Being an APO kid

Sunday Life

Being an APO Kid
By Ala Paredes

Humming in my universe by Jim Paredes

I
was going to pass up writing an article for this Sunday. I am still
exhausted, physically and mentally, from the APO concert at the Big
Dome last Sunday and the opening of my photo exhibit in MegaMall last
Tuesday. But then I read my daughter’s blog which I felt would make a
good last article  to cap the  topics that I’ve been writing about the
last three week, all dealing with my life as/with/an APO. Instead of
leaving my readers without anything to read, I thought I’d share this
wonderful piece written by my daughter Ala who lives in Sydney. – Jim
Paredes

Last weekend, the APOHiking Society celebrated
their 39th anniversary at the Big Dome. I, on the other hand, spent
Saturday night doing dishes and homework in Sydney, though my heart
would have given anything just to be there. I'm pretty sure that the
Sydney contingent of the APO offspring were the only ones who weren't
there watching our fathers celebrate 39 years of their life's work.

Not
being there at such a grand culmination of their careers made me
reminisce about what it was like growing up as an "APO Kid". That is
what they called us every time we guested on their TV shows "Sa Linggo
N'APO Sila", "Sang Linggo N'APO Sila", and in the case of the Jim
Paredes branch of the APO Kids, "Tatak Pilipino".

We APO Kids
grew up under the misconception that we were related by blood, as first
cousins. I only realized we weren't when I had to do a "family tree"
assignment in 3rd grade. I asked my mom where I should write the names
of Danny and Boboy's children and she told me that we weren't actually
related, though we might as well have been. Not only are the APO the
ninongs (godfathers) of each other's children but the APO, the APO
wives, and the APO kids used to spend every summer and semester break
holidays together. My childhood summers are marked by memories of
Davao, Hidden Valley, and other places we all used to visit.

Another
reason I thought the APO kids were related was that we shared certain
obligations that came with being the offspring of 1/3 of the APO. One
obligation was having to come out on TV every Christmas, and every time
it was our father's birthday. Whether it was a live appearance or
pre-recorded, I remember all too well being squeezed by my mother into
my Sunday best and being whisked away to ABS-CBN to stay hidden in a
dressing room for hours and hours only to appear on camera for five
minutes to greet my dad a "Happy Birthday". Even though we did it every
single year, he would still act genuinely surprised and, on some years,
even shed a tear or two. One year, me and my sister sang "Too Shy To
Say" with him in one of those song numbers that are supposed to make
people cry. Another year, my sister and I were made to co-write a song
for my dad, which Ely Buendia of the Eraserheads attached a melody to
and sang onstage (I am pretty sure my memory is accurate and I did not
just make that up. Feel free to verify, Mister Buendia).

Then
there was that one year when we APO Kids had to sing "Give Love on
Christmas Day" for the big ABS-CBN Christmas special. The networks
certainly capitalized on us on special occasions.

Along with the
obligations came the perks. Perk number one was free entry to concerts
and automatic backstage passes. Thanks to being an APO Kid, I was able
to meet and have my backpack signed by the Eraserheads, and I also met
the Backstreet Boys and Alanis Morissette when they guested on their
noontime show.

Perk number two was special treatment in certain
places such as salons and beauty parlors. The one we used to go along
Katipunan would immediately play their APO CD as soon as we walked
through the door, as a cheeky way of making "sip-sip".

And yet,
amidst all this, I was not truly aware that my dad was a celebrity
until late in high school, not even if I had seen him on stage being
applauded by adoring fans countless times. Not even when all my
classmates would sing "What's this, kabayong buntis" every lunch time.
Not even when my teachers would ask me for my dad's autograph. I was
such an oblivious young girl, more concerned with doodling and Disney
cartoons. I didn't really know when a new APO single would be out on
the airwaves until other people asked me about it.

It never
occurred to me that having a dad who came out on TV was unusual because
it had always been that way for as long as I could remember. I would
watch him dress up in the mornings and leave. An hour later, he would
be on TV. I was only two years old when I first saw them on TV in a San
Miguel commercial chasing a girl in a white dress. I even remember the
jingle: "She-boom, she-boom, lalalalala...". But growing up, I was
always in school during his noontime show, so I only got to watch on
Sundays.

Ironically, what seemed strange and alien to me were my
classmates' fathers, who would all come home from the office in
button-down shirts and clutching briefcases. "Normal" to me was a
father coming home in a sequiny costume, clutching a briefcase full of
stage make-up, who made us listen to Paul Simon and Frank Zappa, and
taught us poetry.

We had a recording studio, but it never
occurred to me that it was my dad's means of making a living. To me, it
was a playground where I could bang on the drums and play with the
synthesizer during long, summer afternoons. When Joey Ayala would 
record there, I would play with his gongs and ethnic instruments.

I
didn't consciously know any APO hits till I hit college, because to me
they were like an ever-present background music throughout my growing
years, something whose existence I knew about but never thought about,
like the atmosphere. Sure, I could sing "American Junk" at the drop of
a hat. But I was surprised when I entered college and found that a
whole lot of people knew the music of the APO.

I suppose I only
truly ever felt like I was "Jim Paredes' daughter" was when I started
coming out on TV myself. The comparison was inevitable, and so was
harsh criticism, but I'm not the only TV personality to have ever dealt
with nastiness. I suppose to many I was just another daughter of a
celebrity who probably got into showbiz purely through her last name.
But I maintain that I wouldn't have lasted that long if I didn't at
least have any hosting ability whatsoever.

And on the contrary,
entering TV was something I felt I did independently. It was by no
means my father's idea, and not once did any agent or client contact me
through him. He never meddled with my dealings. I wasn't trying to be
Jim Paredes' daughter. I just felt like TV was something I'd know how
to do if given the chance. After all, I was always emceeing school
concerts and programs, and I even had a high school teacher who once
told me, "Bagay sa iyo maging veejay (You should be a veejay)".

But
as I have found through the years, being the daughter of a famous
person means having a very long shadow to step out from. Sometimes,
people don't see you as anything but an APO Kid. Every question people
ask you is a dad-related question. Never mind if you just won the Nobel
Prize or ended world hunger, they won't care because your dad didn't do
it.

And of course, there is always comparison if you get into
anything that is any way remotely connected to what your father is
brilliant at. I think there is a reason why no APO off-spring has
really broken into the music scene, although there are talented singers
and musicians among us. We're too terrified. People will judge us for
not living up to our fathers, or for living up to them too much. It's a
hard battle to win.

And now that I am older and have struggled
with finding my own identity, I realize that I will always be my
father's daughter no matter what. Despite the pains some of us APO Kids
might have experienced in coming into our own, I suppose we are all the
same in sharing a genuine admiration for these artists who just happen
to be our fathers. The APO are not only singers, they are performers.
They are not only a singing group, they are the best of friends. I can
watch an APO concert and be just as entertained as other non-APO-kid
audience members, and I do love their music. Like so many Filipinos,
their songs have touched my heart. I am very much an APO fan.

I
am resigned to the fact that if I choose to do anything that my dad has
done before, be that music, or showbiz, or writing, my version will
always be compared to his (and will most likely come out the "paler"
version, because that's what people always say). But that shouldn't
stop me from doing the things I love just because my father's done it
before. And so, I may be my own person, but I am honored to be my
father's daughter, too.

*     *     *.

“SKIN: A Photo
Exhibit by Jim Paredes in Black and White and Red”  opened last Sept.
24 and will run till Oct. 2 at Renaissance Gallery, fourth floor,
Megamall Building A. Do visit and sign my guestboo