You will know further the worth of a man when you hear only good words from the mouth of the people who come to his wake. Death is such an emulsifier; it brings people together to resonate an emotional aria — happy and sad. But more on the happy side. Just like at the wake of STAR associate editor Tony Paño.
That Tony is well loved by many is highlighting the obvious. His friends and colleagues — even Vice President Jejomar Binay — came to his wake to pay their last respects and condole with the loved ones he left behind. And if Tony’s spirit roamed around that moment, he would feel he was a star. Well, he felt it at The STAR, where he was the editor of The Nation, Travel & Tourism, Networks, Telecoms and Science & Technology sections. He joined The STAR in 1989 as night editor. He died on Sept. 5 due to colorectal cancer.
Tony, in the eyes of his 87-year-old mother Aida Rumbawa Paño, was a star. “He never gave me headaches. He was a diligent student. Very intelligent. He learned from me how to be strict. That’s discipline,” she said in the vernacular.
But Tony, according to his younger sister Vessie Villanueva, was a man of few words when he saw things not being done the way he wanted them executed. He normally did not raise his voice. “But you would hear him say, ‘Hay, naku’.” Then he would simmer down.
Tony would have wanted to become a star — at least in his own right. His friend and part-time driver Glenn Jumalon, who also dabbles in indie films, said Tony wanted to make his own MTVs, singing his favorite songs like Terminal and All My Life a la Eric Santos. Glenn was assigned to shoot him and he already had a location for his caper: the Eco-Park of La Mesa Dam, near his house in Fairview, Quezon City.
He never got to fully accomplish his crooner spirit but he got to somehow fulfill his longings by joining The Voice of The Philippine STAR, a singing competition among STAR employees at last year’s Christmas party. He was Contestant No. 10 who sang James Taylor’s Fire and Rain. He was Mr. Suave that night. His cool voice and even cooler demeanor warmed the hearts of many members of the editorial department who went loco over him. They chanted his name while waving white napkins and regarded Tony like a rock star.
He lost in that contest. But he remained a winner in the department of life.
“He was very giving,” Tony’s mother added, the cataract on her left eye could not hide how she beamed with pride talking about her son, whose coffin was just in front of her. Tony, with whatever he had, did not only pamper his family with material gifts. He also showered them with his time. Quality time.
I asked Mrs. Paño about the best gift her son Tony gave her. “His report card,” she quickly answered. “Nothing could be more important than that. He made me very proud of him with his high grades, from grade school to college.” Tony finished Management Engineering at the Ateneo de Manila University under a scholarship program.
To his family, Tony was the gift that kept on giving. He sent his nieces to college, four of them have already graduated. He gave until it hurt. No, it did not hurt Tony to give of himself to his loved ones. Once, he told me, it was a truly a privilege to help his family.
“Sa kanya na, ibibigay pa niya,” said Vessie.
Tony loved to give his family the comfort he could afford them. We checked on each other come the month of May every year — the month we called “the tuition fee season.” As both breadwinners respectively, Tony and I became silent support system of each other because we both send our nephews and nieces to school. Always, always he would tell me how happy he was to be able of help to his loved ones. He wanted to do better in life because of his family.
There was a time, he told me, someone questioned his generosity to his loved ones. He gave that person a quick reply: “I love doing it. None of your business.” End of conversation.
What many do not know is that Tony’s generosity is not only exclusive to his family. Ask the elementary and high school girls who would visit him in STAR to ask for their allowance. Better yet, ask some children in Payatas who have been recipients of Tony’s kindness. “My kind brother sent other non-family members to school,” Vessie said.
On a personal note, I will always remember Tony on Father’s Day — the day we both take pride exchanging “Happy Father’s Day” greetings. Despite our being single.
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Tony was serious about life. But many times he would also lighten up. Like in a few times when he would drop by the Allure section in STAR, ready with a smile. He would just stand in front of me. “Pwede na ba sa fashion page ng Allure?” he would whisper to me as I noticed his new red or blue or mustard sneakers paired with a new pair of pants and a new long-sleeved shirt. Before I could compliment him, he was already on his way back to his desk.
When I would approach him on a Friday at his desk, which, after his passing, has been silent and still except for his small crucifix that watches over it, to give him the Allure “window” for Sunday Page 1, he would almost always identify the person on the printout — be it a model, an artist or a daughter of a scion. And if he knew of a trivia about the particular person to appear on the window, he would regal me with the story.
To some extent, he was a walking treasure trove of knowledge. If you have problems with the right idiomatic expression to use and you don’t trust Wikipedia, you can trust Tony 100 percent to blurt out the correct one.
During a planned potluck Chinese New Year lunch at the editorial department, Tony brought the yummy Iberian chicken he cooked. He was almost perplexed why he was the only one who brought food that day. Only then he realized, he was one week early for the potluck.
A PR director of a five-star hotel in Manila would always get a call from Tony requesting if he and his ward of young children could go “Easter Egg Hunting” at the hotel. And Tony, single at 53, would frolic like a bunny in search of treasures for his little ones.
He was a film buff, too. When STAR Business editor Roman Floresca, Sports editor Lito Tacujan and I visited him at the hospital, we engaged Tony in a conversation about movies. I told him Nora Aunor won best actress in Hustisya at the recent Cinemalaya film festival. Because he was intubated, he just motioned to us something we could not comprehend. He raised his right hand, wiggled it to his sister Vessie, his caregiver at the hospital. In a jiffy, Vessie handed Tony a pen and notebook. There he scribbled the word: JANITOR. He wanted to find out how Janitor, also a Cinemalaya entry, fared at the box office. I promised to bring him a copy of the movie and watch with him in his home when he got better.
We made him laugh in the hospital, especially when I treated him to a hammy song-and-dance number. I wanted to render him Fire and Rain but I feared I would desecrate the song.
You’re in heaven now, Tony. Perhaps there is no more fire and rain there. Nor pain. Time to do your MTV at the Pearly Gates. Or watch Janitor until you fall asleep in the warm embrace of God and in the fluffy wings of His angels.
You will be missed. Big time.
(For your new beginnings, e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com. I’m also on Twitter @bum_tenorio and Instagram @bumtenorio. Have a blessed Sunday!)