Tag Archives | brothers 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.

January 5, 2012

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Brothers Bonifacio

Beautiful Work From Beautiful Hands

January is the birthday month of my mother, Marie. Mama was as hands on a mother as possible. I could not have asked for a better mom. She’s beautiful, and loving, and caring, and immensely thoughtful, she’s fun, and creative, and classy, and protective, though a little too protective when it came to my dates, but that’s how moms are I guess – no one’s good enough for her baby.

The Brothers Bonifacio would not be around without her. I mean, she and my dad (who always talks about how lucky he is to have a wife that is always praying for him) literally made us. But more than that she raised us, and though I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for her, she has very graciously released us to the discoveries and dangers, liabilities and lessons, and the tumbles and triumphs of life.

Here are some paintings from my mom’s latest series. It’s more proof that from beautiful hands will come beautiful work, because they’re guided by a beautiful soul.

February 10, 2011

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Brothers Bonifacio

Make It Big

Every family has its quirks, idiosyncrasies that make our interaction with one another and with others more special and unforgettable. The trick is to celebrate (or to honor) the characteristics that make each one unique instead of resenting the differences. Writing this series has been a wonderful experience for me, not only because of the very positive feedback, but more because I’ve been able to look back at my growing up years with a new, clearer, better perspective, one that helped me appreciate many of the things I took for granted or even felt embarrassed by when I was young. But I’ve learned that whether you’re young looking forward or older in years looking back, we benefit from a heavenly perspective that we receive when look up.

Make It Big
I was running, no, rushing to the bathroom to go on one of my infamous bombing runs, when my dad urgently stopped me,

Pop: David! Where’re you going?
Me: I’m going to poop.
Pop: Alright.

I was turning to run since nature’s call was strong when he called again.

Pop: David!
Me: What?!!
Pop (looking me straight in the eye): Make it big.

And I did. (Much to the frustration of Josh who shared a bathroom with me.)

I still do.

My dad was like that, always thinking big, attempting big, and expecting big. Even my poop had to be big. But that stuck to me. Thinking big I mean, not the poop. That would have been gross.

My Big Imagination
When I was in grade school / lower school I found a most innovative solution to a perennial pain in the butt: homework. I couldn’t get why anyone thought it was a good idea to to wake up at 6am, be at school by 7am, stay until 3 or 4pm, sit in traffic for another hour-long ride home, only to sit down at your desk to do more school work. Between sleep and school alone that’s already about 20 hours. Only 4 hours for play! I can honestly say I don’t remember half the stuff my teachers said. So like I said, I found a solution to what I used to call a “stupid schedule” and it was incredibly easy. I simply decided to ignore my homework entirely and live an imagined homework-less life.

And it worked.

At least for a while.

I would come home, my parents would ask me if I had homework, and I would say, “Nope. None.” They would ask again, “No homework?” “Nope.” “No homework again?” “None.” It didn’t dawn on me that I was lying. I told them there was no homework because there was no homework. In my mind, I had resolved that I would decide whether I had homework or not, not my teachers, and I had chosen not not have any homework – EVER. My teacher would give me my homework, I would say, “No thanks.” and the problem of homework was solved.

Until the parent-teacher conference or the dreaded PTC when the teacher told my parents that I had not done any homework for the whole quarter. My parents confronted me and said…

Pop and Mom: David, you told us you didn’t have any homework.
Me: I didn’t.
Pop and Mom: David. Your teacher said you didn’t do any of your homework.
Me: Because I didn’t have any.
Pop and Mom: David. Your teacher said you had homework.
Me: But I decided I don’t have any. So I don’t.
Pop and Mom: David! You can’t decide that! You have to follow your teacher!
Me: Why???
Pop and Mom: Because she’s your teacher! You have to do your homework when she gives it to you! That’s disobeying, David. And that’s also lying.
Me: But she’s so boring and grumpy because she’s always pregnant!
Pop and Mom: David!!!

I got the rod that afternoon, which I got a few times daily anyway, and my ass was a shade of bright red despite my dark complexion. Now that I’m older I’ve realized that more than just lying to my parents, I was lying to myself, thinking that I could imagine my problems away, and decide to ignore the real world. Instead my parents got me tutors and began an incredibly motivating incentive scheme for our education. I didn’t know it yet but my parents were teaching me an integral lesson every person must learn: you have to LIVE your life not escape it. You have to embrace how you were created and you must enjoy your experiences, but you must also carry your responsibilities and face your issues, knowing that God rewards faithfulness.

Bigger Love
There is a very real feeling of vulnerability when one moves away from his parents. My parents had developed, despite the resource limitations, a home where love was abundant, responsibility was expected, and purpose promoted. It had a safe, welcoming feeling that had more to do with the light my parents radiated then a yellow bulb’s glow. It wasn’t perfect, not even close. There were fights (lots of them involving me), there were heated debates (which Joe always won), there were limbs broken, and hearts as well (ahem ahem), interesting pharmaceutical products, academic concerns, crashed cars, sheriffs forclosing, and even my mom finding a naked guy on my email (back when my mom was new to the term “spam”) among many other things. But no matter how big the problems were my reactionary parents somehow gathered themselves together and presented a bigger love, not some imaginary “everything is fine” attitude (like my homework), but the love of Christ that forgives, and joyfully sacrifices, a love that covers a multitude of sin.

