Ryan Tominaga

It is a tease to my little girl's heart that when I think about one of the most amazing nights I have ever been part of, I remember Ryan.

That very night, the cosmos playfully arranged him right next to me, but the four men on stage who make up one of the most important bands ever, their music that span several genres, generations and zeitgeists, the 96,002 people who were with us, filling every inch of space in the mighty Rose Bowl arena, reduced him to an insignificant detail. Only that very night.

Because when these events turned into a great story, almost like a knee-jerk response, my memory placed him at the center around which every other detail spun. We don't easily disremember a great night; but slowly, its repercussions fade and it becomes just the backdrop of the littler quirks that have personalized and made the experience ever more real and memorable to us.

My brother-in-law Pancho bought my ticket from his officemate, Tony, who is Ryan’s friend. We did not plan to meet before the concert. I searched for my seat among the ninety-six thousand and four, and when I thought I found it, I flashed a smile at the person seating next to it. Ryan.

“Welcome home,” he said. (Or was it “You’re home,” “Yep, you found your home”? What I’m only sure about is, “Home.”)

The night’s roll call, on its own, guaranteed an amazing experience, so I didn’t mind the prospect of being seated rows away from Pancho and my sister – alone. Besides, anonymity exhilarates me. But by twist and turn courtesy of the playful cosmos, I found myself in the company of three people I’ve never met before.

Tony, two seats away and really funny (I told him at the end of the night, “You are at par with Bono in entertainment value.”), introduced himself as “Latino, not black,” and his girlfriend Caroline, the "all-American American." By instinct, I burst into "Sweet Caroline, den den den," surprising even myself (and there were no glasses and glasses of beer involved), and eliciting a with eyes rolled-grin from Caroline like I wasn't the first who dared.

Tony did not say he was a huge U2 fan, but he sang along with Bono to almost every song in the band's repertoire, most of the time whole-heartedly (glasses and glasses of beer involved). Throughout the night, he would alternately poke fun at Caroline or at Ryan (“Come on, Ryan! It's U2!” when Ryan stayed glued to his seat and to his mobile.). But when the evening segued into the quintessential rock love song, With or Without You, he mellowed down and sang not along with Bono, but directly to his sweet Caroline.

The entire night, Ryan Tominaga -- him around which every other memory of the night spun -- was seated to my right. He is part Japanese, part Nicaraguan, and part Hawaiian; though at face value, you could never have guessed. There's a handsomeness to him that his baldness and olive skin dull, but he stands attractively. He reminded me of Powder, and at the same time, thought that he best epitomizes Max, the fictional Jew-in-hiding in Mark Zusak's The Book Thief. It may sound far-fetched (he's not Jewish), but I had just finished the book then.

A conversation was off to a good start. Ryan, as it happened, knew a lot of Filipinos at work and talked favorably of them. His grandmother, of whom he spoke as tenderly, is a Catholic. And he is openly romantic. He mentioned traveling to Japan, Hawaii and Nicaragua to know more about his roots.

I don't know about you, but I find crossing miles of strangeness to know more about oneself an intent that manifests one's profundity. Looking back, I think I was smitten with Ryan.

I wish we talked more, but Bono went onstage. The vibes that they radiated from The Claw (as they liked to call their humongous 360 Tour platform) were strong enough to spell a uniting cast over the whole stadium. I was too struck; my surroundings (by this I mean the 96000-amazing crowd) swirled into one pulsating entity. Song after song after song, I could not believe I was a part of it. It was just me, the crowd, and U2.

But in retrospect, I would see it was all natural ecstasy. Because the moments that I would remember with more precision and color were not only of me and U2. In fact, the band steps back and zooming in was the chorus of "Stuck in a Moment that You Can't Get Out Of," (the moment I would have stayed in for a long time) when Ryan urged me to sing along, karaoke style. Darn, I did not completely memorized that part, so instead, I burst into smiles to fill in the blanks. Before the concert, I told him it was my favorite U2 original.

When Bono burst into the monosyllabic chapter of With or Without You, the coming of the end of the concert dawning on him, Ryan sprang off his seat.

"Oh ooo ooo ooo... Oh ooo ooo ooo ooo... Oh ooo ooo ooo... Oh ooo... With or Without Yoooo..."

The whole stadium "Oh ooo-ed" along, but all I could hear now, some 8 months later, is Ryan at my right. Everything else swirls away into the background.

(P.S. Or I think about Ryan, and I remember that most amazing night.)

Maria Cara Rodriguez-Larrazabal

Originally published in EV Mail.

There’s a hole in our home now. The last time I saw the person who used to fill it with big-sisterly guidance and care, and infectious joy (and occasionally, a quick temper :), she was ready with her whole life in 3 balikbayan boxes and 2 huge luggage, to move to a place 1000 oceans away from what she called home for 27 years.

This explains the morning of her wedding day when she woke up with eyes swollen from crying. Everyone panicked but the make-up artist, who coolly walked to the kitchen to wrap frozen water with a hanky and asked the bride to hold it against her eyes.

For the rest of the morning, with our hair and make-up all ready for the camera, the threat of crying hung over us bridesmaids. The mother of the bride, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the many beautifying hours already spent on her. Through tears-stricken eyes, she did not drop her duty of making sure the bride’s eyebrows were not too thick and the cheeks were only softly colored.

It would have made for an ideal start to a highly emotional wedding, but the family preferred the drama stay at home and proceeded to the Sts. Peter and Paul Parish, where the ceremony took place like how it should: merry, delightful, and in denial that somebody is about to leave.

