Brothers Bonifacio: Joseph’s Baby, Joshua’s Wedding, and David’s Girlfriend

It seems that the years are flying past faster than ever.

When I was young, I couldn’t wait for the years to pass so that I could drive, or watch certain movies, or live on my own. I don’t particularly like driving in Manila traffic and I can’t seem to stay awake in movies, so among the three things I mentioned, only living alone has turned out to be better than I imagined.

That is not to say that living in my parents’ home was terrible. On the contrary, in my biased estimation, it was the best place to grow up. An intense yet affectionate dad who couldn’t understand why a whiteboard and a pie chart couldn’t take the place of a bed time story, and a sweet, artsy, incredibly comforting mom who grew claws when it came to people threatening her babies. Threats of course included the ladies I went out with. She told me that I placed too much importance on looks, to which I replied, “Do you want ugly grandkids?” 

She responded, “No David. But I want you to marry someone wise and moral.”

“Did you marry Pop because he was wise and moral?”

To this my dad interrupted, “Of course not. She married me for my looks.”

And we all laughed.

More on my girlfriend later. I always put the good stuff mixed into the end of my posts that way people don’t leave my long-winding writing. I worked on this. I want you to enjoy it.

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba
Sithi uhm ingonyama
Nants ingonyama bagithi baba
Sithi uhhmm ingonyama
Ingonyam
Siyo Nqoba
Ingonyama
Ingonyama nengw’ enamabala

(Ok if you’re wondering where these lyric like weird words are from, they’re actually the chant from The Circle of Life. Just so that I don’t mislead you, I did not draw that from a reservoir of African knowledge but from google.)

The first is always a special occasion, and in Brothers Bonifacio lore, we’re about to have our first offspring. For my parents it is their first grandchild, officially earning them the titles of Lolo and Lola (grandfather and grandmother). My mom has said that she wants to be called Nana (like we called her mother, our grandmother) and my dad wants to be called Obi Wan (yes, from Star Wars, which was his laser tag code name as well). Joseph of course wants to be called dad, Josh has decided on “heart break kid” instead of uncle, and I’ve warmed to “fearless leader”.

This is also the first kid from us brothers. This is understandable of course as we are just following the natural chronology of events. Joe’s born first so gets married first so has a baby first. I was born next so I…

…Screw chronology.

During one of our conversations, it came out that Joe and Carla wanted to name their baby Olivia, which I told them is the same name I want to give my daughter, to which they replied, “You don’t even have a girlfriend.” I had no idea you needed a girlfriend to reserve a baby’s name. I’ve always liked that name because I really like olives. To prevent them from getting this name I have come up with some amazing names for our upcoming little prince.

If it’s a girl, I was thinking Kate Middleton Bonifacio if they want to go for something more royal and is much more behaved than Kate Upton Bonifacio.

If it’s a guy, I was thinking of pulling from Joe’s roots. Many people don’t know that before all this “Pastor Joe” stuff, Joseph wanted to become a GENERAL. Which made the guy do hundreds of pushups and sit-ups every day as a boy because he read somewhere soldiers did that, and that’s why along with World War 2 books, an Encyclopedia of modern warfare’s weapons, tactics, vehicles, and equipment, he wanted to collect guns and knives. So my name suggestion is Jose “Ghurka” Bonifacio III because my dad’s Jose, my grandfather is Jose, and Joseph is related to the name Jose. So I guess that would make him the IV? Yikes. I personally think having Roman Numerals in your name is passe. I never liked them in school either. But Ghurka, now that’s something legendary. If you don’t know what a Ghurka is, do what I did with The Circle of Life, google it.

Other ideas were Jose Hannibal Bonifacio or Jose Mossad Bonifacio or even Jose Jack Ryan Bonifacio, his nickname could even be Rainbow Six but might be hard to be a six year old boy growing up with the name Rainbow. I was also thinking of Jose Wellington Bonifacio but may not match because we’re not Chinese.

I’m quite confident Joseph and Carla will look upon my name suggestions favorably.