That’s an environment I’d like to recreate for my own family someday.

Someday I will have little curly-haired Davids running around and, if they’re anything like their father, their energy and their curiosity will land them in many “interesting” places and circumstances. But there will be a bigger love for them, the same bigger-than-us love now available to you and me.

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.

November 10, 2010

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Brothers Bonifacio

The Beautiful End

Things Change
Change is the process of becoming different. And life has changed for the Brothers Bonifacio, incredibly so the past few years. Gone are the care-free and care-less days of a wonderful childhood that had the stability of great parents in love, the entertainment of being in between a sarcastic genius older brother and an insane yet prophetic younger one, the convenience of having your best friends around you and next door, and the simplicity of not wanting anything more than time to play GI Joes and LEGO.

But, as I said, things changed.

My parents are still very much in love, but the stability of mine and my brothers’ lives will depend more on our own actions and decisions now as we grow into independence.
This is most obvious to me when I go out to eat.

When I was younger, without looking at prices, I always managed to choose the most expensive thing available. I can’t explain how. It was pure talent. I would walk into a cloth shop, know nothing about cloth, choose a pattern I like, and lo and behold, the heaviest price tag. We would walk into art shops and my parents would marvel at how everything I liked was way way way beyond our budget – our budget for several years. And this talent was most often displayed in restaurants.

These days the figures to the right have more of a say on what I order, simply because this time I’m paying and can’t afford to ignore the math.

Fair Females and Un-Fair Expectations
Another sign of the changing times is how we’ve complicated our lives with females.
While my brothers never really sought membership in my “female-haters” club, they weren’t exactly the biggest fans of the gentler gender. But even at a young age my dad tried to teach us the importance of choosing the right partner:

Pop: Guys. We have something important to talk about. Someday, when you get married, half of everything you own will belong to your wife. Meaning, half your GI JOEs, half your LEGO, and half of all your toys.

And the answers were telling:

Joe: I’ll just make sure that I marry someone I really really love, that way I won’t mind sharing everything with her.

Joseph was ridiculously good sometimes. We were kids when he said this. Imagine. Josh and I had to grow up next to the crown prince of virtue. I didn’t even like the thought of females touching my GI JOEs. There was this one time when the daughter of a family friend came over to play. I gave her Jinx, the female ninja GI JOE to play with. (I didn’t like Jinx anyway.) Then, as can be expected when a female gets involved, things got complex:

Ina: David, before your GI JOEs fight, we have to get married.
Me: What??? Are you nuts??? GI JOEs don’t get married.
Ina: Of course they do. Everyone gets married.
Me: NO!!! You’re a weirdo!
Ina: If you won’t marry me then give me another GI JOE I can marry.
Me: No way!!! None of my guys want to marry you!
Ina: How am I supposed to get married when you won’t give me anyone to marry?

I wouldn’t budge. I was the leader of my JOEs and I wasn’t about to sacrifice any of them on the marriage alter. But neither would she. She HAD to get married. Finally, we settled on Jinx marrying a purple Koosh Ball. And it all worked out well in the end. They lived happily ever after playing in their corner, while I went on to save the world with Hawk and Flint. I’m pretty sure Jinx and the Koosh would have had ugly kids.

I loved my GI JOEs, and that’s why when answering my dad’s little talk on marriage I said, “Forget it. I’m not getting married.”

But the best answer came from Joshua, “You won’t? I’m going to marry a billionaire.” He always was a smart guy.

My brothers have since found best friends from the enemy camp. I’m sticking to my limited treaties.

Yesterday my dad asked me before church, “David, of all your girl-friends, which one do you think would make the best wife for you?” I told him it was something I didn’t really think about, and that when I did think about it, there wasn’t really a problem with the females, it’s really more me that has work to do. He replied, “I’m asking you a simple hypothetical question and you’re not answering it. So who?”

And this section stops here.

The Beautiful End
I can’t tell you when exactly things changed, when our childhood ended and my brothers and I were required to become men. Like my dad’s favorite, Mr. Darcy said, “I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun.” But I can tell you this:

God blesses us with beautiful surprises from the most normal and unexpected of places. And sometimes He does the opposite, taking away and bringing things to a close. But I’ve realized that the beginning and the end are two parts of the same blessing: one part to usher in the joy, and the other, to teach us to value what was.

I guess like the law of conservation of matter and of energy, things don’t really disappear, they just change to something else, dissipating to other things, hopefully better things. When you see endings this way, you realize that the end is never really game over, but the start of something new. Like the death of a seed is necessary for a plant to bloom, the end opens up new things, new opportunities, and new experiences.

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.

And so this post, and the Bonifacio Brothers series, ends the only way it ever could – with a new beginning.

