Willy

I just got word from old classmates that a dear friend passed away yesterday from a massive stroke.  From what we gather, it was his second or third stroke, and one of the earlier strokes had already left him partially paralyzed.  Because he lives in Dagupan City, we don't know much about the arrangements for the wake and the burial, information has been slow to come in, as we have lost all contact with him for the past twenty five years.  All we can do is to say our prayers for the eternal repose of his soul.

I knew Willy very well, we often went to parties together in the late seventies--I can still remember his green Ford Cortina that we used to move about town.  While he stuttered when he spoke, his warm arm of friendship always made him good friends.  He played a mean game of basketball, wasn't afraid to mix and brawl in the center lane.  One of my life's most embarrassing moments happened with him--it was almost midnight, we were coning home from a party when we were caught by the Metrocom right in front of Mt. Carmel Church in New Manila trying to beat curfew.  The police asked us to put our hands on the hood of the Ford Cortina, and we stayed there, legs spread, for around 20 minutes, while the cops tore up the seats of the car, looking for illegal drugs.  At that time I had visions of spending the next few weeks in jail, or worse, Camp Crame--we were clean, but how could we protest?  Those were the Martial Law years, and anything could happen.  We were luckily spared, and sent home only with our shattered pride.

He always backed me up, ready to pounce on anyone in case we got into a brawl.  He never backed down from a fight.  He used to court a girl named Nancy; I don't even know the woman he eventually married.  One of our friends learned that some ten years ago, he got into some financial difficulties, but I think everything was resolved, and he made his new business base in Dagupan City, transferring there from Metro Manila.  My good friend, wherever you are--here's to the good times, and may you find your peace.

Herman

I just received a text message that an grade school classmate had passed away from a bout with the Big C.  As our classmate Figaro had put it, Herman was a gentle and kind soul, and his pleasant disposition will be truly missed.  I last saw him a couple of years ago when we learned of his illness; some old classmates got together to offer mass for him.  I was particularly close to him in Grade 4--my oh my, flashback time--and his shy boyish smile is forever etched onto my memories.  He managed his family's bed manufacturing business in the early nineties, and I understand he lived in North America for a few years before coming back to the Philippines to start a business in coffee and coffee flavorings.   Walk with God my friend...

Fr. Joe Cruz, S. J.

I had a dream last night that I was with some of my college friends.  As I woke up, I don't know why my thoughts suddenly turned to one of my best professors during my time in college, Fr. Jose A. Cruz, S. J., who passed away some years back.  I enjoyed his Philosophy class very much, it was so much fun that it didn't seem like studying at all.  We were practically exchanging views on life (e.g. "Love cannot be defined, it can only be explained as a movement from a lower value to a higher value."), and he was very father-like (as in father & son, not father-priest) in guiding us students.  He was the only professor to have given me an "A" for a grade (i.e. "A question that cannot be answered is no question at all.")--not that I'm bragging, but he did, and I consider that as my best achievement in my college years.  He was the president of the Ateneo De Manila University during the tumultous years of martial law, and was heavily criticized by some faculty members, and even some priests, for discouraging students from participating in mass demonstrations and rallies against the Marcos dictatorship.  I was sure he had his reasons for doing so--student safety was paramount in his mind.  He was full of personal stories & anecdotes about his experience as a young seminarian during the war years--in fact he explained that the name of the so-called ESCOPA area between Loyola Heights and Blue Ridge Subdivision arose from the settlers comprising "E Signal Corps of the Philippine Army."  He was most humble.  When I met with him years years after I graduated, he was then the designated principal of the Grade School and was marvelled at his nonchalance at the seeming demotion (for a time he was even assigned to teach in the provinces).  He was all smiles when he explained to me that the Jesuit vows are designed to humble men--today you can be one of the most powerful priests in the order, and tomorrow, you can be flung into some quiet, obscure post, probably precisely because you could raise awareness levels and bring the obscure into the mainstream.  He told me that there was no organizational ladder to climb, there was only service in mind.  My last meetings with him was when we took out of town trips to inspect some prawn farms owned by other alumni--he was helping me out by introducing me to other businessmen in the agri field, as his belief was that the Philippines should strengthen its agricultural capabilities.

What a wonderful mentor, and a dear friend.  I miss you already.

Federico Aguilar Alcuaz

Most articles on master painter Federico Aguilar Alcuaz will write about his artistic contributions to Philippine Art.  As you may have heard, "Senyor," as I always addressed him, passed away early this year, after a fatal fall in his bathroom at the Manila Pavilion Hotel.  However, today I will write about my recollections about this quirky but lovable man.  Gwammy, having worked at the Philippine Art Gallery (PAG) in the early 1950s, recalls that he was a quiet man, who would drop some of his artwork for Uncle Yats to frame.  I would usually bump into Senyor at the Cafe Coquilla, and we would often exchange pleasantries; he always had his quizzical look, but would break into a smile when you returned the same facial expression.  He used to play games with guests boarding the hotel elevator--he would ask "Going up?" while pointing downwards with his finger, to the bewilderment (and sometimes, the consternation) of the guests.  I remember having lunch at the Cafe Coquilla with the family sometime in 1997, and he would play with Monique's cousin Bryan by tossing the sugar packets around and Bryan would playfully retrieve them for him.  He would walk around the hotel lobby with the table napkins of the coffee shop wrapped around his head like a bandana.  He used Pentel pens to draw on the glass of various framed prints that adorned the hotel walls, we jokingly told the hotel staff not to erase the Pentel pen markings, as that would make the prints worth  something someday.  He graciously lent his paintings to the Rotisserie of the Manila Pavilion, and he would often use the hotel staff as the models (I particularly like his painting of Adora, once a sommelier at the Rotisserie).  He was much loved by the older hotel staff who knew him well from the Manila Hilton days, and was a bit misunderstood by the newer hotel staff who got to know him only after his fall in Luneta (that was 2006, when I think he got mugged).  After the Luneta incident, he lost part of his memory, and at times, became a bit gruff and sullen.  He no longer recognized me as he advanced in years, and I was saddened to hear of his demise.  Rest easy, Senyor--you will always be remembered.

ATG

The rainy weather has brought about a melancholy pause today.  As I glanced over the thank you note from the family of my friend J, my thoughts also drifted to my investment banking mentor ATG, who passed away a month ago from a heart attack.  A very cordial fellow, the man was a true idealist who instilled in me the value of being mentally honest.  His first passion--baseball!  His second passion--hobby kits, both planes and tanks!  He had a long banking career in the money market, first with the Bank of America, and then with the foremost local merchant banking consortium, AEADC.  He later went on to grow a consumer marketing business related to his third passion--golf!  As I continue to work on structuring some of our pipeline deals, I will always keep his wise words in mind.  Rest in peace, my good friend, AMDG.

J

Yesterday, I received a beautifully written thank you note from the family of my late friend J, who passed away early this year from pneumonia.  This brought a lot of memories of childhood, as we were batch mates from prep school.  J was an outstanding ultra-marathon runner; he has completed the 100+ km Bataan Death March run as well as numerous other marathons both in the Philippines and abroad.  I understand that last November, he completed the New York marathon and that is probably where he contracted the virus.  He was an outstanding dancer, and I distinctly remember our nights at Where Else? over at the Intercon in the late 70s.  Always at the forefront of the fashion industry, I understand he was the Philippine marketing driver of some of the world's most recognizable apparel brands.  He even worked on a local fashion publication, and whose advice in everyday style was always welcome.  He is survived by his wife and 2 children. Truly a gentle, warm soul, J--we already miss you!