Paquito, as he was called by his family and close friends, was born on December 11, 1924 to Dr. Pedro Villa and Angela Agrava. Although short, the source of this story about our father growing up comes from his sister Lilia Villa O’Toole, who lived in a suburb of Boston.  It was early winter in 1995 in New York City when I received a call from our father in Manila.  He told me that Aunt Lily, his sister had been missing from her home in Bridgewater, Massachusetts. He sounded really worried which was understandable since she was his only living sister. His two brothers, Uncle Bobby and Uncle Ben, had both passed away a long time ago. His younger sister, Aunt Cynthia, recently lost her battle to leukemia.

I immediately made a few calls to some of the police precincts surrounding Bridgewater. By some stroke of luck, the officer who answered my call knew Lily Villa O’ Toole. It turned out that her husband, Uncle Edward, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s disease often wandered away from their home. Each time this happened, Aunt Lily would call the police to report him missing. The police officer then gave me the hospital address where my Aunt Lily was brought to when she fell ill at her home, alone. So off to Boston I drove.

It was my first time to meet her. Actually, it was her first time to meet one of us, meaning the children of our father. It was a long time ago, even before most of us were born, when she left Manila to marry her American husband in Massachusetts. And she never went back to Manila, even to visit. I only saw her in pictures and knew her only through her letters to us when we were younger. It was just so bad that it was only because she was missing that I thought of visiting her.

It was bittersweet meeting her in that nursing home in Brockton, Massachusetts. It was sad because Aunt Lily was not well, and sweet because I was given a chance to meet the woman we knew growing up, as the aunt who sent us presents from America. And I was now meeting her for the first time.  She would tell me stories about our father, stories that I was hearing for the first time.

Angela Agrava, His Mother

The story goes back to the time when our grandmother married Dr. Pedro Villa. The Agravas, who were as aristocratic as the Spaniards who occupied our country for the longest time, did not approve of her choice. This was because he was not of the same class and lacked the physical features of a Spaniard. At that time, Spanish mestizas, as they were called, were considered superior and thus belonged to the upper class of society. As a result, she was cut off from any inheritance from the family. She was only given a small amount of money that she used to open a small pharmacy in Tondo, Manila. Aunt Lily did not elaborate on this story, except to say that the pharmacy did not flourish as a business enterprise. Instead they ended up giving out medicine to the poor considering that Tondo was already an impoverished place at that time.

Dr. Pedro Villa, His Father

Dr. Pedro Villa was the first Filipino officially designated city veterinarian of Manila from 1938 to 1954. He was in charge of meat inspection.  In one of his inspections, he rejected a batch of meat that belonged to some powerful people. In retaliation, they accused him of accepting bribes. He was then stripped of his position even before he was found guilty in the court of law.  His reputation was ruined by stories written in the newspaper. However by some stroke of luck, President Ramon Magsaysay got a handle on this story and conducted his own investigation. He found out that our grandfather was innocent of all charges.

His First Day in School

The young Paquito was asked to introduce himself in front of his class, just like everybody else during the first day of school. He told them that he was born on December 7 and that he was 11 years old. After school, he was asked by his mother about his first day in school. He told her what he said about his age and birthday. His mother then noticed his mistake and corrected him. He was born December 11 and was 7 years old at that time. His mother then asked him to correct himself in front of class the next day. However, he was so worried that his classmates would think he lied so he decided not to say anything. Aunt Lily told this story to point out our father’s concern about his credibility at an early age.

A Guerilla in Bulacan

When I was growing up, I noticed some thick scars on my father’s chest. Every time we asked him about it, he would joke about it. He said that he was wounded trying to escape from the Japanese soldiers when he was imprisoned inside the Intramuros. We knew he was joking. However, little did we know that there was a real story behind these scars.

The family moved to Bulacan during the Japanese occupation. While living in Bulacan, our father joined the guerillas who fought side by side the Americans against the Japanese. One day, the Japanese got hold of some information about our father being a guerilla and that his group had guns hidden somewhere. He ended up being chased by some bayonet-wielding Japanese soldiers ready to kill him. In true James Bond fashion, he ran for his life and dived into the river, but not before he could dump all the firearms that they had. He then swam to safety to the other end. They never saw him again until the end of the Japanese occupation.