Tears of joy make funny storytelling later; but laughter of joy shows the face of certainty, as the bride had executed on her wedding march to a moving string version of U2’s With or Without You. She opted not to cover her face with a veil for fear it would induce claustrophobia (oh, the things we pick up from our mother!), leaving facial traces of jitters or doubts to everyone’s full view. But there was none such betrayal.

She was at her happiest, looking glorious in her all-lace Felix Yu gown, and wearing a radiant smile that I feel moved the hearts of the many who knew she deserved such pure bliss. Throughout the afternoon heat, the careful but relentless jests from cousins and friends, the reality of getting hitched, and the sweating that it all caused, Pancho Larrazabal’s smile (the one that stretched from ear to ear) also never left his face.

Such high spirits set the mood for the rest of the wedding and through the celebration. There was no need for a first shot or bottle to get the bridal entourage to do a grand entrance to the reception hall, which meant ladies in figure-hugging, flamenco-inspired gowns and men in Barong Tagalog dancing to Natalie Cole’s This Will Be (An Everlasting Love). One of the lolaswould say, “Your poise was slightly broken; but it was very refreshing and fun!”

Not to be outdone were the newly-weds, who entered the ballroom to Flo Rida’s Low and invited all the guests to their feet. Even the ninongs and ninangs in front stood to welcome and dance with them. Watching this unique spectacle, I realized my sister had a natural groove to her; but kudos goes to the groom for pulling all efforts to make it seem like he had, too.

Dinner was had to the live accompaniment of a string quartet. Pancho’s uncle and Sabin Hotel’s main chef, Butch, had prepared Paella, Lengua, Caldereta and Canonigo, to keep to the wedding’s Spanish theme. The bride’s cousin, Tina Santiago of Tina’s Sweets, laid out a smorgasbord of treats to the sweet teeth such as cream puffs, cheesecake, tarts and brownies.

Four hundred guests make a crowd, but the couple injected personal touches to the affair that allowed a measure of intimacy in. As hosts for the evening, they picked Perok Rodriguez, a very close tito to the bride, and Vannie Ocampo, a very good friend.

Every table at the ballroom had a name of a person, a place, or a thing that played a part in the couple’s love story. The hosts lured the guests to share a story with a pack of Tina’s goodies. By the end of the night, everyone would know that the two were set up at the wedding of Lito & Diane del Rio in 2007 by enthusiastic aunts and cousins; that at 25, my sister was not allowed by our mother to go on her first date with Pancho without a chaperone (thank you, Monica Rizarri-Veloso); that it was thru the help of a singing Pepe Le Peu stuffed toy that Pancho was able to give voice to his feelings for her; and that after their honeymoon in Hawaii, the couple will be based in Pancho’s home in California.

Other personal touches to the evening were the postcards left on the table for guests to write down their best wishes and goodbye messages; the longest-kissing couple game, the winners of which did not beat the night’s record of 28 seconds set by the newlyweds; and a special tribute, during which the groom and bride gave a bouquet each to their mothers.

But the one part that brought the house down was the brother of the bride, Tingtong. After the toast of the Best Men and the teary Maids of Honor, he walked up front by house demand. He struggled with his English words, ignoring the crowd’s encouragement for him to say what he wanted to say in Bisaya. “My sisters speak in English, so I will speak English, too!”

The protective brother role seized him as soon as the crowd settled down, first coming clean about his initial disapproval of Pancho for his sister. It was through the fact that more than a dozen of Pancho’s friends flew in from California to see him get married and the things he’s heard about Pancho from them, that he learned to fully accept him. But so characteristic of Ting, he ended his speech with a threat. We all know how that goes.

If there was any semblance of Tingtong’s toast to the father of the bride’s welcome message earlier in the evening, it was the glimpse they gave the guests into how they were feeling about giving away their Maica. But unlike the brother’s apprehension, Mayong felt instant relief that his eldest daughter found somebody from a family he grew up with on Bonifacio Street.

He also used the opportunity to squeeze in a few words of reality check for the newlyweds. “As your relationship had been long-distance from the start, you haven’t seen the best and the worst of each other. You have to learn to accept the strengths and weaknesses that both of you will carry into this marriage.”

Later that night, while a live band played the newlyweds’ favorite song, Always and Forever by Luther Vandross, there was a short lull in the merriment when Mayong danced with the bride. It was a bittersweet moment, magnified not only by the daughter’s tears on her father’s shoulder, but by the great distance that was to come between them.

But the night was young and with the help of two shots of Tequila and several swigs of GPS, everybody felt so, too. Indeed, the best way to enjoy is to live and party in the moment, and save the blues when the time gets us there.

In the case of the newlywed’s departure, time did not take its time. In fact, it hurried. It may have played along with the excitement of their honeymoon or sympathized with the bride’s mother and shortened the farewell. The last time I saw my sister was on the day after her wedding, and she was smiling radiantly through wet eyes with her husband’s hand in hers.

When we went home, the drama was waiting. There was a hole with it, and it was shaped a Maica.

~~~

I wrote this piece as requested by Ms. Lalaine Jimenea, editor in chief of EV Mail. It's one of the most difficult articles I ever finished -- must be that it's about somebody I'm too close to. In fact, I worked on it in bed for a whole weekend!

Ultimately though, I'm glad I took on Lalaine's challenge. Since I started this blog, my sister Maica has been bugging me to write about her. Well sis, this may not be so much about you as it is about your wedding to Pancho. But on second thought, you would agree that the wedding you had greatly reflected the kind of person you are.