack funds. But nothing can be further from the truth. Between mortgage payments, utilities, food, transportation, communications, the startup projects, and the fix-up companies, there’s really not a lot of money to spend.

And it’s with this plain frill-less holiday stage that I write this.

The Snoop
I was a snoop growing up. I knew where everything was. (Unlike today, when I can’t seem to find anything.) I knew what my gifts were, where they were hidden, who was giving what. Christmas was one giant treasure hunt for me. The “ber” months would hit and I would take my toy rifle, my slingshot, and a flashlight. Hunting season had arrived. If I wasn’t pleased with my discoveries I’d find a way to let these ignorant gift givers know exactly what I wanted and that I wouldn’t be happy with anything else. If the day’s rummaging yielded pleasing results, I could rollout my sleeping bag beside our Christmas tree in the living room and rest content with my weapons, safely under a sentry of armed GI Joes strategically placed to shoot would-be predators.

1993 was the year a black hooded Cobra Commander came out. I wanted Cobra Commander and I subtly let Josh know this.

A few days before Christmas a few gifts that looked like wrapped GI Joes were placed under the tree. When the coast was clear I walked over to the tree, took the gift that had my name on it, and carefully unwrapped it.

It was love at first sight.

“Cobra Commander!!!” I mouthed an inaudible shout.

I quickly got a hold of myself, wrapped everything, and returned the gift like it had never been moved. Christmas was going to be good.

I can’t begin to describe how hard it was to wait for Christmas Eve when we would be opening presents and I would be united with my wrapped love. I guess it would be similar to when Joe was waiting for his honeymoon but a little more intense.

When Christmas did arrive, and was allowed to open my gifts, I grabbed Cobra Commander and frantically freed him…

… only to find that I wasn’t holding Cobra Commander. In my hands was an orange Night Creeper Leader.

“Cobra Commander! I got Cobra Commander!!!”, an excited Joseph started jumping around and shouting.

I wasn’t allowed to say bad words (our mouths got soaped when we did) but if I were I would probably have said “WTF?”

“What did you get?” Joseph asked me.

“Night Creeper Leader…” I said disappointedly.

“He’s cool too.” Positive Joe responded.

“As cool as a butt.” I thought to myself.

I don’t know what happened, but some reason Josh switched the cards on the presents. He didn’t know anything on GI Joes. A Joe was a Joe to him. He would never have understood that Night Creeper Leader is no way near as cool as Cobra Commander.

Of course I couldn’t complain then. I didn’t want anyone finding out I had been snooping around. It was only after years of therapy did I finally tell this story.

The Essentials
Something is essential to us when it is something we cannot do without. Many times we miss out on these important things because we’re distracted. The word distraction means “the pulling away of the mind”. Sometimes it’s our fears that pull us away from the essential things, sometimes it’s our expectations, sometimes it’s our responsibilities, and even sometimes it’s our hurt and disappointments. There are so many things that are “pulling our mind away” from the essentials.

Going back to my Cobra Commander story, I remember the disappointment I felt holding his “GI JOKE”. It didn’t matter that we had just had a feast. It didn’t matter that I had a family to celebrate with. It didn’t matter that it was Jesus’ birthday.

All that mattered was that I didn’t get Cobra Commander, and worse, someone else did.

Sometimes, when I don’t get what I want or think I deserve I still react the same way. “Why God? Why is life so unfair? I thought you said I’d be blessed? Why can they enjoy that and I can’t?” And like that 9-yr. old boy, I forget that I’m free, that I have hope, that I’m loved, and I disregard every other blessing Christmas represents because I didn’t get this year’s version of Cobra Commander.

So I go back and remind myself that I already have the best thing, and I remind myself of the essentials, the things that a true Christmas cannot be without such as Jesus, love, relationships, giving, hope…

… and of course, a reminder of that lesson from Cobra Commander.

