Vicente T. Paterno: On his terms, indeed

MANILA, Philippines - When I heard the news of the death on Friday of my former boss in the Senate, Vicente T. Paterno, it struck me that it was as if he willed himself to finish his memoirs and then hold its launch earlier in November, when he met his guests, friends and colleagues and spent time with his family.

This was vintage Paterno, the way many of us former staffers knew him to be — precise, determined and focused. Knowing that he was sick, I thought that perhaps the launch of his book last Nov. 11 would be his last mission — and it was, indeed, mission accomplished for Paterno. 

He had turned 88 just three days before his peaceful death in his sleep on Nov. 21, surrounded by his family. In a brief statement, the family said: “He lived a long and fulfilling life on his terms, with no regrets.”

Simple yet truly warm was the launch of his memoirs, On My Terms: The Memoirs of Vicente T. Paterno, attended by people who had worked with the former senator, businessman, cabinet secretary and entrepreneur through years and decades.

The launch also brought back memories of years past to me — when I was young and so idealistic. Back then, I dreamed of doing something in my own small way that would somehow help make a better country.

In 1988, I got that chance when I was invited to work as a staff member for Paterno.

His daughter, Maite Paterno-Dickinson, the third in the Paterno brood of five children, asked if I would like to try it out. We had been classmates since we were five years old, through grade school and high school. Maite was not just a classmate; she was a friend. And my parents were friends of her parents, too.

To many people, Senator Paterno was Ting. But for me, and for many of us who worked for him, he was and will always be “VTP” — the initials of Vicente T. Paterno.

Unlike many in politics who write their autobiographies as footnotes to their political careers and to record their version of history, Paterno’s memoirs were written for his eight grandchildren, to give them personal and cultural bearings in their life journeys.

“Given the changes I see in the times, the eight cousins may live out much of their lives away from their origins,” Paterno said. “In whichever parts of the world they eventually spend their lives, I want knowledge of their ancestry and a strong sense of family identity to fortify them against feelings of rootlessness, living in countries not their own.”

At 88 years of age, he sat down originally to “inform” his grandchildren about their origins. But soon, his writing about the times he lived in and his work — as a manager, a businessman, entrepreneur, cabinet secretary and then senator — “progressed into a chronicle of my own life, their ancestor of the six generations of the Paterno clan,” he explains.

Speaking as the patriarch of his family, with a keen sense of the past and looking towards the future, he says he hopes that in the Paterno story, which harks back to the late 18th-century migration to the Philippines from South China, his grandchildren might find “certain features in the thinking, attitudes and modes of conduct of their ancestors, which may influence how they will live and behave, in spite of the large differences in the tools, social norms and behavior of their generation from those of their forebears.”

The book, published by Anvil, takes readers though the start of the Paterno family in the Philippines and his own experiences in life and work. “All will better appreciate their Owo’s tales in this book when they have grown in age,” he writes.

But the book does more than tell their family story, bringing readers through chapters of the country’s history, along with the story of Paterno’s life and career.

To me, many details are new but being at the launch reminded me of the eight years I spent at the Senate, the only time I worked as a public servant. I like to think I spent those years doing my share for the time, one that came by at the right time and not because of planning on anyone’s part.

I found myself recalling that time in the Eighties, when I was in college during the assassination of Ninoy Aquino in 1983. After graduation in 1985, I actually wanted to work in the government, given the calls for change in society. I was keen to be a part of it.

At the time, Paterno had won as part of Cory Aquino’s post-revolution senatorial slate after 1986, one of several non-politicians in the group.

Looking back, I consider myself lucky to have worked for a senator whose commitment to his work in government was clear and transparent, including his special interest in the development of Mindanao. 

Since working for VTP was only my second job — I was a teacher before that — I learned many things under his helm, which I didn’t learn as a teacher.

As part of his staff, I spent a lot of time with Paterno as I was the one who stayed with him during the Senate sessions and accompanied him on out-of-town trips.

Now that I am in my 50s, I look back on those years as truly precious ones. Working for VTP taught me to commit myself to the work, no matter what it entailed. He never asked me to do that, yet his own commitment to his work — and his love for his country — were the shining examples I saw from him on a daily basis.

His terms

The book offers gems of wisdom for us as we move on in life — thoughts about reviewing one’s own character, actions and being faithful to one’s intuition and self, written in the very same way he spoke, with careful, purposeful choice of words.

From talking a lot about the past, Paterno also cited a modern-day “icon” of sorts for many people today: Steve Jobs. He quoted Jobs’ commencement address at Stanford University in 2005, this: “You can’t connect the dots looking forward, you can only connect them looking backward.

“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma, which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”

In the book’s foreword, Paterno wrote, “I can now better appreciate the dots and the connections of my various occupations at different times of my life — sugar mill engineer, technical consultant, treasurer, financial executive, bureaucrat, minister, oppositionist entrepreneur, senator, independent director, businessmen, activist for difficult causes, and through it all, a concerned Filipino.”

He said he liked to believe he listened to his own inner voice. “I now look backward and see the dots connecting with each other. Later you will connect your own dots, looking backward,” he said to his grandchildren. “For each of you, I trust that someday your own heart and intuition, your own inner voice, will say what you truly want to become. And that you follow that voice.”

I read VTP’s memoirs with the same attention I used to give him when he was my boss in the Senate and for the few years I worked with him in Philippine Seven.

In my own life, I have tried to connect the dots to see where I am going; I know that I still have some ways to go. Since working for VTP I have moved on to become a researcher, magazine writer, organizer of conferences and now my work here at the STAR. If there are a few dots that I can still connect, it is that I commit myself to my work — something that working for VTP taught me. And, as I am at my own crossroads in life, I take to heart his message that what matters most in life is to listen to that inner voice… perhaps I can learn to listen better and follow my intuition more.