Friend. Many have redefined the term friend and now loosely use it to refer to an associate or anyone with whom one has social contact. The truth is, a friend is much more than that. It is a universal term defining a revered relationship built from the synergy between two people. To quote Aristotle, "Friends are a single soul dwelling in two bodies." However, they say that when you find one true friend in your lifetime, you should count yourself among the lucky ones. If you find two, you are extremely blessed. And three is quite impossible. A very cynical view considering we are a country with a population of about 82 million. And while I concede that true friends are few and far between, I know that there are different points of view about friendship.
My former graphic artist from Pangasinan, Joel Matito, who left for Riyadh to work as an OFW has a different set of friends, and children, having played Santa Claus for two years in the malls and hotels. He wrote me, "Christmas in this Muslim country is a regular working day. Only on the 24th do friends gather for a party and then we go back to work the next day, the 25th! It is so sad but I make it a point to look on the brighter side. I make people happy by being Santa and it keeps my mind busy so I don’t get homesick. When I smile, everybody smiles. I have become every child’s best friend during the holidays."
Friendship transcends issues such as religious denomination or politically affinity. Friends debate and disagree but they don’t impose their beliefs on others. They give their opinions and advice but they don’t turn their backs when their advice is not taken. They accept each other, warts and all. They are not judgmental. Isn’t that why some people love their pets more than people? "Animals are such agreeable friends – they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms," says the British novelist George Eliot. I agree. Even the sea could not live without the shore. The moon shadow without its moon. A mother without a child. Lito Santiago without his dogs. And a Peemayer without his mistahs, as Nina Alcasid’s handy book
Waltzing with a Peemayer implies.
The Peemayers who graduate in the same year call each other mistahs. Those who are still elbow-greasing in the Academy are either plebes or fourth class cadets (first year/freshman), yearlings or third-class cadets (second year/ sophomores), cows or second-class cadets (third year/juniors), and first-class cadets (seniors/candidates for graduation). Each will be a mistah one day.
A typical scene in a PMA class reunion is that of mistahs huddled together in one corner, the ladies broken down into groups at another. Mistahs keep each other abreast of recent assignments, trade jokes, reminisce, resolve class issues. Ladies plan social activities, talk about families (not necessarily their own), personalities, latest interests and, generally, the new girl around. Also, everybody is curious as to the whatabouts and whereabouts of mistahs who are not present here. I think mistahs will live and die for each other and agree to a revolution for a fellow mistah.
He also perseveres more when challenged. Thus, a Peemayer is formidable and dauntless as a contender for the affection of a lady he truly loves. Or else, he may gallantly step aside for another Peemayer’s more serious intentions, especially if he happens to be a mistah.
To unmask the mystique of the PMAyer and his mistah, Nina suggests "they try catching him off-guard in civilian wear. The awkward sight he presents in casual clothes should be enough to wake a girl to her senses. Color coordination or plain and simple day-to-day fashion are not taught in the military school except perhaps what colors blend well with the night, the leaves, the bushes and the weeds. However, most bright women find it more appealing the way a man carries himself in any kind of apparel. As they say, ‘It becomes him’ or his mistah."
Friendship also lasts because one is cold while the other is warm. The book
Famous Jewelry Collections by Stefano Papi and Alexandra Rhodes has a most interesting story on Barbara Hutton, an American socialite. "Barbara Hutton upon her death left among her bequests the fabulous Pasha diamond and a spectacular suite of rubies and diamonds, pearls, jades and diamond pieces. Barbara Woolworth Hutton was born in New York City on November 14, 1912, the daughter of Edna and Franklyn Hutton and the granddaughter of Frank Winfield Woolwoth, the founder of the phenomenally successful chain of retail stores bearing his name. She partied, traveled, and lived a life of excessive excitement and self-indulgence, but even after seven marriages, she was still the "poor little rich girl" of Noel Coward’s 1920s song, never finding the contentment she craved. Her first marriage was to a prince, the Russian aristocrat Alexis Mdivani. The wedding took place in Paris over a period of three days. Her father bought her a necklace of 53 pearls from Cartier that had been worn by Marie Antoinette. In the summer of 1929, Franklyn Hutton, (fathers are a girl’s best friend, too) persuaded his reluctant daughter to accompany him on a trip to Europe by offering her a jewel of her choice. The finest ruby in Cartier’s stock cost her father $50,000, over 10 times the figure he had envisaged spending, but it reassured him of her impeccable taste in jewels. In 1935, Barbara Hutton’s acquisitions from Cartier were the Romanov emeralds, once in the possession of the grand Duchess Vladimir.
It was from Bulgari that Barbara bought the famous 40-carat Pasha diamonds which, at that time, had been acquired by the Viceroy of Egypt, Ibrahim Pasha. It was believed to be the finest stone in the Egyptian treasury. It remained there until Ismail Pasha was deposed in 1863, and took it out of the country and sold it to an Englishman. Its whereabouts remained unknown for many years until Bulgari bought it from King Farouk. Unhappy with its slightly octagonal form, Barbara had it re-cut at Cartier to a weight of 38.19 carats and mounted as a dazzling ring. Upon her death, according to reports, it was removed from her finger by her house manager Bill Robertson, who placed it along with the contents of three jewelry cases in a brown paper bag, which was taken to a bank in Bermuda to await the dispersal of her bequests.
Like all other relationships, my whole concept of friendship is founded on the basic norms of honesty, respect, trust and love. It is truly a rare commodity and I am lucky to be among those who have beaten the odds and got really good friends on my side. I always think of what Epicurus said about friendship: "It is not so much our friends’ help that help us as the confident knowledge that they will help us." And
Tita Caling dispensed plenty of help. In fact, her friend took her place at last week’s column. Was it mine? (I think so.) Sorry, dearest Pablum. Pablum is the late Mayor Maria Clara Lobregat’s third child who said, "That’s not my mom, Ting." Yes it wasn’t. It is, this week. And yes, in last week’s column, your
Tito Mon should have been Moro and Dotos should have been Ditos. Ditos, I hope you’re feeling better. You can call me Teng-Teng, like Ricco Ocampo’s son Emilio calls me.
Friends are security blankets and it just isn’t right to have a more relaxed characterization for that adjective. Maybe it’s time we brought the word "friend" back to its old glory like Mai-Mai did during her short visit. She and her friends Andy Montejos-Lagman, Via Martinez, and Mafie Dizon entered Rockwell and went straight to Picture Company. Too bad Chiky Gonzales and Fides Baez were working that day and couldn’t mimick flower gardens and butterflies. These girls’ friendship began in grade school at San Agustin College. In high school, they found a common bond. None could go to parties, and had curfews and strict parents. It’s been eight years since graduation. I don’t think any of these pretty girls are wallflowers. They’re great friends!