The conspiracy of piggy banks and such
September 17, 2006 | 12:00am
I want it pretty, Mommy, with like this and like that and many pink pillows and pink sheets." My daughter, bright-eyed and excited, is telling me about her latest bright idea. She already has the many pink pillows and the pink sheets (so many, in fact, that it is sheer magic she can even find space for herself), and what I have to grandly come up with is what she succinctly refers to as "the like this and the like that." By that she means a convex, half-moon shaped canopy over her bed, with veil-like curtains that she can push to either side and secure with ribbons she already has. For good measure, she even shoved under my nose a worn-out photo of what it should look like (it is a Groovy Girls mini catalogue, the kind that comes with every purchase you make of a Groovy Girls doll).
I am listening half-heartedly to her dreamy monologue, concentrating as I am on the half-opened package before me. I stare at it, daring it to be anything other than what I suspect it to be.
That afternoon, I had dropped a handful of loose change into the opening of a big, fat piggy bank sitting squarely on the far side of my work desk. Those coins sealed the deal; the smiling creature could take no more. Even one more coin would not fit, even as I tried tilting it sideways, heaving it side to side, up and down, too. The large piggy bank, all of bubblegum-pink colored plastic, was a giveaway Juliana brought home after attending a birthday party late last year.
Their popularity as party giveaways has swelled, and in one such year three actually turned up and found a place in our home. Always, always, they choose to sit on my work desk. And like an obedient recipient, I make it my duty to fill them up. That year, because there was an instant set of three on hand, I classified the piggy banks – the biggest would house only five- and 10-peso coins, the medium-sized one would be home to their one-peso friends, and the smallest one for everything else in between.
Not all are pigs, by the way. One is actually a teddy bear, while the other looks plain confused – like it is actually a cow but at the last minute was made into a dog. But whoever heard of a bear bank, or a cow bank, or even a dog one, for that matter?
Maybe I was just born in another time, or perhaps during my toddler years I was too busy playing to notice that piggy banks had already evolved to include other players in the animal kingdom. But really, now they come in the form of every creature imaginable, and as long as they have that ubiquitous slit somewhere on the top, they are immediately called piggy banks.
The rapid pace at which my piggy banks became filled was testament, first, to the fact that I wanted to get rid of them because they were taking up too much space on my already full work desk; and second, to the mantra that if I must use something, I must at least use it well. What is a piggy bank for if it is not filled with coins?
And so it was. The first piggy we filled, Juliana and I excitedly pried it open, spilled out the coins and set aside an afternoon to count them all. What we did not count on was the fact that our patience was no match for the heap of coins before us. We brought the pig to the bank but the messenger came back to say that the bank would not accept coins that have not been counted. Ha?!? Why ever not? Too tired to argue, we decided to do it ourselves. We soon got tired of segregating and counting, waiting for the grand total, which turned out to be quite grand, actually (equivalent to maybe 120 dressed chickens from Farmers Market). So, I found a more sound solution. We solemnly decided then and there that all the piggy banks would go straight from my desk to a parish, usually Father Vanni who is our parish priest, because he will use it for Pondo ng Pinoy. I like the vision of Pondo ng Pinoy so I’m all for it.
With the exodus of the first pig, another one arrived. I thought it was a coincidence. Months later, I said goodbye to two more full creatures and three empty ones came back, an old one because it was apparently the reusable type and two new ones from different sources. There must be a conspiracy among piggy banks in the piggy bank kingdom, I began to suppose: one that stated for every one filled and sent off, another one, and maybe more, must exist in its stead.
And now this one. I just sent off the pink piggy bank and am now holding a package (addressed to me) that looks suspiciously like it is another new friend from the animal kingdom. I am daring it to be a toy, but I already know that it is not. It is just camouflaging as one but it holds the promise of a functional, purposeful one. I open it, and Juliana and I both burst out laughing (she knows about my piggy bank conspiracy theory). It is a smiling pig with a slot near its head, posed on all fours, staring up at us, too tired to even pretend he is anything other than what he is supposed to be: a piggy bank.
Yes, the piggy banks do not stop coming. The coins are an even match, too. I never run out of coins just as I now know I will never run out of piggy banks. There is a sparkling gold one and a green one that I will not part with even as I will gladly part with their contents because it is a sentimental present. But other than those two, the rest are good to go.
My friendship with piggy banks brings to mind the other things I have in abundance, two of which I will share with you. I love giving chocolates and clothes as gifts. I always have chocolate in the house, but I never buy them. They just come sweetly into our home, from friends, family – strangers, even. The ones we enjoy at home, I never buy. They are all presents. The only ones I do buy are those I intend to give as gifts.
Same with clothes. I love giving them as presents and I also love passing them on to whoever needs/wants them. The moment I edit my closet and give away clothes I know someone else can put to better use, I get a whole new batch from somewhere, given by someone. It never fails.
Our existence is an essay on giving. As you give, so shall you receive. And the more you give, the more you have, really. It is an overused, often abused and misused analogy, but it is so true. Think about it: open the chest of your own experiences and I’m sure you will be able to validate it. That goes for things both big and small, material or otherwise.
