My Dad is almost like 2 different persons to me. One who was Hitler when I was schooling. And the other is Dad the Joker and one who has mellowed with age. But undoubtedly - the number one hero in my life. Let's talk about my Dad - the Hitler. In the "Hitler Home" - it was always his way or the highway. Even if Mom said yes, I could go to a friend's party but Dad said no, then the outcome was that I wasn't going to the party. The cane was one of his ruling devices. When I didn't come back from school with an "A" on my exam papers, whack-whack-whack on my palms. Oh - but if he didn't like the fact that my shorts were too short, he'd send Mom to do the dirty job. The Thomas Cup 1992 Finals - we were watching the Foo Kok Keong vs Alan Budikusuma match. I irritated him when I told him to stop making comments about the players. He sent me to my room. Boy, was I fuming! But, as he was so engrossed in the game, I was watching from the staircase landing :P There was also once when he was gambling (yes, my Dad was an avid gambler. WAS being the keyword) and forgot to pick me up from my tuition class. When he finally came, I pulled a face and then as usual - Hitler struck. Dad was never in the wrong.
He was definitely a man of few words then. When my friends came over - they secretly called him "Cannon Face" and we would all laugh about it. There was a period of a fair few years, in fact, throughout my high school and college days where I did my best to steer clear of him. Looking back, you know, it was just the trials and tribulations of growing up, immaturity and both parties having to learn how to deal with each other. I shan't get started on the numerous "why are you so old-fashioned?!" arguments. Of course, there were also the problems with 'boys' during my student days - and then later on in my adult life - the problem with the 'lack of boys' who might lead to marriage :P
Despite all his flaws, setbacks, bad examples and imperfections - why was it that I still gave him the "hero" title? Well, you see, my Dad was what the Chinese said : "Stubborn Mouth, Soft Heart". He was the go-to person for troubles of any kind - except the female ones. I remembered one of my first bad car accident - I called home, and Mom picked up the phone. I had to pretend that everything was ok and asked for Dad instead. You see, if I told Mom, she would just have a heart-attack and faint. But Dad - he came right over and the first thing he asked me was "Are you hurt?" (as opposed to "Did you kill anyone?" :P) And then, confirming that I was really okay, he went ahead to settle the problem at hand.
Another very early childhood memory was when I was still in pre-school. My chocolate and candy ration was frankly, quite miserable, bordering on abuse :P So, what I resorted to was stealing the candies and chocolates when nobody was looking. One afternoon, while Mom & Dad were watching TV, I went about prowling for my chocolates in the fridge. And of course, God punishes all those who do bad things. In my haste, my elbow hit the eggs and *crack* *crack* - two eggs fell and I was almost going to wet my pants with fear. But I had no choice - I went out to the living room and put on my best scared, pitiful face and announced that I broke some eggs. Dad came into the kitchen with me and saw the mess and asked me what happened. I kept quiet and started crying instead. He went about cleaning up the mess and then I picked up the courage to tell him in between sobs.... that.... I.... was.... trying ... to get... to ... the jar of chocolates .... at... the back.. of.. the fridge. Guess what he did? He fished out that jar and pulled out two pieces of chocolate for me! And then he said "Next time when you want something, ask for it, ok?" Ohhh, I see. It was that simple. And then I was confused because later on, in Hitler mode - what I asked for - I never got anyway :P
Oh, I have to tell you about my first ever ice-cream. Dad taught me how to eat an ice-cream. Well, actually, he SHOWED me how to eat an ice-cream. Well, we were still staying in Kepong Bahru then and Dad took me to the park and bought me an orange ice-cream. I was so excited! I had seen how other kids ate ice-cream - just lick it! Soon enough, the ice-cream was melting all over my fingers and hand and Dad, he took the ice-cream from me and said "Haiya... this is how you eat it, you see?" Lick, lick, bite, bite... he finished my first ice-cream.
