“Arth”

At 1:22 a.m., on a humid bud of a Thursday, it started quite odd, writing on the opposite of what I am. But it got quite easy soon enough, thankfully, writing on things I am not.

Things about A.A. Pedro (Arthur Aguinsod Pedro). About a work ethic tucked tight into a character as solid as it can ever get. About selfless acts a single Service Award would fail to capture. About, most of all, a good friend.

So, who is Forester A.A. Pedro, or Arth, a tad middle-aged Sagada fellow, of Barangay Tawang, La Trinidad?

Chiefly, Arth is, our Eco Officer (Admin Officer V).

You think of Tree-Planting, Communal Forests, Waste Segregation, Recycling, Balili River in need of transfusion, LT Air in need of CPR, and those Carless Thursdays – and you see him.

You see him and will see a man who walks straight, a slight scapula stoop, a steady gaze. A moving bronze monument. Who is his own light. Who has depth and enough common sense to keep it kept. Whose self-assured gait springs from knowing he’s doing things right, except perhaps Tiktok dance. From having found his cadence (once, the Corps Commander) and boldly taking it.

But mostly, Arth’s our All-Around Go-to Guy.

You want a thing done, he’s your man.

For – what sets him apart: While the lot of replies to an endorsed task may range from: a. Wait, mabi-it, saglit b. A Tepid Excuse c. An Inward Cuss d. An Outright Rejection – from him, you end up with his default e. An Eager Response.

It’s as though he embraces it, and the more exacting, the better. And he sure does love a puzzle, and acts on it, more so. In a world of our-ness, i.e., our needs, our wants, our demands – he is a man after your own heart, a ready smile. Always, sincere.

Dead-tired, he goes out of his way to visit an ailing friend, to help the bereaved arrange a wake…deliver food; assist in paper work; and hand those loans, both giver and given know will never get paid…you name it.

Mindful of Team Work, he knows his gifts and, yet, doesn’t hesitate to seek help.  So, fellow personnel became a Team – Zombie, “On the Move.” And became a Pandemic sensation. Even more special, a lifetime of friendship sealed by understanding and trust.

And you’ll help want to him. Hell, I’ll go to war with him.

Because, foremost, perhaps, he shows up: Pre-Mid-Post Pandemic. In whipping rain, among fallen trees, with rope and a chainsaw. In empty virus-stricken streets and empty halls, with sprayer and a bunny suit. In a post-Festival clean up.

Even today, when wheezing for air, he does what he can. “I’d rather work than think sad thoughts alone in my room,” he once told me. (The irony isn’t lost on me, trust me.) In other words, he’d rather work “than Self-PT.” (That’s Uncle Mike Bengwayan’s joke, right there.)

As lengthy as this is, it likewise fails to capture the man that he is. And I assure you, there’s nothing remotely Brokebackesque about this. Though he’s wisely hushed about it, we do share something I’d, too, be wise not to share here.

The point is, these days, I’m inclined to think Soc Med has made us more jittery than appreciative, hooked on things that annoy than inspire. So, for instance, 1^st Honors goes to our garbage – rather than the devoted Bantay Basura Advocate – when even that is easy enough to segregate.

So, Fu that. Here’s Arth.

A fortnight ago, Arth dropped by my cave for a visit. Arth understands my curious ways. Gets my writing quirks. But doesn’t play judge. The irony is: That’s where it gets to bite the most. To kill with kindness. For, you don’t beat a caveman senseless with a thorny club. Not when he’s stuck deep in the mud.

He dropped by with grapes and bananas.

“Have to go, bos,” he said. “Will check on Alno (garbage dumpsite).”

I mutter a quick prayer for his health.

Arth leaves, for the door, but never left, at all.