The Privilege of her Smile

I remember the day she first called me by my first name. I had worked in her media bureau from late 1985 to early 1986 when she was a presidential candidate, and had been her close-in reporter when she was President from 1986 to 1992. But I was just part of the layers of people who served the presidency. I would just steal glances at her, always in awe that I was within speaking distance of the lady who brought the members of the US Congress to their feet in adoring applause in 1986.

But once, after her audience with Pope John Paul II at the Vatican in June 1988, when we were back in her hotel, Cory called me. “Joanne, did you get your picture with the Pope?” I was floored. You see, the Pope’s photographer took my picture kissing the Pope’s ring and turned over the photos to Cory. I was in “heaven,” not only because I saw the saintly Pope John Paul II, but also because President Cory, who I always kept a respectable distance from, called me by my first name, “Joanne,” not “Miss” or worse, “Kuwan.”

(After her presidency, whenever she would text me, she never failed to add “Joanne” before or after her first sentence, as if she were addressing me personally. She was giving me importance by taking pains to address me by name.)

I remember the euphoria that enveloped Cory in many of the places we visited, from Pampanga to Paris. I would embed myself in the crowds, and with bated breath, wait for the door of her helicopter to open, and join in the chanting of “Cory, Cory, Cory.” The moment she was out the door and into the sunshine, the crowd would go wild. Trailing her wasn’t just a work assignment — for me, it was like attending the concert of one’s favorite rock star. And the crowds during the early years of her presidency rivaled those of a rock star.

Paris in July 1989, I cannot forget. Cory was the only head of state invited on a state visit at the time of France’s Bicentennial, which also coincided with the G-7 summit. Again, I embedded myself in the crowds, outside the Louvre, outside the Trocadero Esplanade, as the motorcades of the heads of state pulled up. Cory got the loudest cheers.

I saw her conduct her Cabinet meetings with decisiveness but with an ear for consensus. I remember how she made her male Cabinet members watch Fatal Attraction to teach some of them a “lesson,” a preventive move lauded by their wives. She also stopped serving lunches after Cabinet meetings, to save on expenses. Instead, she would instruct the Palace Social Secretary to only serve merienda. I think some of those who were used to the lavish banquets at Malacañang would say the new President was “Corypot.”

I saw how she put a strict line between what was government property and hers. A story I cannot forget is how one of her grandsons Jiggy Cruz, then a little boy, would ask his Lola before reaching out for candy in a jar on her desk: “Lola, sa atin ba ito o sa gobyerno?”

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I was fortunate that after her presidency, Cory Aquino continued to treat me with affection.

When I was privileged to dine with her, I was very self-conscious. But about eight years ago, when we went to Zambales to visit some micro-lending groups of the ASA Foundation, she asked her driver to stop by Razon’s halo-halo in Pampanga on our way home. And just like that, we entered the small eatery as diners almost fell off their seats in surprise at the unassuming lady who quietly took her place in one table. I so enjoyed the halo-halo with her, I suspended my awe of her. When we got to her home on Times, she shared with me the tinapa the people of Zambales had given her.

What an honor it was when Cory herself visited our home in BF Parañaque. We were at the home of Chris Carrion in Ayala Alabang in May 2004, and suddenly she turned to me. She had heard that my husband Ed and I had moved to a new townhouse and she asked me, “Can I be invited to your new home?” She was never presumptuous, never wanted to inconvenience people on her account. So she asked first if she might visit.

Cory in my house! I asked Margie Juico what Cory liked for dessert and she said, “mango ice cream.” My husband rushed out to the corner convenience store to buy some.

I virtually flew from Ayala Alabang to my house, and on the way, implored the strict sentry guards in BF Homes to let the former President through without hassle. Knowing Cory, I knew she would patiently stop in each and every outpost.

At about 9 p.m., Time magazine’s “Woman of the Year 1986” entered our home and smiled. After we took souvenir photos with her, she saw our househelp looking shyly at her and the “Woman who changed Asia” gestured that it was okay to have their photos taken with her, too.

Our parents want us to grow up to be “somebody” one day and I’d like to tell my parents Frank and Sonia Mayor, “Your little girl didn’t do so badly. She grew up to have had the privilege of walking with an icon and supping with a heroine — Cory Aquino.”

Her son-in-law Eldon Cruz told me at Cory’s wake in 2009, “Thank you for the many times your articles brought a smile to Mom’s face.”

Thank you, Ma’am for the privilege of having brought a smile to your face.

(This article first appeared in a special issue of PeopleAsia magazine, August 2014. I share it today to celebrate Cory’s 84th birth anniversary tomorrow, January 25.)

(You may e-mail me at [email protected].)