I have had several memorable moments with Lolo during our many trips together. When we were younger, we did quite a bit of family travel. After Lolo stepped down from the Presidency, the jet-setting did not stop as he continued to advocate for the Philippines through the Ramos Peace and Development Foundation, and I was very lucky to join him on some of those trips.

During one summer when I was already in college, we spent four days in Tokyo because he had an economic conference to attend there. He was an early riser; on that trip, he’d wake up around 7am. That meant I had to be up earlier—5:30am, to receive (via Fax machine) the day’s news clippings from Manila (the RPDEV office was also ready for duty bright and early). I got very familiar with the business centres of almost every hotel I’ve visited with him—because he was old school and read from paper not from screens. “I cannot make marginal notes on these things,” he once told me, grinning wide and tapping his signature red felt-tip pen on my laptop screen as he did.

He’s got a soft side to him as well. In 2016 Lolo had been dragged (appointed) out of retirement by then President Rodrigo Roa Duterte to serve as Special Envoy to the People’s Republic of China. Lolo asked me to join him in the Department of Foreign Affairs as his executive assistant.

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In August of that year, we travelled to Hong Kong for a series of talks with officials from the PRC government. Lola went with us because by then Lolo was already in his late eighties and he needed her there to be his caretaker. Of course, I was the caretaker for them both.

We had this enormous suite, and I slept on the couch. As usual, I got up early, prepared everything for Lolo, and, by 7:30, made sure they were up and about. I remember this one morning when I quietly opened their room and saw them still asleep on the bed—Lolo snoring lightly and the two of them...holding hands.

Lolo did not contain his snoring in the bedroom. He had a bit of a habit of falling asleep in the middle of a meeting, snoring and just when everyone in the room would be convinced he was out of it, he’d perk up, raise his hand, and ask a pointed question to the presenter—seemingly having the ability to maintain his attention while simultaneously taking a power nap.

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During his 65th anniversary at the US Military Academy in West Point, New York, our family decided to honour Lolo by having a room dedicated to him at the nearby historic Thayer Hotel. Being principally in charge of this project, I got to hang out with Lolo at West Point, touring the campus on foot and by golf cart. Of course, I also saw him challenge some cadets to a round of sit-ups and push-ups.

There were so many things to admire about Lolo just by observing him—the way he conducted and carried himself. On that same trip to Tokyo I mentioned, we were about to land and disembark when I noticed that his watch was set to the wrong time. Japan is only one hour ahead of Manila, but his watch was off by 20 minutes. I immediately called his attention, “Hey Lolo, I don’t know if you noticed, but your watch is not telling the right time. Would you like me to fix it for you?” But he answered, “No, no, no. I do that to give myself an allowance for all the people who want to stop me and take photos and say hello.” That was Lolo; busy as he was, he would always take the time to stop to engage with people.

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OF GENES AND INFLUENCES

I like to think that some of his good traits have rubbed off on me. Waking up early has (gradually) become more of a habit than a chore. Is it genetic? Or is this just what happens as you get a little bit older?

I also like to think that I’ve picked up his love for an active lifestyle. While I doubt I’ll ever parachute jump as he did (unlike FVR, I have a pretty bad fear of heights), I did learn to SCUBA dive. I was very proud to tell him that one of the sites we dove at during my check-out weekend was “the Cathedral”, in Anilao, Batangas.

The key feature of that site is a submerged cross (now covered in coral) that Lolo had placed there in 1990. Lolo had been an avid diver since his special forces days. But as a kid that grew up on the Lingayen Gulf in the Thirties, his love for the ocean traced much farther. In their home is a lovely coffee table that my Lola had made to display all the shells he collected over the years from his innumerable dives

Lolo, of course, was most famous for his love of golf (and was further famous for running or jogging, not just walking, in between holes). All of us grandchildren had spent some time on the course with him as kids. Some of us (CJ) excelled at it. I am still pretty lousy. Golf, much like life, is a game of patience.

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At the end of that Tokyo trip with FVR we played a round of 18 holes. I was having another typically lousy day on the green. But on the last hole, I managed to salvage the day by sinking an eagle (fun fact, FVR proclaimed the Philippine eagle as the national bird in 1995). My caddy’s words that day proved prophetic: “That is the kind of thing that will keep you coming back to this game.” FVR wore his pride in his eyes and in his smile but he said, almost sternly, as we walked back to the clubhouse, “Next time you must try for a hole-in-one.” Indeed, that is the kind of thing that will keep you coming back to the game. I’m still trying.

TOWARDS THE END

Before the pandemic, our family would always have lunch together almost every Sunday at my grandparent’s home. Occasionally, we would eat in a nearby restaurant or at the country club. But as Lolo got older, it was almost always at home—less heat, less travel.

He would be in his office when I’d arrive while Lola was in the dining room, making final preparations over our lunch. I’d go into his office to greet him. He would always be watching TV (often reading a book or newspaper at the same time) and we’d spend time together, one on one, just catching up. He’d ask me what I had been up to; I’d ask him the same.

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Over lunch, he’d distribute his selection of that week’s news clippings. Occasionally he’d share a letter from an old friend or colleague, announce the death or upcoming birthday of another, and share old photos of the family someone had found somewhere. As he got older, the roles reversed somewhat, and we’d bring to him old family photo albums to pour over, or copies of his favourite old movies to watch after lunch. His memory, especially for places, names and dates, remained sharp, almost photographic, right to the end.

But in other ways, it did show that Lolo’s many years were finally catching up to him. Eventually (under doctor’s orders) he had to give up golf, though he insisted on walking the course as long as he could. By the time the pandemic hit, FVR was already slowing down. For someone that had been so active for so much of his life, all that downtime under all those restrictions perhaps accelerated his declining health.

My Lolo Eddie passed away on July 31, 2022. He was 94. Tributes and testimonials poured in. Paeans were sung; eulogies were delivered. The outpouring of well-wishes and support has not stopped and we are excited about some initiatives underway to preserve his legacy and carry it forward into the future.

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For all his many achievements, what I wish most that my Lolo would be remembered for is his character. His leadership style stands in sharp contrast to that of traditional politics and politicians. Politicians love to frame themselves as messiahs. They peddle the message: “My friends and I are the only ones who can fix that problem for you.” In other words: “Give that man a fish (or ayuda).” Lolo’s approach was the complete opposite. He would say, “I cannot do this for you; but with your help [and I do need your help], perhaps I can fix this with you. We can fix it together. Kaya natin ‘to [We can do it].” His style was truly the embodiment of people empowerment. That reflected how he ran his Cabinet and his stance on the roles of business and government. He believed that government should not be in the business of things that businesses can do better. This stands in contrast with most of today’s political culture, which runs on handouts, nepotism and patronage at the exclusion of individual agency. He simply did not play that way. Doing so would have stood at odds with his Christian faith as much as it would have been recognised by his military mind as a losing long-term strategy.

Out of the many groups he helped empower and inspire, FVR was a big fan and supporter of the first Philippine team to summit Mt Everest. He had climbing spikes from one of the members of the expedition framed, on a wall in his office. I visited him once not long after he had put it up. He said: “You see, Sam, democracy is a lot like climbing a mountain. The climb up is optional, but the climb down is mandatory.” I suppose that life, and how we each choose to live it, is a lot like that too.

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