I leave you with that morsel of thought to chew on. In the interim, I must let my imagination run wild. I have Juliana’s canopied dream bed to translate into pink reality and I am looking at shawls I can use to achieve just that, if only in a makeshift manner. I find I have many I can use temporarily. Thank God I love giving shawls as presents, too.
I am listening half-heartedly to her dreamy monologue, concentrating as I am on the half-opened package before me. I stare at it, daring it to be anything other than what I suspect it to be.
That afternoon, I had dropped a handful of loose change into the opening of a big, fat piggy bank sitting squarely on the far side of my work desk. Those coins sealed the deal; the smiling creature could take no more. Even one more coin would not fit, even as I tried tilting it sideways, heaving it side to side, up and down, too. The large piggy bank, all of bubblegum-pink colored plastic, was a giveaway Juliana brought home after attending a birthday party late last year.
Their popularity as party giveaways has swelled, and in one such year three actually turned up and found a place in our home. Always, always, they choose to sit on my work desk. And like an obedient recipient, I make it my duty to fill them up. That year, because there was an instant set of three on hand, I classified the piggy banks – the biggest would house only five- and 10-peso coins, the medium-sized one would be home to their one-peso friends, and the smallest one for everything else in between.
Not all are pigs, by the way. One is actually a teddy bear, while the other looks plain confused – like it is actually a cow but at the last minute was made into a dog. But whoever heard of a bear bank, or a cow bank, or even a dog one, for that matter?
Maybe I was just born in another time, or perhaps during my toddler years I was too busy playing to notice that piggy banks had already evolved to include other players in the animal kingdom. But really, now they come in the form of every creature imaginable, and as long as they have that ubiquitous slit somewhere on the top, they are immediately called piggy banks.
The rapid pace at which my piggy banks became filled was testament, first, to the fact that I wanted to get rid of them because they were taking up too much space on my already full work desk; and second, to the mantra that if I must use something, I must at least use it well. What is a piggy bank for if it is not filled with coins?
And so it was. The first piggy we filled, Juliana and I excitedly pried it open, spilled out the coins and set aside an afternoon to count them all. What we did not count on was the fact that our patience was no match for the heap of coins before us. We brought the pig to the bank but the messenger came back to say that the bank would not accept coins that have not been counted. Ha?!? Why ever not? Too tired to argue, we decided to do it ourselves. We soon got tired of segregating and counting, waiting for the grand total, which turned out to be quite grand, actually (equivalent to maybe 120 dressed chickens from Farmers Market). So, I found a more sound solution. We solemnly decided then and there that all the piggy banks would go straight from my desk to a parish, usually Father Vanni who is our parish priest, because he will use it for Pondo ng Pinoy. I like the vision of Pondo ng Pinoy so I’m all for it.
With the exodus of the first pig, another one arrived. I thought it was a coincidence. Months later, I said goodbye to two more full creatures and three empty ones came back, an old one because it was apparently the reusable type and two new ones from different sources. There must be a conspiracy among piggy banks in the piggy bank kingdom, I began to suppose: one that stated for every one filled and sent off, another one, and maybe more, must exist in its stead.
And now this one. I just sent off the pink piggy bank and am now holding a package (addressed to me) that looks suspiciously like it is another new friend from the animal kingdom. I am daring it to be a toy, but I already know that it is not. It is just camouflaging as one but it holds the promise of a functional, purposeful one. I open it, and Juliana and I both burst out laughing (she knows about my piggy bank conspiracy theory). It is a smiling pig with a slot near its head, posed on all fours, staring up at us, too tired to even pretend he is anything other than what he is supposed to be: a piggy bank.
Yes, the piggy banks do not stop coming. The coins are an even match, too. I never run out of coins just as I now know I will never run out of piggy banks. There is a sparkling gold one and a green one that I will not part with even as I will gladly part with their contents because it is a sentimental present. But other than those two, the rest are good to go.
My friendship with piggy banks brings to mind the other things I have in abundance, two of which I will share with you. I love giving chocolates and clothes as gifts. I always have chocolate in the house, but I never buy them. They just come sweetly into our home, from friends, family – strangers, even. The ones we enjoy at home, I never buy. They are all presents. The only ones I do buy are those I intend to give as gifts.
Same with clothes. I love giving them as presents and I also love passing them on to whoever needs/wants them. The moment I edit my closet and give away clothes I know someone else can put to better use, I get a whole new batch from somewhere, given by someone. It never fails.
Our existence is an essay on giving. As you give, so shall you receive. And the more you give, the more you have, really. It is an overused, often abused and misused analogy, but it is so true. Think about it: open the chest of your own experiences and I’m sure you will be able to validate it. That goes for things both big and small, material or otherwise.
I leave you with that morsel of thought to chew on. In the interim, I must let my imagination run wild. I have Juliana’s canopied dream bed to translate into pink reality and I am looking at shawls I can use to achieve just that, if only in a makeshift manner. I find I have many I can use temporarily. Thank God I love giving shawls as presents, too.
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