Dad is in every way a problem-solver. I have never seen him in panic-mode ever. Whilst Mom and sometimes, myself would be "OMG! OMG! There is smoke coming out of the bonnet!!" and our first instinct would be for our brains to die-out for about ten seconds and our second instinct would be to call Dad - if it were Dad, he would be, in a cool, calm and collected manner - going through these exact motions : "Oh, there seems to be a problem. What can I do to get myself out of this situation - firstly, immediately. Secondly, long term solution." There was never a period of panic or brain-freeze. His philosophy was simple : "If the sky does fall down, use it as a blanket". I try to follow this philosophy of his too - but sometimes, Mom's genes are pretty dominant in me :)
The other thing about my Dad was his "never say die" attitude. Most of his skills - for cooking, for electronics, for woodwork, for plumbing and even for computers - were something he learnt on his own through trial and errors. The problem-solver in him will never admit defeat - if a problem cannot be solved. He would always say "How can it be possible that this cannot be solved?" - even if it took him days to figure out a roof-leak problem - he'd get to the bottom of it. The computer - from MS DOS to Microsoft to the internet dial-ups, later on to WiFi, and then Yahoo, and then Google and then Facebook - he sat down and figured it all himself. Such was his perseverance. For me, sometimes, it drives me crazy when I am unable to solve a problem - be it mathematical or plumbing works. So how? Call Dad.
One thing that always left me in awe of him was his ability to tell someone off in a way that made the other person kneel down for forgiveness. (Mom always said he should've been a lawyer and I should've followed suit :P) There were many other stories from his days as a normal school teacher to his days as a Headmaster. But I remember two such occurences. The first one was when after retirement, he went to teach in a private school (thereafter advising everyone who would listen to never ever send their children to a private school) and he scolded one of his students for making noise in the class. The very next day, the mother of the boy - who was a lawyer, came after my Dad and started shouting at him in the school's stairways. My Dad said "If you have a problem, please look for the Principal. I do not appreciate you shouting in public this way." Which she did and demanded the idiot principal reprimanded my Dad. Dad was summoned to the principal's office, in which ended with the mother coming out of the office in tears and sending an apology hamper to my Dad the next day AND even bought him hi-tea at Equatorial Hotel! Apparently, my Dad told her off for being such a bad parent and pointed out the fact that him teaching her son some manners was not wrong and in fact, not even his duty.
Second incident - a very, very recent occurrence - a month ago, my Dad walked the dog and he decided to take a new route. It just so happened that the Idiot who was staying at the corner house saw my Dad and started shouting at my Dad to stop bringing our dog around his 'area' because it was making his dog bark. At first, my Dad just ignored him. And then, when Idiot's wife started in on the verbal abuses as well, my Dad said some harsh words and left, fuming. He got home and related what happened to my Mom and my brother who happened to be around. My brother - who is very similar to my Mom in this aspect (chicken!!) decided to go over to Idiot's house... to do what? To apologize on behalf of my Dad! My God! Despite the sincere words of apologies from my brother, Idiot was still very temperamental. My Dad of course, did not take it sitting down. Once again, he shelled out his affinity to tame even the wildest animal. This time, it resulted in the Idiot apologizing profusely to my Dad. If my Dad had persisted, Idiot would've apologized to our dog even :P When my Mom related this incident to me, we were both laughing - because we surely felt sorry for whoever stepped onto my Dad's 'tail'. It's like - of ALL the people you want to verbally abuse, you picked MY Dad?? You were just asking for serious trouble, mate!
My Dad was a purveyor of the "no-nonsense" concept - meaning - do not give him nonsense. He simply will not take it. However, one can easily sit down and have a man-to-man discussion with him and he would be willing to budge (depending on his mood, though or your ability to create a perfect argument platform & strategy). I happen to be a fighter-cock like my Dad, as opposed to my peace-loving Mom. As kids, we were never brought up to be bullied nor to be pushed-overs. We were taught to fight for what is right and not to take nonsense hurled at us sitting down. Of course, this has gotten me into loads of trouble before since I have yet to master the art of "taming the beast" like my Dad, obviously has. I seriously need to brush up on this skill since I definitely have a lot of sharp things to say to a lot of people who deserves it :P
Dad rose through the ranks - from an ordinary non-graduate teacher, to Senior Assistant III, II, I and finally, got the big promotion to be a Headmaster. As a Headmaster, he was always sent to some C-grade public schools with the objective of making it A-grade. Once A-grade was achieved, he would be sent to yet another C-grade school to do the same thing. But you see, teaching wasn't his passion and he got into it because he thought he had no other options! Yet, he strived to do well in a field that he wasn't even liking - whereas our generation were forever talking about doing something that we like and pursuing our passion, etc, etc.
