Manny Cawed, 53,dies with boots on

LETTERS FROM THE AGNO
March Fianza

BAGUIO CITY -- Manuel T. Cawed, 54; landscape artist-worker and musician-composer, does not have to be reminded twice to come to a meeting when called. And if he is out of town, he would say so via text message or electronic mail.

This looks like a serious guy, but Manny is not that serious since he engages you to light conversations with an ever present grin in the corner of his eyes. And what is more important at the end of the day is that he listened to what you had to say about the easy topics you talked about.

He does not keep one waiting so that he immediately replies to messages that need some answers. That is as far as I am concerned. I do not know with the others.

But aside from his hard physical work, he made it a point to participate in the many concerts being organized for the needy.

When Manny learned about a reunion concert for Baguio-Benguet musicians of the 70s and 80s being worked out for December, he anticipated where the first meeting would be.

After attending that first meeting with friends in the music world, he immediately wrote a song that talked about musicians coming together.

In between the guitar play and songs, Manny talked about work, life and family, just like any of us would. At times he would talk about marriage annulment, and about working to earn enough money he can use to pay for recording expenses for an album of songs he composed.

True to his word and after his daytime jobs, Manny made himself available in practices for a benefit concert organized for Dolfo, a colleague whose house was razed to the ground by a fire.

Manny practiced two songs. “Power,” a song written and sung by Graham Nash and David Crosby that talked about people longing for renewable energy was one of his favorite pieces.

This is a “song for the intellect” and is not easy to perform on stage, especially in front of an audience who can only appreciate “songs for the feet.”

Manny’s second song is “The first cut is the deepest,” the single originally sung and composed by Cat Stevens, and popularized by Rod Stewart. It is a song that talks about “trying to love again” after falling out.

Arsen Marzan, the “nabayagen” brother of Conrad; newsman Alfred Dizon, guitar; Toper Marzan on drums, and I composed the band behind Manny.

The practices with him were good. But the actual night was different because we, as band players noticed that Manny was singing unusually slow.

Prior to “The first cut is the deepest,” he was looking at us with a little “smirk” while trying to tune his guitar but was not able to do so. Although he went on to sing the song anyway even as we silently complained that something was wrong and a guitar was out of tune.

After repeating the line “the first cut is the deepest,” Manny collapsed to the front with his guitar still clinging to his breast.

That was exactly what happened to Manny, the artist-musician-composer last Tuesday evening. He died with his boots on. The artist-musician-composer died with his guitar on.

At the hospital where he was rushed by Alfred, I tried to fit in the pieces of the jig saw that happened that night. Maybe his emotion in addition to other outside factors and things he had in mind killed him.

Maybe the reason why he seemed hard up in tuning his guitar was because a heart attack was taking place at that moment. I suspected later that maybe Manny thought he was twisting the guitar’s tuning pegs, but actually was not, because he could not feel and hear anything anymore.

We were hearing a “semplang” (out of tune) guitar because Manny was not pressing the chords correctly. His senses of hearing and touch were already out that moment.

The natural reaction of one who is falling is to hang on to anything and stretch out the arms to cushion the impact of an imminent fall. But Manny fell down face first with both hands gripping his guitar and no longer knew that he was falling because his senses were already out.

We will surely miss Manny’s companionship but his memories will live on everytime we are on stage and everytime we see performers on stage.

For a musician to die while performing on stage is an unforgettable picture. The night he left for a concert on the big stage in the sky is an unforgettable scene.

He died with his boots on, Manny died with his guitar still strapped around him on stage. What happened that night urges us to do one thing – visit the doctor.

My condolences to his brother Dick whom I did not see for quite a time; to manong Bong, and to his other brothers and sisters, their families, friends and relatives. – marchfianza777@yahoo.com