This is part two of two, a grateful note to my Dad’s siblings. Yesterday I talked about the first two girls in the family. Today will highlight my Dad’s three other siblings.
Auntie Borah. Her official name is Deborah but she’s known by her peers as Borah. She’s also called Debbie by some. The only single sibling in the family. But fully blessed with many, and I mean many nieces and nephews. She is also one of the constants in my life…there from my early years through high school and beyond. She’s the easygoing laid-back kinda gal who certainly knows how to have a good time. A great cook and entrepreneur when she puts her mind and heart to it. She taught me the ins and outs of starting a street food business. I have fond memories of my successes from those endeavors in my younger elementary years, thanks to her. She has a stout heart where family dearest to her heart are concerned. When she loves, she gives her all.
Auntie Borah, grateful to you for being a big sister to me. You weren’t all verbal about feelings, but I felt and knew then that you cared and that was enough for me. I know you still do and I am thankful for you. I’m hoping it ain’t too late yet for you to come upon a partner in life that can be your number one cheerleader and spurn you on to creative cooking endeavors.
Uncle Eric. Charm. Wit. A few of the words that describe him. He has a thirst for learning. I often saw quotes carefully written in beautiful penmanship on a piece of paper protected by a piece of plastic and taped on the walls. He knew deep words and I remember wanting to learn deep words, too, and use them in school. Later in my school years, I’ve learned to befriend the dictionary and thesaurus. He is also the cleaner in the family. I was not aware how dirty we kept Grandma Herminia’s house until he came back to town after years of living in Batanes with my Aunt Abigail and Uncle Dan and family. He took charge, making the floors look spotless for the first time in ages. There was order. And it felt good. That inspired me to take on some deep cleaning rituals on weekends.
Uncle Eric, thank you, too, for willingly loaning me some bus fare to visit my Dad in the city back in the day. I am thankful for your encouragement to me over the years to dream big.
Uncle Bobot. His name means “the last child.” But his real name is Albert, named after his Dad whom he saw only during the first six months of his life. He was pretty young when I was growing up and I didn’t really see much of him. He was with his peers a lot. But after getting married young and settling down, he’s brought to the family a wife, an aunt to me who was very kind and soft-spoken, still is. When they started having kids, I was entrusted with many chances to care for their brood and love on them. And how grateful I am for the experience of caring for those young children who, now, aren’t so young anymore.
Uncle Bobot, thank you for teaching me how to cook. I remember when I was about to saute aromatics and you schooled me on starting with onions and garlic first, always, before tomatoes, if using tomatoes. That’s a very practical skill that, to this day, I use every time I cook.
*These are my Dad’s five siblings in order. My Dad is second in the family order but the first to have a child and marry; hence, my being sort of considered as the last child in the family. Thank you all for your love and care and the many practical help you offered and gave me during my growing up years. We miss you and love you all!*