When you’re tackling household repairs and feel the need for a break, take a seat — but don’t stop working. Use this time to handle tasks you can do while seated. Congratulations, you’ve just doubled your productivity. This lesson is an efficient way of thinking that turns even rest into an opportunity for productivity.
This was a lesson my father “fondly” recalls hearing his father Adriano ‘#Dianong’ Manzano Vytiaco ✝︎ (Aug 31, 1895 — Mar 23, 1988) constantly remind him, “While you’re resting, do this.” Anecdotally in Tagalog, this would be stated as, “Habang nagpapahinga ka, gawin mo ito.” whose tone is more akin to a muttering of disapproval to stopping work. The humor is apparently lost in translation. #atoy
They spent a great deal of time together as my father was the youngest son, and was tasked with being the official right-hand of his father — or in Game of Thrones parlance: “The Hand of the King.” In naval terminology where this role originated, the tittle would be “First Officer” or “Executive Officer (XO), the second-in-command. In Star Trek Generations, Captain Jean-Luc Picard referred to his First Officer, Commander William Riker, as “Number One.”
Back to earth, in those days, this “anointed” (or rather unfortunate) son’s role demands absolute dominance over his time so even his seeking employment is not merely discouraged, but was not even to be considered. Despite this, my father still managed to sneak in some odd jobs with flexible hours, such as a mechanic for the Philippine National Railways engines and railway cars, sporadically driving a public utility jeepney, and wherever mechanic jobs pop up. He said he wanted to have some money he could call his own, and not be financially dependent on his family for even the littlest of things.
Usually a family back then, during the period of the Second World War, could only afford to put one child through college and for my father’s family, this was to be the eldest son: Engr. Geronimo ‘#Emong’ Eusebio Vytiaco ✝︎ (Sept. 30, 1920 — Oct. 24, 2008) hence the Engineer title he insists should always prefix his name. This is the cross that he so proudly bears. [Sarcasm]
Being my father’s youngest son, I recall he sat me down and said in no uncertain terms, that I should NOT aspire to be like him, as he was a jack of all trades — a master of none. In so doing, he has absolved me of this youngest child’s “medieval” mandate of being the official caregiver of the parents in their final years. Yet when I asked for their blessing when I informed them of my plans to work abroad as soon as the NBI ban* on my overseas employment expired, with a very evident look of concern, apprehension, and uncertainty on my mother’s face, she said that they would both prefer that I remain in the Philippines.
*My NSDB scholarship during my initial years at the University of the Philippines under the Electrical Engineering program requires that the recipient of the scholarship “reimburse” the sponsorship of their education by working for any local company, which would benefit no other foreign nation but our own, for the duration of the scholarship enjoyed. Not an unreasonable settlement which I gladly paid back. #donvy
Understanding that my parents realize their request imposes on my present decisions and my future opportunities, I calmly replied with absolutely no protestation, “Okay po.” I never regretted this. My parents made sure I would never do.
At a later time, when the opportunity that I could explore employment in the United States came up, my parents did not try to stop me. They supported my every action, all efforts, all expenses. This was the time when while my mother and I were in the United States, my sister Lucia Pangan kicked us both out of her house in Norwalk, California and blamed some PTSD b.s. excuse as she just gave birth to Philip that time and she paid for my mother’s trip so my mother could help take care of my sister’s son. My mother exclaimed that she gave birth to all five of us with no such b.s. and no grandmothers and she did just fine. Ouch!
So that evening, my mom’s sister Auntie Pat and my cousin Junie awkwardly picked us up from my sister’s house and we stayed with them for the rest of our time that year in America. They never folded up that welcome mat and we stayed with Auntie Pat and Junie a few more times during our U.S. trips. My mother made sure that I felt safe through all this, and that my sister’s behavior, was not the norm.
P.S. I never ended up exploring this timeline in this universe of madness.
P.P.S. Memory is a finicky and can sometimes be a frivolous affair, leading one to paths down memory lane which you initially did not have a memory of.
Copyright Donato R. Vytiaco © 2024 #donvy
