Loco over Lolo
June 13, 2004 | 12:00am
My most tender memories of him were shaped from meals shared on the large wooden oval table where he enjoyed his meals. It was a beautifully polished and imposing table that was always covered with linen during meals. My sister Caren once bit into its edge with her two front teeth (I believe the mark is still there) but like a true grandpa his first concern was not that the table was no longer perfect but that Caren did not hurt herself or lose any of her teeth.
He always sat at one end of that table, on the same chair, in the same place. Tall, distinguished and very handsome, his was a kind face with deep-set beautiful eyes.
Although not quite the playful nor demonstrative type he would always have a welcoming smile for the little ones – his many grandchildren. I never saw him grumpy. Upon arriving in his home we would all troop to kiss him; the bigger ones on tiptoes, the younger ones carried by the adults. He always smelled and looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. His signature scent was a mix of cologne and Chicklets. He was never without the latter. The first candy jar that I ever held was the one that he kept near his bed. As a child I was awed by the clear, fat jar that was filled to the brim with chewing gum. I will never be able to look at Chicklets in its yellow packaging and not remember him.
He was a self-made man, a lawyer, a loving father and husband, and to us his grandchildren he was a loving Lolo Tingting.
Because my father was the only one of his four kids who lived in Ormoc, we saw Lolo a lot. My dad and mom always recall how excited he was when my mom was about to give birth to my younger brother, Matt, who was to be his first grandchild ever born in Ormoc. Finally, a true blue Ormocanon. So happy was he that he accompanied my mom to the delivery room with my dad. He even went as far as footing the bill for the whole baptismal party. My youngest brother, Jules became his second true blue Ormoc-born grandchild and it was he who visited Lolo Tingting in his office on Aviles St. almost everyday from pre-school. Lolo would always sit my then four-year old brother on his lap and together they would open the small refrigerator by his desk. Jules remembers enjoying bottles of 7-Up with Lolo.
Dinners on Saturday and Sunday were always spent with Lolo Tingting and Lola Linday in their Carlota Hills home (Lola Linday is Lolo’s second wife; he became a widower in 1965 when Lola Mameng passed away). It was through him that I learned to appreciate olives for appetizers and a good steak for dinner. He so loved them and Lola Linday always made sure there was enough imported Australian steak in stock. Dinner was never just about the main course, not in their home. We always picked on olives, nuts, Chibi, and squid rings before dinner was served – these were constants. Dinner was a whole ritual, an occasion for good food, good conversation, good company.
Lolo was a stickler for good manners and at a very young age, I remember we were already deft at handling the dinner knife. Truth be told, Lolo Tingting was loved by many for the effortless ease he had dealing with people from all walks of life. Rich or poor, he regarded them the same way.
On hindsight, these regular dinners made me realize that routines create continuity and they are important for family members to be able to touch base with each other, if only for a short period of time. Dinner in his house was never harried nor hurried, it was always a casual affair where everyone enjoyed the comfort of each other’s company.
I remember Lolo Tingting in his crisp shirt-jack, neatly pressed pleated pants and I would always be in awe of him, the perfect gentleman who walked with a cane. He often referred to me as the telefonista because I was always the one on the other end of the line when he would call to speak with my dad.
Lolo enjoyed watching international tennis matches (he was a good tennis player during his younger days) and evening variety shows. He used to complain about too many commercials in between programs though – at one point, I even remember him keeping tab of the number of commercials per program gap.
He was an honest man who valued education, hard work and prudence. He always espoused living within one’s means, often saying that one should not develop nor sustain a "champagne taste with a beer income". Good grades were always rewarded with a deposit to our kiddie bank account. The higher we were in the honor roll, the bigger the price. My sister was always the "richest" because she was consistently first in class.
I was under my teens when Lolo Tingting passed on, much too young really to amass a wealth of shared moments with him. For us his grandchildren who did not get the chance to know him on a more mature level, what we best love and cherish about him has over the years unfolded before our eyes through stories and anecdotes shared by people whose lives he touched. Memories shared by others have a way of keeping a person alive.
His death opened my eyes to the kindness and bigness of the heart of the man who not only lived his life with dignity and grace, but with much love. Lolo was never one to herald what he did in private, especially in terms of helping the needy and it was only with his passing that his family realized just how many lives he had touched. He was a disciplinarian, yes, but he also had a heart of gold, one that could never say no to a person in need. Those who knew him were all one in saying that.
He generously lent his farm hands money for their many needs – their children’s tuition, hospitalization expenses and medicines for a sick family member, materials to build a house or fix a leaking roof. His was a series of random acts of kindness, maybe not really grandiose in nature but enough to impact his direct circle of the world.
Yes, relatives, friends and contemporaries came in throngs for a last glimpse at him but I remember not the well-dressed, well-heeled individuals. Rather, I can still picture to this day the long line of lowly farmhands who quietly but consistently trooped to his residence night after night during his wake, their heads bowed in respect for the man they called Señor Tingting.
He must have been a very good man to deserve such loyalty and love from the people who served him in his home and in his farms. They cried and mourned just as much as his immediate family did. And up to this day, when they speak of him, I have seen not just a few who still get a far-away, misty-eyed look in their eyes at the mention of his name.
My last memory of Lolo Tingting was the New Year celebration that ushered in 1987. It was one of the most fun parties I remember, sadly, it was to be the last with him around. He was 77 when Jesus took him home on September of that year.
