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Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for awhile and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same.— Anonymous
October came and went without me having a conversation with Ting Joven or Angie Pineda Martin about a common and dear friend whose death anniversary happened to fall in that same month. Not that I didn’t remember him then because I truly did. I simply didn’t remember to bring him up in the few conversations I had had with these fine ladies.
It was a very cold October day when some twenty close friends of fashion designer Hermie Sanchez gathered at Ting Joven and Ben Giovanelli’s home in Prospect Heights, IL to hold a memorial in Hermie’s honor. We braved and survived the chills from the freezing Autumn wind that blew off the light from the candles for Fr. Carlos’ mass in Ting and Ben’s backyard. We all huddled to keep warm until we decided it was foolish to fight the cold outside and moved the service inside the house. A light lunch was served after the service. Norma Manankil brought a tasty dish to add to what we had prepared as did some of those who were present. I believe Elsie Sy-Niebar, his former colleague in Via Times came as well and so did Hermie’s bosom friend, Flory Gloss, who was in tears for not finding the time to bring him fresh flowers. She knew how Hermie would have loved them. I remember Marilyn Lopez among the ones that came despite the short notice and the distance she traveled from her house to Ting’s. And Elsa Castillo,too, she who firmly stood by him in his time of tribulation. There of course was his best friend Erica Montoya who fondly called him ‘Mother” and in whose talent Hermie had a lot of respect for. As part of his memorial, we all said something we remembered him by. It was obvious from his friends’ testimonials that Hermie left with them some pretty good memories of him.
A couple of years after his death, we can still look back to the time when he hosted parties at his place for a few close friends. A good cook and a natural artist, he regaled us with his delicious dishes and fancy table settings, complete with one or two gorgeous flower arrangements he ordered from Flory Gloss. He loved to show off his acquisitions – the beautiful paintings that hung on the walls of the long corridor leading to his kitchen and dining room. The lovely collection of ballerina Lladros, mirrors and antique pieces of furniture he had bought at auctions, perched in every nook and cranny of his home reflected this celebrated couturier’s natural talent for interior design.
Those were some of the good old days in Hermie’ life. Then the lean years came along. Suddenly, Chicago no longer offered him the excitement and challenge of living according to his standards as a much sought after designer. He moved back to California, a wise decision he might not have actually fully realized. Not long after his move, maybe a month or so, Hermie was hospitalized and died. The good part was, he didn’t die alone. Just as any loving family would do, his sisters and nieces in California tended to him from his sick bed to his final resting place.
Hermie Sanchez was many things to many people and a special person in many different ways to his friends. But he remained, to me, a deeply caring and sensitive friend who knew and understood my innermost feelings before anyone else did. I missed him dearly.
What prompted this sudden rush of nostalgic thoughts was a forwarded email I received from a friend a few weeks ago. It was this photo with the caption, “The Definition of a True Friend.” I found the picture quite amusing and lovely because first and foremost, little boys or girls always make good models. They are cute and adorable and whatever they do seems to always look sweet and charming. Beyond the cuteness, however, is an endearing character of the image that I found rather fascinating.
My fondness for the picture grew even more as I stared at it much longer until I thought it might generate light-hearted comments from readers if it’s published. So, published it, I did and along with the captioned picture, I asked the MegaScene readers to email us what they think of it, or, in the context of the caption, give us their own definition of a true friend. I told them their responses would be printed under “Voices,” a column I would have wanted to do on a regular basis if only we could get more people to connect with us. Sad to say, though it didn’t really surprise me, only two people sent their much appreciated brief responses.
There was G. Trabanca, who defined a true friend as someone who is ready to serve without counting the cost. He added that the picture reminded him of himself during his “good old” Boy Scout days, a cute boy who was always at the top performing the right hand salute. He thinks it’s cool. So do I.
Dr. Tom Bonzon of Richmond, VA emailed his favorite definitions of a true friend. The first one goes, “A true friend is like a good book, the inside is better than the cover.” The second definition is as much a keeper as the first, “A true friend will strengthen you with his prayers, bless you with his love, and encourage you with his hope.” Dr. Bonzon is the personification of both descriptions.
In retrospect, more than twenty years of publishing a community paper gave Bart and me some colorful memories and countless opportunities to meet people from all walks of life. We made close friends with some of them, good friends with several of them and plain acquaintances with many others. We had minor clashes with a few, mended fences with the others and just stayed away from a few who are least likely to embrace our friendship just as we would never embrace theirs. Nevertheless, time and again I’ve expressed in writing my endless appreciation of God’s blessings of a loving family and countless precious friends. There’s not enough space here for their names and the stories of genuine friendship we wove together. It’s enough that we know a special bond exists between us and in the absence of words, our spirits meet and recognize what is sincerely in our hearts.