For this, I truly admired his perseverance : when you set-out to do something, you better do it well, or else, don't do it. One has to understand though, my Dad is a perfectionist. Whether it be a chart that he was drawing for school time-table or painting the walls in the house - if the chart appeared slightly off-centre, he would start a new one, or if the painting didn't look tidy, he would re-paint the walls all over again. Back when he used to cook for us, he even shaped the carrots and cucumbers to make them look good (he always says that he should've been a chef). In a way, I'm a little anal like him. I hate when my powerpoint presentations are not aligned meticulously. I hate when my staff pass me some half-ass, not-well-thought-out proposals. If you want to do something, you better do it well. Or else, don't do it. This, I took it along with me to pass my UPSR, SRP and SPM with flying colours (where on result announcement day, my Dad bought me my first lobster thermidore dinner!), later on, in college and university on scholarships and then later on - with my career and yet later on - with my triathlon races. Sure, I may slack off every now and then, and for sure, I wasn't exactly at the top of my game in every aspect - but I do know one thing - I always give it my 100% and sometimes more.
My relationship with my Dad really soared the year I was in Australia. Because I was a million miles away and often homesick (which was so unexpected since I thought I was dying to get out of the house!), I wrote home very frequently - often carrying tales (and photos!!) of my drunken nights and Mardi Gras experiences. Since I was really nowhere near enough for them to wallop the shit out of me, I wasn't afraid to tell them my "activities". And you know, I figured - they were the ones who insisted me coming over (because I had initially gotten a job offer with one of the 4As agency in town), so I shouldn't get into too much trouble with them. And for some reason, the generation gap between us narrowed. For me, it was like a whole new understanding between us.
When I was so often homesick in my first trip living abroad, whenever I called home, Dad would tell me to get off the phone. He would say "Just get yourself used to it and enjoy! Stop calling home!" I suppose, he wasn't very happy with the fact that I called collect either :P But that was Dad - he encouraged us and gave us the courage to go out and see the world - on our own. Go out there and experience the world. He totally wanted us to be independent (of course, now he regrets saying that I am just too independent and too bloody courageous for my own good). When I was posted to Jakarta in the midst of the racial massacre, Mom was ill with worry at me taking up the post, whilst Dad was like "Good. Go! It'll be a good experience for you!" He was more interested in my negotiated pay package :P
With his confidence - I went to Jakarta - where I had one of the worse overseas work experience of my life. Bombings, riots, curfews, but I wasn't afraid. Because in my mind - I thought - Dad wasn't afraid to let me come, so it's all good. HOWEVER, when the Indonesian political scene took a turn for the worse - my Dad actually started getting worried. And when he got worried - I got worried! When he said "Get on the first flight home," in one of the text messages, I knew - shit, I was in trouble. I had to get out! This was one of the only occasion where I ever saw Dad getting frantic. Mom panicking - that's normal. When Dad panics, people - we're in Code RED!!
Now, let's talk about Dad - the Joker. My Dad is one of the biggest prankster that I know. He would hide behind doors, walls, curtains, whatever he could find and jump out to scare the bejesus out of me or Mom. Of course, the Joker in him had to hide while Hitler was trying to discipline the children :P But the Joker came out after I started my adult life - as I said in earlier chapters - my parents were a bit weird. They never spoilt us as kids - always ruling with the cane - but only when we started working were we well and truly spoilt. Ahh,... maybe it was better this way. See? I turned out alright :)
When I was two years old, Dad fed me with his home-made belachan. The stinging spiciness made me bawl and he grabbed my Mom's glass of water (she used to keep a glass of water in the fridge - a very ugly green glass) and added hot water to it and made me drink it to ease the chilli-pain. Surprise! Surprise! After I recovered, I wanted more of them spicy stuff immediately. And to this day - people say I eat food with my chilli. Not the other way around. Dad calls me crazy - Sheesh, he should just ask himself WHY.
