I grew up reading the Readers Digest. We always had several issues lying around the house, plus at one point my mother began collecting the hard-bound condensed story collections. I loved the jokes. But my favorite section of the digests was the "My Most Unforgettable Character" where someone would write about a person they most admired or someone who had inspired them in a big way. Looking back, I knew in my heart of hearts, that someday I would write about someone who was my most unforgettable character. It's been many years since I was a teen reading the Readers' Digest, but I'm just now figuring out who that person is. If I made a list, it would probably look like most peoples' lists; my second grade teacher, my pastor, the quirky, but fascinating high school English teacher, and so on and so forth. So how does one choose who gets to be at the top of the list? For me, it has to be the one person who makes my laugh and smile just remembering them. And of course, it has to be someone who comes to my mind often, maybe even every day. That person is my father, Joe Berroya.
My dad passed way in 1995 at the age of 88. I would have loved to write his biography, but there was so much of his past that I don't know. He was already forty when he married my mom and 43 by the time I was born. So, if you're good in math, you can figure how old I am. I was his only child, as far as we know. He was born in the Philippine Islands in 1907. He was the third child of four, two older brothers and one younger sister. He only had a third grade education. He stowed away on a ship bound for Hawaii when he was 18. Next, he landed in Washington where he picked apples. Some time in the late 1920's he hitched rides on the railway cars down to Montgomery, Alabama where he was a prize fighter (boxing). The Depression found him in Chicago (turns out, it was his kind of town), where he wore a zoot suit and hung out with Al Capone's Filipino driver. His favorite hang out was Don the Beachcomber's in south Chicago. He enlisted in the US Army two weeks before the war was over. That made him a citizen. A short time later, he ended up in San Francisco working for Standard Oil company on their tankers. That's where he met my mom, a girl from Kansas working as a telephone operator. The rest is history as they say. I tried to get more information out of him about his Chicago days, but he would just say "no, you just want to know my business." And I would say "No, Dad I want to write your life story!" He'd just laugh and say "Getoutahere!" That was his equivalent of "Give me a break," or "Forget about it." I'm convinced that he had quite the life, because once he left Chicago, he didn't go back for some 35 years, which is a long time considering how much he loved the town.
He was such a character. He was the life of the party wherever he went. Everybody loved him. When he and Mom moved back to Kansas, her family fell in love with him. They gave him a nickname, Pepe. He could play pinocle like nobody's business, and was a good poker player. My first car was bought by the winnings of a poker game. My older brother, Joey (my mom had two kids from her first marriage), would beg Dad to teach him how to cheat at cards. Dad wouldn't do it and he told Joey he'd just get himself killed. He loved my mom's kids like they were his own. When my sister was 16 and a half, she announced she was getting married. My dad was furious. He said "You want a diamond ring? I'll buy you a diamond ring!" She got married anyway and they've been married for 52 years.
Even though he had been in the states over 50 years, he never lost his accent, and he never forgot his native language. However, some times he would forget the names of things. So, they became the "whatchamacallit" and the "thingamajig". He was so funny. One of the funniest things he did was When he would answer the phone, after he said hello, he would say "You look good, how do you feel?" It never failed to get a laugh from the caller. One lady said "Can you really see me?" Every time he told that story he would crack up like it had just happened.
He loved to cook,and anyone who knew him, loved to eat what he cooked. They say Filipinos are the most hospitible people in the world. If you knew my dad, you would be convinced it was true. No one could come to our house without having a plate of food put in front of their face. And you could forget about turning it down. He wouldn't take no for an answer. Another favorite thing about my dad was he was such a multi-tasker! He would play solitaire, watch a tv program, and listen to the Royals ball game all at the same time. If I had to say what his life philosophy was, it would be "Others first, self last." I saw him live that out in all areas of his life. Because he worked on the ships until he retired in 1972, he wasn't at home as much as I would have liked. In my youthful ignorance, I used to lament that he never taught me anything. One thing he did tell me once was "If you really want to do something, don't tell anyone. That way they can't talk you out of it." Now that I'm older, and my thinker is working better, I realize the values he taught me, he taught me by example, which is far better than just words.
