You ask about my favorite Cory story, but it isn't actually mine. In high school I had a Filipino teacher named Cris Acuña, a kind and flamboyant man who lit a votive candle at the beginning of every class and who urged us to sing "Lupang Hinirang" out loud whenever we heard this played. From him I learned to read Amado Hernandez, Lazaro Francisco, and our other literary greats.
He had many stories of celebrities who were his students- we were fascinated for example by his observations of the classroom dynamics between Sharon and Pops, then known as rivals in the entertainment field.
One morning- this was Ginoong Acuña's way of holding our attention- he told the story of how he met your mom. In 1983, right after the return of your lola from exile in the US, she enrolled your Tita Kris in our school. I imagine it was September then- too late for enrollment in most Philippine schools, which start classes in June, right after summer. Since most of its students are expat kids, ISM follows the American calendar and begins each academic year in September, making it a viable option for your grandmother and aunt.
G. Acuña said your lola would sometimes accompany Kris to class. Did she wear a yellow dress? we asked. No, she was in mourning and wore black at the time. Where did she sit? She quietly sat in the back of the class. Or she would take a desk outside the classroom, by the soccer field, and sit there enveloped in her thoughts until the class ended.
I like this story, because with the little information G. Acuña gave one can find out so much about your lola: her love for her daughter, her resolve to lead as normal a family life as possible despite the extraordinary challenges she faced, and her simplicity.
Do I have my own story? Well, we led parallel lives: I was growing up, and she was President. My mom adored her, since they shared the same name, Corazon, and yellow is my mom's favorite color. During the early agonizing years of conjugating French verbs, my father mentioned that your lola had actually majored in French, which offered little consolation to me then. I later worked for Sen. Salonga, who headed the PCGG during her term. We also had the same painting teacher, Fernando Sena, though hers was a private class.
But yes I do recall a time when the arc of her life tangentially touched mine, and it was a typically Cory moment.
It happened on February 16, 2003, a Tuesday, in the Supreme Court. Justice Adolfo Azcuna, the presidential spokesperson during your lola's term, was then celebrating his birthday and my officemates said she had been seen in his staff luncheon.
Our office was on the fifth floor and, after lunch, I took the fire exit stairs instead of the elevator to go back- I preferred the fire exit because of the exercise and the relative privacy it afforded. Apparently, your lola thought so too: on the third floor landing, I nearly bumped into her- she wore a finely cut emerald green dress, instead of her trademark lemon yellow, so it took me several nano-seconds to recognize her.
Oh, excuse me Mrs. Aquino, I said.
Do these stairs lead to the lobby? she asked.
Yes, they do...
And, before I could say more, she smiled and disappeared as quickly as any of the secretive superheroes you so love to read about.
Your family has done so much for our country- even now, in this difficult time, you all keep your emotions in check, helping the rest of us hold ourselves together. May your grandparents have peace, and may your family finally have peace and contentment- you are released from the burden of history, we will carry the flame of their ideals in our hearts.
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