Missing Eric
July 28, 2002 | 12:00am
Milan Kundera, in his The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, wrote that people remember because they are afraid to forget. Perhaps, he’s right. The Philippine STAR Lifestyle section remembers Eric Catipon, who, for close to four years, added life and color to our work week. We pay tribute to his memory in the following vignettes.
Every journalist undergoes stressful moments before a deadline, but the most painful deadline I have ever tried to meet was in a hospital one morning last May 16. Racing towards the Heart Center, every minute seemed like eternity and when I finally reached Eric’s bedside, he had just breathed his last.
There was a trace of anguish but there was also a peaceful smile on his face. So very Eric to be able to laugh amid a vale of tears. And teach us to do the same. Despite heart problems and diabetes, Eric primed himself to be strong and undaunted, so full of love and laughter.
Darn it, Eric had his own deadline to meet. I miss going home Saturday mornings with Eric, when we would talk about our passions and frustrations, about art and matters of the heart. I miss his kind and caring presence, his jokes, his theatrical antics. But as we go on with presswork I can almost see Eric–our colleague, our Mother, our friend–hovering around our desks, saying and smiling: Life is short, presswork is long, but love is longest. – Millet M. Mananquil
For me, Eric was bigger than life – and the Life Section. He led a full and colorful life. Also, he gave us a rather colorful vocabulary that‘s become a part of our daily lingo at the Life Section. Like if he’d invite us to Italy at night in the middle of presswork, we would drop what we were doing because it was time to eat. When he’d thoughtfully warn us that the pancit palabok was already "Panessa Redgrave," it meant that the food had gone bad and we had better not touch it.
If Eric described you as "Chanda Romero" or "Bill Blass," it means you have a big stomach (when was the last time you saw your toes?). There were many other colorful words in Eric’s private dictionary but, in his own words, they’re not pang-GP.
He out-Liza Minnelli-ed the Cabaret star when he’d dish out "Cabaret" with bravura. He offered comfort even if he was himself in pain.
Certainly, Eric loved, lived and laughed to the fullest. He never really left. I say he’s just gone to lunch – forever. – Ching Alano
I first met Eric on a trip to Australia. I was working for the Star and he for another newspaper. One morning after breakfast, he excused himself and said conspiratorially, "I have an interview with Eva Kalaw." I said, "In Australia?" He explained to me what it meant and coffee nearly came out of my nose.
Later when we were together at the STAR, I realized that Eric also had the answer for all the world’s ills and illnesses: Alcohol bath.
If I told him I was feeling under the weather, he would advice, "Ay, mag-alcohol bath ka, manash." If I told him it was my husband R., he would say, "Ay, i-alcohol sponge bath mo si papa," and he would have this come-hither look on his face. If you were having a bad day, alcohol bath would make the sun come out.
Aside from discussing the merits of such a home remedy, we also bitched about everything on our ride home. If you were listening to us, you would think your radio was tuned in to two cranky broadcasters who needed an alcohol bath.
I miss that. I hope that wherever he is right now, he’s enjoying a nice, warm alcohol bath while listening to Broadway tunes. – Tanya T. Lara
I did not work with Eric for very many years, three at the most. Here are three things I remember about him.
1. Eric knew the words to any song I asked him about – be it English, French, opera – even Hawaiian.
2. He made the best impersonation of a happy flight stewardess, which made me laugh and helped me get through a lot of long nights at work less stressed out. After the stewardess bit, he would do his ballet plies and he was really good at them, too.
3. Eric loved to play little pranks. His favorite victims were Joseph – whom he would tell me to hide food from – and Elvira, whom he loved to scare with his little stuffed rat that he would brush against her legs and would cause Elvira to almost get a heart attack.
Eric would tell me of his plans for the tricks for the night and I would willingly play along. It was soooooo much fun.
I guess just like the rest of the staff, I miss Eric, too – the little pranks most especially. – Kathy Moran
Weekends will never be the same without my good friend Eric Catipon. After an all-nighter on Friday closing the Monday pages, we would usually plan a little treat for Saturday or Sunday night.
Maybe we would hop from mall to mall raiding all the video stores for the latest VCDs on sale. Maybe we would troop to a new restaurant our friends had just recommended. Maybe we would just vegetate at home, channel surfing, texting each other about the crap on television.