January 10, 2010

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Brothers Bonifacio

The Bath

I love taking a bath. I count it as part of my favorite routine activities along with playing the piano, running, reading, and sleeping. I take quite a long time and usually take an hour to an hour and a half to get ready. I’ve prayed in the shower, practiced speeches, read in the tub with green tea ice cream, and I’ve even fallen asleep. I just love taking a bath.

So I didn’t miss my chance to try out one of the famous baths on this last trip to Japan. My family is in love with Japan. We love the food, the place, the traditions, we love the people and their quirks. One evening while driving home, Pastor Scott Douma mentioned that there was a bath very close to our place. After a few short instructions, they dropped me off at the bath. It wasn’t an ONSEN, which would have been the fancier spring kind (which is next on my list of things to do). This one was more of a SENTO. In the past public baths provided people with a place to wash themselves and meet neighbors. The washing makes sense, but I’m still trying to grasp how people met their neighbors this way.

“Hi I’m David-san. You’ve seen all of me, and I’ve seen all of you. Let’s be friends.”

At the counter was an old lady who didn’t speak any English. With a mixture of tourist Japanese and makeshift sign language I was able to indicate that I needed towels, shampoo, and soap. I placed my shoes in the locker outside and walked into the men’s dressing room. I really felt like a gaijin (foreigner) when I entered.

I knew what to expect. I had read up on baths and asked people about it. But inside, it felt like a surreal experience. Everyone was naked. The skinny guy with ribs that look like a guitar, the fat man that caused the water to spill over the tubs, the young guy who looked like a girl, and the others, they were all naked. Now the problem with being the newbie in the bath is that you don’t know if what you’re doing is right. I knew a little bit from my dad, Pastor Scott, and some reading, but those can only get you so far. And it’s not like you can just watch the others and do as they do. None of them would have appreciated me studying them.

Now the weather was pretty cold at this time so I was wearing a light jacket, a sweater, long sleeves, jeans, and thermal underwear. Needless to say my undressing took quite some time. I folded my clothes, placed them in the locker, took my towel that was no bigger than a table napkin, and headed to join the other free men. I felt like I was headed to an animal rights rally.

The interior of a typical bath area has a section for “scrubbing” and then a pool or pools for dipping in. I was told that it was very important that you scrubbed yourself clean before entering the pools. I guess the idea is that everyone gets clean separately and does not share germs. So I picked a spot, rinsed the stool in hot water, and sat down with the others. In front of me was a small basin, hot and cold water knobs that you push instead of turn, a shower head, and a mirror. I couldn’t help but smirk to myself in the mirror and think, “What have you gotten yourself into now??” Using a mini-towel, basin, and liquid soap, I proceeded to scrub myself clean. It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing in the world to be scrubbing right next to other men also scrubbing, but I got over it pretty quickly. I realized I was far enough not to be hit by their scrub splashes, which was what I was most worried about. I really felt clean after scrubbing. I think the fact that I was in Japan made me scrub extra hard. Japan is a very clean country, a testament to the cleanliness of its people.

After scrubbing I rinsed with the shower and stood up to try a pool. The first one I tried was a hot bubbling pool that feels incredibly relaxing once you’re fully immersed. I felt even more at ease inside the tub, even if there were still naked people walking around. I guess it’s the “I can see you but you can’t see me advantage.” Just kidding. It definitely was the water. I sat there and closed my eyes and enjoyed the experience

I noticed that some of the men would dip for a while then go back to the dressing room. I realized they were taking “bath breaks” or little pauses in between baths to get a drink at the vending machine inside the dressing room and sit to watch a Japanese soap opera – still completely naked. I thought it was interesting that they laid their towels out to sit on instead of cover themselves. They didn’t want to wet the benches. As they say, when in Rome, do as the Romans do, so I got a few coins from my locker, chose some sort of lemonade, and sat with the others. I’m sure it would have been an incredible (and probably disturbing) picture for my mother’s scrapbook. Here I was watching a TV show I could not understand sitting on a bench with total strangers completely naked. By this time though, all the initial weirdness was gone. I was enjoying myself. Until I looked at the guy on the massage chair and saw him smile at me. I’m sure it was nothing malicious, but when you’re naked in a room full of naked men you just don’t go around smiling at each other. You just don’t.