February 14, 2010

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Brothers Bonifacio

Valentines Day

A man who doesn’t spend time with his family can never be a real man.
- Don Vito Corleone to Johnny Fontane, from The Godfather

L.O.V.E, it’s a mystery
Where you’ll find me, where you’ll find
All is Love, is love, is love, is love
- Karen O, All is Love from Where the Wild Things Are

Valentine’s Day
Contrary to what people might think, I actually like Valentine’s day. Growing up, my ever thoughtful mom used to put heart-shaped patterned goodie bags filled with heart-shaped chocolates, heart-shaped gummies, and other heart, cupid, rose, or some similar Valentine’s-cliche-shaped sweet. My brothers and I already had the best lunch boxes, we each had one cooler (Yes, a cooler.) of Ritz Bits, mini Chips Ahoy, some fruit leather (Which I used to refer to as Fruit of the Loom until I saw the underwear. You can’t chew on those, well, you can, but you’d look like an idiot.), milk in a pack (Of course we had to have milk.), granola bars, and on Valentine’s Day our treasure chest turned into a personal ADHD resource.

As if we weren’t hyper enough.

Valentine’s has changed for us now that we are older, such as Joe’s traditional car stalling when Carla and he celebrate Valentine’s. I think Tammy the Tamaraw is jealous that she no longer gets Joe’s undivided attention. I think it started changing for me the first time I gave a bunch of roses to a girl. I got the colors all wrong and gave her white ones because I wanted mine to stand out. Now I know that tradition matters more than color – so stick to red. But I’m sure she liked them anyway. Because she told me she liked me like crazy.

Or did she say she was crazy for liking me.

I forget.

It doesn’t matter. Everyone who likes anyone like crazy is crazy for liking anyone like crazy. If you found that confusing, well, so did I. But that’s part of the fun.

My parents seem to have warmed-up to our bringing females to meet the family, especially with Carla and Kristie around. At one of our recent dinners, my dad had reserved the seat next to him for Carla, for his new daughter, so that he could tell her to start calling her pop. He’s sentimental that way. Which is also why he watches Joe’s wedding video for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

It wasn’t always this way. I remember on one of my birthdays, my mom gave me a copy of Joshua Harris’ book I Kiss Dating Goodbye. I gave it away the next day. Christmas that year she gave me another copy. What kind of sadistic mom gives a book like that for Christmas??? I think I used that copy to build a camp fire or something. She then gave me a third copy on my birthday the next year with terrible acting, “Oh have I given you a copy of this?” “Um.. YEAH… for the past three disappointing gift occasions.” With me, they always had this idea that I only went out with females solely because of their looks. Which was absurd. All of them, and they’re not as many as my brothers make them out to be, were attractive, interesting, and incredible in their own different way. But I wouldn’t recommend my path to anyone, in fact, after witnessing Joe’s wedding, I’d suggest you emulate him, not so much so that you’ll bag an actress, but so that we’ll see how God works when we let Him. Ok I shouldn’t use the word “bag”, but you get the point. Besides, I prefer someone low-key and away from the limelight so that I don’t have to worry about getting photographed while I’m picking my nose or losing my temper on the tennis court.

February 14, 2010
Earlier today, the family, which is pop and mom, Joe, Josh, and their better halves, Carla and Kristie, and I got together for a home made Valentine’s lunch. Not to be undone, I invited my own friend from Japan who is also into sailing. I only realized later on that he was the same friend I brought to Christmas dinner when my mom mentioned it. Which prompted Josh to say:

“So, David. Are you trying to tell us something? Are you introducing him to the family?”

My brother is insane, and my other seemingly angelic but also quite as crazy older brother and he decided to pick on the remaining single brother by playing a twist to a family favorite game called What Would You Rather. This one is called David, Who Would You Rather End Up With.

Brothers: David, who would you rather end up with… K or I?
David: I don’t know them both.
Brothers: Just based on looks.
David: I don’t know how they look.
Mom: You don’t? K has nice legs.
David: Yikes mom…
Mom: Here. (Showing me a picture of K on her computer)
David: It’s blurry. I can’t see the detail. I like detail.
Mom: You like detail? Here. She has a nice necklace.
David: Like that matters when you’re married… More like, does she like classical music?
Brothers: Like THAT matters…

Brothers: C or H?
David: C.
Brothers: Woohoo!

Brothers: What about C or P?
David: Definitely P.
Brothers: What happened to C?
David: P is hotter.
Brothers: Woohoo!

Brothers: P or R?
David: R by far.
Brothers: Nice to know you still have some substance left.

Brothers: P or P?
David: P. Like I said earlier, she’s hotter.
Brothers: There goes the substance.

So the game went on. F or Y? C or T? P or Z? A or double X? Actress or business woman? Chef or athlete? Musician or writer? Old or older? (Note: The letters I put are random. They do not correspond to anyone specifically. Well, they do, but not logically but by chance.)

