Leaving a good name

While I am usually recognized by many people as me, a journalist, I sometimes get introduced as "the son of Graciano Pal" in some gatherings, especially when I am introduced to public school teachers here in Negros Oriental.

With older teachers, I could see their faces light up with that kind of an introduction. I then realize that they had worked with my father when he was with the public schools. But since my old man had retired in 1988, I could also see that many young public school teachers simply try to be polite by smiling, as if to ask, "So?"

Yesterday was one such instance. I was with Fred Catacutan, the Council Chief Executive of the Boy Scouts Negros Oriental-Siquijor Council. I went with him to Guihulngan to visit a district camporal of the BSP-GSP Guihulngan North District at the Pelagioi Villegas Memorial Elementary School in barangay Hibaiyo.

When we got there, Fred introduced me to the teachers and parents who were gathered at the stage. And he again introduced me as my father's son. There must have been about 30 people there and only about five faces lighted up upon hearing my father's name. One teacher, who must have been in her 50s, spoke up and explained, "Many of the young teachers here are new, and probably don't know your father. But I remember my aunt telling me about him. She would take pains to prepare only the best food when he came to visit schools because she said your father was a very good man.'"

The comment really warmed my heart. I immediately remembered a verse in the Bible which says, "A good name is to be preferred over riches." Surely, my father didn't leave me any great wealth, but he did leave me a name I could be proud of.

But thinking about that story also made me realize that my father's generation is over. A new generation is now taking over and soon, my generation would be gone as well. Last week, during our ASEAN Summit coverage in Cebu, I was eating lunch one day at the restaurant of the Cebu International Convention Center when I saw Harry Gasser on the other end of the room. Yes, Harry -- the only TV newscaster I had known in my growing years, starting with the days when I never thought I would ever see a colored TV set. Well, Harry was not only my newscaster. He was also THE newscaster of the entire country! Even my wife, who was growing up in Zamboanga City, knew Harry as the only newscaster back then. I proudly called a waiter and said, "Hey, do you see Harry Gasser eating on the other end of this room?"

I might as well have spoken to him in Chinese. Or Greek. All I got was a blank stare. "Sino po siya, sir?" the waiter inquired. I must have been quiet for a few seconds. Here's a man who did not know the man I had idolized for years! "That man," I pointed out, "was the one your parents watched every night!"

He must have found my statement so ridiculous. "And why," the waiter wanted to know, "would my parents watch him every night?"

That very second, I kind of thought it was pointless dragging the conversation further. I was like Rip Van Winkle, a man who woke up after a very deep sleep, and found the world a different place. I immediately went up to our cubicle at the International Broadcast Center and relayed my story to some very sympathetic colleagues who, needless to add, were older than me.

But yes, Harry did make a good name for himself in the television industry. I am proud to have finally met the man and work with him for our coverage of the ASEAN Summit. I even drove him back to his hotel once in my rickety jeep!

So, yes, I may be able to relate with people of another generation. But that doesn't really make me feel old. I'm even proud of it. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind being introduced again as my father's son.*

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