I went back to try the other pools and decided to try an ordinary looking one. I put one foot in and I immediately felt an electric shock course through my body. I shouted a little bit, not a loud one, but enough to get the others looking. One of the men, while speaking in Japanese, pointed to the key hanging around my wrist. I think he said, “Stupid dark foreigner! Take that key off and shut up.” I took it off and went back in the pool, which felt better. Pastor Scott later told me that the pool had an electric current that is suppose to be relaxing as well. An ELECTRIC CURRENT! I wouldn’t have gone in if I had known. There should be a sign saying “Nut Fryer Pool” or some universal symbol for electricity like lightning.

The other pools had different temperatures and some even had different ingredients. All are suppose to provide a different health benefit. I still don’t know what the electric pool does. After sampling everything, I scrubbed again, and showered. I did another round of naked TV with my “buddies”. I still couldn’t understand a thing, but it got interesting when a lady in a kimono threatened a group of men with a razor and proceeded to cut her throat and fall into a pool of blood. Locker rooms around the world sure are different.

A bond is a link that binds people together in a relationship. After the bath, I felt I found a new link with Japan – our love for bathing.

August 30, 2009

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Brothers Bonifacio

For All We Know

“For all we know, this may only be a dream
We come and go like a ripple on a stream
So love me tonight, tomorrow was made for some
Tomorrow may never come for all we know”
- For All We Know

Silent Night
The house is uncharacteristically quiet tonight. It’s completely silent other than the hum of the fridge and the sound of my fingers typing. Come to think of it, it’s been quiet lately. Not counting the occasional noise from cats making kittens of course. Why does it sound like they’re dying whenever they do? But meowning aside this is probably a preview of upcoming chapters in our family story. Here’s how one might go:

Future Brothers Bonifacio
Had a conversation with my mom earlier. Here’s how I broker it to her:

Me: Mom…

Mom: Yes? What is it David?

Me: I’m getting married.

Mom: WHAT???

Me: Just kidding! HAHAHAHA!

Mom: Good. I wouldn’t know how to apologize to her parents!

Me: You’re mean.

I don’t know how I would have done it if I really were getting married. She’s already lost two of us to matrimony.

No Such Thing As A Free Lunch
I rode with Joseph and Mrs. Joseph to Sunday lunch. He kept asking her what she thought of his preaching. A few thousand people already told him it was good as he exited the building, and he’s still not convinced. Of course he did well. I thought the word was incredible. She tells him she loved it. He answers her, “Really? Do you really think so?”

I should have taken a cab. Why don’t they equip cars with barf bags? I turn to Joe Jr. and tell him to cover his ears.

My phone rings, it’s Joshua.

Josh: Where are you going for lunch?

Me: With Joe now. Meeting up with pop and mom.

Josh: Who’s paying?

Me: I think they are.

Josh: Where do we meet you?

Ah… We really are brothers. We all have the same malicious intention – free lunch.

My father used to tell us of how much he dreamed of the day when we would all be independent and how much money he’d save from not having to feed us. Boy, was he wrong. Now he has to feed us, my brothers’ wives, their kids, the yayas, and whichever female can stand me at the moment. They’re lucky today as I’ve managed to offend everyone I would consider taking to family lunch this week. That’s one less mouth to feed, and at least I don’t have to drive anyone home.

We ended up having lunch in some hole-in-the-wall Persian restaurant we have frequented for years. It used to be cheap I think. Well it’s free for me, as it has always been. We ordered the usual, baba ganouj, shirazi salad, salty lasi, chicken and lamb kebabs, and buttered biryani rice. Josh and Mrs. Josh joined us but ordered Tamago, Ikura, Miso soup and 6 pieces of Tempura from the Japanese restaurant next door.

A Little Pressure Never Hurt Anyone
Over lunch my pop asked me:

Pop: David. When are you going to give up your evil ways and give me a grandkid?

