Bring Father To Work Day

Welcome to the office!

The other day was Bring Father To Work Day for me with one of my sons. Though, very unofficially and with hardly any notice, it was a day nevertheless honored and commemorated by the both of us and my son’s immediate superior or superiors. For that day was tagged as ride-along day for me in my son’s CHP patrol car. A little-known practice that actually is encouraged by the agency, to get the general public introduced to and acquainted with its functions and responsibilities. And maybe as part of its public relations agenda, for after all the public is its main concern and employer. Thus, as I understand it aside from promoting it among family members, members of media may also participate; and as told, have indeed participated in the past.

As a life-long motorist on our freeways and byways, the eight-hour experience was quite an eye-opener for me. While many of us as motor vehicle drivers can proudly point to our own years of hardened experiences navigating through the many freeways thereabouts, we tend to forget that it has always been essentially from the narrow perspective of a motorist. And not from other equally relevant perspectives. Take the example of the people whose critical task it is to maintain the roadworthiness and the integrity of the freeway system, and the people who are engaged to keep them free from litter, debris, and the ubiquitous conked-out vehicles hugging the shoulders.


Please have a seat.

And what about those whose sworn responsibility is to keep the freeways safe by ensuring that motorists follow traffic rules and regulations when using them? For after all, traffic rules and regulations are intended to ensure public safety. These specific duties fall on the able shoulders of the patrol officers in the black-and-white cruisers or motorbikes. They inhabit the freeway system using them in a manner of speaking as their offices, where they preside over its orderly and smooth functioning and the rigorous daily task of directing motorists to and from their destinations in the most efficient and accident-free manner possible.

All these people also use the freeways, but see them from totally different prisms.

Needless to state, the freeways can be perilous and at times fatal places for any motorist while driving, being stranded, or worse, figuring in any high-speed accident. And in this perpetually fluid and fast-moving environment where danger lurks at every moment and turn, the people tasked in ensuring safety engage and wager their own personal welfare and their lives on a daily basis, come rain or shine, night or day, fog or clear day.

And one salient observation that stubbornly sticks to mind to this day is how hazardous if must be for these officers to be doing what they do each day. For they are not only asked to be skillfully precise drivers, arguably more skillful than your typical fast-lane-hogging motorist, but they also have to be literally multi-taskers because of what is required of them while driving their patrol cars at high speed. With eyes peeled to the road and one hand steady on the wheel, the other hand may find itself either operating the radio and carrying a conversation, or keyboarding on the mobile PC, or operating either the installed radar or the new portable one.


Excuse me, while I attend to work.

And in a very real way, one senses that at times, these officers must find themselves in some kind of catch-22 situations. For to catch up and to direct/guide out of traffic (typically away from the fast/cruising lane) an errant driver who is dangerously over-speeding and improperly weaving in and out of lanes, the pursuing officer has to somehow mimic that motorist’s moves. That is, go at even higher and riskier speed to catch up, and similarly weave in and out of lanes fast. Imagine yourself pursuing a motorist going at 80mph in the midst of a dizzying maze of cars going at different speeds and you are a couple of hundred yards behind him , you’d have to initially accelerate beyond 80mph just to catch up and skillfully maneuver to get behind him to guide him out of traffic.

These and more have given me some new-found appreciation and gratitude for those hardy officers who do very hazardous work on a daily basis. In which a typical day in the office must require one to always be 110% alert and able. And we have not been delved here on the possible life-threatening hazards a routine traffic stop may escalate into because of unpredictable criminal behavior that may enter into the equation.

A Post About Tracy - finally..

Our transition has finally become more or less complete. The old house in San Mateo County has been sold a little over two weeks ago, which in itself was quite a miracle given the scary downward spiral of prices in the country’s housing markets. But in all the tense waiting, our collective optimism never flagged, as we initially expressed in this post.

So now this family of two can focus on life in the new domicile – in Tracy, of San Joaquin Valley. Close to a married daughter, who also lives in Tracy some 5 miles and 10 minutes away.