All this talk got me thinking, “Who is someone I can’t live without?” It didn’t take long for me to realize. Because if you were to ask me if I would rather be doing anything else, I would tell you no. I can’t think of anything I enjoy more than being with my family – even if I am the seventh wheel, and even if it means enduring another round of Who Would You Rather.

It’s always been clear, that having some-one to yourself doesn’t really matter when you’re surrounded by the ones who mean everything.

Besides, I’m saving up for a sailboat.

February 1, 2010

0



Brothers Bonifacio

Joe’s Wedding Video

Want to share the video of my brother’s recent wedding. Joseph is a pastor at Victory Christian Fellowship while Carla (Rica is her screen name) is a very popular actress in the Philippines.

Carla (Rica) Peralejo and Joe Bonifacio’s Same Day Edit from Jason Magbanua on Vimeo.

February 1, 2010

2



Brothers Bonifacio

Our Father’s Favor

Because You're Worth It.

I was wondering
Was I dreaming
But it’s true
Life’s unfolding
I’ll be growing
Old with you
Still many things unplanned
But take my hand
The future’s vast
Let’s make our love last
– Let’s Make Our Love Last

“I promise to constantly pursue you, make you feel loved and wanted… because you’re worth it.”
– Sapster

January 28, 2010
The night before the wedding, while sharing our last casita with Joe before he clamped on his ball and chain, I asked him, “You sure about this? It’s not too late to back out you know?”

He just looked at me and shook his head.

January 29, 2010 – right before marching
Me: “Joe. This is your last chance. Once the music starts there’s no turning back.”
Joe: Shaking his head again.
Me: “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

So we marched. Like guards escorting a convict down his final green mile, we walked the sandy aisle. Then Pastor Steve administered his last rites, and before you know it pronounced the sentence: man and wife.

I’m convinced Cupid has us fooled. He isn’t a baby in Pampers with a mini bow and arrow. In fact, I think he sort of looks like General Rommel, The Desert Fox, and drives around in a massive tank. When that turret is aimed at you, it’s not to pierce your heart. It’s prepared to blow you away. Blow you away for good.

I’ve taken a few shrapnel wounds myself but Joe sustained a direct hit. The blast was so strong it threw him into a white suit and Korean bangs.

Seriously, my “non-showbiz” brother, Joseph’s wedding to his “showbiz” best friend Carla “Rica” Peralejo was amazing. I was so proud of my brother because he looked every bit the man that he really is, still slightly geeky with his Zoolander Magnum look, but also decidedly confident, and prepared to take on this responsibility. Most importantly he was a testimony of God honoring a man that has dedicated his life to honoring Him.

It was both an encouragement and a gentle rebuke to me.

Carla looked especially beautiful. I mean she’s pretty, everyone knows that. She’s an actress – she has to be. But the way she looked that day was something else. It wasn’t “hot” or “sexy” or “cute” or “pretty”. It wasn’t the kind that makes you think “Wow, Joe’s going to have one heck of a night tonight.” (Though that was probably in Josh’s mind.) This one was BEAUTIFUL – pure, unadulterated, un-manufactured radiance.

Before the wedding was over Josh and I had agreed, “Joe’s going to have one heck of a night tonight.” (”But you just said…” I know. I know. That’s what you get for growing up in a group of three boys.)

I heard a lot of hearts were broken that day. I’m not surprised. People like beauty. Carla is beautiful for obvious reasons, Joe, has a beautiful… um… mind?

A lot of hearts were also lit alive with love on that perfect day, in a perfect place, with a perfect sky, and a perfect breeze, when two imperfect people were perfected in love by a commitment to a union with each other and our Lord.

Thank Yous
The wedding was executed very well. Thanks to Pastor Steve (officiating minister, and really our third father: God, then Pop, then Pastor Steve), Teena Baretto (amazing wedding planner), the master storytellers Lito Sy (photos) and Jason Magbanua (video), Seren8 (music), Josiah’s (food), Tita Pin Antonio (renowned hair stylist and another close friend of the couple’s), Tito Gary Valenciano (song numbers), always a treat to have him, Donita Rose and Pastor Dennis Sy (hosts), and I must add Franco Laurel and Archie Castillo (who respectively sang and arranged the song I wrote). I’m sure I missed people but this isn’t really my job. Joe for sure will be thanking everyone when he’s not so preoccupied.

You understand of course. As he said in his own speech, he has to “conserve energy”.

I was actually surprised they showed up at the house yesterday. If I was Joe, and had a license to kill, I would fire away.

That’s probably why he’s the married one.

Anyway…

Joshua Strikes Again
Earlier before the wedding, my dad and I were trying to get Joshua to prepare for his toast. He couldn’t understand why he had to prepare anything when all he had to say was “CHEERS!”

So he thought…

When Paula, Carla’s sister, shared a well-prepared heart-felt message, Josh all of a sudden felt pressured to say something. So to buy him some time he did an impromptu dance that was followed by an incredibly funny impromptu speech. I can’t do justice to what he said so I’m hoping someone posts a video of his toast.

He ended his speech by toasting to “Beuwolf!”

Why? Who knows?

