Tag Archives | marie 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.

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.

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.

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.