By Rex Catubig

 

MY brother was a Civil Engineer and a pioneer OFW way before the acronym was coined. He was working at the Pangasinan Public Works and Highways, building roads and bridges across the province, when the war in Vietnam escalated and there ensued a demand for construction Engineers in the war-torn country.

Pushing 40 with a growing family, over the objection of our parents because of the danger involved, he set out to venture and hitched his wagon to an unfamiliar world in the midst of chaos and unrest.

But as the war subsequently surged towards the ignominious downfall, posthaste, he packed his bags and returned home. But having worked abroad induced a sense of wanderlust, a desire to explore the world. He landed a job at the Clark Air Base that jump-started his American dream. Soon, he was flying to the good ol’ USA.

But he had a heart-wrenching welcome. He had just arrived in the City of Angels, when our father, Lope Sr., succumbed to liver cancer. Sadly, he couldn’t come home. It must have been difficult for him to have to stay, but under the circumstances, it was the only choice.

I guess that triggered his obsession to bring our family to America. When he acquired US citizenship, he petitioned my mother, who in turn petitioned me. He had it all planned, and for the most part, he succeeded in sharing his American goal.

It took eight years of my mother’s life shuttling back and forth for my petition to happen.  But she went through the grind in the name of family, upon the prodding of my brother.

My brother did not stop at just bringing me to the US. He helped me get settled—securing my Social Security and California Driver’s license. And when it was time, he assisted me in applying for US citizenship, accompanied me to the interview, and he was with me during my life-changing Oath Taking as a US citizen.

And to round off my American journey, in time for my retirement, he took me to the Philippine Consular Office to secure dual citizenship.

He was a doting brother all the way. He asked me to stay with his family so I could save on rent. It had its share of pitfalls, but it enabled me to save up despite being an incorrigible spendthrift.

While church at 5:30 am on Sundays was a must, shopping was our big bonding moment. On weekends, we would make a round of all the clothing and appliance stores—Macy’s Nordstrom, Marshalls, TJ Maxx, Ross, Costco, Home Depot, Target, Walmart, Best Buy. We would be there as the stores open, and go home close to closing.

That gave rise to a bad trait we shared. We were both hoarders. We bought things to excess and hid them in every nook and cranny of the house, even in the tool shed —to the annoyance of his wife, my sister-in-law. We accumulated dozens of items with sale tags still intact, that have never been used or worn.

Food was another passion. When he would be on vacation here, he and my Kuya Louie would fly to Hong Kong in the morning to have lunch, then fly back in the afternoon. In LA, we both loved the Sizzler salad bar. And we would feast on the Chicken wings, and refill our plate with all the salad assortments, pushing the limit of satiation.

Of course, Chinese food was a constant. We would go to Chinatown for jumbo siopao; to Torrance for the $5 entrees; to corner Century Blvd for the $2 per pound serving of Walnut Shrimp; and as far away as Alhambra for Dimsum.

Our food connection continued even after I retired. He would regularly send me a shipment of groceries he knew I loved—peanut butter, cheese, canned corn, chickpeas, even Calrose rice.

America bestowed us with bountiful blessings. Not that we had less in the Philippines, for we lived comfortably, but America offered us unlimited possibilities that challenged our potential. It afforded a laissez-faire kind of living, encumbered only by our own limitations and lack of drive and dream.

Success is a given: the infamous image of Juan Tamad reclining under a tree with his mouth agape, waiting for Newton’s Law of Gravity to take effect, is alien to the American mind. As the American motto asserts: “There’s no such thing as a free lunch”.

Note: My brother Engr. Lope Catubig Jr. died of a heart attack June 27^th in Los Angeles.

Share your Comments or Reactions

comments

Powered by Facebook Comments