CAJO

CROSSINGS
Butch Junia
4/25-5/1/2011



Cajo is Catherine Joy. She is our first-born. She is my constant friend; the girl to dote on.

Gentle critic, sought-after fan, trusted confidante, tireless cheerleader, inspiration, reality check, morality police, TV censor and editor, Cajo celebrates her birthday today.

In case you missed it, Cajo is a combination of the first syllables of her first names. Feeling creative and angling for the unique, I coined that name for her, but before she even turned one year old, I resigned my job in Cebu, we moved back to Manila and Cajo became Cathy.

Today I still get a jolt when Brods from the Sigma Rho who were also in Cebu at that time - Jimmy Sarte, Emil Librea, Tony Jalaguena and my ka-batch Estoy Estorninos - ask about Cajo, a name only they and my former colleagues at the National Manpower and Youth Council (NMYC) still remember.

“Cajo” stirs up memories of those years when we would bring Cathy to NMYC in a basket, when our student boarders (who are now dentists) would take turns looking after her, and Cutie would leave Cathy occupied and distracted by the fluttering diapers on the indoor clothesline over her crib.

I doubt if Cathy would have memories of Cebu, because we moved before she was even one year old, but I will not forget those first smiles, the all-around crawl, the cutest yawns, the infant tantrums, the first bite of junk food and fries, the da da that I insisted sounded like “daddy”, and of course, ma ma.

Cathy would always be around her Mommy. A licensed medical technologist, Cutie resigned her teaching position at Southwestern University when Cathy was born, to be a full-time Mom. From there on, our girls got the full-time attention of a stickler for proper table, toilet and bed manners, a strict dietician and a demanding tutor who would check all homework, verify grades and talk to the teachers. On hindsight, it was best for Cathy and Tinie, as they each went their way through grade school to college.

Just as quickly, Cathy was also growing up to be a Daddy’s girl. She grew up with the Hello Kitty generation, and it would be our daily ritual to add something to her collection. It was a good thing the Hello Kitty collectibles came in small items and were not as tough on the pocket.

When she was barely five or six, Cathy was my censor. Times that we would watch TV, when the commercials, especially the White Castle plugs came on, she would ask me to look away from the set.

We also had our “stand by me” moments in Tacloban City, when we came in on a late night flight, found out that my brother had already moved to another place, did not have any ride, were stranded at the outskirts of the City, and had to walk in unfamiliar roads in the dead of night. Cathy was very brave and very trusting of her Dad, without knowing how scared I was for her.

Frank Sinatra had this popular ditty about how daughters can make us feel like fathers, and that is exactly how Cathy made me feel at that time.

For Cathy, prep, grade and high school were at Maryknoll, before it became Miriam College. Expectedly, she had her share of juvenile mischief but there were also the Honors’ Assemblies, Recognition Day and Family Days. Up until finishing high school, Cathy was under the very close watch of Mom and Dad.

College at the University of the Philippines opened up a new world for Cathy. And I know now, on hindsight, it worked best for her.

Guy Lombardo once said a man wishes he were strong enough to tear a telephone book in half, especially if he has a teenage daughter. There were many times I felt like that, but as things stand now, everything still turned out well and right for Cathy.

When she turned 18, for instance, she had her party at our garden, at home. Friends from college and high school and her sorority, which as it happens is my sister sorority, were around. We actually knew most of them very well, especially the high school friends, but still I needed some adjusting to the tequila and scotch on the tables.

If there were a phone book on hand, I would have torn it in half, but as it turned out, my worries were misplaced. Cathy can hold her drink, and so could her friends.

Since Cathy was a toddler, she has always made me feel as the “World’s Greatest and/or Number One Dad.” From her and Tinie, I have a wide collection of those T-shirts, desk pieces, posters, desk clock, etc.

Best surprise they gave me, though, was a McDonald’s cowboys and Indians Birthday Party on my 47th year. They planned, organized and executed it so well that I did not even know that they had called friends from media and from work. In fact I remember giving Cathy a dressing down for coming home late and driving along EDSA (our agreement was that she could only drive from our place to UP) not knowing that she had to get a charcoal portrait for the surprise party. She took it with composure.

According to Greek philosopher Euripides, to a father growing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter. This grown-old father has had the benefit of endearment from two daughters, and I am therefore blessed twice over.

The wisdom of the Greeks, from thousands of years ago, are still relevant and appreciated to this day.

Finally, in a keepsake book for parents and children, “Dear Mom and Dad”, among many child admonitions to parents, one item caught my eye: “Don’t ever suggest that you are perfect or infallible. It gives me too great a shock when I discover that you are neither,” the book said.

Whether we raised the bar too high or just high enough, reckoning from what Cathy and Tinie have achieved so far and what they have made of their young lives, I would hope there were not that many shockers.

Happy Birthday, Cathy, and I hope you don’t disown me for sharing these remembrances with OpinYon’s millions of readers. We love you, Cajo!