The Lorna I know and love

Babeth's note: A few months ago, former Population Center Foundation colleague and friend Elsie Kalaw, Lorna's kid sister, wrote to ask if I could contribute something about Lorna, who is celebrating her 75th birthday today, to a one-copy tribute book. I didn't hesitate. I wrote this piece immediately while the subject's demeanor was fresh in my mind. Welcome to your diamond years, Lorns. You're more precious than that gem. Lorna Kalaw Tirol will always be unforgettable in my book. Firstly, it’s because she shares the same birthday on January 24 as my father, Enrique Cariño Lolarga Jr. Like him, she is soft-spoken, gentle, thoughtful—but don’t cross their paths on matters of conviction for they can be brutally harsh. It’s the Ilokano streak in him, it’s the Batangueña in her. I guess we both were/are Daddy’s girls. Secondly, Lorna is the editors’ editor like her good friend (and mine) Rustie Otico. They’re eagle-eyed about the veracity of data, wary of grammatical and syntactical errors, but the writer’s style, or flair, is retained. I felt honored when she invited me to write for Sunday Inquirer Magazine which she edited in the 1990s. Apart from giving me assignments, she approved my story pitches. One time, she said over long distance, “I wish you’d come back to Manila (I was living in Baguio then as a fulltime housewife) so you can cover the art events.” That was confidence-boosting praise if I ever heard any. When I held a solo exhibit of paintings at Baguio’s Café by the Ruins, she sent this message which I continue to store in my blog brooksidebaby.blogspot.com: “I am endlessly amazed by the diversity and breadth of your talents and your generosity in sharing them with others less gifted.” Thirdly, there is Lorna, the heart and soul of her home and family. No wonder my former boss, Vicente G. Tirol, worshipped her and loved her to bits. He liked her rellenong bangus so much she’d prepare it for him even if she was tired. My first sight of Lorna was at the launching of Nick Joaquin’s children’s books—she was cuddling one of her two sons of toddler age. This love of children has extended to her grandkids and even my own. Since my daughter Kimi was a baby, Lorna would send her books for Christmas. Then the practice continued when I had my first grandchild Kai. Lorna knew how to pick titles because these books eventually became my little ones’ favorites, their pages repeatedly turned, the images and colors constantly admired. Fourthly, there is Lorna, the little known and under-appreciated amateur singer. I heard her once say that her dream was to be able to do the lounge act Michelle Pfeiffer did atop a grand piano in the film The Fabulous Baker Boys. The song was “Makin’ Whoopee.” Very un-Lorna image if I think of her as a dyed-in-the-Theresian-blue colegiala! But why not? Her son Paulo recorded her on Spotify singing the beloved Bacharach-David anthem “Alfie.” Next to Cilla Black’s version, Lorna’s comes second and Dionne Warwick’s a distant third in my book of likes. Fifthly, Lorna has a generous streak. When my husband Rolly Fernandez, a bibliophile and Filipiniana buff, learned that she was packing Vic’s books in boxes for giving away, he asked if he could have a couple, sight unseen. She said yes immediately. The boxes found their way to Baguio, and Rolly delighted in Neil Simon’s memoir, among others. One time, I shared my poems with Lorna. She wondered aloud what it would be like to have a poem dedicated to her. That wish lit a spark in me, and right away I drafted this verse which saw print in my limited edition book Big Mama Sez: Poems Old & New. I quote it in its entirety: Open Like the Mind For Lorna Kalaw Tirol who wondered what it would like to have a poem dedicated to her “An open mind is like an open window. It lets the fresh air in.”—Mike Hernacki most times we just need the refreshment of unfettered views those times we don’t need anything not a thing to frame them with not grills, not jalousies which are the worst–they stifle what should freely float as for blinds that you pull up at first light & bring down at eventide those times they are barriers to break i don’t know about you but i would rather live with sheer curtains or those made of beads, rolled paper & small bells that talk & tinkle as you walk through them or are as still as you on airless afternoons yes, we can agree to just set up two chairs, maybe even four, but with a view of the possibilities of the infinite