I thought of Papa today.
A friend and I were talking about her dad's betting pattern in cock derbies and then memories came flashing back- Popsy used to play sabong too.
My Lolo owned this beach property in the province where derbies were held. Such circumstance made Popsy an occasional visitor to the place, and even less frequently, a better. I was too young to understand how he'd bet but what I was cognizant about was the loot after a game. We always knew if his rooster (what do you call them anyway? I mean aside from cock *silly grin*) gave his opponent a good beating and biting if Popsy came home with hot off the wok pancit, Maling luncheon meat, soap, toothpaste and a whole lotta stuff from the grocery.
There were no specific sabong days but he would always let us know if he's heading out to see a fight. We would gladly await his return and run outside once we hear his bike. Of course, the first thing the kids would look at is if there are plastic bags hanging from his steering bar. And we'd say in unison "may pasalubong si Papa!" on days he got lucky. And merely seconds after he gets inside the house, we'd be feasting on his small treat already.
Oh boy, I'm smiling right now as I write this ^_^ It's pretty cool thinking about it now, the simple life in the province, that is. It's also one of those moments you stop and think you have enough. And here we are in the big city decades after as orphans. Still, shiny things don't impress us much. :)
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