Serendipity!

I never expected the number of positive reactions I received to my last article “7 Magnificent Singers” for which reason, as well as to provide some small bits of additional information, I felt the urge to write this segue. It was rare that no one registered a negative thought. Supportive letters, phone calls and even text messages (again for the grammarians, is it texted messages?) were logged in hoping to get more information on these gifted individuals and perhaps, as a concession to me, all endorsing the serendipitous idea that we stumbled on that memorable evening of January 4, this new year.

Most reactors, quite obviously the elder of the senior citizens among us, waxed nostalgic. They could recall the harana of David Calero on the then ubiquitous radio as the kind of staple that held together their own fancied love stories of long ago. They chorused their gladness to know about the good health of David as they expressed their sadness to learn that Stacs Huguete and Sergs de la Pena, few of David’s contemporaries, had already crossed the great beyond.

I also got the same emotional responses from others who spoke about how they wove the songs of Al Comendador, Jaime Salazar and Erlinda Dajao into their lives. Without the singers knowing it, their ballads served either as the eternal bond of fidelity among spouses or carried deep scars of painful relationships of the broken hearted.

The younger breed of those who reacted to my column expressed their fancy for Mario Jadraque who, up to the present, continues to entertain us, although more in private functions now than in public shows, and Novo Bono Jr., whose interpretation of the Rod McKuen and Jacques Brel composition, If You Go Away, was, in their opinion, better than either John Gary’s or Jack Jones’. There were few though who reminisced, rather vividly, the joy brought about by “Salimuang sa Hubog”, that more popular of Armistice Abayan’s recorded music.

All reactors had a word or two on the subject of, what else, but recorded music. After all, this was the idea we toyed with in that fateful meeting with David and others. The dominant concern they pointed out was the absence of a known public repository of Cebuano songs and singers, with emphasis on the former. The immortal love song Matud Nila or the environmental piece Lagkaw have no library to call their home. I am ashamed to let my friends know that I have a bigger collection of long playing records of such foreign artists as from Paul Anka to Paul Williams than the works of Pilita Corrales.

It is important to nurture Cebuano songs because they actually dwell more than just the affairs of the heart. They explore the whole gamut of our culture. Talk of humility, inquire about industry, mention faithfulness and you’ll find out that the lyrics of the best written Cebuano music make these their unmistakable message.

Yet, there seems to be no outstanding effort to preserve our songs. Few people do manage to keep some Bisaya long playing records more as memorabilia. Most of them just display them on their exquisite shelves but don’t play these anymore for a multitude of reasons including the lack of record players. This situation leads me to think, rather sadly, that these discs are more treasured in their physical existence alone. We do not realize that if they are played as often as we can, we relive the kind of kinaiya that makes the Cebuano a far better breed of people.

Thus, when I received the various reactions from many quarters, expressing support to the idea of establishing a Center for Cebuano Songs and Singers, I happily discovered that there were more caring hearts than I initially imagined. Let me therefore call on our more affluent brothers to give this thought a desired lift and we shall be on the right way to giving added stock to the Cebuano fiber.

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