Lessons from Papa - Lesson 3

This post is part of a series memorializing my dad, Rolando Vergel de Dios, who passed away unexpectedly on November 29th, 2024. For the full context it’s best to start at the beginning: Lesson 1.

When I was about 5-6 years old I was an incredibly curious child. One weird thing that caught my curiosity was broken glass. Papa had let me watch far too many movies that a 6 year old had no business watching. Think Terminator 2, Robocop, Jurassic Park. Classic action movies of the 90s. These movies all featured jaw-dropping action scenes where bottles were broken over people’s heads or people were thrown through plate-glass windows. I wanted to see broken glass in real life.

So I hatched a plan. There is a French drink called Orangina that I still love to this day that comes in a potion-like glass bottle. We had some in the fridge, so I would grab one and down the delicious orange fizzy goodness. I would then take the bottle out the side door of the house and pretend to trip so I could smash the bottle into the ground and see all of the shards fly in all directions. Still being a well-behaved child, though, I knew I would have to clean it up and I decided that I had to bring a broom and dustpan along with me. The plot was obvious perfection to my 6-year-old brain.

It was execution time. I went to the fridge. I drank my French nectar of the Gods. I went to the side door, glass bottle in one hand, dustpan and broom in the other. I proceeded to perform what could best be described as the most contrived pratfall imaginable. Boom. Glass rained from the heavens. It was glorious.

Almost instantly Papa was at the door with a scowl.

“What happened?”

I explained that I was on my way to take the empty bottle to the recycling and I tripped and dropped it, of course. He then looked to the side of the house and pointed at the broom and dustpan and asked: “why are the broom and dustpan there, then?”

I replied nonchalantly: “oh I brought those just in case I dropped the bottle.” I really thought I cooking.

To my surprise he didn’t buy it. Papa was a fun dad, but when he needed to be he was a strict disciplinarian. We spent the entire day going back and forth with me digging my heels in and insisting that I had so much forethought that I had brought out the broom and dustpan in anticipation of an accident and him not buying it for a second. He wore me down and after a lot of frustration and crying I finally broke and admitted that I had lied around dinnertime. I got an appropriate sentence of 1 week of no TV and no computer.

The lesson I learned from Papa that day: your integrity must be unquestionable. Or at least try to come up with better lies.