Mom: Joey! He has to get married first!

Pop: Of course he has to get married first!

Mom: He’s not ready yet.

Pop: He’s not?

Me: I’m not?

Josh: I think David would like the married life.

Joe: If what you mean by being married is having a harem and slaves.

Me: Hey! That’s unfair!

The Little Gremlins
I looked over at Joe Jr. and Josh Jr. They really are their fathers’ sons. The nerdy looking Joe Jr. with his thick glasses is reading upside down doing a handstand, while the big bald headed Josh Jr. is trying to shoot rolled-up tissue paper into Joe Jr.’s shorts. I’m glad to be their cool uncle. There’ll be another one soon. Mrs. Joseph is expecting a little girl next month. I hope she looks like her mother because Joe would make an ugly girl. I would too. Josh looks like my mom so he’s the only one who could be a girl.

In the Meantime
The sound of cats going at it again brings me back to the present. At the rate they’re going, they’ll catch up with our politicians.

Maybe not.

Hard to predict what the future will look like. Who can really say? Too many changes and so many options, anything can happen. But tonight, surrounded by the objects representing what is most important to me, the family pictures with stories my pop will enthusiastically share, mine and my mother’s paintings, her stacks of art books and Joe’s thick novels, our dining table, Joshua’s basketballs and pet snake, my violin and piano with the silver sculpture of David and Goliath on top, the lampshade that had to be replaced because Joe broke it, the stained and scratched patio table, and others, I’m reminded to cherish each moment, and more importantly, to value the people who make the moments come alive.

August 3, 2009

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Brothers Bonifacio

A Little Too Much Attention

If You Have to Ask…
I got a few inquiries about my proposals business, most joking and some believing. Just to be clear, that was a joke, an exercise in sarcasm and imaginative stupidity. I know nothing about romance, know nothing about proposals or weddings, and my violin skills are limited to my government appointed task to scare away the swine flu.

Besides, someone already stole my idea for a salon. They even copied my name.

The Buzz
The signs are unmistakable. The family is entering a new season. We’re writing a new chapter that includes more females and maybe, very soon, little versions of ourselves.

That’s the other thing about family. One guy gets a crazy idea and the whole family is in for the ride. Of course this can go both ways.

And currently the buzz surrounding us is Joseph’s buzz on The Buzz, a local entertainment show. Like I’ve said over and over, he’s a brave man.

But I’ve decided to follow his footsteps and complicate my life as well. I think I’ll get me a boat.

My Big Head
Last Sunday, I was peacefully driving to church after a wonderful weekend of kayaking and sailing, when my phone started to beep continuously receiving one text after another. The first one I got was from Camille that read, “Kris Aquino’s saying on tv that she met u and that ur cute. Hahaha.” The other texts were all saying the same thing from people who caught that afternoon’s episode of the show.

It didn’t take long for my already big head to get bigger.

Then I was reminded of something that happened to me while sailing just a few hours earlier. After a successful tack, I was feeling good about myself when I didn’t notice the wind change and the bow swung, hit me in the head, and knocked me off the boat. The lesson: A big head is a big target for a swinging bow.

So I turned my phone off, stopped over at a Starbucks along the highway, and lost myself in Carlos Zafon’s new novel the Angel’s Game. Then a second thought hit me: Our greatest pleasures, our greatest escapes, and our greatest satisfaction come in the places, times, things, and people we lose ourselves in.

Here we are trying to find ourselves, to discover ourselves, or be discovered by others, when it’s in losing ourselves to someone else, to something greater or bigger, that fulfillment is found. The truths of life are so far from the paradigms of this world. May I not live a life wasted chasing empty chalices.

-

Ok, let’s go back to the past for a bit. Things were much simpler back then.

