IT is said that when God wanted to separate light from darkness, day and night were created. When media men had a similar itch, they simply bonded together. Since then, one can count the press clubs that were organized, sued, demolished, resurrected till one grew gray hair.
Just gather them together and put all the brain power in one room, without starting a world war would make the parting of the Red Sea a walk in the park.
Men do not live on bread alone. They also live by the news. Public officials and politicians are not supposed to love journalists, because they are speed bumps in their otherwise smooth ground to being thought of as flawless human beings.
The Consul General came swathed in a barong, no blush, no bluster, no braggadocio but a beguiling mixture of dignity and wit. He replied to media questions in a sanctuary of calmness, echoing President Aquino whom he represents, almost sacrosanct values slightly playful, and extremely intelligent, the best instrument of seduction. Conversation sparkled, not a cauldron of serious discussion addressed, but an exchange of banter. Afterall, as Ka Larry Pelayo (Our dean of reporters) anguished, the get together, getting to know you was a nine month wait, before it finally happened.
The LA media stopped, watched, stayed, and even asked the irrepressible question: “Sir, have you ever lied to the press?” Deniability was smoothly parried with other relatively tame questions, in a tremendous surge of wit and brilliance as the crowd roared. Consul General Leo Herera Lim was an intrepid lawyer before he went to public off.
As the “meet and greet” flourished and conversation sparkled, the Con Gen was suddenly everybody’s buddy. He listened attentively to each one, receiving praise, suggestions, even demands. His handshake inspired like an anointing touch and the photo op bordered on excitement, especially among the various press club members, in this biggest media party in the last nine months.
But it was the photographers collective demand for the time tested, unarguable entitlement, which garnered the rule of the assemblage. When we were asked to smile and show more molars and tonsils, we obeyed. Dictated to sit, put our feet together, compress sideways, frontways or back up, we followed. With photographers on the scene the print paper, had no prayer. The photos were the message.
