Flash, bam, alakazam, ’tis love … again!
If the engaged couple’s intention was to keep their relationship a secret until the appropriate hour, they failed miserably. A social blog broke the news and pre-empted them. I thought it was just ballyhoo so I deleted it. Remember how CNN star reporter, Anderson Cooper, was touted in the same blog as the next US Ambassador to the Philippines? What a farce. But when STAR entertainment editor Ricky Lo heralded the banner, “Boots Anson-Roa is engaged,†this was the real McCoy. 

Still, I asked, “Boots will marry again? Is this some Johnny-come-lately plot, hatched by incorrigible Cupid on a ho-hum, lazy afternoon? My mind began to wander.

She, of the porcelain face who has always behaved like a gentle woman, with the make and virtues found in faithful wives and doting mothers, who never spoke above a whisper and never broke into a raucous laugh even for a good joke. As a teen bride, I can only imagine what Boots went through, maybe the stuff legends were made of. The challenges, the adjustments, the triumphs and defeats but also the laughter and the tears. 

My link to Boots was her sister-in-law, Angge Roa-Montemayor, a treasured friend. Even then, Angge and I seldom talked about our respective in-laws until I finally met Boots on a pilgrimage organized by Arlina Onglao. She was traveling with veteran stage director and writer Nestor Torre and her daughter, media broadcaster Chiqui Roa-Puno. They were out to document some of the revered spots in Eastern Europe like the Shrine of the Divine Mercy, the Infant Jesus of Prague, the Black Madonna, plus a tour of Pope John Paul II’s hometown and the Nazi concentration camps in Auschwitz, Poland, which I found moving and poignant. There were also reserved seats at the famous Passion Play held every 10 years in a village in Germany called Oberammergau. Boots was ever-gracious who never asked for attention and accepted each of her traveling companion’s eccentricity like amiable friends would.
Standing therefore on a friendship soapbox, I wish to say: 
My goodness, Boots! Your engagement stunned me, but in a very happy, giddy way. I came to realize that love does not die, it cannot die just because Pete, your beloved husband, had gone ahead. Sometimes, I am guilty of forgetting this. That orphans, widows, and those left behind can choose to live a life that gives meaning and comfort to them... to you. Although you were busy in your various commitments, a good part of your time you devoted serving and promoting your faith. I saw you in Lenten recollections and other religious rallies leading the prayers, if not introducing spiritual facilitators. Whenever we exchanged greetings, we saved every good wish like a pocket stuffed with stars. 

But you got me in a tizzy. What song can apply to you and to the new man — the king — who captured your heart? Should it be Love is lovelier the second time around or Maria von Trapp’s I must have done something good or Motown’s You can’t hurry love, Captain and Tennille’s Love will keep us together or Rey Valera’s Kahit maputi na ang buhok ko? Of course, the lineup must contain the beautiful and romantic ballads sang by Frank Sinatra and the Beatles. 


Boots, together, you will welcome each day in warm companionship. You will once again have to get used to sleeping with a stranger for the next decade or two, but this time, with a slight difference. Both of you had been there and had done that before. You would have learned to rise above pesky, little irritants that could mark some ugly wrinkles on your brow. Being veterans on this elementary tandem called love and marriage, you would know when to clam up or say your piece but still keep peace.

Just think. For you, a Romeo cum poet who is not only thoughtful, humorous, maybe portly and aging, with worm-like-veins and thinning hair but, nevertheless, looking pleasant and chivalrous. Undoubtedly, for him, he hit the jackpot. He’d be carrying across the threshold a loving, dedicated, and still eye-catching Juliet.
