Didn’t President Benigno Aquino III (P-Noy) look like a 52-year-old teenager as he admitted before the news camera that he’s been dating Grace Lee? He seemed to be blushing, and had that bashful twinkle in the eyes. “Blushing?” he said. “Must be the lighting.” (News video? Lighting?) Anyway, whatever, he couldn’t mask the kilig.
What can be going for a President, who happens to be a bachelor, and a pretty, winsome TV/radio personality who happens to be 29 years old and Korean-born? What can they have in common?
The conversation, as it turns out. How they can talk, as if endlessly, and discover there are so many things they can share and have incredibly in common.
Compatibility and good chemistry, in short. Each meeting a pleasant discovery. No matter the age gap.
If you’re a man who’s been both blessed—and challenged—by destiny, having that someone to have rapport with certainly helps. And it helps even better if you’re attracted to the person.
We’ve seen P-Noy linked to women from the time he was the presidential son, then congressman, senator, presidential candidate and now president. Yes, that’s a lot of episodes spanning political—and teleserye—eras.
Who knows, this could be the grand—and final—episode in P-Noy’s singlehood?
Happy birthday and Happy Valentine’s, Noy! (Buti ka pa.)
Gone too soon
Gain, loss, retrieval—that has been the week for us, with gain being the news on P-Noy’s love life, and loss the death of the Lopez family historian, Raul Rodrigo.
Raul was a tenacious chronicler of the history of the Lopez clan and its businesses. He was only 46 and suffered cardiac arrest. His death and the cause of it came as a surprise to family and friends who know too well his passionate pursuit of Aikido. He wasn’t exactly old or unfit. He left behind wife Nancy and two children.
It must have been a poignant scene as the patriarch, Oscar Lopez—who at 80, has literally climbed mountains and may still climb a few more—visited the wake of his young ward who is gone too soon.
Retrieval of memories
Retrieval of a cherished and shared past—that was the wonderful surprise I had when, at the spur of the moment, I made the late Saturday night drive to our St. Theresa’s College high school class reunion.
The place was surprisingly packed. As I watched my former classmates and batchmates sing, swing, rock and dance to the feel-good music of Nancy Reyes Lumen and her Rockin ’60s band, I realized how the room—dark and cramped as it was—must hold decades’ worth of unique and individual joys, victories, heartaches, tragedies and deaths, and yet, that night, the batch was one solid remembrance of a cherished childhood and teenhood. It was one in celebration and beyond that, one in gratitude for each life that has been lived and will continue to be lived.
As I watched us, I realized that our genuine gift was the grace of recognizing life’s blessings and being grateful for them—big, small, desired or undesired, for prayers answered and left unanswered.
Working the room was a vibrant Gang Aquino, visiting from California. The class knows very well how Gang has survived lupus and other ailments attendant to it, has undergone whatever experimental treatment Stanford Medical Center could offer, and recently, has had open-heart surgery.
“I don’t know why God has made me a magnet for all these,” she said, laughing, looking so hip and pretty in her bohemian getup. It could be because Gang has the gift of laughter. Her bravery is contagious.
From a distance I admired a few in the batch who, like Gang, have survived, even conquered, ailments, including cancer. Looking at them dance and laugh, you wouldn’t guess what they’ve been through. What right do I have to complain about my overworked hamstring?
We missed those in the batch who had passed away—Mel Oben, Inch Gaddi, Fe Raya, Neng Claro, Lia Constantino, Arlene Torres, Bunch Jamora. Some of them were based in the US, and it was touching to learn how the US-based classmates took turns in looking after some of them, or how they were at their side as they breathed their last.
Many of those living in the US flew in for the reunion—Pudy Lukban, Leng Gomez, Marilou Unson, Beha Feliciano, Mimi Chua, Bread Escueta, Teresita Malolos, Cora de Guzman, Bing Lupisan.
It was a time of remembering and rocking. Nancy Reyes, the chef known for her adobo books, is enjoying her gigs with the band. With her son settled away from the family nest, she said, “I decided I will do what I’ve always wanted to do: play with the band.” She calls it “rockin chair ’60s” —and how Nancy can sing. (Later Uditte Cayton, who was from another batch, and the Music Making Co. did their set.)
Veda Bañez Alonso, one of the ballerinas in the class who later made a career in dance and choreography, remains one of the dedicated reunion organizers and the director of class productions. Today she’s also known as the mom of Philippine theater artists Ralion, Altair (“In The Heights”), and Mako Alonso. Mako is in the ongoing production of “Rivalry” (of Ateneo-La Salle) at Meralco Theater.
The other ballerina, Malen Claravall, continues to pursue her passion for dance—she’s behind Philippine Ballet Theater and runs her Claravall Ballet Academy in Parañaque and the British School. She obviously loves mentoring—she teaches Monday to Saturday. That’s a feat.
If only to have seen again, after a good many years, classmates like Grace Cuevas, Luisa Vinuya, Ebony and Agnette Peralta, Lulu Bangsal, Mila Guerrero, Chelsea Joaquin, Marilyn Alcantara, Cecile Chua-Chiaco, Baby Abesamis, Enya Enriquez, Aleli Raymundo, and my good friend, leap-year-born Este Santos, I was glad I skipped the Australian Open women’s finals to be with women who, no different from a Sharapova (6-0!) or Azarenka, are real-life gladiators.
But—I never got to ask them a question that has pestered me all these years: How they managed to spew out the correct answers during our mental math drill—oral drill! (no pen/paper)—every morning after the flag ceremony, with our math teacher, as in 454×50-300+10. So as not to get caught with the wrong answer, that was when I first learned to lip-synch.