Since we had started to live here a little over a year ago, we could say that we had laid the necessary spadework to get us intimately acquainted with the new place. Coming in, we were fully aware that Tracy has been exponentially growing, with new residents coming in droves. And in this respect, Tracy may rightfully claim that it is now part of the greater Bay Area, given that a good number of its residents commute to the San Francisco area for work.

Toward this end, we have had our frequent little excursion trips in and around the city, soaking in the sites and landmarks and appropriately marking them in our memory. We also regularly pore over our community paper, Tracy Press, which has been very helpful providing details about places and events around town, including its seedier side which we know is part and parcel of any growing town, or any town for that matter. This would be the at times extensive litany of police blotter items and arrests. And in less frequent intervals, we also get to glow over the glossy San Joaquin Magazine which lands inside our mailbox and gives the reader a broad situationer for the entire county. A regular column by Sam Matthews in the pages of Tracy Press also provides historical depth beyond the physical appearances of places, landmarks, and even people, of the town; which feature is a welcome sight for any eager student of history eager to delve into the “soul” of a place.

And coming from a first generation immigrant perspective, one would be remiss not to admit that one invariably tries to search out ethnic roots, as part of initial attempts to get comfortable in a new and unfamiliar place. And our general and cursory look-over of the place amply provided us with the depth of its diversity. And indeed in 2005, a report points to about 45% of the population belonging to minorities, out of a population of about 70,000. It is good to note also that in 2000 the city’s population was pegged by the census bureau at only about 57,000, leading one to conclude that the last half decade has seen the rapid growth of the city. This is further attested to by the new housing developments in and around the city.

Our initial visits to the only Catholic Church in the city, St. Bernard’s along Eaton Street, brought us into conversation with one of its pastors, Fr. Edwin Musico, a transplanted Filipino. From him we learned that parish hierarchy estimates as many as 4,500 ethnic Filipinos calling this place home. Coming from an old homeland which is predominantly Catholic, as much as 85% of the population, it would logically follow that these immigrants would be seeking the same church in their new adopted country. And indeed, we find them in considerable numbers at various services of this church.

And finally, leisurely tripping around town, we discovered the following sights.


Along Byron Road, in the considerably huge complex that counts WalMart and Home Depot among its prominent occupants, we find tucked in one commercial door the Filipino restaurant, exotically named Boyong’s, with its usual menu fare of ethnic food served in what the natives back home call turo-turo style. In the Tagalog dialect, the word turo means “to point”, thus to order one simply points at the selection of prepared dishes for either take-out or to be eaten inside. Some grocery items are also available, typically items one would find in a grocery store back in the old country. And not surprisingly, it also accepts orders for entire roast pigs, called lechon, a perennial center dish for those huge gatherings during special occasions.

Going southward, one ends up in a location close to the intersection of 11th Street with Tracy Boulevard and hemmed in a rather awkward area the location of what used to be Manila Paradise, another Filipino restaurant and grocery, which unfortunately has been boarded up and is reportedly being sold. In the past, some family members had tried their equally ethnic selection but were unfortunately not impressed with the offerings.

Driving southward further along 11th Street is another FilAm business. This time engaged in video rentals, named Video Land, essentially of movies coming from the old homeland, but surprisingly it also offers a meager selection of other merchandise.


Finally, going the other way, northward, still along 11th St, situated along a strip mall opposite the well-patronized 99 Cents store are the twin businesses owned by the same family but separated from each other by two other commercial doors. Both named Island Gourmet, one engages in selling grocery items and wet market stuff and the other as a restaurant.

These then are the visible signs to tell the general public that there is sufficient ethnic Filipino presence in the area to warrant their existence. One can surmise that the coming years will see an upsurge not only in the number of such businesses but maybe the expansion of existing businesses.

Unsung Manongs In The USA

We still remember from dog-eared history lessons the “waves” of Filipino worker migrants or sacadas wrenched from their hardy homelands and transported to continental USA to work in its agricultural fields. An agricultural industry that was perpetually in need of more field workers as the awakening voracious appetites of its burgeoning economy commenced to flex and make known its intractable demands for more products.

