MOM TELLS ME that when she and my dad got married, he wanted to have a boy. When I was conceived, however, the method did not yet exist, in the Philippines, whereby expectant parents could determine the gender of their children, so there was no way to tell whether his wish had come true. What was odd was that when I was still in the womb, he wrote a song for a daughter. It was called "Jemima," which my mother then gave me for a third name. And which, unfortunately, conjured up images of maple syrup and plump little women from slave days, once we arrived in America. It's a beautiful song, because my father has a gift for music, one of many gifts. He taught himself to play the piano by ear, and for a period of time wrote profusely, mostly gorgeous love songs. I said one day I'd record them.

Up until I started to fill out at twelve-years-old, I was my father's oldest son. At ten, I could field a baseball. Drill holes in a two-by-four. Follow football, baseball, basketball, and tennis. Play a lousy game of chess. I'll never forget our first date—a triple feature at the drive-in in Quezon City, near Manila: the first three films in the Planet of the Apes series. We drove to the enormous open parking lot in the Fiat. It got dark, and a huge white billboard came to life. Ate ube cakes and coconut buko popsicles in the front seat. I got to stay up way past my bedtime and I wasn't tired one bit. My eyes were round with wonder at the pretty white people on the screen. With their light eyes, gold-flecked hair and ivory skin, they were like aliens to me. The monkeys, I didn't even bat an eyelash at—my skin was as dark as theirs, my hair the same color. When Charleton Heston started screaming "Damn you! Murderers!" on his knees at the beach, in front of the decapitated head of the Statue of Liberty, I totally didn't get it. But who cared? I was out with my dad at the movies.

Later when I saw the film again in the USA, it made better sense, because then I'd learned about the Statue of Liberty in school, and about how she represented freedom, justice, an open door to all (well, most) of the oppressed of the world. I don't remember having another date with my dad after that, but I remember that he made my childhood fun. There was apparently never much money growing up, but we never noticed. There were ball games in the yard and music in the house. There were church pot lucks and parties at the neighbors. We'd pile the family into the old car for a vacation in the summer—go stay with relatives and friends. We saw a good chunk of the US before I hit high school.

Because of my parents I am smart, spiritual, musical, fiercely independent, athletic, and able to cook a pretty good meal. I understand the value of a good education and the even higher value of inner integrity and respect for all God's children. Dad taught me how to use a computer too, which saved my head in college and afterwards, when I could've been a starving actor on the streets of New York City. And which has saved my soul in the last year, when I found a loving, supportive internet community, during some of the darkest days of my life. All because Dad put me on his little PC and taught me how to use Multimate, a hundred years ago.

When I finally left for college, what I carried away most clearly was that my father is one of God's truly good people. Workaholic, activist, minister, healer—everybody said so then and still do now. If I achieve my most important goal, I'll grow up to be my father. After that, everything I accomplish will be gravy. This is the truest thing I know. I love you Daddy. And frankly you don't look a day over forty-five.

falling into place || hub of portals