By RAMON RAFAEL BONILLA
To say it is a dream is an understatement; to frame it as destiny is a bit of a stretch. I call my story a privilege.
Raised without the comforts of an opulent life but disciplined and cared for by loving parents, I am proof that childhood influence directly affects the foundation of what you are bound to become.
And by all means, Tempo fills many of the pages of my young life.
My father, Tonipet, who comes from a family of policemen from Negros Occidental, has been an avid reader of the English tabloid newspaper since we moved from Guadalupe to Novaliches after our small apartment was engulfed by a massive fire in the late 1990s.
He tried business and sold coconuts, disposable diapers, and bananas to make ends meet. He regularly woke up at 2 a.m. and returned home at 6 in the evening. As a 7-year-old, I could barely understand his efforts. Now a career man over 30, I realized my father is a hero.
I would visit our stall before catching my early school hours, and by then my father would hand me a copy of Tempo which he used to buy from an old vendor whose bravado could overshadow the headlines in his merchandise.
For countless years I grew up reading the paper — on weekends, holidays, and even amid disasters.
I would skip the front page and flick to the sports section. Those times you only get prime news in printed form, far from what we have evolved to in this digital realm where everything is accessible and quicker with a click on a smartphone.
I found fascination in stories of triumphs and inspiration in defeats, so important that I have valued each report like a gospel woven in fine lines of action and drama.
Sure enough, Tempo became the avenue I immersed myself in, and from the bylines I read it served as the catalyst of who I aspired to be.
Maybe it was God’s plan? Or perhaps Lady Luck is smiling on me. Maybe it was my sheer will, or a little bit of everything. But here I am today, working with the greats of the humble newspaper I fell in love with.
He would deny it as fathers will always do, but I am sure my dad is proud of the path I have taken. Silent as he may be, but he would randomly utter the names of the sports section staff he had memorized through years of patronizing Tempo.
It was a gift he exposed me to such learning from a young age. This is now a privilege I should preserve.
Privilege that is also a responsibility; privilege that I should pass on to the next generation of dreamers who want to write their own stories.
May Tempo endure the test of time, and so do journalists who hold the line.