Josh and I are opening a Bestmen for hire business with Teena. This actually matches Proposals by David. Isn’t matrimonial capitalism beautiful? Back in William Wallace’s day all you needed was a guy and a girl, a priest, a horse, and a lake. Today, you have a billion dollar industry.

Next?
I get the thought process. My older brother gets married so it’s only logical that his direct younger brother is next. But that logic only works if age and birth order were the only criteria for eligibility. In reality both aren’t as important as, let’s say, shared values and same taste in music. (Seriously, the former is a need, the latter a want.)

I don’t know if this is true, but about 4628 couples get married every day. So there have been more than 12,000 couples who have gone next already, and if, let’s say again, I stay single for another 10 years, that would give us a formula and results of 4628 couples/day X 365 days/year X 10 years = 16,892,200 couples X 2 person/couple = 33,784,400 people next.

In short, I’m not next.

Changes
There’s going to be a few changes in our household. For one, there’s going to be more food in the fridge. Joe eats a lot. And my clothes won’t keep disappearing. Looking forward to that.

But we’re also going to miss Wyatt Earp aka King Arthur aka D’artagnan aka Simon the Chipmunk. I feel like a comrade was lost in arms – lost to matrimony, that great unknown where none come back the same – if at all.

The bar is really set high, now that Joseph “sapster” Bonifacio has joined the leagues of Lord Byron with his “I promise to constantly pursue you, make you feel loved and wanted… because you’re worth it.” I’m seeing his quote all over the place followed by statements such as “Can I clone you Joe?” “I’m waiting for my Joe.” “the Legend of Joe Bonifacio” and my personal favorites “Oh my Joe” and “Santa, wrap me a Joe I’ve been good this year.”

Ok, I made those last two up.

Being positive about it, we do gain something my brothers and I have always wanted: a sister. Finally, my mother has another female to plan tea parties and cross-stitch with.

Just kidding.

I have a sister now, and I love the thought of it.

Technically, Joe doesn’t have one yet. He’ll have to wait for 33,784,400 people to go first. Unless Josh surprises us.

Now I need a new title for this series. Bonifacio Brothers and Chick, Bonifacio Brothers and Female, Bonifacio Brothers and Wife, Bonifacio Brothers and XX Chromosome. It’s late. I don’t want to think.

Our Father’s Favor
My brothers and I, like many other children, have had to live under the shadow of expectations for most of our lives, such as spiritual expectations, moral expectations, achievement expectations, behavioral expectations, conduct expectations, financial expectations, relational expectations, and others, some of which we have placed on ourselves, but many of which just comes with being the children of my parents. I’ve struggled with the knowledge that given all my flaws there’s no way I can live up to these standards. I’m sure my brothers have felt the same at times, and maybe some of you have your own versions.

But standing at my brother’s wedding that day, watching a miracle called marriage take place, and it was a miracle, I felt our Father, Joe’s Father, my Father, your Father, our Father, impress in my heart, “Isn’t this greater than what you expected? See what I can do when you let me?”

And again, another humbling moment for this arrogant middle son, I thought to myself, “Yes, I see.”

So I’m reminding myself to forget the expectations, and release the criticism, to stop struggling and striving, and to remember to obey and to trust. Because even as I was brought down another notch in my never-ending need for humbling, I heard His voice once again in my heart say, “Then let me do greater things for you.”

December 20, 2009

4



Brothers Bonifacio

The Light and the Life

Under the Mistletoe
Standing under the mistletoe, I look into her eyes. She has to be the most beautiful female in the world, more beautiful than all the past females combined, and without their collective weight. I ask her, “You do know what they say about two people under a mistletoe?” She smiles sweetly, leans in, and then suddenly, knees me in the groin.

The pain wakes me from my daydream. Time to get back to writing. In the spirit of the holidays, here is the Bonifacio Brothers Holiday Edition.

The Rolling Thunder
When we were younger, Christmas was the highlight of the year. I remember one early Christmas, when I was 5 or 6 years old, I received a GI Joe truck for Christmas. And it wasn’t just “a” truck, this was “THE” truck – it was the Rolling Thunder. The Rolling Thunder was more than three feet long when extended and came with its driver, codename: Armadillo, two huge missiles that had six mini-missiles inside it, a tank turret with two red missiles on each side, an opening ramp that allowed a scout vehicle to rollout, and a movable missile platform to kill those that managed to escape all the other weapons of destruction. Let me put it this way: If Chuck Norris was a truck; he’d be the Rolling Thunder. And if the Rolling Thunder was human it would be Chuck Norris, but not as hairy. We would sing the song How Great Thou Art in church and when the line “I feel the rolling thunder” would come up I would proudly whisper to my dad, “That’s my truck.”

Why Joshua Can’t Be Santa
From my best gift ever to the worst. A few Chrismases ago, my crazy younger brother, Joshua, thought it would be a good idea to give Joe and I something different, something exotic, something unusual for Christmas.

So he decides to give us nipple whiteners.

