BRAVO, TONY! MAGNIFICO!

H

ello, Mr. Pastor, do you remember me? I’m Barbara Gonzalez. I had lunch in your house once with Mayo Lopez and Greg Navarro,” I said as I greeted Attorney Antonio A. Pastor.

“Yes, of course, I remember you. You wrote about it afterwards. I read everything you write,” he said, getting up, hugging me, making me feel like we were long lost friends. “Were you here the first time?” he asks, referring to the first time he had a show at The Sunshine Place.

“No, I’m sorry, I had a conflicting appointment, but I am here now to listen to you.”

“I am 89 now,” Tony boasts, “but look at me, I am still strong and well.”

“It’s because of your music,” I say. “I researched about music and health and found that music is very good for everyone. It helps change moods, relieves stress. If you’ve had a stroke, it helps you regain your speech. If you need surgery, it makes you less nervous before your operation. If you have cancer, it also helps you manage your disease. Music is a wonderful thing and you have it all the time.”

Tony Pastor is a lawyer by profession. Once, he was the legal officer of Filipinas Shell Corporation. He resides in Batangas City. There we visited his 134-yearold ancestral home, and the church and the auditorium that he built. He is a very generous person.

After retirement, he went back to his great passion — music. His parents had loved music as well. His father was a physician who sang and his mother was a pianist.

This afternoon, he was a guest on the roof deck of The Sunshine Place, the only senior’s center that I know of in the Philippines. Since I am an active member, I can write — we have a grand piano on the roof deck.

Tony asked for the mike and introduced himself. He emphatically stated that he was 89 years old but nevertheless, he was strong enough and alert enough to be there on time. Most of his school friends had already passed on or would appear on Friday when he had invited them for Saturday. But he could still get those details straight in his mind. Then he settled down and played the piano.

I loved watching his fingers play effortlessly across the keyboard, the way his hands would move up and down. He made me regret not being serious about my piano lessons when I was young. I quit when I wanted to grow my nails. My grandmother scolded me one day saying, “You don’t sit at the piano anymore.” So I went and sat on the keyboard and moved to the left and to the right, making my grandmother laugh in spite of herself. That cancelled my piano lessons.

He played Fur Elise first. He played it so beautifully, so different from the Fur Elise on garbage trucks. He played classical pieces that had been converted to popular songs. When he played Sonata in C Major by Mozart, I found myself imagining a clear, wide stony brook with water rippling melodically across. When I opened my eyes and looked around at the audience, I found them each deep in their own imagined fantasies. Maybe when he played Chopin’s Fantaisie Impromptu, which evolved into the song I’m Always Chasing Rainbows, some of them were imagining their husbands now long gone or their mothers singing that song to them.

Then he played Chopin’s Nocturne in E Flat Major, which was turned into a popular song in my youth. To Love Again was the theme song of the movie, the Eddy Duchin Story, that starred Kim Novak. I could almost see the cover of that long-playing record in black and blue. I replayed the lyrics in my head: No heart should refuse love, how lucky are the ones who choose love and if we should lose love, we have the right to love again. I sigh. Who loves again at the ripe old age of 72?

It was a lovely musical afternoon. After playing the piano, he and his younger brother sang. I loved it when he sang Some Enchanted Evening, that romantic song that Rosanno Brazzi sang in South Pacific. I know all the words in my song-hit mind. Florangel Braid, with whom I used to work on occasion, sat beside me and was silently singing. Her sister, Lyn Alberto, was silently singing, too. I knew Lyn loved to sing. We had a conversation on singing once. And I love to sing, too.

I have to say this about Tony Pastor. He is a genuinely remarkable man, very charming, highly spirited for his 89 years. His spirit bubbles over to the way he sings, the way he smiles, the way he conducts himself with his friends and acquaintances, the warmth he exudes. I will end with only these words for him, Bravo, Tony! Magnifico!

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