Good news to cry for recently arrived from the US via the Roces cousins’ email thread.

Cousin Tina proudly announced that her 96-year-old dad, our Tito Pipo, a resident of Los Angeles for many years now, had passed his driver’s licensure tests, written and skills and eye tests; he doesn’t wear distance glasses. As good timing would have it, just a year ago, he had a cataract operation.

It was Lola’s timing that may have been a bit off. She wanted a son named after one of her favorite saints, St. Joseph, after she had had a Rafael Jr., a Jesus and a Joaquin (my Dad). So, when a fourth boy came, she named him José (nicknamed Peping).

Lola, of course, had no way of knowing she would have five more sons to name. Two years after José, as it happened, arrived a fifth son worthier of the name—born right on St. Joseph’s feast day, March 19.

That was Tito Pipo, and he was christened Francisco instead.

Sharp memory

Apparently, after so many years, some states in the US require drivers to retake the exams for license renewal. This is not only because traffic rules had changed, but presumably drivers, too, with age, making them no longer competent behind the wheel, therefore, a danger to themselves, other drivers and pedestrians.

Well, they certainly are not getting rid of my Tito Pipo—not quite yet. Except for a weakened sense of hearing, he has retained all his marbles, and his memory, short-term or long-term, is as sharp as ever.

For writers and historians in the family, Pipo is an inevitable source. When my husband, Vergel, was doing the biography of Tito Chino, the newspaper publisher and freedom fighter, first cousin to my Dad and first-degree uncles, Pipo was a primary source. (“He always checked out,” Vergel testified.)

My youngest uncle, Ding, is himself writing a book about the evacuation of the Roces family to Batangas during the war, using his father Rafael’s diary as primary reference. Surely, Pipo will again be enlisted.

Dad, Mom and I, for some reason, didn’t join them in Batangas. We went to nearby Novaliches instead. Cousin Tina, who is helping Ding gather his facts, asked me about a Joe Medal, a name mentioned in my grandfather’s diary.

Apparently Joe Medal evacuated with them, and the guess was that the circumstance had to do with a friendship with Tito Tuting.

Tito Pipo, always one careful with his memory and facts, pointed Tina to me. He said that he thought Joe had a closer relationship to my Dad than anyone else in the family, a relationship that continued after the war.

In fact, I remember that Joe and his wife, Julita (Julie), were frequent visitors in our home in Quezon City until they passed on. I can still picture Joe—tall, dark, lean, with Rhino sort of ears made even more pronounced by his crewcut. I also remember his low, raspy voice.

Heartbreak

Joe died after a lingering disease; it must have been caused by his constant smoking, but I cannot discount heartbreak.

I had not seen a grown man weep as Joe did at the funeral of his pre-teen son, dead from rabies. Julie had remained a family friend and visitor until she followed Joe years later; she had been asthmatic since childhood. But Mom continued the relationship with their children, here and abroad.

Joe belonged in the world of horseraces, which my Dad frequented, and also became an active campaigner when Dad entered Congress politics. Joe wasn’t exactly a bookie, but he knew his horses—their behaviors, their running times, their track records—and he also rated jockeys. He worked for Tito Tuting, himself a horse owner.

Generous tipper

Joe was the expert in whom Dad put his money and was rewarded: Dad was a generous tipper. Whenever Dad won, Joe won, too. Joe must have earned himself the name “Medal” for his winning tips.

Joe’s last name was really Resurreccion. Tito Tuting might have christened him Joe Medal; he had the habit of giving nicknames to his hangers-on, and a few have stuck so that we in the family have known them by no other names and, when pressed for last names, we adopt them instantly, and just say Roces.

Tina was in Los Angeles for her dad’s birthday and had hand-carried birthday cards for him from us cousins. All her siblings are US residents now. Surely they will all flock to Los Angeles to be with him on his 96th. I can’t wait for another update from Tina.

After all, at that age and in that great shape, any news about our amazing Tito Pipo is as good as any miracle to cry for.