I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a nipple whitener. And why would anyone want white nipples anyway? That’s actually a scary thought: me and my dark complexion with albino tips.

It’s the sort of thing you expect from someone whose first email address was joshuahotmale@hotmail.com.

Enough of nipples. I better nip this in the bud.

No pun intended.

My Dad’s Favorite Gifts
My mom has given me the best gifts my whole life. Of course my dad pays for them but my mom “knows”. This year I asked her if she could just pay for my insurance premium instead of a gift. Piece of advice: don’t ruin Christmas with stupid questions like this.

For some reason when it comes to my dad, or maybe because it’s my dad, my mom’s gift radar goes haywire. This has led to some very interesting presents, two of which were:

1. The telescope. I know movies, such as A Walk to Remember (which works better than Sleepasil), like to romanticize telescopes. We’ve had more than one telescope and I’m telling you they’re incredibly difficult to operate. Leave them to the observatories. So my mom gives my dad this huge telescope for Christmas, and my dad is practicing his best poker face – which has never been really good. A few days later we tried the telescope. I don’t think we ever took it out again. I think my dad gave it to the first science prodigy he bumped into.

2. The Magic Sing. The only thing magical about ours is that my mom actually thought my dad would be happy. My dad calls this my mom’s gift to herself disguised as a gift to him. I think he only used it once – on Christmas day – just so my mom wouldn’t be upset that he didn’t like her gift.

My dad is a lot simpler than most people think. One of his favorite gifts being a Man from Snowy River refrigerator magnet my mom found. And of course the best gift he’s ever gotten ever is my mom.

Well… God…

…then my mom.

A Christmas Lesson
You never really learn something, you never really understand, until you experience something first hand. The word experience comes from the experientia or the word “test”. And that’s what a lesson is, an experience, a test, that teaches you something through either proving or disproving something.

There was a time when my father had lost his business, we had to move into a much smaller house, had to get rid of our cars and really most of our stuff. Christmas, like for everyone else, was usually a big event for our family but this year we really didn’t have any money so the nicely wrapped giant boxes were missing from under a smaller tree, and the turkey was a big chicken with misplaced gravy (that’s another story). 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.

Having very little resources, my mom decided that our Advent would consist of a walk around our tiny village – which was one small circle. My brothers and I were complaining of the flies and having to walk, actually, I think I was the only one complaining. I was such a grumbler looking back. When we got back to the house we realized we had left the keys inside. We were locked out. So there we were sitting on the curb, my dad, my brothers, me, and my mom, who was still trying to turn everything into a lesson.

I think Joe’s, mine, and Joshua’s minds were thinking “Be quiet”, “Shut up”, ‘Candy” respectively.

Then my mom said:
“Maybe this is how Joseph and Mary felt being locked out of every inn. Imagine what they were going through. And Mary was pregnant. This is what we do to Jesus when we don’t let Him into our lives.”

Years later to today, I still remember her lesson, but I think I’ve realized something deeper. More tragic than what we do to Jesus when we don’t let Him reside in our heart, is what we do to our lives – we leave it a dark empty shell with no light and no life.

This was the great lesson I learned, the Christmas message experienced first hand as a kid, that even as my mind grumbles at the state of my balance sheet, and worries at my evaporating cashflow, my heart rejoices in peace that the light of the world has brought me life.

September 20, 2009

2



Brothers Bonifacio

Remember

Piss Off
I remember one New Year’s party where Josh called an acquaintance of my dad “Mr. Gallstone” the whole evening thinking that was his name. His real name is Mr. Johnston. I really burst out laughing when the angry gentleman said, “Piss off kid!”

Ok ok… He didn’t say “Piss off!” But it would have been hilarious if he did. I would say, “No sir. You piss off.”

Ok, some of you didn’t get that.

The Car That Gets the Girl
When we were kids, Joshua’s dream car was a pick-up truck because he always liked standing on the cargo bed while someone else drove. My dream car was a hearse. Seriously. And I had my reasons. First of all most hearses are black, and black is my favourite color. Second is the back can accommodate a fully stretched human being, meaning, I would be able to sleep comfortably in the back while someone else drove. I like sleeping in the car. I remember one time I fell asleep while driving on Edsa and woke to John Magpantay screaming at me while he held the steering wheel. Joe likes to read in the car, and just like my sleep driving, he reads while he drives. He has also recently taken to watching videos on his laptop while driving.

Joseph already has his dream junkshop on wheels.

Our family was never really into cars. To my dad, a car was a utility. “As long as it has air conditioning and can get me from Point A to Point B, I’m happy”, he would say. So that’s the way it’s been with us. Not that we could afford fancy cars anyway, and besides, as Josh recently put, “We’ve never had a hard time with girls.”

Losing My Title
I have these special listening abilities, sharpened by the many dinners with interesting females who think they’re interesting. I know that sounded sarcastic but I really do find them interesting. Of course that’s coming from a guy who likes Sudoku.

