The missing vinyl

My mother once shared that Lolo Rudy recorded a famous song back in the day, his own version of a “song cover,” which is how it would be regarded these days.

“He had a beautiful voice,” she told me in Tagalog, as she recounted good old memories with her late father. “It’s too bad we never acquired a copy of that vinyl.”

Singing was my grandfather’s way of wooing women. He was a mestizo guy with wavy hair, pointed nose, and a gentle smile — no wonder he was “popular” with the ladies. It’s heartwarming to know, though, that despite such a reputation in his youth, he and Lola Mila danced through the years together, through thick and thin, until death parted them.

I never heard lolo sing; I was young when he left us. It was my grandmother who I had the chance to listen to as she sang songs in her vernacular:

“Matud nila ako dili angay

Nga magmamanggad sa imong gugma…”

Although I don’t understand the Visayan language, having been born and raised a Lagunense, I always felt something tender and wonderful inside me while listening to her. I often complimented Lola Mila on her singing, only for her to tell me that it was Lolo Rudy who could sing really well.

My siblings and I enjoy singing, too (although we are far from being as talented as our grandfather probably was). We sing a lot. We go from Beatles to Bamboo, from Tiffany to MYMP, from Michael Learns to Rock to Ben&Ben. And not only do our favorite genres of music vary, but also our concert arenas and schedules: in the bathroom early in the morning, in the living room in the afternoon, or in our bedroom in the middle of the night. Show us a karaoke and we’ll be itching to grab hold of the microphone.

I’d always wondered where this fondness for music came from. At first, I thought it was just the Filipino in us. But now I know it’s more than that.

When I asked Mother the title of the song that Lolo recorded, she said it was called “A Certain Smile.” She wasn’t sure of the singer, so I had to look it up online and listen with her to make sure. I played the first video that showed up, which was from an artist named Johnny Mathis.

“That’s it!” my mother said.

We listened together quietly until the song ended. Mother said the singer’s voice sounded very much like my grandfather’s.

I will never be able to hear Lolo Rudy sing. And perhaps it’s impossible for us to find a copy of his recording. But it doesn’t matter anymore. We now have this song, and his memory of recording it. Most of all, we have this special appreciation for music — the same love for music he and Lola had — available in all of us whenever we need it.

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Kevin A. Amante, 26, works at Laguna State Polytechnic University.