Reprinted with the permission of the author
from Philippine News Online 5/19/04.
Part II
World War II had just ended and Manila was devastated. One endeavor to generate income was Mama’s idea to form a Filipino folk dance troupe under the supervision and pay of the U.S. Military entertainment division.
Uncle Nick was ready to offer his services to my mother who was manager of the troupe in the role of “props man” in the troupe. His task was to prepare all the stage props, furniture, the bamboo poles for the tinikling, and other decorations needed during the many scenes in the dance repertory.
Mama was very happy that she entrusted this responsibility to Uncle Nick.
He was meticulous in his research for the right costumes and scenery with outstanding results. Indeed, even at that time he was a person who already showed his knack for quality work and professionalism.
More, he showed singleness of purpose in any job he was set to be doing.
In later years, when he began to reap awards honors for his writings, Uncle Nick and our family remained as close. His relationships with family and friends were not affected at all by the ever-increasing fame he had started to gain in Manila’s literary world.
He continued to dress up in simple cotton shirts, and sometimes his socks did not match. He did not mind that.
A person who never wanted to impose on anybody’s time, he was generous with his time, especially to his friends and even casual acquaintances. In contrast to the Nick of early years, reticent, shy and self-effacing, once he gained attention, he emerged from his shell and became very warm in his friendship.
When he began to enjoy drinking beer (San Miguel no less for he did not like any other beverage) his warmth shone more dramatically and his voice grew louder by the bottle. His generosity was infinite.
An inveterate hotel bar-hopper – San Miguel beer being his favorite libation – he was a familiar friendly customer who never failed to tip generously.
Same with taxi drivers.
Even when he was named a Philippine National Artist for Literature and Communications, he was still the same happy, simple and humble fellow who enjoyed singing Cole Porter songs and songs from musicals of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. Yes, he was a capable baritone, which he would put to good use, to everyone’s entertainment, in the shower.
In later years when my sisters and cousins started to populate the Joaquin household we would all enjoy his largesse especially during special occasions like Christmas or birthdays.
One incident that brings out Tito Nick’s humanity was the one where he almost got himself killed. He was on his way home, soused as usual, one night when after alighting from his taxi he crossed the main street close to his residence and a jeepney hit him so hard that he landed several feet away, bruised but conscious.
The poor jeepney driver was in tears when the police officer brought him before Uncle Nick beside his hospital bed. The policeman asked Uncle Nick whether he was filing charges for reckless driving and criminal negligence. Uncle Nick, head and arms bandaged, sat up on his bed and he began to interview the driver, as if he were gathering material for his feature articles that appeared in the Free Press Magazine.
When he learned that the jeepney driver had a large family, and that the driver swore that he really failed to see the writer crossing the road, Uncle Nick motioned to the police officer to come closer and whispered to him that he was not interested in filing any charges against the driver.
But before dismissing the driver, Uncle Nick took hold of the driver’s right hand and placed a wad of Philippine pesos in it and said, “Okay, take care and here is a little something for the family.” Typical.
When I reflect on the way he went, I can almost hear him say to the Lord, “I hope that you can just take me away fast with no fuss. That would make me happy.”
And that was the way he went, fast and with no fuss… in the style that could only have been Nick Joaquin’s.
