Requiem for 3

Francisco "Franz" Arcellana. The bereaved never cease to mourn the death of a loved one or a friend, and though Francisco "Franz" Arcellana joined the "Innumerable Caravan" sometime ago, the void he has left continues to be felt by his family and friends, particularly by his peers who have written reams of copy on him or delivered countless eulogies.

His merits as a creative writer have been discussed and analyzed by the literati who will continue to do so, indefinitely. For my part, I remember Franz mainly as a kind, gentle, soft-spoken colleague. During my early years with the Manila Chronicle he struck me as a man of few words; like most literary men, he was delightfully witty. When he learned I was leaving momentarily for a fellowship in Radcliffe College (Harvard U.), he gave me a book by Proust as a going-away present.

Franz’s brother Joe, who likewise, had a stint with the Chronicle, was totally unlike him; Joe was outgoing and outspoken. Joe died from a heart attack which came while he was helping a friend push a car stalled in the floods. How typically selfless of Joe to have done that!

Like Joe, Franz had a heart of gold, and his widow, the former Emerenciana Yuvienco, will readily attest to this. Understandably, the family has more than its share of brains: Franz, a literary titan, was named National Artist for Literature; Emy graduated at the UP summa cum laude, majoring in political science. Each of the children graduated either magna or cum laude.

Oddly, Juaniyo, obviously his father’s son, is the only member of the family who is living by his pen. In fact, Juaniyo is now with The STAR.

A doctor in the family, Francisco, Jr. ("Frank") is a brilliant surgeon. Once, I had occasion to go to his clinic, and while I was awaiting my turn for a brief consultation, I noticed a shingle on his door. It read: "My consultation fee is P20; if you think that is too much, tell me." That was many years ago; I imagine Dr. Arcellana has doubled his fee. Even then, it would be an incredible pittance in those crucial times.

All this is a reflection on how Franz and Emy have carefully inculcated in their children the lofty ideals which inevitably inspire us.

Nieves Benito Epistola. Her sudden demise shocked her friends and admirers, and these are legion. Although I did not know Nieves all that well, I was aware of how she had diligently and generously nurtured the literary talent of her students at the UP.

Our relations were not close but they were extremely cordial. Nieves, sister of noted environmentalist Odette Alcantara, invariably greeted me like a long, lost relative. It had always been that way. Three years ago, the CCP invited me to serve as member of the jury which was to consider nominees for the CCP Centennial Award. I was chatting with other would-be judges at the CCP when Nieves arrived. "What are you doing here? You should be one of the nominees." With that remark, my lot changed virtually overnight – from judge to awardee. Nieves did not have to do what she did. She spoke her mind like a true professional, with no petty considerations whatsoever.

Augusto "Toto" Orosa. Friends and colleagues of my cousin, the veteran banker, expect me to write a few words on him. For years, Toto served as executive vice president of the PNB, then as president of the Filipinas Bank. His work was so exemplary that long after he had retired, his opinions were still being sought. To the end, he was director-treasurer of the QC Sports Club.

Toto dabbled in writing, contributing pieces, even theater reviews, to the gazettes and newsletters of both banks. Friends enjoyed his quick wit (I certainly did). A letter he wrote to me on his first visit to New York was, of all things, on why New Yorkers keep winking. Besides being a writer, he was a walking dictionary and a thesaurus of sort.

Toto was the oldest son of Secretary of Public Works Vicente Y. Orosa of Batangas and Rosario Escobar of Zambales. He leaves behind his widow Lulu Cristobal, sons Mike, Morris and Mel, brother Mario and sisters Angelina and Charito.

Toto was our clan’s peace-maker and self-appointed arbitrator who kept urging his cousins to forget deep-seated grudges and rise above offended egos. In this regard, Toto reminded those present at his funeral of this line from the Beatitudes: "Blessed are the peace-makers for they shall be called ‘the children of God’.

These three who have gone to their rest prove, to my mind, that more important than being brilliant is being good.