Anyway…

I have this skill. I can sit in a room and hear all the different conversations going on and sometimes even the ones in other rooms. I can hear people talking on their phones or to the people across them or whispering, saying things like, “F-bleep. I’m down again” or “Yes, sweety I’m just finishing my meeting” or “I promise I’m in the office” or “I’m sorry. I was wrong. Why do you have to be so difficult?” These conversations trigger all sorts of stories in my head which I file for future use.

There are times though that I hear things I don’t like. While visiting a Habitat for Humanity site at Baseco, Tondo that I used to visit quite regularly, I overheard two people talking, “Yan yung kapatid ng boyfriend ni Rica Peralejo. Mas pogi yung boyfriend niya.” (In English: That’s the brother of Rica Peralejo’s boyfriend. Her boyfriend is better looking.) I was shocked. I was too shocked to correct them. Are they blind??? Just because someone’s been on TV doesn’t mean he or she looks good.

Sorry… I’m being bitter.

So, after about 25 years of holding the title for best looking Bonifacio brother, I have now surrendered it to Joe – but not for long…

Remember
Quite a few people have emailed me saying how encouraged they are with this series. I don’t know how the stories of Joshua’s interest in Pamela Anderson’s breasts or Joe’s straight arrow ways have managed to do that though. I write these stories to remind myself of the people I value most, the people who have seen and experienced the worst of me and still hold me as family. Of course they don’t have a choice. None of us do. I don’t think the stories of my family are any better, or more interesting, or more special than those of others. All families have their stories and it’s pointless to compare. I’m just celebrating the realization that my family is perfect in its imperfection because it’s perfect for me.

September 13, 2009

0



Brothers Bonifacio

The Gorillas

There Are Some Things You’d Rather Not Think About
I was arguing with my father once when he fired the back, “Who do you think you are? Don’t forget I made you!” I thought to myself, “Yuck! Spare me the details.” I’ve heard a few variations of this father-son exclusive weapon but my favourite has to be my friend Miyagi’s version, “Don’t forget. You came from my balls!!!” I have an overactive imagination and statements like this start a chain reaction of disturbing pictures in my brain.

Just Me Being Anal
There is a saying that goes “The fruit does not fall far from the tree.” I like the way my dad says it better. “If you see little monkeys running around, it just means there’s a gorilla at home.” I’m going to make a few adjustments to this to make it biologically correct. First of all gorillas do not give birth to monkeys but to baby gorillas. So the saying has to start “If you see little gorillas… “. Second it takes two gorillas to make a baby gorilla. So this gives us “If you see little gorillas running around, it just means there’s a papa and momma gorilla at home.”

Meet the Gorillas
And there is a papa and mama gorilla to blame for bringing the Bonifacio Brothers into the world, and that story starts 26 years ago. Back then Papa Gorilla didn’t know any better, all he knew was that he had to meet the pretty stranger that walked into his office. He did meet her and they realized they were better off together. So they hopped on that greatest of roller coasters called life, held hands, closed their eyes, and screamed for grace. Things never really went according to plan (I doubt there even was one), but they stayed. Through the climbs and the drops, and the dark tunnels, and the shocks, the technical difficulties, speed changes, and puke – they stayed, and that has made all the difference.

26 Years from the 25th Floor
I used to look out the window of my 25th floor office at a building across the street. This building, Strata 100, is probably the oldest along Emerald. It is also the place where my parents met. A little more than two decades ago, my mother, who worked for a bank down the street, walked over to handle the account of my father’s company. My father saw her for the first time, and after she had left, declared that she was the woman he was going to marry. And he did. The rest, as they say, is history.

I like seeing that worn building where it all started because it reminds me of God’s providence. Providence. I like that word. The wisdom, care and guidance believed to be provided by God. God Himself is guiding humankind.

August 30, 2009

0



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

0



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.

August 26, 2008

10



Brothers Bonifacio

The Saps

When the Moon Hits Your Eye
I haven’t found Cupid’s passion-tipped arrows, but love is definitely in the air at the Bonifacio residence. Our house has turned into a veritable rubber tree – full of sap. First of all there’s Joe and his new “friend”. Then there’s Josh and his “forever friend”. But the final proof comes from my dad, my hero, the only one who’s ever agreed with me that a Braveheart wedding (horseback, rain, grass, just three people, a lake) was a great idea, my efficient, early sleeping, early waking, running, scheduled, intense father has gone the way of Nicholas Sparks with his “I miss my wife post”.

