WHEN I was growing up in Basa Air Base, Pampanga, Christmas meant gifts from the squadron where my soldier-father belonged. But gifts were given only to kids 10 years old and below. When I reached 11, I went home giftless and experienced for the first time how it was to be a young adult.
Young adulthood then, I thought, meant fending for myself, saving coins in the can of Darigold evaporated milk so I could have some money for myself when Christmas came knocking. In my family, Christmas meant modest things — some fried chicken and laing, and macaroni salad on the table, and new clothes for the kids. The gifts were usually bought at the commissary of the military air base, unless my father had gone to Manila on a mission and came back loaded with toys.