Anyway, yes, so there had been many times where I would chase him around the house because I want to pinch him for scaring the crap out of me. Sometimes, Ah Por would make a comment that I should be respecting my elders and not be violently attacking my Dad. But this was how our bond had evolved - we have become chummy-chummy pals :) And it is something I truly, truly cherished. We even smoke together now (ssshhhh!! OMG!)When he was not trying to play a prank on me, we would both gang-up to play a prank on Mom. Mom was always a good sport, but sometimes, she does get mad and then Dad would be in more trouble than I (hahaha). When he discovered the joy of the "Talking Alarm" in the Nokia mobile phone, immediately, his cheeky mind went scheming. Once, he purposely set the alarm for 6am and hid the phone in the kitchen. Needless to say, my Mom jumped out of her skin when a voice from nowhere was announcing "The time now is six o'clock."
My Dad really loves to kid around and he very often gets on my Mom's nerves. My Mom usually made him breakfast of bread and peanut butter or jam. He disliked this but because of his diabetes, he had to be careful with his diet (he got into diabetes trouble when the year I was in Australia, he apparently waited till Mom went to sleep and then ate chocolates and ice cream every night for supper while watching TV!!). He would bite the bread and shape them into something - sometimes, it was a boy looking over a wall, sometimes, it was a dog barking. My Mom didn't find this amusing. But he would laugh because he had succeeded in annoying her!
He was of course, elated when I finally decided to get married. When Kah Mun, my best friend who was my bridemaid in Bali told me : "So, Richard must be the happiest man in Bali right now," ... I said "No, no! My Dad is the happiest man in Bali!" When Kah Mun looked confused, I explained to her that my Dad had been waiting for this day to come for the last 10 years or so. I think the part about him sighing every so often and laments that his friends were enjoying grandparenthood should be kept for a whole chapter by itself. But he always said he's happy to be "rid of the responsibility" and now I am someone else's responsibility. Hahaha. I do not believe him.
Well, there were many a thing which the family wanted me to do for my wedding and in a way, I kinda didn't get a 100% of the wedding that I truly wanted. I voiced out my frustration in an email in which my Dad actually responded (he never really writes anything - too lazy) in a long reply mail - to sum up, he said he definitely wanted me to have the happiest wedding of my life.
And then when I had my KL reception and my Ah Por said she didn't want to come because her legs were giving her trouble - the only person I knew to call was my Dad (told you, he was the go-to person in troubles like these!). I called him in tears, sobbing and telling him that Ah Por wasn't going to come for my wedding (I had initially threatened that if both my Grandmas didn't show up for my KL reception, I wouldn't either :P) - and you know, even through the phone, I could sense my Dad's utter dilemma, I could hear his heart aching for me, over the situation. He had a crying bride in his hands! (or he could just be worried that I would do a no-show in KL - which I was fully capable of :P). But remember what I said about my Dad being a problem-solver? And exactly as per the role of my hero, he made arrangements so that Ah Por came for my KL reception. I was elated! And he truly lived up to his words - that he wanted me to have the happiest wedding of my life.
One of the "symbolical rituals" in a Chinese wedding ceremony was the father of the bride sheltering the bride out of the house with an umbrella. Whilst I modernized my wedding and scrapped away all these rituals, I was glad my Dad insisted on doing this - and carrying the umbrella all the way to Bali even. For this ritual symbolized that the Father, will forever be protecting the daughter, no matter what. That umbrella went missing for a few minutes - which sent my Dad into a frenzy, searching for it. I cannot remember who was responsible to help him keep the umbrella - but had the umbrella really gone missing that day, I think that person would be dead meat.
Life for me, wouldn't be the same without my Dad being around and like for every other person I love, I pray that he be around forever and ever and ever.
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