The Good Old Days
Things weren’t always so mushy. I miss the good old days when Josh would wake me in the middle of the night and ask whether I would rather eat someone’s toe jam or lick the dirt off some thick-necked person. Or when Joe would destroy my GI Joes and hang them from hooks on our windows, as a warning to would be enemies. He even melted one of my guys on the light bulb of one of our living room lamps. I know he looks like the quintessential pastor’s kid but it was his idea to pour alcohol all over our bathroom and set it on fire. I don’t know how many lamps or windowpanes we broke, or how many walls we ruined, or 110s plugged into 220s, or how many cars we crashed. But we were boys, no, we were more than boys, we were the knights of the round table, gunfighters in Ok Corral, soldiers storming Normandy, and…

… I just realized. Joe always got the cool guy, like Wyatt Earp, or the Lone Ranger, or King Arthur. And I got the sidekick, like Tonto, or Robin or the next coolest like Lancelot. We would make a character up for Josh or he would get someone like Sir Bors. Who the heck is Sir Bors??? Joe read all the books and knew all the stories, so he knew which characters were cool. I can’t believe I agreed to be Tonto. “That right, Kemo Sabe.” Crap. Now I feel cheated…

Legends of the Fall
Part of any good brothers story is the rivalry. And we fought for and about everything. Like who was the strongest? Or the fastest? Or the best in basketball? There were areas where superiority was accepted. Joe was definitely the smartest. And Josh was the funniest. I could never win any argument against either of them. Joe would beat me with logic. Josh would beat me by having absolutely no logic. I probably lost in every category, but that’s ok, I won where it counts – looks.

We’re All Saps
As I sit in the patio, the same patio where we had our food fights, where my dad got mad at Josh for drawing a breast before realizing it was half a lime (what’s up with Josh and breasts?), where Joe would shoot cats before they died on the Murrells garage, where WD-40 canisters turned into bug frying flamethrowers, and where we would trade stories about Mang Manny (our incredibly strong and able driver) the toughest man alive next to Chuck Norris, I can’t help but admit, the oak has joined the Hevea.

June 22, 2008

0



Brothers Bonifacio

The Problem with Breasts

The Problem with Breasts
When we were younger, Joshua, the youngest of three boys, who was probably not more than 8 years old at the time, asked my mom, “Mom, right, when you’re pregnant your breasts get bigger?” My mother, who was always very patient with us, explained, “Um… Yes, Josh. You see when a woman gets pregnant her breasts produce milk so that adds to the size. Why’d you ask?” Joshua answered, “Is Pamela Anderson always pregnant?”

Goodbye Cable TV.

Before Joshua Was Infamous
It all started with a big plastic container – a big plastic container with all sorts of memories. A few weeks ago, I pulled out some of my junk collected through the years, and along with my racoon skin cap, clumsy sketches, and a modest collection of academic awards, was a letter to me from my dad dated November 18, 1988 and written on Barclay stationary. (Barclay was a company my dad founded and later sold and not to be mistaken for the Barclays Bank.) Here is part of what he wrote:

“Dave, behave yourself, obey your mama and be a good friend to your brothers. Most especially be patient with Joshua. I love you.

Papa Joey”

In 1988, I was 4 years old and Joshua was 2. He was already driving me nuts at 2. He still does 20 years later. I’ve done my fair share of pranks on him as well. I used to watch the movie Die Hard over and over again, which is not something I suggest parents should allow their young children to watch, especially since the lead character’s most famous lines are “Yipeekayay Mother F-bleep”. My excuse was that it was the only movie I ever watched with my grandfather, my mom’s dad, and it reminded me of him. Still, they didn’t really allow me, but children can be resourceful. Anyway… Joseph would be in school, so Josh would stay with me and watch violent movies I snuck in. After watching, we’d play out the movie and shoot each other with toy guns. During one of our shootouts:

Joshua: David, you son of a b-bleep. (Of course he didn’t know what SOB meant at the time)

Me: What did you say?

Joshua: I said you’re a son of a b-bleep.

Me: Wow, you’re so smart! Let’s go tell mom the new words you learned.

Later

Me: Josh, tell mom what you told me.

Josh: Mom, David is a son of a b-bleep.

Mom: What??? Come here!!!

Joshua would later ask my mom for a list of curse words he was allowed to use.

My Mom Painted My Ass Red for Painting the Wall with Mud
As kids we got the rod a lot. I think I got spanked the most. My mom even broke a hairbrush on my butt, not on purpose though. I could never understand why I got spanked for things Rambo or John McLane did. I mean, show me one time where Rambo’s mom spanked him for covering himself with mud. And of course the white walls had to have mud too, that’s the whole point of camoflauge! I remember arguing with my mom:

Me: What did I do?

Mom: What did you do??? Look at the wall!

Me: What about it?

Mom: It’s brown with mud! Why did you do that???

Me: I told you I was hiding. I had to have camoflauge. I can’t hide if the wall’s white! They’ll shoot me!

Nerd Alert
Joseph on the other hand was a good kid, the kind of performance-oriented child that brings pride to the people who conceived him. He was always smarter than us, including my parents, and knew that certain things were just wrong. I don’t remember him getting into trouble a lot. I think it’s because he was always reading or doing push-ups or handstands. Joe would never play the role of a bad guy – not even when we’d play bad guys which meant everyone had to be a bad guy! So Josh and I would be Billy the Kid and Jessie James and Joe would insist on being Wyatt Earp! Wyatt Earp!!! As early as back then he understood that criminals are not supposed to be glorified. Josh and I would make fun of him for being a nerd, but we were both really jealous of his intellect. You would be too if you had a sibling who asked for H2O whenever he wanted water.