surrounded his office table with a forest of potted plants so he could do his breathing exercises in front of the oxygen-emitting plants. Then it was the “Speak in English” drive in TIP in the 1980s: he himself was very fastidious about correct grammar. Another time, it was the checkered Ilocano shirt with maong jeans, or the flat top, or the Iper haircut when it was the vogue, that he would impose on his circle of friends. He imposed what- ever his current project was on all of us, and not just on his friends. It was infuriating, but that was how he was, my Papa. He was also a creature of habit. A health buff, he had early- morning calisthenics in Mendiola with his 5 a.m. Club. Then he walked all the way to Quiapo to buy flowers for Mama. This was his routine every day, rain or shine. Understandably, he was called “Mr. Romantico” by the flower vendors. He sported a mustache to complete the projection. Papa passionately embraced his own advocacies. When he was Constitutional Convention delegate in 1973, he espoused the creation of a Filipino national language, an issue so controversial that the debate rages on until today. He also did not like Filipinos being called “Pinoys” because it sounds very close to penoy and he went to town about this. When Randy David became my professor at the University of the Philippines, Professor David could not help but ask: “Is Demy Quirino your father?” Papa had guested, years back, in Professor David’s TV talk show to fulminate on the Pinoy issue. In temperament Papa took after his father, Demetrio Sr., a former governor of Nueva Vizcaya and, like Papa, a delegate to the Constitutional Convention (1935). Demetrio Sr. was called “Thunder” for his tempestuous temper. Papa was only a “Mini Thunder” but a thunder nonetheless. He exploded if he did not have his way. You had to be very organized and convincing to
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