Santi’s is one of the likeliest places where one bumps into my ever-youthful cousin Ramon Antonio—architect, impeccable dresser, person of fine taste and believer in the good life, but health-conscious.
He is usually in and out of there quickly, but I catch him checking out the vegetables on display. He knows his vegetables and decisively picks out the brightest yellow and green of the peppers, the greenest broccoli head, the whitest cauliflower, and he’s done. He says he just roasts them with drops of olive oil and lemon juice, and a sprinkling of sea salt and freshly ground pepper.
Ramon has eaten healthy and exercised moderately ever since I can remember, which probably accounts for his smooth, glowing complexion, slim figure and, most importantly, freedom from major illnesses. Of course, one cannot discount his mother’s genes (on my father’s side, the Reyes). And then there’s his attitude toward life.
Eloquent disapproval
He seems pleased to see me and Vergel at Santi’s, happily concluding that we’re not only eating well but healthy, too. Nothing pleases him more than for people to enjoy the best things in life, but prudently. He would have left the store with that impression of us had the girl behind the cold-cuts counter not called to hand me a sinful package and announcing what otherwise I’d have preferred kept secret: 250 g Italian salami, 150 g each of other assorted cold cuts, 200 g each of assorted cheeses and two slices of calf liver!
“Meron pa, Ma’am?” the girl asked.
I shake my head vigorously, for shame, and quickly throw two giant stalks of romaine into my basket.
Ramon throws a glance at my basket, shuts his eyes tightly momentarily in eloquent, if silent, disapproval, and chuckles. We buss each other with a promise to get together at his home, soon, after his trip—for a healthy meal, I presume. If we still merit a dinner invitation from him, perhaps he is not so disappointed; the romaine may have done it. His dinners are, indeed, something to look forward to, another lesson on living well but simply.
Vergel and I usually cross over to Santi’s after a wake or funeral Mass at San Antonio Church. And this late morning we’ve had indeed come from a wake, where I was particularly awed by the flower arrangements and remembered cousin Ramon’s insistence that fresh flowers be made a part of one’s home while one still lives: It makes a difference in the atmosphere.
Ramon built our family home (since sold), and he liked to drop by now and then to do some finishing touches for the interiors. On every visit he would bring a new indoor plant, a delicious dessert, but, more often, fresh flowers, perhaps hoping I would catch the habit.
Whenever I’d tell him it was a luxury I could not afford daily, he’d answer: “When would you like to enjoy fresh flowers—at your own wake, when you can no longer smell their fragrance and appreciate their beauty?”
Those words somehow stuck. Ramon may still have succeeded with me, at least with the fresh flowers, because I do like to surround myself with plants, and, although replenished daily, a vase or two of fresh flowers, too—just enough to brighten up our 120-sq-m home.
Ramon’s genes almost guarantee him longevity, so he’s smart to indulge in simple pleasures, but never at the sacrifice of his well-being. I have some of his good genes, too, so I may as well start changing my attitude and prioritizing eating healthy. I wonder why, when reminded of mortality, I go the opposite way and throw caution to the wind with food?
Ramon’s self-discipline is truly remarkable. But what I admire most in him, aside from his childlike enthusiasm for life and work, is the high standards he sets for himself in his profession in all the years I’ve known him. Where does he get all his positive energy, which I wish would rub off on me?
The answer could very well be from his good health and his attitude. One feeds the other, I suppose.
Deep ties
He has turned clients and suppliers into lifelong friends, and he is especially kind and generous to relatives, especially siblings and cousins. I happen to be both client and relative, so I like to think I have his special affection.
The ties really go deeper than that; he and his siblings, all lovers of beauty, doted on my mom, who was strikingly beautiful and full of life, always pustura, not just well-dressed. She had a particularly close relationship with their own mother, Marina Reyes Antonio, the famous couturier. After Mom passed on, although a far cry, I’m all they have to remember her by.
Ramon has taught me to appreciate beautiful things in life, while I still can. That’s why they were created in the first place, and to enjoy them is but an expression of gratitude for having been blessed with them. I’ve brought out of storage boxes some of my blue and white ceramic collection, unwrapped and hung a few more paintings.
I had very nearly forgotten them. How I now appreciate seeing them in the light of day, and congratulate myself for having acquired some very nice pieces when they were far more affordable. If I’m not mistaken, it was Ramon himself who convinced me to buy some of them.
However, for our kasambahay, Lani, I was afraid all these might mean just more work. But seeing the way she seems almost inspired to take special care of the additional decorations and displays, the plants and the fresh flowers, I don’t think I have reason to fear. It’s obvious she herself has learned to appreciate living with them as well.