Thank you, my darling

It seemed like Aug. 16 would never come. That was the night of our show at the Happy Garden Café. For weeks we kept keeping tabs on reservations. Someone made a reservation for 15, another reservation for 18. At our opening night at Punta Bar we didn’t even know how many people were coming. At the end of the evening we had 48 people. Would we reach that number now?

From the beginning the planning was a bit confusing. It all began with an idea from Gilda Reyes, the general manager of Sunshine Place. She said she had been given the task of generating a bigger night crowd for the restaurant downstairs. “What do you think of putting your act there?” she asked me. I wasn’t sure. “Let’s meet with Annie,” the owner of the café, I said.

I told Annie the costs — the pianist and mine. She flinched. “Too expensive,” she said. “Why don’t you charge gate fees and keep them as your fee?” How do I describe the results of that meeting? Unsure, would be the kindest word. I think we met about the third week of June and the time passed by quickly but a bit miserably.

After my first public singing act took place, I stopped singing for a while. Heartache, you know. I felt betrayed by people I considered friends. But now I was going to start singing again. My voice, which had improved a lot since about a year-and-a-half ago, had slipped. My confidence, too. Unlike Punta, which was a bar so it had the appropriate lights and equipment for us to put on a musical show, Happy Garden Café was a café. Exactly that. Its equipment was simple. They had no stage lights. They did not even have a stage.

One afternoon, Gilda, Cris and I went down to have a look and I decided where I wanted the stage, in the center of the place against the shelves with books and plants. I decided to have all the ceiling lights turned off except for the ones over what would be the stage. All tables would be lit with candles. That would create a nightclubby mood.  Nevertheless I was tense. How would it look? How would we sound? Other suggestions were made but I was adamant. No, the stage would stay where I wanted it and the lights would go off. One of the lessons life has taught me is to be firm. Sure, I compromise on many things, like the content of the show, the program flow, all that. But I did not compromise on the arrangements.

You see, I’m not the greatest singer in the world. My voice cracks on certain notes. But people tell me I have stage presence and I get that by mingling with the audience, going down and talking to them and even flirting with them. So I know I needed a wireless mike, which the café didn’t have, and a better sound system. Where would the money needed to set those things up come from?

 It came from heaven. A collection of accumulated dividends from an insurance policy I bought a thousand years ago that one of my daughters sold to me and I knew she needed the commission. A sudden short job. And finally, the best news — we had 102 reservations. From gate receipts alone I could cover all those costs for the night and have more than enough leftover for my singing classes. Thank you, My Darling (that’s the name I call my God), for granting me so much.

That’s not all. The night was a smashing success. We had Celeste Legaspi who I persuaded to sing and a jazz singer Sandra Lim Chavez who also sang. Her grandmother, Mrs. Avelina Lim, who is 92 years old, sang a few songs and even sang a duet with my friend Clarita Cabochan, who is 84. The place did turn out to be a senior’s singing club. Many people sang and more just sat and listened. I would name them but I’m afraid I might inadvertently leave out a few and they might be offended, so no names.  All the guests told me they had a lot of fun. So we — Ed Tolentino, Edwynn Castillo and I — thank you for your wonderful presence. We will do it again! It will happen once a month until maybe almost yearend.  Please make reservations early.

But I can’t go without thanking Loy Ventura. He gave me enough confidence to sing in public even if my voice sometimes sounds like crumpling cellophane. He made me start our Punta Bar gig. I thank him for the confidence he built up in me.

I spent my own money and lost enough on the Punta venture. At Happy Garden Café on the first night we had 98 guests, 50 more than opening night at Punta, a little more than double the crowd. I will make money on my own now.