One might expect Anding to be a cock-fighting aficionado – cockfighting being a sport – but he is not. Yet, although he has never been inside a cockpit, he has written a collection of prize-winning short stories on cockfighting entitled Something to Crow About, which collection led the towering nationalist and eminent literary figure Claro M. Recto to call to mind Thackerey’s Vanity Fair, Alarcon’s Scandal and certain of Wilde’s comedies. (I recall that Anding’s first short story, written in college, landed in Martha Foley’s list of distinguished short stories.)
Another book by Anding, the voluminous, coffee-table Fiesta, is "a seminal anthology of essays on the various folk festivals; e.g., the ati-atihan, moriones, and turumba."
Anding is a walking encyclopedia not only on Philippine fiestas but also on just about everything else. He can write on a flu epidemic that broke out during the term of Spanish Gov.-Gen. Corcuera, the destructive SF earthquake in 1906, the series of tremors which destroyed the Manila Cathedral in the time of Archbishop Nozaleda.
Remember the Ruby Towers tragedy, and how the rescuers found a little girl miraculously alive after having been buried under the debris for a week? Well, Anding offered a detailed explanation of how, why and what had kept her alive!
Similarly, it was Anding’s vast background in Philippine history, art and culture that made him, during his tenure as Secretary of Education, the ideal tourist guide to visiting VIP’s such as German President Lubke, Mexican President Lopez Mateos, Indonesian President Sukarno, Japanese Prince Akihito, Dutch Princess (now Queen) Beatrix, et al.
For that matter, Anding could have "lectured" to them, or to any other group of mortals, on malaria, moondust, tektites, crocodiles, stamps, Arnold Toynbee, fortune-telling and D.H. Lawrence – with as much authority. Indeed, Anding is such an incomparable raconteur that like Samuel Johnson, where he sits becomes automatically the head of the table, as he converses not only with authority but also with characteristic wit and humor.
In this regard, I recall the time Anding was invited to address the Peña Hispano-Filipina, an organization of rabid Filipino hispanistas and equally rabid Spanish filipinistas. As my late father recounted that occasion to me, Anding said: "Gentlemen, my relations with the Spanish language are very much like my relations with my wife: I love it very much but I cannot dominate it." This said, Anding sat down and took a gulp of water to deafening applause. His little speech was doubtless an understatement. Years later, Anding received the Premio Zobel.
His profound interest in Phil-Spanish history, as also his own Spanish ancestry, must have led him to produce the documentary films El Legado and La Campana de Baler, both of which won the Conde de Foxa medal in Spain. For his civic and nationalistic services to country, Anding received the Pro Patria award from President Garcia.
Turning into a fiercely determined, single-minded sleuth when he was Secretary of Education, Anding recovered the stolen Noli, Fili and Mi Ultimo Adios original manuscripts. The story of what would have been an irreparable loss to the nation had filled the headlines for days. With keen admiration, the future National Artist Nick Joaquin likened Anding to James Bond, no less for his coup.
In the light of his encompassing achievements, which are by no means complete here, how would you classify the man who will be named a National Artist for Literature by President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo this morning at Malacañang? I once described Anding as a legend and a curiosity. Wouldn’t you, too?