Ernie ‘Bido’ Verdadero: A Friend Like No Other

When someone we know dies, the natural thing we do is to remember the person and the memories associated with him/her. We allow the deceased to live in our memories, and that’s how significantly important memories are in one’s life. Memories last and, in times of pain, they can be a source of strength.

When my bosom friend Boy Claro informed me that Ernie Verdadero had passed away on August 5, my memory of Ernie when he visited my family in Seattle eighteen years ago in July 2006 flashed in my mind, and I felt a sadness that cut deep.

Ernie, fondly called Bido by his close friends, took what Seattle could offer with a keen insight and a sense of wonder. He was struck in awe by the downtown view of Seattle from the top of the 605 feet observation tower of the Space Needle, a Seattle landmark. He found the Carlos Bulosan memorial exhibit in the International District historically informative. He was impressed by the diversity of regalia, dances, and traditions within the various Native American tribes, which he experienced when my wife and I took him to the yearly powwow at the Discovery Park. Oh, yes, we visited the Chapel of St. Ignatius in Seattle University, whose scale model of the building is in the permanent collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

I have known Bido since we were classmates in high school at the Ateneo de Naga way back in 1962. We both came from small towns. He was from Milaor; I was from Sipocot. He became a PMT officer; I made it to the softball varsity team. We partied together, exchanged notes on who our crushes were, and must have learned how to drink Tanduay and smoke Newport at the same time.

After we graduated from high school in 1966, Bido went to UP Los Banos while I entered the Jesuit-run San Jose Seminary in Quezon City. After a two-year stint in UP Los Banos, Bido transferred to the University of Nueva Caceres (UNC) where he earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in English while I studied at the Ateneo de Manila as part of my Jesuit formation.

When I immigrated with my family to the United States in the early 1980s, Bido had already settled in Naga where, as a radio commentator, he soothed his listeners with a mix of common sense and social awareness. A politician by choice, he was elected vice mayor of Milaor twice and was appointed mayor when the incumbent mayor resigned.

For more than 15 years since I left Naga in the early 1980s, I never saw Bido although I would occasionally hear from common friends how he quickly involved himself in local politics. Thus, when he had the opportunity to visit Seattle in 2006, I was super excited to see and host him.

Bido’s four-day visit to Seattle led me to discover something beautiful and precious in him that I never knew before. He struck me as a thinker whose knowledge of contemporary Bikol history was almost impeccable. His understanding of the Bikolano traits and characteristics was worthy of admiration. He could converse on any topic, from contemporary history to even his youthful indiscretions (pun intended), from the whereabouts of former Ateneans to well-known personalities in local politics. As if on cue from the late Fr. James O’Brien, SJ, who instructed his students at the Ateneo de Naga to appreciate, consciously promote, and propagate the Bikol culture, Bido would speak of Bikol and everything that it encompasses with the same passion and love that I saw in Fr. O’Brien.

Bido’s love for the Bikol language was the beat of his life. “This is where it all begins,” Bido once told me, as he emphatically stressed why he continued to write in Bikol, while most of his fellow journalists wrote in English.

A collection of his articles in Bicol Mail, where he had a regular column before his passing, has now been immortalized in a book Ini an Totoo. He was an accomplished writer who used his gift with words to influence his countless readers.

Despite his success as a media personality, he remained a simple guy, unsophisticated in many ways, in my opinion. I did not agree with him on some of his political positions, but he respected my political stand. Thus, we could engage in a fruitful conversation and remain friends.

Bido’s many accomplishments never overshadowed the most important aspect of his life – that of being a friend. Bido was an amazing friend. When he was in Seattle, I noticed he was always on the phone contacting his friends, former classmates, and fellow members of Sarong Banggi, a fraternity of Bikolnon that he was an active member until his death. He found satisfaction in reconnecting with and telling his horde of friends that he was in town and wishing them the best. He was fond of making his friends feel good and giving them importance.

One of my memories of Bido was when he would warmly welcome me and my family every time we were in Naga for a visit. Distance did not really diminish the quality of our friendship. He would always go out of his way to meet with me and would always arrange, without my knowing it, that I meet some other friends we both knew. That’s just the kind of caring friend he was.

I would be remiss in this article if I do not mention that Bido was the one who introduced me to the late Nilo Aureus to write for Bicol Mail more than 15 years ago. Why he did it, I really did not know. And I did not ask. I can only guess that he had a special ability to make a person like me feel heard and valued. And for that show of support and confidence, I will forever be grateful to him.

Bido would often tell me facetiously – and even wrote about it – that in high school I was one of the favorites of the late Fr. James O’Brien, SJ, and he was not. Well, let me tell you, Bido, that at the prodding of Fr. O’B, the angels and the saints have prepared a banquet for you in Heaven “for fighting the good fight, for finishing the race and for keeping the faith.” Ini an Totoo.