Don’t Forget
When I was a kid, every night before sleeping, my mother would come into our room (my brothers and I shared a room, which didn’t make for easy bedtimes since Josh liked having some audio story playing, Joe liked the lights open, and I wanted the lights off, as dark as possible, and as quiet as possible), and we would have the following conversation:

Mother Superior (opens the door and looks in): Don’t forget…
Brothers Bonifacio (irritated): Yes yes. We won’t forget!
Mother Superior: What won’t you forget?
Brothers Bonifacio (super cornied-out at having to go through this conversation every night): You love us…
Mother Superior: Ok, good night.

Years later, while the late night reminders have stopped, and moving out day draws near, I still have not forgotten that my mother loves me. What I used to think was a corny and redundant activity, now that I look back, reinforced a sense of security in me.

Forgetting is a natural process that happens when a memory is not as reinforced as other memories or is not reinforced at all. Try forgetting something on purpose. It’s impossible. The more you try to forget something, the more your mind reminds you of its existence. Remembering on the other hand is reinforcing memory. I like to think of it as re – member or be a member of once again, and repeat or relive the experience.

A lot has changed since we were kids. I’m not quite as behaved (well, I never was behaved to begin with), not half as innocent, or as trusting, or as quick to hope, and the dreams are sometimes nightmares. But whenever things seem a little overwhelming, and as we navigate this new path, it always helps to remember my mother reminding me, “Don’t forget.”

July 16, 2009

2



Brothers Bonifacio

Expansion

First of all I would like to thank everyone for the overwhelming positive response we have received regarding my new business, Proposals by David. I must apologize that with the number of inquiries we’ve been getting our system has not been able to respond to all of you. Call it birth pains. We are working on fixing this concern as we know many of you are so eager, or as one of our Filipino customers put it in Tagalog “atat na atat” to get married. I’m really grateful for all of you. Without lonely people like you there would be no Proposals by David.

Expansion is definitely in my mind. And I have a few ideas:

Proposal Music by David – I’m not too bad a piano player. Sure, I need to follow the metronome better, but when hearts are beating as fast as they do during proposals no one will notice. Of course, for those with deeper pockets, they can opt to go for my violin package which includes famous tracks such as Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and variations, Lightly Row, Scales on the E, A, D, and G strings, and the Disney favourite, A Whole New World.

Pinoy Proposals International by David – Jorge had a great suggestion to go international. I’m thinking I can target overseas Filipinos who want a home-cooked proposal. I mean why have steak when you can have beef-steak? Or pulled pork when you can have lechon? Or Dory when you can have dog? Of course we’ll have to charge in dollars which runs an exchange rate risk but we’ll hedge one way or another.

Ready To Wed (RTW) Spouse by David – In line with our vision to be the ultimate one-stop-shop of proposals, I encourage our staff to ask ourselves, “What else can we offer the would-be lover?” And then it hit us, “Why not offer the lover himself / herself?” I mean, the demand is surely there. And so is the supply. We’re meeting a need. I’m thinking we can have spouse customers fill up a form asking them important questions such as what their favorite color is, or how many toes they have, or whether they like Edamame. From this comprehensive questionnaire we can come up with a perfect match from our warehouse. This is going to be a winner

I really hate putting my name on everything, but our brand consultants have insisted we ride on my sterling reputation of being a stable, committed, and long-term romantic partner.

So many exciting developments. I don’t know if I have the time. I guess I’ll probably start with something simpler but still completely original, like something to help would-be proposers get ready. I think I’ll put up a salon. I think I’ll call it David’s.

June 7, 2009

2



Brothers Bonifacio

Proposals by David

I’m not known for being a very romantic guy. (Which is a misconception. I actually am.) But I’ve decided to enter the proposal planning business. I thought about it really hard and it was such an obvious decision. I mean, there just isn’t any other industry that will allow me to fully utilize my evident strengths which are sensitivity, and a complete and deep understanding of romance and females. (Maybe besides writing a book on “How to Love Your Female: Cultivate a Relationship That Lasts beyond 3 Months”, but this would be a little too easy for me.) Besides ordering people around has always come naturally to me. And even better, I already have my team:

