In my final year in high school, Mama was able to persuade Papa to give me a rare treat for being the second honor in one of my periodical exams. Papa gave me several choices: merienda at our favorite Chinese restaurant, cash, or a movie at the then newest movie house. Since I knew he also liked watching movies, I went for it.
The movie house was showing double programs then, two English movies for the price of one. Papa got us tickets to the balcony. There were only a few people inside the cinema. Papa sat through the first movie, the title of which I had already forgotten. The second movie was another story. It was The Fiddler on the Roof, the film version of a Broadway musical. From the first frame showing the fiddler on a roof playing a melancholy tune on his violin, I was entranced. However Papa slept through it, punctuating the soundtrack with his snores that sounded like a boat sounding its horn as it departs from the wharf.
When the lights were lit at the end of the movie, I shook Papa to wake him up. He saw in my face how much I enjoyed the movie and that was enough for him.