Thus, many of our ancestral compatriots, trained in and culled from the harsher environments of the still primitive agricultural and almost pastoral economy of a dislocated country, willingly extricated themselves from close familial traditions and idyllic rural areas to cast their lot in a strange land 7,000 miles away.

Since this happened during the currency of the American colonization of the Philippine archipelago which ended in 1946, many of these early immigrants have passed on, mostly unremembered and the remaining few living obscurely in their adopted homelands. Many unable to “return” to their homeland of origin because of financial constraints or because having been gone for a long, long time any nostalgic remembrances of the past have been consigned as simply hazy and detached figment of some distant best-forgotten past.

Thus, regardless of how life in the new land dealt with them, many stayed on, carved new lives and relationships for themselves, and ultimately in a manner of speaking, fertilized the same land they came from afar to make productive and in the process assist them eke out lives for themselves.

I choose today to spotlight two of these unheralded persons, both Ilonggos (coming from the Visayas islands of either Iloilo or Negros), whose own lives touched ours in the same arena where we too as a family had decided to cast our fortunes in.

One of them died a couple of years ago, at the ripe old age of 93 years. The other one is still alive, living in a new for-seniors high-rise smacked in the middle of Daly City. However, apart from both being Ilonggos, no two people could come from very different beginnings and present circumstances.

The first one was Sammy, formally christened as Simplicio M. Pedregosa. I and the wife had spent countless hours with him during a period of at least two decades. The association first came because he and his German wife, Frieda, were clients of the wife in the bank that she worked. Later on, I started doing his taxes. Since they married very late in life, they had no children and when Frieda died, Sam lived by himself in the same house they shared.

Here’s a little backgrounder, written by a very grateful and youthful family member already born in the US, during his 90th birthday celebration in 2001: (Sammy had been very instrumental in bringing almost his entire family to the US, though he had returned to the old homeland only once after he had initially left.)

The strength of a family lies in its roots. Strong roots enable the family tree to grow, develop its branches, and bear fruits. From a distant land many miles away, the seed of our tree came, and took root in American soil. Our family tree stands strong and proud because of its roots and the way its seed was planted, with hardship and sacrifice.

Our tree started as a seed in Iloilo, a province of the Philippines. It was in this rural town that Simplicio Pedregosa was born on July 24, 1911. At the age of 16, even before he could establish his own roots, he decided to travel to new soil. It was clear to him that he must move in order to perpetuate his existing family, as the soil of his homeland was not rich enough to allow him to grow.

In sending him to America, his family made a great sacrifice. Pawning the farm, their source of livelihood, was the only means of raising money for his fare. Realizing that sacrifice is important for his growth, they made the deal and sent Simplicio on a boat to America in May 1929 with a hundred dollars in his pocket. It took 30 days of life on the sea before he could touch American soil.

From the port of San Francisco, Simplicio went immediately to work on the celery fields of Lodi, CA. Although diminutive in stature compared to his American counterparts, he persevered physically on the field. For every hour of his labor, he earned 10 cents. Despite his meager wages, he saved his earnings for two months to send to his family back home, as restitution for his family’s initial sacrifice. His sacrifice allowed his family to grow in his native soil, fostering better living conditions for his parents and his younger brother and three sisters. After months of hard labor, he resigned his job at the farm to obtain an education.

And so Sammy spent his remaining youth in pursuit of his dreams. He had served in the armed services of the US and later worked for the Post Office, where he met his future wife, who was also a first generation immigrant from Germany. And success for Sammy was all we hope for and more. Two very valuable RE properties close to the SF Zoo, very adequate pensions from his employer and SS, a nice and quiet family life, and a life laced with altruistic endeavors for both family and good causes.

Let me just summarize as his unofficial accountant that Sammy when he died was worth several million dollars, mostly liquid assets. What most of us would hanker for and may not be able to acquire.

But for me personally there was one aspect of his life few may remember including his intimate family members, and maybe even Sammy himself. This I initially gathered when we started discussing about his stint in the US Navy.

For when WWII broke out, Sammy enlisted in the armed forces of his new adopted country. And as was customary during those early unenlightened times, only certain low-ranking positions were opened to immigrant enlistees or draftees. In short, Sammy became a cabin assistant of an admiral in one of the ships of the US Navy.

