Growing up with Marge and Homer

"Ano pong gagawin natin sa fifty thousand?"

"Pang-tuition po ng anak ko!"

Ring a bell?

Yes, we often hear this dialog on noontime shows where a lucky member of the audience or a contestant wins a big prize. Most of the time, if not all the time, the winner is a parent. I don't know if they will really spend the winnings on their child's tuition. The bottom line is that they are parents.

I was raised by Marge and Homer Simpson. Yes, the two yellow skinned, four fingered creatures we see on TV. My own Marge is a struggling kindergarten teacher, while my old man Homer (may he rest in peace) was a captain in a shipping vessel who, more or less, earns four hundred grand every month which all the time ends up like Clover chips. Simot. 

If my memory serves me right, my Marge first met Homer in his office. The rest is history. They got married and had two kids: me and my brother (OK, I know you're thinking that the only male kid in the Simpson's household is Bart and that leaves me as Lisa. Just think of me as Santa's Little Helper then). Growing up with Marge and Homer ain't easy. The occasional temper tantrums that they have most of the time ends up in a cold shouldering session that lasts for a week. But the aftermath is what I'm always looking forward to since it means eating dinner in a Chinese restaurant somewhere in Sta. Cruz or going out for a late night coffee session in UCC. Whatever the case may be, I still consider my self lucky for having Marge and Homer as my parents. Yes, they have their own shortcomings. They are human after all, but they always make sure that we always get the best of everything be it in terms of food, shelter, clothes, education and the latest gadgets.

When I was in 5th grade I suddenly had the urge of tinkering the piano. Whenever we would go to the mall I would look for a music store and tinker with the electronic piano. But what caught my fancy was the Clavinova. When my Homer told me that he'll buy me a piano, I couldn't sleep for a week. After a two month waiting period, the piano finally arrived. It was not a Clavinova, but a simple down-to-earth DGX 500. Not exactly the piano I was looking for, but still it was a piano and I was so thankful for it. It reminded me the episode when Homer bought Lisa a saxophone (again, think of me as Santa's Little Helper). Just like the real Homer Simpson, my Homer (during his last months before he passed away) was also addicted to donuts and was balding. My Marge, as of writing, is sleeping and is developing a very weird hairstyle, just like the original character (no blue colored hair though).

I realized that parents aren't cops who tell you what and what not to do. They're simply scaffolds: they are the temporary structures that support us so that we can create our own life structure. Once our life structure is done and in order, you are on your own. But whenever you need repairs, the scaffold is there again ready to help you fix the damages.

I've been raised by yellow skinned and four fingered creatures, and I'm thankful for it.

<Simpson's theme here>