1. Flowers and Candles by Anna Moran with sought after Candle Lighter Jonathan Murrell
2. Styling by Jen, Janina, and Ryan Punzalan
3. Creative Watcha-ma-call-its by Linnie Lareza (with no extra overtime charges)
4. Video and Lighting by JA Moran and Paolo Punzalan
5. Constructive Criticism by James Murrell

And my personal favourite:

6. Bossed-Around-Do-Everything-I-Say-Guys Paolo and Darwin

The Competition
Now, I’ve scoped the field and there’s really just one competitor I’m worried about:Ganns Dean’s Perfect Proposals. He’s had a head start and has proposed to more females than I have. I’ve never actually proposed to anyone. It’s sad, I know. But at some point you get used to the females doing the proposing and it doesn’t bother you anymore – and this is my competitive edge: I know how I would like to be proposed to.

Anyway, I decided to try some spy tactics and interview Ganns himself:
(Paraphrased)

Me: Ganns, do you still have that proposals company?
Ganns: Why yes. You planning to propose?
Me: Well, yeah…
Ganns: Great! I didn’t even know you had a girlfriend.
Me: You know me. I’m really private about these things.
Ganns: Ok…
Me: But you know that feeling, when you keep thinking of someone, and no matter what you do you can’t get them out of your mind? Like no matter what focus techniques you use to block them out they still dance around your brain?
Ganns: Yes! I first felt that way with Debbie Gibson.
Me: Who’s Debbie Gibson?
Ganns: My first crush. Then she came out on playboy and that destroyed the dream.
Me: So you know how it feels. Like that last piece of crap that won’t come out no matter how much psylium husk you drink.
Ganns: You’re so romantic. Here’s my advice: To thine own self be true. If you ask her in a way that’s un-you, it isn’t authentic. And she probably knows you well enough to know.
Me: And if she doesn’t like me then what?
Ganns: You are one of the most charming, articulate young men I know. I’m sure she likes you. And if she doesn’t, well, it’s not the end of the world.
Me: It’s not? How’d you feel when Debbie Gibson fell out of your life?
Ganns: Dude, she was a blonde, blue-eyed Jewish singer. I was this pimply adolescent Filipino. But I’ll tell you this, when I did ask my first girlfriend to be my girlfriend, it was at a piano, and I was making the words up as I went along. That’s who I was. It’s the same thing with you.
Me: So do you think my crap analogy will work?
Ganns: Um… No.
Me: But what happened to being true?
Ganns: That’s the exception.
Me: Ok. We’re dead.

And here’s the winning line,

Ganns: It’s not about the batting average. You step up to the plate, you take a deep breath, you swing, and you hope you hit a home run. If it doesn’t work, you get another chance up at bat. If you don’t get another chance, there will be other ball games.

I thought that was a brilliant way to put it. Then I remembered hearing something like that from the movie Martian Child, and I wondered if Ganns was actually an extraterrestrial.

The First Test
After my little reconnaissance of the competition, I did what all sought after proposal planners do – I waited to be sought. It didn’t take very long until, by purely word of mouth, I got a first client, my brother, Joseph.

Joseph: I need your help Dave.
Me: I know you do. I’ll help you because I’m an expert at these things and know all there is to know about proposing.

Ok, that wasn’t believable at all. It didn’t go anything like that. It was more like:

Me: You do know that you’re going to be stuck with her if you do this?
Joseph: That’s the point, Dave.
Me: Right.

To make a potentially long story short by removing all the feminine interest angles, we succeeded in helping my brother in his suicide mission. And that’s exactly what it was: a suicide mission. To love someone is to lay your life down and die to yourself. And we planners are guilty of euthanasia.

April 16, 2009

2



Brothers Bonifacio

Knowing Better

For Dummies
I love For Dummies books. Whenever I’m interested in a certain field and want a basic foundation on the concepts and items connected to it I go to a bookstore and buy a For Dummies book. If I were like Joe who has photographic memory and can memorize things, or like Josh who is eerily prophetic I wouldn’t need so many references. But I’m not. So I need them. I remember overhearing someone saying, “Why should I buy a book for dummies? I’m not a dummy!” I wanted to whisper nicely, “You’re a dummy for not catching the humour in their presentation of a reference book.”

