SECOND
WIND
Barbara
C. Gonzalez
Saturday,
24 March 2007
BURNT
MEMORIES
I
passed it again this morning, on my way to visit my son in Alabang. There she stood, the sad skeleton of what was
once a simple large building with room for all sorts of offices on the first to
the third floors and a car display area for selling cars. It was called the Mantrade Building, at the
corner of Pasong Tamo and EDSA. At the
back, up the stairs to the third floor, was Avellana & Associates, Inc., a
Filipino ad agency where once upon a time I used to work.
Now
of course everything is gone and what remains is the building’s skeleton. No more floors. Those burned.
No more ceilings or roofs, those burned too. Every time I pass my heart is wrenched,
saddened, twisted. I stop breathing for
a little while waiting for my tears to break.
It hasn’t happened. I have not
cried like I should have when the building burned.
Avellana
& Associates was the first advertising agency I worked for, before it moved
to Makati it was on Roxas Boulevard, at the building that now holds the Museong
Pambata. When you look at that building
you will notice three long glass windows on the left. The center window belonged to my office then,
before I decided to quit and lead a domestic life with my children. After that the agency moved to the Mantrade
Building. It started small and as
business got better it grew larger and larger.
First, I worked there part time.
I was slightly unhappy in my private life but did not want to admit
it. So I decided to go back to work part
time. Then I became largely unhappy with
my private life and decided to work full time.
We were all on the third floor but the office was considering
expansion. We went to Tagaytay after my
relationship broke up and my private life was a mess. Outside I looked like a whole person. Inside I rattled like a million little
pieces. Otherwise I was profoundly grateful
for my job. It gave me an alternative to
the unhappiness I felt when I stopped working.
It gave me something to do, enough money to advance the support my
children required but I had a hard time getting. It gave me a good life.
When
we returned from Tagaytay I was Vice President for the Creative Services
Division and our office was moved down to the mezzanine floor. It still stands, the room that used to be my
office at the left hand corner of the building but after the fire it has lost
everything. It is just barely there but
when I look to see what’s left, the apparent emptiness of it, memories jump out
at me.
Remember? The Christmas party you went to dressed as a
Christmas tree with a star hat that lit up on and off with Christmas tree
lights that you forced one of the artists to work on for you? You moved your home library to the room next
to yours, bringing over all the books you had no room for in your new house,
which was about one-tenth the size of the last house you lived in. Remember the sorrow you felt when you came in
for work and faced the room alone, the tears that would rise waiting to be shed
but you insisted on swallowing? The
children enjoyed this office. They were
still small then. Sometimes on Saturdays
they would come to work with me.
My son would come to pick me up
dressed in those ridiculous little boy clothes I used to buy for him.
If
you can’t find me in my office, look for me in. . .” I was telling my
daughters, and the youngest said
“Never
mind, Mom, we will just listen and when hear you laugh, we will open the door
and there you are.” Laughter apparently
marked our lives then.
I
loved my days in Avellana & Associates, the entire spectrum of those
days. Some were wonderful, others
downright deplorable and miserable. But
at the end of the day we would stray into Totoy Avellana’s office and run into
each other, pour scotch and the brandy, drink together and have fun. We were such a big group then but many of
them are dead now. Boy Javier first,
then after many years, Baby Lopa, Bonnie Ocampo, Bolix Suzara. Months after my stroke, Totoy himself.
I
look at the old Mantrade Building. I
remember when it turned into a construction outlet, sort of a mall of
materials. I bought my Italian kitchen
appliances for my Calamba home there, somewhat in awe at what had become of the
building where once I worked.
Then one morning, I passed and saw that it had burned
down, had turned into the scorched skeleton of what was once a simple large
building where I worked so joyfully and my heart broke at the sadness of
it. I don’t think it will stop breaking,
lamenting over the wonderful memories that live there for me. I passed it again this morning. Again my heart broke.
;)) during
this last years. You added much depth and meaning to his life. The
power of a meaningful friendship can never be underestimated. Remember
--- we're not quite ready for you to "graduate". Keep failing and let
dad monopolize his post-grad glory up there. Keep connecting, keep
emailing, keep writing, keep reading, stay curious. Keep sending those
quotes -- they're an energy source for many. I don't know where you
find them, but you seem to have an endless supply of the best adages --
many of which I could truly imagine to have come from you directly.
