August 20, 1970, Manila, Philippines We waved goodbye to him as he boarded the Pan American Airlines plane.
"Mama, where is Papa going?" I asked.
"To America," my mother answered, holding my hand.
"When is Papa coming back?"
"We are joining him to America later – God willing."
I was only two then and did not know what was going on.
Thus began my father's journey to America.
Fast forward . . .
June 18, 1986, Glendale, California, United States It was my
18th birthday, and I was standing over the grave of my father at the
Forest Lawn Memorial Park on a hill overlooking a beautiful panorama of
nature. Across the mountain could be seen downtown Los Angeles'
Thus began my own eternal pilgrimage to my father's resting place and my quest for his legacy.
I asked my mother for the key to his filing cabinet. When I opened it I
came across hard folders of his writings, typewritten and in longhand,
as well as newspaper files, photos, news clippings, published columns
As I rummaged through the dusty
drawers of his life, I could not help but realize that his was an
unfinished story that demands to be told.
much about himself as about our two countries – the United States and
the Philippines – that thrust him into the vortex of journalism,
dictatorship, assassination and revolution.
Thus on his tomb I engraved: "Journalist, Patriot, Unsung Hero".
As his Guardian Angel, my task is to finish his story, your story, our story.
Author & Screenwriter
P.O. Box 547, Harbor City, California, United States 90710
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