As I get older, I realize more and more, that we all have living “For Dummies” references at our disposal, people, such as our parents, mentors, a friend, or anyone, who can tell us, “Don’t do that. Or “I’ve tried that”. Or “That road ends in a cliff”. Or “Stay the same and you’ll throw every good thing you have away.”

Looking back, I could have avoided a lot of mistakes if I had listened, if I had paid attention to the references available to me, to the wisdom I have access to, and especially to my parents.

But many times I didn’t – and at times still don’t.

And that’s why I’m the dummy who needs For Dummies books.

All Wrong
My very good friend Benjo once asked me about this female I had gone out with. I told him that was the past, “I know better now.” He then asked, “Enlighten me. What wise lesson have you learned this time?” I told him:

“I now know what I knew.”

We laughed at that thought. Both understanding that many times we stubbornly pursue paths that we KNOW will lead to painful endings. Proof that no matter what we know, or have achieved, or how much money we make, or positions we hold, or lovers we take, or accolades we receive, or talents we unveil, or whatever, we can be lost– very lost.

And I’ve realized it’s not so much because we choose to be with the wrong people, though that is connected to the problem, but more because we, including myself, especially myself, many times forget love. And in a world that has forgotten love, anyone and everyone will be wrong for each other.

Moving On
A few weeks ago while driving my grandparents home from Sunday lunch, my grandmother and I had this conversation:

Lola: So David, you’re the only one among your brothers who hasn’t introduced his girlfriend to me.
Me (kidding around): That’s because there are too many.
Lola: I’m serious!
Me (still kidding around): Seriously, they’re all over. I’m moving on.

And that triggered the She-Hulk.

Lola: I HATE HEARING THOSE WORDS “MOVING ON”! I hear that from so many people. In my day we worked on our issues!
Me: Could women vote in your day? Ah… we’re here!

After dropping them off, I could still hear my grandmother’s words ringing in my brain, “In my day we worked on our issues!” And the more I thought about it, I realized that in general, society back then was stronger because the family unit was stronger. The family unit was stronger because people “worked on it” instead of moving on like relational nomads. True, there was injustice and pain suffered in secret by many back then, especially by females, and today we don’t have to put up with anything but I can’t definitively say that people are suffering less today because of the many options we now have. Whether people are trapped and suffer in secret or suffer in the consequences of selfish choices – people are still suffering. I can’t even say people are at least happier today. Freer? Yes. More empowered? Yes. But happier? Can’t say.

Ok let’s move on… hehe…

The Funnel of Love
Now I’m taking a page from one of my greatest references, my father, a lesson he called the Funnel of Love. Depending on the color of your brain you might find the concept of a love funnel sick but let me continue. Wait a minute, I think he said “filter” – not “funnel”. Ok let’s use “filter”. Funnel is kinda inappropriate. Here’s what he said:

“Here’s a simple way to do the right thing. Filter everything with love. Before you do anything, ask yourself: Is this patient? Is this kind? Am I envious? Am I boasting? Am I proud? Am I being rude? Am I self-seeking and selfish? Am I being easily angered? Am I keeping a record of wrongs? Am I delighting in evil? What truth can I rejoice in? Will this protect? Am I trusting others? Do I continue to hope? Am I persevering? Filter all your thoughts and actions this way and you will know that you love.”

I remember listening to him, blank faced with a slight smirk, thinking to myself, “You have got to be kidding me. Do you realize how difficult your filter idea is? I’m going to end up not doing anything.” He read my thoughts in that way only fathers who have laid their life down for their children can and continued, “That’s why you have to seek God every day. Because it’s impossible without Him.”

And that’s why I go to God every morning, because I’ve realized, with this whole loving thing, I don’t stand a chance.

