PROLOGUE. It strikes when you least expect it. To me, it happened at Sunday Mass. One minute, I sat enraptured, listening to the priest’s words of enlightenment. The next minute, I couldn’t help but hum the familiar lyrics of a ditty that had consumed my memory space from the previous night. Last song syndrome! The song? ACHUCHICHA.

Yes, previous night was bonfire night at Xavier School. As our T-shirts from Ms. Mojica’s factory proudly declared, we survived the Father and Son Camp S.Y. 2009-2010 (the abbreviated version).

Bluroze farm. Tourist bus transport. Communing with nature. Pitching tents for sleepovers. Ghost stories by campfire. Makeshift latrines. Roughing it. Nope. For us, none of the above. For this batch, Xavier was campsite for a whole day activity, 8 a.m. to 9 p.m. Anybody need a brand new tent, lantern, sleeping bag, etc.? You can get a good package dirt cheap from all the first timers who bought ahead. This was one instance where the scout dictum “laging handa” failed to serve us well.

But if anyone was complaining, it surely didn’t show in the faces of the fathers and sons who showed up – most came on time – for the early registration. The excitement was palpable – it was a good kind of tension, the kind that feeds the desire to get started. After a brief orientation, and breakfast of muffins and piping hot chocolate, the different colors began to take on meaning as we met our respective kawan group leaders and received our team flags. Luntian. Dilawan. Bughawan. Pulahan. Totohanan na ito. Let the games begin!

Slidemaking (Turkshead). Patch up. Spider’s web. Brutal! A.M. SNACK - muffins and zesto. Team walk. Blindfold maze. Uranium transfer. Backbreaking! LUNCH - Adobong baboy, tinolang manok and iced tea. Mine field. Island hopping. Wheel to go. Turtle back. Gruelling! P.M. SNACK - sandwich and zesto. Ladder challenge. Alphabet maze. Egg retrieval. TanGram. Punishing! DINNER- BBQ liempo and chicken leg, vegetables and iced tea. 18 events in 9 hours. Wait a minute. Was this Father and Son Camp or Military Boot Camp?

Event after event presented fresh and rich opportunities to gauge each others mettle, and to measure our own. There were trials of strength, ingenuity, creativity – until now I suppress a smile at the way Bob just hoisted Carlo on his shoulders in the alphabet maze while the rest of us cluelessly endured sore feet and toes from being stepped on. And please explain to me how Super defied the laws of physics and got the egg into that rickety, patchwork sling? We mastered new skills and rediscovered old ones. We said hello to muscles we never knew we had (not a few fathers and sons extended the concept to the nearest SPA massage rooms in the aftermath of camp).

We had the highest energy levels. We had indomitable team spirit. We had so much FUN! We were fathers, we were sons. We were uncles, we were nephews. And, for one magical day, we were all brothers.

I particularly appreciated the exposure to the parenting styles which, consciously or not, I would observe within my kawan. The dynamics and nuances of the father-son relationships on parade provided insights open to all those disposed to compare approaches. From morning till night, I was privileged to witness unguarded exchanges of nothing but warmth and affection. At the end of the day, I could confidently say that the proudest boast was that I was a XAVERIAN father!

And, yes, at the end of the day we came away with our ribbons of accomplishment. The campfire activity was a fantastic way to highlight them all – in low light! The climax of camp? The elaborate bonfire lighting production number – PURE DRAMA. The failure to light the flame was a tragedy. But what it did ignite was thunderous laughter which made for great comedy! Kudos to Dilawan for most number of places. Bughawan and Pulahan put up a good fight. Bravo to Luntian for its four 1^st place finishes though up to now we await recognition from Mrs. Choo, Ms. Garcia and Ms. Lauengco for the initiative displayed in the capture of the Pulahan Team Flag. To this day, the award worthy CHEERS of the different squads continue to haunt idle minds.

But while these trophies are to be memorialized and will surely be of value, what is more important is how they were won: competing side by side with our sons against each other, cooperating with our sons and with one another. We learned how to be self-reliant and to rely on others; to refine and polish our efforts in the spirit of excellence, to recognize our limitations, to cover each others’ backs. We learned when to forego and we learned how to forgive. And we did it all in the spirit of fair play.

The question is, with all this learning going around, who was the student and who was the teacher? “The child is father of the man” wrote Wordsworth. Conventionally: the way a child is brought up determines what he will be in the future. But there are other ways to read this. For it is also true that a child’s energy, curiosity and enthusiasm rekindles our own passions which, through time, we have come to ignore. Several times during camp I was tempted to just sit by and let the others carry on. The spring chicken had become a butterball turkey. My 40 (typo) year old muscles yearned to be soothed. Each time I wavered, I saw the look in my boy’s eyes willing me to stay the course. In this sense, we see that the poet could have been writing about how our children always keep our feet firmly on the right path.

The challenges our boys will face in the future will be different, but the pathways to overcoming them will be familiar for they will be the paths that, through events like these, they learn from us and with us.

At the end of camp, my boy Max hugged me saying: “Dad, thank you for doing this. Thank you for making time.” My body broken, I hugged him back tightly and I thanked God for this blessing - the simple pleasure of a day well spent with my son.

FINAL REPORT CARD.

CASUALTY TOLL: Burns, sprains, scrapes, pulled muscles, hoarse throats, puncture wounds from egg retrieval (two of my own fingers), deflated egos, foiled bonfire lighting production number, trauma of red flag capture, dehydration.

QUALITY TIME SPENT WITH SON: Priceless.

EPILOGUE. It strikes when you least expect it. It happened to me again this morning as I was dressing for my court hearing. After buttoning my shirt, I hung the neck tie around my collar, the ends on either side of my neck. I proceeded to knot the ends, crossing over, then under, then up into the loop, pulled tight and ended up with the perfect …WOOGLE.