The art and wit of Eric Catipon
May 20, 2002 | 12:00am
I am sure Eric Catipon is smiling in heaven now over the kind of fuss we are all giving to the simple trip he decided to take without any of the characteristic organization and planning that attended his previous travels around the globe.
Of course, his decision took all of us by surprise, some even in disbelief. We are still reeling from the sad blow. Death, it seems, remains to be the one and only construct that is difficult to deal with. When a permanent loss strikes, we mourn, haunted by what might have beens, should have dones, why didn’ts, who couldn’ts.
Eric’s laughter will not occur ever!
But Eric must be really smiling, if not having the last laugh. When you gaze at his face as he rests inside his elegant brown box at the parlor, you will be amazed at his countenance that is so reassuring. Nothing to worry, I am sure he will be quick to add. Everything is indeed all right.
Eric just came back from Bali, Indonesia to cover the Philip Morris art competition. When I saw him Monday night, May 13, he was in bad shape. He was panting and couldn’t eat. Of course, he was just complaining about the humid and painful weather we have here in Manila.
Something held me that night to ask if he was all right. Normally I would have asked him. When I got down the car, and he had to transfer to the front, it took him quite a time to do so. That was the only time I asked him if he was all right, to which he replied, he was perfectly fine.
The following day, he was supposed to attend to last-minute details about his trip to the United States. I texted him several times but there was no response. I later found out Wednesday early morning that he was brought to the Philippine Heart Center by his brother Eugene, Tuesday early afternoon. Eric, in fact, did not want to go to the hospital, but it was on the insistence of Sonny San Miguel that Eugene and he were able to literally drag Eric to the hospital.
Early Wednesday, May 15, the day he was to fly to LA, Eugene had to endorse him to the ICU because Eric was behaving strangely, complaining about severe pains in the body.
Back to that Monday night, he said he had some stomach trouble, probably because of the water he took in Bali. He arrived in Manila Friday afternoon yet, and in the interim, from Friday to Tuesday, the complications must have developed. Initially, it was found out at the Heart Center that he had water in his lungs, so a tube had to be inserted in his body. He complained about difficulty in breathing, so he was again intubulated. When his kidney failed him early morning of Thursday, May 16, another tube had to be inserted and which doctors already said was a bad sign. At 10:47 a.m., Eric, breathing his last, went peacefully.
I have known Eric for 30 long years. He entered UP in 1972, first as a journalism student, and eventually becoming my student when he took the brazen step to shift to art history at the College of Fine Arts. It is with this happy combination that he dispatched his duties as an art writer with utmost care and credulity.
Admittedly, he was my protégé who became my best friend.
I remember early on when we had our differences. But time has a way of bridging differences. Since the late ’80s to the time of his death, he was my confidante. From a student, he became my colleague, my flatmate at 4-A Manansala St. in UP, and most importantly, my friend because of his zest for life.
We would be singing songs together, me providing the melodic line and he weaving in the alto part. We enjoyed doing it. It was from Eric that I became aware of the import of lyrics within a song. I am very poor when it comes to memory and I marvel at Eric’s facility to blurt out lyrics just like that.
Then we would sit down and analyze the meanings and intents of the songs up to the wee hours of the morning with only cups and cups of Mister Donut coffee at Farmer’s Market in Cubao to sustain us. We were fledgling yet at the time. I was the only one working. With my meager earnings, I would take care of the bills and it was only coffee that I could afford then.
Another friend, Boy Somo, would be joining us a little later in the night, fresh from his work at Philippine Airlines. We would exchange more stories, but always, we would all burst in laughter. We would then realize it was two or three in the morning. It was time to go home, only to agree to meet again the next day. Those were wonderful times.
That was how we learned to live life. Money was of no consequence. What mattered was we were together. We were literally making beautiful music together. We were watching movies together. We were shopping for things together. We were dreaming the same dreams together. Through the years, we watched the world together.
There are other facets that I admire about Eric. One of the them is his wit.
From Bahrain he sent another friend, Angio, a postcard of a camel race, saying, "So this is how it feels to be in a Rudolph Valentino movie." He was always brilliant when it comes to cross-referencing. Give Eric a picture, and in a split second he would come up with the most impeccable association with people, places, and things in literature, history, movies, pop culture, etc.
Among other things, I will miss his wit a lot. In that same postcard, he noted the Arabian experiences he enjoyed during the trip, and mused "Marami pa pala akong di nagagawa dito sa mundo."
In the end, I am happy he had a chance to savor the experiences he had in the last few years of his life. It could not have happened to a nicer guy.
My dear friend Eric is gone. I will truly miss him. I will be watching the world by myself now. The one thing that keeps me going now is the thought of how lucky I am that Eric passed my way. I truly believe that he had enriched my life.
To Eric, I offer my toast for a life well lived.
Of course I am reminded yet again how unpredictable life is, that if it is your time to go, out you go. Thus every day should be a blessing, and we should try to savor it to the brim. I have no doubt Eric did exactly that, and, sad though we are, we should celebrate his life and be grateful for his friendship.
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