March 16, 2009

0



Brothers Bonifacio

Morbid Memorial

Whenever I feel overwhelmed, which has been almost daily the past few years. I drive down to Heritage Memorial Park and go for a walk. I know it sounds weird. (Readers of my work should be used to me by now.) But I do have my reasons. It’s quite a nice place to go, if you don’t mind the thought of people’s remains six feet under. For one it’s always peaceful, as pretty much everyone there is resting in peace, so it’s a good place to think and pray, and to lose yourself in the stories of your mind. Then there’s the reminder that there’s an ending to all of this – a literal deadline to life. That no matter how great or how tough or how exciting or discouraging life can get there’s an ending, and that being alive is a treat in itself so we might as well make the most of it. Perspective is the difference between a problem and a challenge, danger and adventure, a hole and an opening, and… I can’t think of anything else.

Anyway, the real blame for my cryptic choice goes to my mom.

When my brothers and I were younger, around the time my dad got it into his head to learn how to rollerblade, my mom decided that we would all go rollerblading at Heritage. A few years back, my parents had bought burial lots there, and my mom wanted us to have “fun” memories of the place when we visit their dead selves in the future. By “we” I mean my brothers and I, our spouses, and all 15 grand children – 5 kids each.

It could go like this…

Me: Everyone. I thought of something fun for us to do while your mom is away.

Adult Kids: What is it?

Me: Why don’t we visit your grandparents.

Adult Kids: But grandpa doesn’t even like you.

Me: Of course he does!

Adult Kids: No he doesn’t. He told us.

Me: He’s just jealous his daughter and your grandma like me better than him, and I don’t need Viagra. Besides we’re visiting the Bonifacio side.

Youngest Kid: What’s Viagra?

Adult Kids: The dead ones?

Youngest Kid: What’s Viagra?

Me: Yeah! Don’t you miss them?

Adult Kids: Of course we do. But they’re… you know… dead.

Youngest Kid: What’s Viagra?

Me: Well your mother’s parents look old enough to be dead. So what’s the difference?

Adult Kids: Um… Being alive means we can actually see them when we visit them. We can’t see our grandparents who are buried.

Me: Took care of that. I already had their faces engraved. It will be fun! We’ll bring the bikes and skates, and have a picnic.

Youngest Kid: What’s Viagra?

Adult Kids: Ask pop.

Me: Everyone be quiet and get in the car.

-

Ok, that’s a little far-fetched. The way my parents are going they’ll see their great-grand kids. That’s if we do our part of course. No pressure. No pressure at all.

October 16, 2008

0



Brothers Bonifacio

A Fat Lesson

When we were kids my dad caught Joseph and I making fun of this pastor for being fat. After scolding us, he told us to walk over to the pastor and apologize to him.

“What? Why? He didn’t hear us! He doesn’t even know we were teasing him!” we reasoned.

Our arguments didn’t change my dad’s verdict, and Joseph and I walked over to the pastor to say sorry. That wouldn’t be the last of uncomfortable apologies for me. There have been a lot more.

“Pastor. We’re sorry for calling you fat.”

He looked at us with a mixture of shock and amusement. And that was that.

I don’t think the pastor remembers the incident, and the embarrassment of it all is gone as well. But years later the lesson of that apology has remained. Because of that incident, and many similar others, I realized that saying sorry has nothing to do with whose fault it is or whether or not someone deserves something. It taught me that saying sorry means two things:

Acknowledging that there’s something wrong. That because of my thoughts and actions, or someone else’s, that a relationship was broken, that someone was hurt, or has suffered loss, or was brought pain.

And second,

Expressing that I’ll be responsible, in a big way or even a tiny way, whether or not I’m at fault, to help make things right.

Years of apologizing have taught me that it doesn’t always fix things. Sometimes it does nothing. Many times it’s just the start. But I’ll take that new start any day. We’re going to make mistakes – that’s life. But we can be humble and ask for an opportunity to right things because there’s love, and love is not proud and love always protects.