A gathering of (bald) eagles

The year 2001 has got to go down in my memory as the year this writer never was. My literary drought clearly wasn’t for lack of events to write about. On the national scene, EDSA 2 finally brought a well-deserved end to the incipient kleptocracy of Joseph Estrada, sweeping into power "the little lady that could," Ate Glo, the first true representative of my generation to sit in Malacañang. I can recall few other moments that I felt happier about our national prospects than during that January afternoon when she took her oath of office at the EDSA shrine.

Short months later, the same cabal who had earlier tried to hijack the Estrada impeachment trial mounted a similar hijacking operation, this time directed against no less than a constitutionally, institutionally, and jurisprudentially seated president. Luckily, the travesty called "EDSA 3" spent itself in vain against the Palace walls, amid a lot of hand-wringing protestations of innocence by its well-heeled instigators, many of whom unfortunately continue to infest the Senate premises to this day.

Right afterwards, my old friend and comrade Raquel Edralin Tiglao – another lady whom I highly admired – passed away after a long and valiant battle with cancer. I was privileged to host the memorial service for her at the UP chapel, where I remember GMA arriving on time and seating with the rest of us throughout the entire service. Raquel’s husband Bobi was named Presidential spokesperson the following week – by no coincidence perhaps, though I prefer to look at his appointment as a happy conjunction of personal, professional, and political trajectories.

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In September, the World Trade Center towers were brought crashing down by emissaries of that latter-day Saladin, Bin Laden. My wife and I felt a special sense of loss at this tragedy, not only because we had lived and worked in the New York area for over a decade, but more particularly because I did a lot of my courting of her when she used to work on the 102nd floor of WTC Tower 2.

Towards the end of September, I visited New York and decided to find out how close I could get to "Ground Zero." As it turns out, if you take the Lexington Line (No. 4 or 5) and get off at the Fulton Street stop, you’ll find yourself only a block away from the disaster site. The police lines won’t let you get any closer, but you can see right through where the towers once stood to an unaccustomed view of the New Jersey shoreline across the river.

When I was there, the air still smelled of burning things, and long convoys of dump trucks were busy carting off debris to the landfills. The Americans around me were quiet and somber, evidently still grappling with all those questions in their minds. Does any nation deserve to be so chastised, especially one from whom has come so much undeniable good as well as arguable bad? Perhaps Bin Laden, whenever he is pulled, kicking and screaming, from whatever cave he’s hiding in now, can give us a satisfactory answer. But I wouldn’t hold my breath waiting for that.

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If I remember correctly, the last piece I wrote was an extended interview of Chito Sta. Romana, the former La Salle student leader turned China exile turned US telejournalist, during his Christmas vacation in Manila in 2000.

It seems appropriate therefore for me to return to these pages in the company of photos of a bienvenida last January 3 for two of Chito’s fellow China exiles and now colleagues in the US mass media. One of them was Eric Baculinao, the dark and dapper little firebrand who chaired the UP student council after Jerry Barican’s term. The other was Jimmy FlorCruz, quiet and patrician, a former editor of the PCC student paper and founder of the PCC-based Kamanyang cultural group.

After all those dreary years of Maoist "cultural revolution" in the Seventies, it’s ironic but fitting reward for these decades-long exiles to have climbed so far up the ladders of corporate America, in their current positions as Beijing news bureau chief for ABC (Chito), NBC (Eric), and CNN (Jimmy). Bottom line, they travel a lot, influence public opinion, and earn in dollars. Who could ask for more?

It’s additional and delicious irony, in Eric’s case, that he’s also married to a daughter of Jose Ma. Sison, the NDF senior consultant based in Utrecht. Janah is a much prettier version of her dad and exudes every bit of the same personal charisma, but I was told that the two don’t talk that often anyway, especially about politics. This tells me that the Good Lord above continues – in His fashion – to look after the welfare of my wayward, well-intentioned old friend Eric.

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The bienvenida for Eric and Jimmy was hosted by the tirelessly gracious Lito and Oyie de Dios at their spacious residence in La Vista, QC. The party also served to introduce the programs of the First Quarter Storm (FQS) Foundation this year–namely, a scholarship and medical care program for indigent comrades; a "Kapihan sa Mendiola" where old friends can socialize and network; and an "FQS Museum" to memorialize those historic opening months of 1970, chiefly through voluminous photographs that we hope will be shared by former adversaries in the military intelligence community.

As the accompanying pictures show, it was indeed a gathering of eagles – ageing perhaps, balding in many cases–but eagles nonetheless to this day. Midnight came and went with few ready to take their leave of each other after decades spent out of touch. One can only hope that the bienvenida served to mark a welcoming, not only for Eric and Jimmy, not only for the new year, but also of a recreated and reinvigorated spirit of mutual generosity among fellow warriors and old friends.