I found Paul Anka in the old hometown

I took a little trip to my hometown

I only stopped just to look around

And as I walked along the thoroughfare

There was music playing everywhere

— from Paul Anka’s My Hometown

The old hometown doesn’t look the same. If, like me, you were born and spent your early years (and education at the public grade school) in a small town like Las Navas, Northern Samar, and haven’t been home for ages, you would marvel at how the long parallel main streets that stretched from ilawod (southern section) to iraya (northern section) have expanded to seven streets lined with big beautiful houses where mostly pawid-roofed houses used to be. Ilawod is the first to be inundated when the Catubig River that runs along Las Navas swells roof-high from the deluge of water from the Pinipisakan Falls area, no thanks to the logging concessionaires that stripped the rainforests naked.

This story is actually six months overdue. My sister Susan Lee and her daughter Kim were invited to Las Navas by our sister-in-law Tess de Asis-Lo, mom of STAR’s L.A. correspondent Raymond Lo, who was the hermana of the Our Lady of the Holy Rosary celebration end of October last year. Every time we visit the old hometown, which is far-between, we can’t stop being amazed by how it continues to grow by leaps and bounds, with the economic boom helped largely by the construction of a bridge across the Catubig River that connects Las Navas to other towns that could be reached only via motor boats years ago. (Aside: Las Navasnons are eternally thankful to PGMA for that bridge. Applause!!!)

After the Mass, the procession and the de rigueur catered lunch held at the municipal social hall, we checked out the old residence given by our parents to our (late) brother Pitpit as inheritance but has remained unoccupied since his two living children are now based in Manila.

Imagine the “treasures” I was able to dig up from the antique aparadors and bookcases that I never suspected held such big slices of my life — you know, faded photographs, school books sent home from Manila after graduation, and all kinds of knick-knacks that have miraculously survived the typhoons and floods that were (still are) regular, unwelcome visitors of the three Samar provinces.

And that was where I found Paul Anka...I mean his song Autumn Leaves which, I think, might not be as familiar to some people as his other classics as Diana, Puppy Love and Put Your Head On My Shoulder. (It was my late sister Lita who introduced me to Paul Anka through the loads of 45rpm’s [Revolution Per Minute...vinyl discs] that she would bring home from Manila during semestral breaks from UST where she was a medical student.)

I first heard Autumn Leaves from a Jukebox in nineteen-forgotten at a small coffee shop near the dorm where I stayed while studying at UE. My dorm mates and I were having midnight snacks when that song started playing, thanks to the ten-centavo coin that another customer had inserted into the Jukebox. Paul sang it with such a painfully haunting quality that it hit me hard. Bull’s-eye!!! I didn’t hear it again until a few years later when, as a budding movie writer, I met Nene Riego (then with a recording company with her husband Francis and now a columnist for Bulgar) who said she had a copy of a long-playing 78rpm (also vinyl) Paul Anka album with that song and very graciously lent it to me. I promptly lost the album. Nene must have been sore at me but only for a while (sorry, Nene, and thanks).

Originally a 1945 French song titled Les Feuilless mortes (literally The Dead Leaves), music by Hungarian-French composer Joseph Kosma and lyrics by poet Jacques Prevert, the song was translated into English in 1947 by Johnny Marcer and was said to have been first sung in English by Jo Stafford, and then used as the title of a 1956 film starring Joan Crawford.

Since then, through the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s, Autumn Leaves has been covered by dozens and dozens of singers in both French and English, among them (to wit) Ray Charles Singers, Eva Cassidy, Barbra Streisand, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Doris Day, Matt Monro, Edith Piaf, Ray Conniff and Yves Montand, each of them helping immortalize the song with individual distinction, each with his own style and emotion. (Check out the Internet and Paul Anka is not mentioned in any of the song’s history.)

But, to this one, Paul Anka sings it so differently, giving it a unique form of emotional energy with a voice just on the brink of full maturity, in some parts seemingly about to crack a bit with an emotion that speaks of a longing for somebody gone forever, such as in the line that goes: Since you went away, the days grow long/and soon I hear old winter's songs/but I miss you most of all, my darling, when autumn leaves start to fall.

I wanted so badly to hear that song again and, with the help of my traveling companion Raoul Tidalgo, I launched a relentless over-four-decade search. Wherever we went, Raoul and I scanned Paul Anka albums in every record bar (including Amoeba in Hollywood that sells everything old and second-hand, including films and music items) in every city, in every corner of the world — from Hong Kong to Honolulu, Manila to Macau, Bangkok to Beijing to Bahrain, Shanghai to Singapore to Sydney, Japan to Jakarta, Philadelphia to Paris, New York to New Jersey, Los Angeles to London — and we ended up empty-handed. We needled every record-bar directory attendant to please check carefully, closely, and all we got as reply was a shaking head. Not on record. Nothing! To paraphrase another song, but we traveled on even when hope was gone...

And then last October, my folks and I took a little trip to my hometown and that was where I found Paul Anka...I mean the album carrying Autumn Leaves, among a disarray of old books, old photo albums, old magazines, old college graduation yearbooks, and many other old things. There Paul Anka was smiling back at me from the cover of his My Heart Sings album.

Back in Manila, I had the album re-recorded on CD (several copies) which, you guessed it, I often play on my car radio on the way to and from work. Very effective in relieving yourself from the traffic-induced stress.

Other precious finds from the old baul: An autographed (with dedication) Martin Nievera Miracle album showing him with baby son Robin partly bare; an autographed picture of Jose Mari with a dedication at the back; and an autographed picture of Mina Aragon with dedication at the back.

(By the way, informed that I have finally found Paul Anka, Toronto-based Baby K. Jimenez who helped in the long search said, “I also found it on the Internet!” and sent me the link: [email protected]. And to Nene Riego, now I am ready to return the long-playing album to you. Thanks!!!)

 (E-mail reactions at [email protected]. For more updates, photos and videos, visit www.philstar.com/funfare or follow me on Instagram @therealrickylo.)