My Great-Grandparents

As a boy, I’ve always marveled at the methodical way my Filipino great-grandfather planted his rice crop. Each stalk of rice would stand straight up in a perfect row, each row lined up perfectly behind the other. The stalks never flailed, standing straight like soldiers at attention awaiting company inspection. Despite the monsoon weather and tropical storms that constantly afflicted the tiny provincial village, the rice plantation grew.

“The strongest bond “my great-grampa once said “between two objects is the foundation they build. The rice stalk depends on the ground for support and nourishment. The ground depends on the companionship of the stalk. In the end, the ground dries up and the stalk turns brown. Their legacy is used so that others may continue to live.”
Young boys rarely understand the reasons why grandparents talk the way they do. I certainly never quite caught on the reasons why grampa always spoke in poetic manner, almost in parables. Maybe he was conveying a more meaningful message to the young boy or maybe it was just his nature.
I had heard from some of the locals that grampa was one of the wisest men in the tiny provincial town. Regardless, I’ve held nothing but high regards and curious awe for the old man, especially during our moments together during our “morning bake.”
Each morning, just when the old rooster began his raspy bellows and before the sun arose on the horizon, grampa and great-grandson alike would sit facing west at the break of dawn. As the sun began its slow ascent, we would spend several minutes together basking in the sunrise. There were few words exchanged – only our shadows reflecting like giants across the sea of rice fields displayed the bonding of a slightly hunched gentleman and his smaller grandson.

The magnificence of the painting created by the two silhouetted figures against the suns’ outstretched rays was aggrandized by the insertion of one equally important figure in my life – my great-grandmother. Seeing gramma sneak up behind grampa as she put her arms around him had always given me a warmer feeling inside than the sun was emitting.
She was slightly taller than he. He was not a small man, but his demeanor makes him the tallest man in the world in my eyes. Seeing them enjoying the sun’s rays locked in embrace as they acknowledge their undying love for one another served to only boost a young boy’s confidence in having found the perfect place in his heart. This was where I always wanted to be – basking in the glow between the two most loving people I knew.



In traditional Filipino circles, show of public emotions between two people was taboo. It was almost an understood No-No. The demeanor of the male Filipino was such that a gentleman would not be caught sitting on the same bench as the lady. Sharing a seat was forbidden between male and female – even if they were married to each other. There must be a physical separation on the seat; partitions did not count. My great-grandparents however, were anything but traditionalists.