Ernest Santiago & Adrian E. Cristobal, Sr.

I end the year with the passing away of two gentlemen. Both of them were publicly visible and I may have nothing much to add.

On December 16, 2007, nine days before Christmas. Ernest Santiago, also known as Santiago de Manila, one of the Philippines’ greatest fashion designer, was found dead, murdered, in his bedroom Pagsanjan, Laguna.

On December 22, 2007 Adrian E. Cristobal Sr., political satirist, passed away at the Makati Medical Center due to complications arising from lung cancer.

What I know about their lives is public data, but being related by affinity (a brother in law of my uncle, the other a cousin of my wife) I cannot help but admire them from that vista, like two spires dominating the skyline.

I referred to him as a gentleman, a term he may not entirely savor with his up-front unabashedly gay poise. Tiyo Nestor is what my cousin Linda calls Ernest Santiago. He was 68, a half brother of my Tiya Lucing wife of my uncle Herminio Cruz. A few years back, my cousin Linda, my wife and my sons went to Nestor’s place at Pagsanjan. Gallery 83 was a restaurant fronting the property where we had lunch. The food was excellent and I told myself that I will come back sometime to enjoy Nestor’s superlative cuisine.

Everyone calls him Adrian, from my wife’s uncle, the late Cesar Gonzalez to his friends at the National Press Club. I recall when we were all invited to a grand family reunion one Christmas Season at the penthouse of the Intercon, my first inititiation to that side of my wife’s family. Adrian was then heading the Social Security System which position he held for many years. I eventually learned that he wore many hats: essayist, columnist, fictionist, playwright.

That was the first and last time I met Nestor. He showed us around where he had antique furniture all around. It must be my engineering mind that thought the place did not have a unifying theme. However, you could sense the creative genius of the man when you zoom in on specific areas of the place.

The first time I met Adrian was at my induction as an officer of the Supervisor’s Union at Usiphil. He was our inducting officer; I did not know that him to be related to my wife until many years later. After administering the oath of office, we were asked to keep our right hands for the photos. It was taking some time for the photographer to do his task. Adrian said “You guys are doing injury to my drinking arm.”

Nestor was not a good host that time but was quick to phone my cousin one week after. “Tell your cousin that I am sorry for not entertaining him well. Please tell him I had my monthly then and was not feeling well.”

Once a while, Adrian would show up in the watering holes of his journalist friends, befitting the NPC eulogy to “The man who wrote, drank, and smoked his life away to give light to many other men’s discourse will forever be an inspiration to many writers, accomplished or just beginning, and will forever be held in warm affection and high esteem by friends and foes alike.”

I am glad to have known these gentlemen even if from a distance. They treaded in different circles where they left their own marks.

Photo: "Two Princes" by Olivier Agustin.

General Atomics

I recently found out that my childhood friend died on March 7. 2005. The County Obituaries of the San Diego Union Tribune of March 20, 2005 read:

• HERMAN LAURENCE KESTING
• Jan. 13, 1924-March 7, 2005
• Herman Laurence Kesting, 81, of San Diego died March 7. He was born in Bellingham, Minn., and was a health physicist at General Atomics. He served in the Army during World War II.
• Survivors include his wife, Margaret Kesting; and sister, Dolores Huckle of Appleton, Minn.
• Inurnment: Fort Rosecrans National Cemetery, Point Loma.
• Donations: Kaiser Hospice, 10992 San Diego Mission Road, San Diego, CA 92108.
  
• The same information later appeared at the G.A. Retirees Association web page.

He wrote me letters and signed them Herman and Margaret, I was also introduced to his nephew Tommy Huckle who must have been the son of Dolores. Tom and I became pen pals and exchanged a few letters. He studied to be a dentist, methinks at St. Olaf College since he sent me a beautiful mug with the college’s name and seal.

Herman did write about moving to San Diego to work with a company dealing with atomic energy; for “peaceful uses” he emphasized probably because the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was still fresh in the minds of people. He never told me much about the work and it’s only now that I find out it was at General Atomics which was founded in 1955 to explore peaceful uses of atomic energy. Leading scientists came to GA, forming the nucleus of a staff and Herman Kesting must have been one of the pioneers.

There goes one good man and I have lost a good friend.

Herman Kesting

There was one other present I received from Herman that to this date, I still cherish. It was a child’s reading book complete with all the illustrations with the poem “Twas the night before Christmas” by Clement Clarke Moore.

I liked reading the book every year as the holidays came. I don’t know if that made me believe in Santa Claus or not. I just liked the picture of the stockings hanging on the chimney and the last stanza which reads…

"He sprang to his sleigh,

to his team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew

like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim,

‘ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all,

and to all a good-night!"

Christmas Presents

When Herman Kesting went back home to Bellingham, Minnesota, he continued to write and send me Christmas presents. The one I remember most was a toy gun, one of those cowboy cap pistols complete with a holster.

It was my aunt who claimed the parcel from the post office and I asked her where the other pistol was. She said there was only one but I couldn’t be fooled because the box had a picture showing two pistols with two holsters. But no, she insisted there was only one and I missed the fun of packing two pistols and be contented with one. In any case, the single pistol with holster was a source of pride as it was different from those available locally. All the other kids would sport a “Bang-O” but mine was different; my indoctrination to a state-side bias.

After a few years, the gun broke down. Lo and behold, she comes out with the other pistol and the left handed holster. I guess Aunts will never understand the difference between being a cowboy sporting two guns and a bandit having one pistol tucked in his pants. But things have changed much since after the war. Today, my daughter would not think of me giving her son any gun for a christmas present. I wonder if Santa would ever give him one when he writes him for a toy gun.