On lazy afternoons over merienda at the nearby food court or ice cream house, we would plan stories we would never write: fruits we hated (think mabolo, tiyesa and kamachile, but I would not allow him my favorite tsiko) and movies we would still watch every time they were rerun on cable (The Sound of Music, Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion, any movie with Meryl Streep or Julia Roberts). We would imagine a trip to Bangkok together, going in and out of the gay bars in Patpong and his secret visit to the Thai boy at the handmade paper store on Silom Road. Alas! All this would remain plans. – Joseph O. Cortes
Every journalist undergoes stressful moments before a deadline, but the most painful deadline I have ever tried to meet was in a hospital one morning last May 16. Racing towards the Heart Center, every minute seemed like eternity and when I finally reached Eric’s bedside, he had just breathed his last.
There was a trace of anguish but there was also a peaceful smile on his face. So very Eric to be able to laugh amid a vale of tears. And teach us to do the same. Despite heart problems and diabetes, Eric primed himself to be strong and undaunted, so full of love and laughter.
Darn it, Eric had his own deadline to meet. I miss going home Saturday mornings with Eric, when we would talk about our passions and frustrations, about art and matters of the heart. I miss his kind and caring presence, his jokes, his theatrical antics. But as we go on with presswork I can almost see Eric–our colleague, our Mother, our friend–hovering around our desks, saying and smiling: Life is short, presswork is long, but love is longest. – Millet M. Mananquil
Eric Is Just Out To Lunch |
If Eric described you as "Chanda Romero" or "Bill Blass," it means you have a big stomach (when was the last time you saw your toes?). There were many other colorful words in Eric’s private dictionary but, in his own words, they’re not pang-GP.
He out-Liza Minnelli-ed the Cabaret star when he’d dish out "Cabaret" with bravura. He offered comfort even if he was himself in pain.
Certainly, Eric loved, lived and laughed to the fullest. He never really left. I say he’s just gone to lunch – forever. – Ching Alano
Eric’s Alcohol Bath |
Later when we were together at the STAR, I realized that Eric also had the answer for all the world’s ills and illnesses: Alcohol bath.
If I told him I was feeling under the weather, he would advice, "Ay, mag-alcohol bath ka, manash." If I told him it was my husband R., he would say, "Ay, i-alcohol sponge bath mo si papa," and he would have this come-hither look on his face. If you were having a bad day, alcohol bath would make the sun come out.
Aside from discussing the merits of such a home remedy, we also bitched about everything on our ride home. If you were listening to us, you would think your radio was tuned in to two cranky broadcasters who needed an alcohol bath.
I miss that. I hope that wherever he is right now, he’s enjoying a nice, warm alcohol bath while listening to Broadway tunes. – Tanya T. Lara
Eric’s Little Pranks |
1. Eric knew the words to any song I asked him about – be it English, French, opera – even Hawaiian.
2. He made the best impersonation of a happy flight stewardess, which made me laugh and helped me get through a lot of long nights at work less stressed out. After the stewardess bit, he would do his ballet plies and he was really good at them, too.
3. Eric loved to play little pranks. His favorite victims were Joseph – whom he would tell me to hide food from – and Elvira, whom he loved to scare with his little stuffed rat that he would brush against her legs and would cause Elvira to almost get a heart attack.
Eric would tell me of his plans for the tricks for the night and I would willingly play along. It was soooooo much fun.
I guess just like the rest of the staff, I miss Eric, too – the little pranks most especially. – Kathy Moran
Weekends With Eric |
Maybe we would hop from mall to mall raiding all the video stores for the latest VCDs on sale. Maybe we would troop to a new restaurant our friends had just recommended. Maybe we would just vegetate at home, channel surfing, texting each other about the crap on television.
On lazy afternoons over merienda at the nearby food court or ice cream house, we would plan stories we would never write: fruits we hated (think mabolo, tiyesa and kamachile, but I would not allow him my favorite tsiko) and movies we would still watch every time they were rerun on cable (The Sound of Music, Romy and Michelle’s High School Reunion, any movie with Meryl Streep or Julia Roberts). We would imagine a trip to Bangkok together, going in and out of the gay bars in Patpong and his secret visit to the Thai boy at the handmade paper store on Silom Road. Alas! All this would remain plans. – Joseph O. Cortes
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