On this ThrowbackThursday, I honor a great man, Herminio G. Ordoñez, who passed away early this morning.
Minyong Ordoñez or HGO as he was fondly called, was my late father, Tony Mercado's partner for many years in Basic Advertising and all its subsequent permutations.
He was a great man, a creative genius who was responsible for so many successful advertising and marketing milestones. But I will remember him most as a simple, caring, down to earth man whose smile and snicker always put people around him at ease.
He stood as my godfather during my confirmation almost four decades ago. As the ceremony was winding down, he bent over my shoulder and snickered, "O, sasampalin ko na ba ikaw? Yun ang inaantay ko e."
Once in the early 2000s, when I had already left the industry and was stationed in Forest Club in Laguna, a staff member came up to me and said: "Sir, may tao sa gate, malaking tao na may magarang motorsiklo. Kung puede daw siyang mag swimming. Kahit ten minutes lang daw ho."
It was HGO. He took a joy ride on his bike from Majayjay to take a dip in the pool. So we swam, just the two of us, and just talked about anything and everything. After about an hour, he got out of the pool and quickly said goodbye.
"Oh sige, babalik na ako. Baka hanapin na ako ng asawa ko?"
"Hindi ka ba nagpaalam?" I was horrified.
"Hindi na. Ikaw naman ang kasama ko e," he snickered.
The last time I got to chat in length with HGO was sometime in 2013. We both arrived early for a meeting and took advantage of the time waiting for the others to arrive by catching up on each other's lives.
"May picture ka ba ng mga anak mo?" he asked.
"Uy, ang gwapo at ang ganda nila!" he said as I showed him photos of my kids. Then he smiled, and snickered. "But na lang talaga maganda ang asawa mo."
In his 27 October 2013 Gut Feel column that appears in the Inquirer, HGO spoke about watching Tita Tinette, mother of Karen and Claudine, die in his arms in 1984:
"I told the doctors I wanted my wife all to myself. I wanted my wife to die in my arms. I hugged her and put my head on her chest and stayed glued there, listening to her heartbeat—beating, beating slowly, beating weakly, beating faintly until it stopped.
"Then I looked at her face, and I saw the tension and suffering in her countenance disappear in slow motion. I saw her face clear up slowly, gradually regaining her youthfulness and beauty, until what I saw finally was the beautiful face on our wedding day.
"That facial transformation was, for me, the most beautiful and haunting visual experience I’ve ever had in my life. It was a face that dwelt in heaven."
As HGO passed away at 3:17 am this morning, surrounded by the love of his family, I am so sure he too had that face that dwelt in heaven. And perhaps with a smile and a snicker to boot.
