AFTER ALL
BEHN FER. HORTALEZA, JR.

GLORIA Macapagal-Arroyo, at 59, does not look it. Behn Fer. Hortaleza, Jr., at 55, looks it.

Compared to our knockout personal and business worries, PGMA’s daily national concerns, not to mention the ubiquitous critics knocking incessantly at her palatial doors, are the stuff of Mt. Everest, so forbidding and so gargantuan we sometimes think it would have made us look ten years older than we actually are if we were in her shoes and bearing them. It is a tribute to the lady’s fortitude that she hasn’t physically wilted from the siege, at least from all outward appearances, especially in her facial aura.

This is perhaps why some of her critics (though of course they won’t admit it) are piqued even more; for while they have visibly aged since the whole battle lines were drawn in the wake of the Hello, Garci scandal, the object of their attacks, seems to bloom with every blow, with every tirade, with every threat to her administration. Sure, the temper is there, it always will, along with the famous frown and tart tongue every now and then when meeting with bungling subalterns, but she still manages to wow the crowd when she plunges into them, especially the elderly, the matrons of the middle class (yes, to include Solita “Mare Winnie” Monsod) and even the fawning male hosts.

We know. We are there, rather close, whenever she comes over for a visit to the province.

Perhaps her size, we mean her height and build, helps her retain the youthful appearance so useful to confound her detractors who must wonder how this “little woman” could ever so skillfully play games and run rings around them all, indeed the best and the loudest of ‘em all. Could it be her own charisma and intellect working overtime – or could it be her advisers and lieutenants guile and wile prevailing at every turn over the opposition’s?

Someday when all these is over (and probably when the archipelago has come under Joe de V’s pipe dream of a parliamentary form of government) someone would be writing about how things were in the Palace by the Pasig during all the current tumultuous times and chronicle how it is the woman called GMA was able to weather all the slings and arrows that came her way. It would surely be a best-seller.

But you won’t probably find the book in the Economics section or shelf. Look for it under Jungle Survival.

* * * *

We, my brothers and sisters, call him fondly “Mama Mesiong.” He was the last of our grandpa Dodong’s living offsprings. Mama Mesiong or Nemesio Fernandez breathed his last –literally, as he suffered from asthma –last April 16. We buried him yesterday at the city’s Protestant cemetery.

Taking after lolo Dodong’s good looks, he was rather a ladies’ man. Soft-spoken but firm, he had that certain way of smiling that lets you know when he appreciates something and when he does not – but the smile remains on the face. He was gentle to all of us his nephews and nieces by Lolo Dodong’s side. Despite his poor condition in life, he wouldn’t be caught begging or pleading for subsistence even in his final years when he had, for medical reasons generally, bowed out of the one true passion, and the only job he ever held, in life – as ‘sentinsyador’ or cockfight arbiter.

For a while, it looked like he was ready to join us in our religious faith, taking on the indoctrination lessons on our wife’s patient guiding effort. But after finishing the lessons and the “screening” or trial attendance in church services came next, his appearances in the weekly services came fewer and far between until he totally logged out.

Yet he remained the same considerate, kind and loving uncle we knew; there he was when father and later, mother, and then aunt Naty died, always the supportive figure. He just stood silently by at the wakes but you knew he was there ready to lend a helping hand and a calming voice when needed.

Nemesio Fernandez may not have been lucky with material wealth in life. But to the best of his abilities and strength, he showered his over 20 grandchildren, sons, daughters and wife Nieves, our aunt, the love only a true husband, father and grandfather could give in a lifetime. He left behind for them memories of a life of principles, love for honest toil and an abiding faith in kins and relatives – which are rarities in today’s selfish world.