Turned out, it was no ordinary ship. It was the USS Missouri, led by the commander of the fleet, Adm. William F. Halsey. The same ship that cautiously sailed into Tokyo Bay when Japan sent out surrender feelers. And where Gen. MacArthur and his aides would board to sign the surrender terms with his Japanese counterparts.


Recalling his own unique eyewitness account of the entire proceedings, Sammy in his usual dispassionate almost dismissive way, told us about where he was and how he felt, and how his admiral’s demeanor was. With full convoy streaming into Tokyo Bay, the admiral did not really know what awaited them as they approached land – Japanese land. He had probably thought that the Japanese could not be trusted. Pearl Harbor was a stark reminder. Thus, the stiff standing order for the entire fleet was: Battle stations! - with all armament ready for any hostile move.

But fortunately for the world, things as planned all fell into place. Japan was reconstructed and is now the economic power second only to its primary benefactor, the US.

The other Ilonggo is still alive and will continue to remain anonymous, other than the initials, L.M, to protect his and his family’s privacy.

Anyway, L.M. came to the US post-war. He started his young life as a personal chauffeur for one of the patriarchs of the few financially powerful families in the Philippines, the Lopez family which is deeply involved in media. L.M. recollected the start of his employ with the late Eugenio Lopez, Sr. as his personal chauffeur in the Visayas and then Manila. He was particularly struck and impressed by the unaffected simplicity, gentleness, and egalitarian personal traits of his employer. L.M. was even surprised that he got his job given his very limited educational attainment and his very humble origins. And the old man trusted him very much that when he moved to the US for an extended stay, L.M. also trudged along as his chauffeur.

Since, I know next to no one about the Lopez family, other than that they had a huge estate along Dewey Boulevard, close to Manila’s boundary with Pasay, I had asked L.M. about it. He confirmed that fact and added that many stately affairs were held in that place for local and visiting dignitaries.

Anyway, after his employ with the Lopez family ended here in San Francisco, L.M. was left to fend for himself. He continues to have family members left in the old country which he yearns to visit. However, at present L.M. only has sufficient resources to keep him here, which sources would be cut off once he leaves the country. When we were still residing in Daly City, I and the wife used to go see him and at times he would walk to our house which was nearby for a visit. Again, our association with him started because he was a client of the wife. And we have always valued it since then.

Harmonize With A Harmonica

Ever been asked: Do you play any musical instrument?

Bet you, many of us have been and sadly, many of us will reply in the negative.

Of course, many of us can belt tunes, using our excitingly unique vocal chords as our musical instrument.

Okay, aside from that, which else?

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A Face Of The Filipino Diaspora

In the least likely, though unavoidably accessible, medium, one can actually get a good glimpse of the ever growing Filipino Diaspora. While on vacation home and enjoying and taking things lightly. For engaging in such things is inextricably Filipino. Too eager to leave the old homeland, but cannot stay out long enough without taking a vacation back to “home”. An outbound trip short enough and a return visit frequently enough to be able to safeguard all of one’s Filipino-ness – in speech, closeness to extended families , acquired taste for local cuisine, and all the other good stuff central to being Filipino.

The Filipinos have been streaming out, both steaming and flying out, of their country in large numbers for many years now, sufficiently enough to now count the outsiders as maybe over 10% of the total population of the country. And with obvious though tacit government blessings and prodding, large expectant numbers wait in the wings to continue to feed the exodus to any and all places where work opportunities are available, and/or where they are allowed to go, either as contract workers or migrants. And many even feeling deaf to the second option. Thus war-torn countries like Iraq and Lebanon, destinations where the government frowns on their citizens going, count a considerable number of Filipinos working among their populations.

And yet while the numbers of ex-pats continue to burgeon, other Filipinos and the rest of the globe are quite in the dark at composing a good picture of who these people are, beyond just trickling numbers being added to a total. The local government itself, maybe reticent or embarrassed enough to extol or admit this mass exodus of its own citizens, is quite content to limit its exposure in the effort by limiting its participation to lip service, calling them the new “heroes” of the republic. Coupled with the not too subtle reminder to them to keep the flow of their precious earned dollars back to their left-behind loved ones, since inward remittances now amount to about 10% of total GNP. A nice enough boon to help keep a fledgling or floundering economy afloat and capitally infused.

