and the older Ordonez, seated.
Whenever I’d complain aloud to Pablo about the financial challenges of being a freelance writer, he would quiet me down by saying, in his serious baritone voice, “It’s the only good thing we know how to do.”
But he also wrote poetry, organized classical music concerts (although he termed them deficit activities), took on the twin roles of father and mother to his orphaned grandson Emmanuel Acosta and was a buddy to many. Buddy to me, Muriel Ordoñez, her father, the literary critic-essayist Elmer, poet Fidel Rillo, fictionist Geraldine C. Maayo, classical guitarist Aaron Aguila.
Every year, around Christmas or after New Year, depending on the traffic to and from Imus, Cavite where the Ordoñezes live, Geraldine and I, sometimes with economics man Men Sta. Ana, make a pilgrimage to pay our respects to Doc Elmer. We love the luncheon fare the family prepares for us, especially the local longganisa. Pablo had been an admirer of Doc. He was a laughing partner of Muriel, nicknamed Mo, through their Facebook morning exchanges wherein he addresses her “Lady Mo.”
She opened an FB group chat to coordinate matters. Pablo, being obsessive-compulsive about the acoustics and distance between performer and audience, wrote, “Will still check the living room when we arrive. I might break a Ming Dynasty plate while preparing the setup for the concert. We are just few. That’s a quick job.”
Jazz singer-writer Gou de Jesus, a.k.a. Lady Gou, was supposed to join us but suddenly begged off because her “editors were after me like creditors.” As for journalist Ester Dipasupil, a certified Francophile, she needed to be confined in a hospital for intravenous transfusions and such medical matters.
Pablo excused her but said, “I will miss you, Ester. I am wearing an Alain Delon outfit. I am also overdue for a medical check-up on Monday. Many are surprised I am beginning to look like Twiggy every day.” Even if he was kidding aside, we didn’t suspect that the weight loss would turn serious.
Ester responded, “Naku, Romy Schneider or Anouk Aimee is my peg for today’s tertulia. Will miss your Alain Delon or is it Maurice Chevalier/Louis Jourdan look and Gou’s take on the Parisian sparrow!”
Thus went the lighthearted back and forth in the group chat to the extent that we were unsure if we were pushing through at all. We couldn’t let Doc Elmer down. He looked forward to these visits.
Trust Pablo indeed to turn a simple, out-of-town visit into a cultural event. He invited Aaron to join us and to dedicate his performance to the hosting family, particularly Doc Elmer.
We piled into a van on Jan. 26 this year, a Sunday, and were at Villa Atanacia, Imus in no time. Chocolates and doughnuts were passed around during the ride to stave off midday hunger pangs. Lunch was a feast of kare-kare, rellenong bangus and so on. Pablo just had to have his San Mig Light with this fare. He commented that these were all the viands he liked.
He arranged the program so: welcome remarks by Fidel who looked cool holding a goblet of red wine; the literary life of Prof. Ordoñez by me, wherein I thanked Elmer for writing the intros to Geraldine’s and my books, and introduction of the guest artist by the impresario.
The musical numbers, all transcribed for guitar, were: “Prelude” from Suite no, 1 BWV 1007 by Bach; “L’ hymne a l’amour by Piaf; “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” by Arlen and Harburg; “Danza del Molinero” by De Falla; “Bayan Ko” by De Guzman; and Pablo’s favorite, “Recuerdos de la Alhambra” by Tarrega.
When someone said the visit and the program were like a tertulia, Mo said, “Tertulia—I feel so ilustrado.”
To which Pablo the wit replied, “One hour lang yan ilustrado moment. Hoi polloi after the mini concert.”
Doc Elmer added spoken word in the program by requesting a poem (by Shakespeare? my memory isn’t as reliable on this detail) to be read aloud. It was originally part of his golden anniversary wedding celebration with his wife, the late linguistics professor Elenita. Geraldine, his student in an English class, did the honors.
Fidel brought out a generous cheese and meat board with M & M chocolates to cap the afternoon. We had to be out Cavite before 4 p.m. , but if Pablo had his way, he would’ve continued the bantering and drinking until the sky darkened.
Monday we resumed our workaday lives, and the Sunday past was a sweet memory. A pity for us, the surviving friends, that Pablo, who died on Oct. 9, will not be here anymore to arrange for us an instant but spiritually gratifying intimate concert. It was the other good thing that he could efficiently do.
