On Being an AC
<Mia Femme>

I am a brat. I belong to the brat pack. I am specifically an Air Force brat, which makes me a bonafide AC. AC here does not apply to electricity's alternating current, nor does it refer to the controversial actress A___ C____ (never mind). AC pertains to me, which would mean an Aviator's Child. I was born without Papa at my mother's side. Actually, all of us were born without him. When my eldest brother was born, my father was studying in Germany; then when my elder brother was born, my dad was in the US on another schooling. When I came out to this world, he was in far away Zamboanga, performing air strikes. It never really mattered to me during that time because as a child, I did not have any worries about my Papa. But it would mean having to cry when he finally goes on duty. It would also mean missing Papa and savoring every minute of his phone calls. When he finally goes home, that is when life really becomes life. I can still remember when he would land a perfectly shaped cup of rice on my plate, and how he would teach me devour it - the military way. All of the members of the family would go the beach during one of his weekend leaves and we will all go "boodle fighting" for lunch. This would mean that the rice, noodles and the spicy flavored sardines would be placed on top of either banana leaves or newspaper, and we will eat with our bare hands. Now, if it happens to be placed in newspaper, the ink and its flavor would all be there eaten. But we never noticed because that is how military men enjoy eating. A "boodle fight," in a sense, is a sign of camaraderie among members of a military group. This denotes that: "What you eat, I eat; because we belong to the same specie." I was not put up in a very military manner though. While I was growing up, I did not have to memorize AFP's Code of Ethics, nor recite plebe knowledges such as the undying "Beyond Forgetting." We were not taught marching nor did we bark "yes sir's" and "no sir's" to Papa. But it was inevitable that we be taught how to fire guns. Moreover, we were taught how to be "properly" (as the military would put it) in everything we do. This would refer to the way we speak, eat and dress whenever we go out of the house. This was to show that we truly came from a military family. Furthermore, we were taught the value of punctuality, so we use the "military" time instead of the "Filipino" time. Whenever we violate this rule, that is being late, we would get too much of a sever punishment. However, during the time I became an adolescent and the time came when I needed a man's view or a fatherly pep talk, I could not have it. Papa was always in far places and phone calls would be scarce due to the difficulty of getting through military lines. Sometimes, the family will set aside time to visit him, thus sending us to many unusual places. Papa would have us booked on the big C-130 Hercules to proceed wherever he was, be it Cebu or Zamboanga. We will also have the privilege to stay in the cockpit of the plane since Papa was among those in the ranks. Afterwhich, upon arriving to our destination, we will go the places he had visited in advance for us to see. We have been to far away Sibutu and Sanga-sanga in Mindanao. We have also seen the historical Cross of Magellan in Cebu. Papa even took us to wonderful and exotic Camiguin. Along with all these traveling were the food we eat. I think I've tasted almost everything under the large ocean and everything in the seabed. From the small cockroaches of the sea to the spiky sea urchins - I've eaten them all whether raw or cooked. Difficulty arose in choosing the man for my future. Military men often times hang around the house looking for my mom but would end up "following-me-up" even if they were 7-14 years ahead of me! I think it is part of a military tactic, to get the mom first (ish not?). But when I introduced my boyfriend (a dashing young ensign, then a cadet) to Papa almost 4 years ago, Papa does not mind at all as long as we do not go OB. Papa treats him as he would treat any other military officer and they talk man to man. He does not even test his "stability under pressure" as what he told me he would do. Maybe because he knows that he is not the military man he used to be. When Papa retired from the service years ago, I realized that I miss the fun I had. I even cried when his retirement papers were finalized. I'll surely miss those military fun, adventure, tingles and everything. Those were the things and events that have molded me into what I am today and I would not exchange it for anything in this world. Now that Papa is home taking care of a small vegetable garden at the back of our house, I am quite a bit uncomfortable. I am not used to having him around all the time, but I must truly admit that life is so much easier now, although we have to undergo a lot of adjustments with our time to be with Papa. Somehow, I still long for my old life, I loved belonging to the brat pack.I loved being a brat while it lasted. I would not choose to be a doctor's daughter nor will I choose to be a lawyer's daughter. I tell you, if I were given another chance to live my life again, I would still choose my life with Papa. It is good enough to know that Papa fought in defense of the country.

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