On August 3, 2011, the grand patriarch of the Andalis clan will celebrate his 100th birth anniversary. Lolo Ponyong, as we fondly call him, was the only grand father I ever knew. My maternal grand father died before I was even born. Thus, the close affinity I had with my Lolo Ponyong, crossed beyond the barrier of being my namesake. He was known as Eufronio Andalis, so technically I am not a junior but a third.
I looked up to him with great reverence and respect.
He, with always a doze of jokes as we were gathered at his feet. Urging him to crack some more, as he lights his favorite brand of cigarette, Kool Menthol 100s. Remember the story of the talking horse? Or the one with the priest, the old lady and the razor?
He, who loved coffee, as I recall. And not the instant kind we now use, but the real brewed Kapeng Barako, oftentimes being used as sabaw to sinangag coupled with scrambled eggs with lots of tomatoes and onions and haot.
He, with his to die for Arroz Valenciana. Usually prepared and served only during Christmas and New Year.
He, who loved to read Daily Express, at times making his own commentary about the latest event with my Lola Talia, who busied herself with her latest crochet project.
He, who loved to watch TV, most of the times with us, sitting in an old rocking chair as our black and white TV set is tuned in to Oras ng Ligaya, The Big Ike's Happening, John & Marsha, Kuwarta o Kahon, Superstar, Tawag ng Tanghalan and other popular shows of the time.
He, who loves to bring us to Agdangan to experience the rural life where there's no electricity, no TV, no maid. But aptly compensated by the 7 kilometer walk to Tampus, a seaside barangay, to frolic and play along the sea coast. The ritual pagbubuko (actually called pagmumura but it doesn't read right), where we eat young coconut flesh followed by a drink of its juice, to remove (daw) bulate in our stomachs. And when the night comes, amid the heat of the gasera, we again gather at his feet as we were entertained by his stories of old and distant war he experienced.
We lived with him for I think two to three years. And during that time, we were molded under his strict discipline. Along with our uncles, we saw how he gave corporal punishment for any infraction that may caused him his ire. But those didn't made us weak but in fact strengthen us.
He left for the US, along with my Lola, when I was in grade 3. And during those times, we wrote letters to him and to Lola to keep in touch with them and send the latest news in our lives. When he left, he gave me a 25cent coin, probably as a token, because we were not included in the entourage who will bring them to the airport. I was teary eyed when he embraced me, and gave me his huling bilin.
"Huwag ka matutulog sa harap ng TV." Because ,I, most of the times, fell asleep in front of the TV.
"Wala ka ng ibibili ng Kool'". I was his favorite errand boy, usually, with upa, or tip of singko which I oftentimes buy my favorite Beatles cookies (the one with peanut butter spread) or Lobo biiscuits.
"Huwag ka magsasama kay Anita". Because we were late one time from going home because I tagged along with my sister to visit a friend.
Little did I know that that was the last time I will see his smile.
One day in January of 1979, I was fetched by my father's driver in school. When I boarded the vehicle, he broke the news that Lolo Ponyong has died. I don't know how to react then, but when I arrived home, that's when it hit me. I cried in my room. Knowing that I will never see him again.
A couple of days later, we fetched my Lolo at the airport along with all my Titos and Titas who went back to the Philippines to bring him to his final resting place. While we were travelling, one of my uncle, Tito Leovin, gave me something that was one of my most unforgettable gift ever. A Timex gold wrist watch. The last time we recorded a cassette message to Lolo, I asked for a wrist watch. And inspite of fact that he left us, he managed to fulfill my wish and his promise.
There are so many other anecdotes and memories that I will treasure in my heart as long as I live. And lessons he imparted on me as I grow up. But the best legacy he gave to us is his genuine fatherly care and provider to all his children which cascaded to us his grand children and great grand children.
A hundred years hence, his descendants have carved their marks in every millieu they chose. Although separated by vast miles from each other, we all know that we all came from a single tree who provided us all the nutrients that nurture our growth, and shelter that provided us a haven.