So where can one catch a glimpse of those transplanted Filipinos, or as they are called, OFWs (Overseas Filipino Workers)?


On one of two cable channels owned and operated by Filipinos, but beamed to many corners of the globe, especially where outbound Filipinos may find themselves lumped in considerable numbers. The two channels are The Filipino Channel (or TFC) and the newcomer, GMA, which in the US, for a little over $20 per month, can be added to a subscribers’ viewing pleasure. Yes, $20 or 1000 pesos which is about a third of what many unskilled workers in the Philippines gross each month.

And the one particular TV program that yours truly is familiar with – is the daily game show, cum soap opera, and charity bazaar, and fulsome comedy skit show, named WoWoWee on TFC, which is most likely a play on the name of its irrepressible main host, Mr. Willie Revillame.

It is indescribably simple as to make futile my many attempt to try and categorize it, especially amidst the almost screechy hysterical and ear-splitting cacophony of dialogue delivered by its hosts and participants, giving it characteristically the quality of being almost one big shout and scream session from beginning to end. But it does effectively deliver its message or messages to its intended audiences – global Filipinos scattered throughout the four winds.

But as an integral anchor to what I perceive is the program’s overall purpose and presentation is the use of visiting Filipinos working or living abroad, enjoying a vacation or trip to the old homeland. Using them both as audience participants and benefactors. Thus, visibly arrayed and prominently ensconced on the front tiers of a huge studio set that resembles somewhat the physical format of the ubiquitous cockpits in the country, are maybe a hundred or two of these beaming and excited visitor Filipinos, interspersed with ethnically different companions, and aptly described as TFC subscribers, thus non-local Filipinos subscribing to the channel’s outlets abroad. Complete with the flashing and waving of dollar bills in their hands, though not to bet on a cockfight but as a visible signal of their generosity and good-heartedness.

For these dollar bills will be collected by the different hosts and used as additional prizes to the different contests common in most game shows; but for this show, the main participants are picked from among the lowliest and most destitute among the metropolitan citizenry - Unemployeds, tricycle drivers, itinerant vendors, and from numerous dispossessed groups which abound in a country known for its decidedly pervasive poverty-stricken population.

But looking past the initial patent display by the fortunate Filipinos from abroad of their new-found prosperity but now somehow translated as their show of generosity, the overall mood of both live audience and TV viewers appears to be that some good is being done for these poor selected people. Some kind of unsanctioned redistribution of resources from those who have and those who do not have. And the many prizes shouldered by the programs’ sponsors are by no means puny or cheap, especially taken into account the general penury of the participants. Thus, at the end of each show, all parties appear justified and satisfied, all the better relieved of any insipient guilt feelings and without diminishing any personal worldly pleasures.

A fresh batch of these ex-pats are hauled in daily, coming from an almost unflagging number of new arrivals, cavalcaded and highlighted at times to the point of ennui by the different hosts planted in the different places where these prospered Filipinos may be seated or standing, shouting, waving their dollar bills, and intoning on mike a ceaseless litany of names of loved ones left behind in the old country or in their now adopted countries.

In this continually unfolding vista then a regular follower of the program, both local and foreign, can’t help but be witness to these “new” Filipinos, as they call out their new origins, names and places from all corners of the globe – Switzerland, Saudi Arabia, UAE, London, Belgium, Japan, etc., and of course, cities in the US, where invariably many are coming from. After all, at last count where over four million Filipinos are now either permanent residents, citizens, contract employees, or even undocumented aliens.

Over time, one cannot help but be able to form a rather decent picture of the typical Filipino in Diaspora, many of them now entwined with other cultures through intermarriages, and long residences in their new surroundings.

In closing, who can then say how in the coming future this group will look, feel, and maybe, regard the old country that gave them birth or from where their ancestors originated from?