Happy Father’s Day, Lolo Tingting. Thank you for the life that you shared warmly and brightly with those you met along life’s way. Know that your legacy will continue to inspire your family beyond the borders of time.
He always sat at one end of that table, on the same chair, in the same place. Tall, distinguished and very handsome, his was a kind face with deep-set beautiful eyes.
Although not quite the playful nor demonstrative type he would always have a welcoming smile for the little ones – his many grandchildren. I never saw him grumpy. Upon arriving in his home we would all troop to kiss him; the bigger ones on tiptoes, the younger ones carried by the adults. He always smelled and looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. His signature scent was a mix of cologne and Chicklets. He was never without the latter. The first candy jar that I ever held was the one that he kept near his bed. As a child I was awed by the clear, fat jar that was filled to the brim with chewing gum. I will never be able to look at Chicklets in its yellow packaging and not remember him.
He was a self-made man, a lawyer, a loving father and husband, and to us his grandchildren he was a loving Lolo Tingting.
Because my father was the only one of his four kids who lived in Ormoc, we saw Lolo a lot. My dad and mom always recall how excited he was when my mom was about to give birth to my younger brother, Matt, who was to be his first grandchild ever born in Ormoc. Finally, a true blue Ormocanon. So happy was he that he accompanied my mom to the delivery room with my dad. He even went as far as footing the bill for the whole baptismal party. My youngest brother, Jules became his second true blue Ormoc-born grandchild and it was he who visited Lolo Tingting in his office on Aviles St. almost everyday from pre-school. Lolo would always sit my then four-year old brother on his lap and together they would open the small refrigerator by his desk. Jules remembers enjoying bottles of 7-Up with Lolo.
Dinners on Saturday and Sunday were always spent with Lolo Tingting and Lola Linday in their Carlota Hills home (Lola Linday is Lolo’s second wife; he became a widower in 1965 when Lola Mameng passed away). It was through him that I learned to appreciate olives for appetizers and a good steak for dinner. He so loved them and Lola Linday always made sure there was enough imported Australian steak in stock. Dinner was never just about the main course, not in their home. We always picked on olives, nuts, Chibi, and squid rings before dinner was served – these were constants. Dinner was a whole ritual, an occasion for good food, good conversation, good company.
Lolo was a stickler for good manners and at a very young age, I remember we were already deft at handling the dinner knife. Truth be told, Lolo Tingting was loved by many for the effortless ease he had dealing with people from all walks of life. Rich or poor, he regarded them the same way.
On hindsight, these regular dinners made me realize that routines create continuity and they are important for family members to be able to touch base with each other, if only for a short period of time. Dinner in his house was never harried nor hurried, it was always a casual affair where everyone enjoyed the comfort of each other’s company.
I remember Lolo Tingting in his crisp shirt-jack, neatly pressed pleated pants and I would always be in awe of him, the perfect gentleman who walked with a cane. He often referred to me as the telefonista because I was always the one on the other end of the line when he would call to speak with my dad.
Lolo enjoyed watching international tennis matches (he was a good tennis player during his younger days) and evening variety shows. He used to complain about too many commercials in between programs though – at one point, I even remember him keeping tab of the number of commercials per program gap.
He was an honest man who valued education, hard work and prudence. He always espoused living within one’s means, often saying that one should not develop nor sustain a "champagne taste with a beer income". Good grades were always rewarded with a deposit to our kiddie bank account. The higher we were in the honor roll, the bigger the price. My sister was always the "richest" because she was consistently first in class.
I was under my teens when Lolo Tingting passed on, much too young really to amass a wealth of shared moments with him. For us his grandchildren who did not get the chance to know him on a more mature level, what we best love and cherish about him has over the years unfolded before our eyes through stories and anecdotes shared by people whose lives he touched. Memories shared by others have a way of keeping a person alive.
His death opened my eyes to the kindness and bigness of the heart of the man who not only lived his life with dignity and grace, but with much love. Lolo was never one to herald what he did in private, especially in terms of helping the needy and it was only with his passing that his family realized just how many lives he had touched. He was a disciplinarian, yes, but he also had a heart of gold, one that could never say no to a person in need. Those who knew him were all one in saying that.
He generously lent his farm hands money for their many needs – their children’s tuition, hospitalization expenses and medicines for a sick family member, materials to build a house or fix a leaking roof. His was a series of random acts of kindness, maybe not really grandiose in nature but enough to impact his direct circle of the world.
Yes, relatives, friends and contemporaries came in throngs for a last glimpse at him but I remember not the well-dressed, well-heeled individuals. Rather, I can still picture to this day the long line of lowly farmhands who quietly but consistently trooped to his residence night after night during his wake, their heads bowed in respect for the man they called Señor Tingting.
He must have been a very good man to deserve such loyalty and love from the people who served him in his home and in his farms. They cried and mourned just as much as his immediate family did. And up to this day, when they speak of him, I have seen not just a few who still get a far-away, misty-eyed look in their eyes at the mention of his name.
My last memory of Lolo Tingting was the New Year celebration that ushered in 1987. It was one of the most fun parties I remember, sadly, it was to be the last with him around. He was 77 when Jesus took him home on September of that year.
Happy Father’s Day, Lolo Tingting. Thank you for the life that you shared warmly and brightly with those you met along life’s way. Know that your legacy will continue to inspire your family beyond the borders of time.
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