Happy Birthday, Bunso!

Oops, I did it again. Every year I never fail in failing to greet my brother Gabe on his birthday.

Gabe's birthday is on 24 December. And like most others born near or on Christmas itself, Gabe suffers the disadvantage of not being greeted on this birthday and of receiving just one gift --- if at all --- for both occasions.

And yes, I am the number one transgressor. And I did it again this year.

Gabe has always been our bunso. He was born on 24 December 1972, a true Martial Law baby. And for more than seventeen years, until we were gifted with Samantha in June 1990, Gabe was the nino bonito of the Mercado family.

I certainly felt that he was the favorite! Ironic it is that he grew up during the height of the Marcosian rule. I certainly feel that he and my two other younger brothers, Miguel and Paolo, enjoyed more freedoms than us three older ones. (Sorry, An and Wawel, for dragging your names into this!)

Not that I bear any grudges. (Okay, okay ... I used too. But that's normal for any sibling trying to protect his turf, right?)

I basically ignored Gabe as a child.

Miguel, I would enjoy picking on. He would seethe in anger as I constantly made him pikon. Paolo was the butt of my cruel jokes: "It's Carlos P. Romulo! Nerd!."

Gabe ... I didn't even think he was deserving of my bullying.

(Yes, Gabi. Your Papa was a bully. Not to be emulated, mind you. You're going to be a kuya soon. Please don't do onto your sibling what your father did unto his. Amen.)

And yet look at Gabe now. He is a celebrity. My, even the Igorots know him! (Private joke there. Ask Patty for details.)

He is a good and loving father. He is a caring son. And he is an ardent advocate of what remains good in the Filipino.

I am very proud of you, dear bunso. And I love you!

Can you forgive me now? You'd better! Or else ...