TakingITGlobal - Panorama

Published on: Nov 9, 2005

Topic:

Type: Short Stories

https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=6556

My father has always taught me the ethics of hard work. I am the eldest daughter of six children. My parents relied heavily on me to get things done and see that everything was in order if they weren't around. When I was young, I hated the job of babysitting my younger siblings. I thought my time as a budding teenager was deprived by the duty of family responsibility.
As we grew up and the younger kids learned to take care of themselves, my time became warped in helping out with the family business. After school, I'd come home and change, then run errands for my dad. My brothers and I would complain without end that helping our parents with the banking, delivering of workers and the usual chores they make us do, took up so much of our time. It seemed that we didn't have any time to do other things that other kids of supposedly normal households would do. Whilst our friends were out playing tennis, having lunch dates or hanging out in town, we were getting dirty at the plantation, washing the buses or doing inventory. Life didn't seem fair.
My incessant complaints and self-pity blinded me from seeing the reality of things. At one time during my years at home I had a life-turning conversation with my father. He noticed that I was writing something in my journal. He asked if I could read one journal entry aloud to him. Feeling like my privacy was threatened; I chose to read the date of my birthday. The day's events were relayed to him. My father noticed that all I talked about that day was what my friends did for me at school. I didn't even mention what my family did for me on my Birthday. It hurt him to think that I didn't care about my family. He started to explain why the things were why they were. We had to move out of a comfortable neighborhood, so that my parents could fulfill their dream of running their own business. Times were rough, but they always saw to it that we kids never went hungry. We had clothes on our back, a roof over our heads and I was complaining about life not being fair.
I began to look at life differently after that. I noticed all the little and big sacrifices my parents had to make in order for us to live comfortably. They put us in public schools. They took risks and even though my parents were struggling financially with setting up the business they never turned down a chance to help someone in need.
This past Christmas my father arranged it with his old classmates to help rebuild a family's home that had been washed away in the rain. He offered the man a job. A lot of people usually come and ask him for money with the promises that all will be repaid. The promises are never ever kept but come the time they ask again my father is always willing to work something out with them. He doesn't hold a grudge and he doesn't see fault in another. I can go on and say many things about my father. He is many things but above all he is my true hero. I love him for being his own person and I think that is what a true hero is.

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by Chew Chan
Published on: Nov 9, 2005
Topic:
Type: Short Stories
https://www.tigweb.org/express/panorama/article.html?ContentID=6556


My father has always taught me the ethics of hard work. I am the eldest daughter of six children. My parents relied heavily on me to get things done and see that everything was in order if they weren't around. When I was young, I hated the job of babysitting my younger siblings. I thought my time as a budding teenager was deprived by the duty of family responsibility. As we grew up and the younger kids learned to take care of themselves, my time became warped in helping out with the family business. After school, I'd come home and change, then run errands for my dad. My brothers and I would complain without end that helping our parents with the banking, delivering of workers and the usual chores they make us do, took up so much of our time. It seemed that we didn't have any time to do other things that other kids of supposedly normal households would do. Whilst our friends were out playing tennis, having lunch dates or hanging out in town, we were getting dirty at the plantation, washing the buses or doing inventory. Life didn't seem fair. My incessant complaints and self-pity blinded me from seeing the reality of things. At one time during my years at home I had a life-turning conversation with my father. He noticed that I was writing something in my journal. He asked if I could read one journal entry aloud to him. Feeling like my privacy was threatened; I chose to read the date of my birthday. The day's events were relayed to him. My father noticed that all I talked about that day was what my friends did for me at school. I didn't even mention what my family did for me on my Birthday. It hurt him to think that I didn't care about my family. He started to explain why the things were why they were. We had to move out of a comfortable neighborhood, so that my parents could fulfill their dream of running their own business. Times were rough, but they always saw to it that we kids never went hungry. We had clothes on our back, a roof over our heads and I was complaining about life not being fair. I began to look at life differently after that. I noticed all the little and big sacrifices my parents had to make in order for us to live comfortably. They put us in public schools. They took risks and even though my parents were struggling financially with setting up the business they never turned down a chance to help someone in need. This past Christmas my father arranged it with his old classmates to help rebuild a family's home that had been washed away in the rain. He offered the man a job. A lot of people usually come and ask him for money with the promises that all will be repaid. The promises are never ever kept but come the time they ask again my father is always willing to work something out with them. He doesn't hold a grudge and he doesn't see fault in another. I can go on and say many things about my father. He is many things but above all he is my true hero. I love him for being his own person and I think that is what a true hero is. « return.