Already the sting of his sudden departure--dying peacefully in his sleep yesterday morning--is beginning to sink in. I'm writing this as fast as I can to catch the whirl of memories Linc left behind while it's still fresh.
Lincoln Rex Quimpo Drilon was more than a friend and extended family member. He was companion and troubadour to many of life's milestones. He sang "My Foolish Heart," the theme song of my parents, at Mom's 75th birthday, bringing her to tears. At Rolly Fernandez's and my silver wedding jubilee in 2009 he emceed the program of songs and piano music, sitting beside writer Pablo Tariman so the latter could get through the song "Some Enchanted Evening." At my daughter Kimi Fernandez's baby shower in 2011, Linc was there to croon "Moon River" to the infant still in the mother's womb.
But Linc was many other splendored things besides being a fine emcee and crooner. He was a terrific fundraiser for quixotic causes, whether it's for an ailing friend or for keeping the environment clean and green. He was there, ready with the mic or his guitar. He even had a short-lived project called Club Nostalgia where like-minded individuals with a yen for singing old songs gathered for a drink and a turn at the mic.
Rolly recalls how Linc and his best friend-sidekick Rey Maceda, a geologist, camped for many weeks at the then uninhabited Potipot Island in Candelaria, Zambales. The island's owners, Nany and Nancy Fernandez, tasked Linc and Rey with listing down the flora and fauna of the place. This meant literally counting even the coconut trees. They took their work seriously. The occasional visitor would feel surprised to see numbers on tree trunks.
After a hard day's work, the two settled down to drink. For pulutan Linc skillfully filleted and deboned fish which he turned into sashimi. Whatta layp it was!
One of the few things I am proud of is introducing Linc to the great photographer of the Cordillera, Tommy Hafalla, another of my favorite guys. The two struck up a unique friendship while climbing mountains in the Cordi on a Museum of Man project.
His devotion to wife Maria Esperanza P. Drilon, nicknamed Chit, is the stuff of legend among us. If memory serves, during a marital spat, he wooed her back in Lincoln fashion. In a restaurant or club in Cubao, he "conspired" with Bobi Valenzuela to have "Seventh Dawn," apparently the couple's theme song, played over and over in the sound system as Linc danced a slow drag with Chit. That paved the way for a reconciliation.
You haven't really lived until you've heard Linc do a heartfelt rendition of "Seventh Dawn," a song made famous by The Lettermen. The voice is gone, but I hear it still.
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