I’ll continue this later. My cleaners are here and I want to go for a quick swim.

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Joshua reminded me that I have a plus 1 for his wedding and that I have to find a date. He told me this months ago but I never took it seriously, now there’s two months to go, and the chances of me running into someone who is incredibly beautiful, sweet, easy-to-be-with, fun, forgiving (because I must admit I need a lot of that), as well as not think I like her appears to be impossible. My friends have told me, “You can’t take a girl to your brother’s wedding and expect her not to think she’s special.” I asked them, “Why not? Why does it have to be so impossible?”They resignedly say, “You’re impossible!

“More on that later. I’m going to workout.

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I woke up a little before 5am today which is not rare for me. It’s not rare for me to wake before my alarm clock, to rise before the sun, and to get moving before I want to. The reality is, like pretty much everyone else, my body would like nothing more than to stay rested.

But these days, every day feels like Christmas time for me as a boy. Back then, I would wake up earlier than everyone to check what new gifts were added to the tree, and while there were lean years where the gifts were noticeably less and smaller, being a child, the excitement and belief that this Christmas would have amazing things in store.

That’s how I feel.

But now that I’m older, I’ve come to realize that the only reason why Christmas was always worry-free for me was because my parents did the worrying for me. I never thought about how much everything would cost, or the traffic, or the details that make occasions special. I simply showed up and engage. I showed up and believed that everything was going to be perfect – even if behind the scenes my dad was worrying about the money or my mom was worrying about the home.

I didn’t worry, I wasn’t afraid, because deep down inside  me, beyond cerebral definitions, I knew Papa Joey and Mama Marie loved me and would take care of everything.

(So that I don’t mislead you again and paint a picture of perfect parents, they weren’t. They’ll tell you themselves. We have our own heartaches and challenges. But that’s why there’s forgiveness as my dad likes to point out. Forgiveness restores.)

Through the years, my own challenges would grow and outgrow my parents’ ability to secure me, and with that my childlike trust go. It’s not a bad thing when our parents can’t do things for their kid. Let me repeat. It’s not a bad thing when parents can’t do things for their kids. The problem with our culture is we baby people, particularly people we think are vulnerable. I think we should stop raising kids and start raising men and women. We have 30 yr. old men with sharp clothes and fancy cars but still live with their folks. And we have women who are impressed by that. We have men and women who spend their parents money, and this is true among the rich and poor, without any thought to what it costs their folks, much like how I was when I was 6 years old.

And we have parents who are pressured to give iPhones and laptops and Air Jordans and college degrees, and piano lessons, cars, vacations, and Sunday school, thinking that if I don’t provide these I’m a bad parent. Now these are all nice, but I know a lot of people who had all of these but are not particularly useful for meaningful work.

What does all of this have to do with Joe’s Baby, Josh’s Wedding, and your girlfriend that doesn’t seem like she’s ever going to show up?

Everything.

Because here’s the first point of this long post: Time goes by and the future is upon us before we know it. Many of my childhood memories seem like it was just yesterday but reality is that season is gone and we’re now in a new one, a new season that requires us to stand on our own as our own men – not our parents’ sons. Our wives are going to need us, not their in-laws, to be strong for them. (Ok ok. Their wives.) ) Our kids are going to need us to be mature, to be examples, to provide, to protect, not lolo and lola. Our people, the men and women who rely on our leadership, will need a grown-up Joseph, David, and Joshua NOT the children of my Brothers Bonifacio stories.

It’s just the reality of things.

Last Sunday, I was on the rowing machine in my parents’ bedroom and I noticed a framed message on their wall that said something like “I love waking up next to you every morning.” and under it the names “Joey and Marie”. Obviously my mom put that up there. Can’t imagine my dad doing that. Like he says, “Your mother makes everything prettier.” It reminded me of another thing my dad told me when I was younger, “Marry a woman whose face you’ll want to see every morning.”

I think I understand that a bit better now.

What happened to your girlfriend?

I’ll tell you about her some other time. This post is too long already.