IN the farmhouse were three generations of farmers. The elderly grandfather, the middle-aged father, and the teen-aged son.
The three were a study in contrast. The old man was the embodiment of senile unreasonableness. The father was the utmost in patience. While the young man was the epitome of the impulsive youth.
The situation was compounded by the absence of women in the household. The grandmother had died a few years back, accentuating the loneliness of the old man. The mother just recently passed away, thus doubling the responsibility of the middle-aged farmer. Meanwhile, the young man was irritated by the additional role of cooking their food aside from his share of work in the rice farm.
The father had to devote extra attention to the old man whose advanced age made him unable to perform the ordinary needs of living. The grandfather could not even go to the bathroom by himself. Somebody had to dress him. He could not even feed himself for he played with his food. With food, he was not choosy. But it was the need to spoonfeed him that took time.
The young man refused to attend to his grandfather. It just annoyed him no end. Meanwhile, his father patiently took on the chores of attending to every need of the old man. In time, he even gave up his share of farming and left it all to his young son.
One day, the teenager had to go to the
municipio (town hall) to settle some tax assessments for their land. Normally, his father took care of this. But who would look after the grandfather?
"Son, go to the assessor and explain the problem," requested the father. "The basis of the computation is wrong. Our land is for rice farming. But the levy is on non-agriculture. Be sure to be patient."
"Yes, father," the son replied in a calm voice.
"And no matter what he says, stay cool and do not lose your temper. You know how officious and overbearing those people at the
municipio can be. Just be patient."
"Yes, father," the young man answered with some annoyance.
"And be courteous at all times. Remember, be patient."
"Father," interjected the son,"that is the third time you told me to be patient."
The father looked at his son with concern. "You did not pass the test. I was just trying to see how patient you are."
"I am sorry, father," replied the boy recovering his contrite voice. "I just don’t possess the kind of patience you have for grandfather. Sometimes I wonder how you do it."
"Well, I just think of three things and, somehow, I am able to retain my patience. Of course, I often wish your mother were here to help out," said the father, sadness reflecting on his face and tone.
"Could you share with me those three siblings that enable you to practice patience?"
"Sure. First, I remind myself I owe my life to your grandfather. Second, I keep in mind that it was his sweat that fed me until I was able to farm myself." The father stopped as though hesitant to continue.
"How about the third?" persisted the son.
"And third, I try very hard to be patient with your grandfather," he said with a kindly face, "because I want my own son to be patience with me in the same way when I, too, finally grow very old."
