BENCHWARMER

Right time, wrong place
RAMON DACAWI

It was almost noon and my friend Dinky Casem was giving directions through his cellphone. It’s here in Bakakeng, near the turning point, he said. We won’t miss the place, he assured, as we’d spot his gray Pregio van parked beside the house where his relative’s wedding reception was already on.

He called just in time, just when JR Mateo and I were figuring out where to have lunch. True enough, we found the turning point for jeepneys plying the route, but couldn’t see the shadow of Dinky’s van. It must be somewhere here, JR said before he shifted gears to reverse and then backed up. We turned left, turned around after hitting another dead-end and went on toexplore another subdivision road.

There we saw a queue of guests on an inclined approach ending at a house where food was being served from silver trays. From a distance, we saw two red hearts pasted on a white sheet draped on the front of the house. Below the nuptial symbol was a U-shaped table occupied by the newlyweds and their sponsors.

We parked then joined took our places at the end of the line. Dinky was nowhere but jeepney federation chief Diony Itliong, in smart blue barong, saw and approached us. “Mang Mon, JR., salamat ta nakaumay kayo ditoy kasar ti kaanakan tayo,” he said. “Sabali metten ti naturong me,” I sheepishly muttered. “Birbiruken mi ni Dinky ta nagayab met ta agkasar kanomet diay kaanakan da ditoy Bakakeng.”

“Mangan kayo pay ketdi bago yo biruken ayan na ta awan met sabsabali kadatayo ditoy,” Diony said. He made sure we were all right and then begged off to attend to the other guests. I was mapping out our escape route without getting noticed when Diony came back.

“Paay-ayaban dakayo ni Vice-Mayor (Sammy) Esguerra ti La Trinidad,” he announced. “Ay, adda gayam ni Apo Bise; pakibaram ditoy kamin tapareho met lang,” I asked.

But Diony wouldn’t have it, and those in line were watching us. So we made our way to the main stable, with Diony escorting me by the arm. Some of the ninongs had barely finished their plates but graciously yielded their seats to us. I felt my mface turning red, yet was comforted by the thought my dark complexion made it a blushing in disguise.

Yet I couldn’t muster enough social grace to congratulate the newlyweds. Whatever. Late as it is, my best wishes to newlyweds Erwin and Wilmarie (nee Itliong) Maguarde.

When Paul Cuyopan heard the story, he remembered his own with former Benguet vice-governor Wasing Sacla. Both were tapped as sponsors in a wedding. Both made it to church at the same time, in the nick of time. Seeing them line up with the other sponsors on the aisle, the ushers rushed to pin the corsage on their lapels.

That was when they realized something amiss. They had no one to pair with. Both took out their invitation cards. Both re-read their embossed names on the sponsors’ list. Just to be sure. They scanned the page and found what was wrong. They were godfathers, all right, but in a different wedding set at the same time in another church. They rushed to the proper venue,surprising the other sponsors with roses already pinned on their lapels.

“Mine was different in a way,” Art Tampoa offered. We were sipping brandy, trying to lighten things up one evening in Dick Oakes’ quiet yard on a promontory overlooking Benguet’s capital town.

Still quite young to be a godfather, Art used to run a video shop specializing in weddings, birthdays, debuts and house blessings. While shooting one, he and his lightman were impressed. There were two other video crews documenting the hour in the couple’s life. Thebride’s mother had paid Art in advance.

When Art got back to his studio to edit the footage, an aide said a woman had called. She was bristling, asking why Art failed to cover her daughter’s wedding. “I gulped,” he said. “There was a mix-up and we had covered the wrong wedding. I left the payment and leftthe shop. I returned only when told the lady had gotten back her payment.”

At newsman Willy Cacdac’s funeral July last year, we were already at the memorial park when Swanny Dicang got a call. It was regional information director Helen Tibaldo asking where we were.

Swanny said Helen was in the middle of a mass at the St. Joseph church in Pacdal where the requiem mass was held. She had just stepped out to make a call. She said she couldn’t see anybody familiar – except lawyer Pablito Sanidad. Both were late, but in time for another funeral mass.

When Ibaloi horseman Abe Molintas kicked the bucket, his widow decided to have him buried in San Fabian, Pangasinan where the couple had settled. So the pony boys of Wright Park traveled for the final rites. They had turned to Abe each time they needed to have saddles and reins repaired. They remembered him for his humor when business was in the doldrums at the bridle path.

Still groggy from a night of booze and card games, the boys barely made it to the church and the cemetery the following morning. As the casket was about to be interred into the niche, some of them saw fit to honor Abe by directing the proper positioning of the casket.

“Han a nga kasta; posiposen yo tapno usto ti panaginana ti manong tayo,” one of them boomed with authority while another was demonstrating the directive with his hands. Both then looked at the crowd for approval. They couldn’t see any one they knew. Until their eyes met.
They were in another burial. By the time they found the right plot, Abe was already at rest, after pulling his last joke on them. (e-mail: rdacawi@yahoo.com for comments).