Wednesday, March 12, 2008 Mercado: Charade and Disguise By Ram Mercado First Person
WITH this piece, this column will bear my "latest" photo. It is a recognizable replica of the devil to forewarn persons of interest on my true identity.
I have been using the discarded portrait (in reverse etching) for the past eight years which enabled me to avoid arrest for misdemeanor as law enforcers, including the balut vendor to whom I owe a dozen unpaid eggs, found it difficult recognizing me by means of the old photo as appearing in the First Person column.
I suspect my rivals in beer joints harbor quiet resentment for my charade -- the usage of photo taken a decade ago and being used for dubious purposes like non-disclosure of identity.
Starting this issue, my recent photograph, as shown, will now be used unless I commit a felonious act, which would require its replacement for obvious reasons. In which case a cartographic sketch of the culprit may suffice.
The old photo in the column saw me through adventures and misadventures. Hardly recognizable as a senior citizen, the old picture has led me to several capers, and embarrassing moments, too.
As a concession to age, perhaps, GM Jun Sula had tolerated the use of a portrait of a younger rascal in the column. He chose the title of the opinion corner, too, compelling me to write mostly personal -- formally called -- familiar essays.
It was an act of vanity on my part: to present to Sun.Star readers a young, pleasant looking, and likeable image. I have grown older since then, and more, honest, too, so I decided to get rid of the veiled half disguise which enabled me to move around incognito in unlikely places. Sometimes it pays to be mistaken for somebody else; at others it is catastrophic.
A few young female pals developed through texting who made "eyeball" contact thought probably I was more or less their age with my column picture. I could see their utter disappointment, which they tried to subdue in great effort when they met me in person.
To assure them of their safety, I presented a fake birth certificate (a ploy taught me by Tony Brown). Seeing the wrinkles and heavy laugh lines despite gallons of Olay in the morning and Obagi cream at night they insisted in leaving too soon citing previous engagements. This is an excuse by people not to meet you. I had to frighten them with a Writ of Amparo to calm them down.
Not too long ago, while presenting a Sun.Star check for encashment at a local branch bank, and with only my name and photo appearing in my column, the lady cashier demanded a valid ID. Later, after a lengthy dialogue, she apologetically explained "Akala ko kayo si Jess Malabanan" (Ngek!)
One time I went to a garment factory inside Clark for an interview with the manager. The guard in the front gate refused me entry. He asked, "Di ba kayo si Robling Sanchez?" (Double Ngek!)
I am not adverse to being mistaken for Malabanan, a famous reporter covering Camp Olivas; and Robling Sanchez, renowned tabloid photographer. My perceived resemblance with them is partly hearsay under circumstantial evidence.
I must confess that the younger-looking photo, during self-hypnosis, inspires me to a creative urge and a power of dynamic thoughts. That's the game of make-believe.
People, indeed, newspaper readers specially, catalogue human beings, including columnists, by their appearance. Generally they can guess character traits as reflected by one's picture.
I will now discard the studied disguise, and with it the feeling of self-confidence, imagined freshness and vitally emanating from a photo not reflective of the real scoundrel. Multi-awarded broadcaster Perry Pangan is one person who can easily see through pretensions. Merely by one's voice during an interview at DWRW, Perry can determine if one is a phony and can guess, too, by one's inflection and consonant sounds, the guest's net worth or insolvency.
With my latest picture showing the real dog that had his day, I may start discovering treasures of old age with its experience, curiosity, wonder and henpecked status as the case may be. The new photo is my passbook to a "second childhood", in solidarity with senior citizens who have yet to try to discover, explore, and cherish mundane excitement plus a little senile misery by playing charade.
Age really shows up no matter how a man poses. The truth is often times one ends looking like the cartographic sketch of rape suspect, or in a bad day, like a victim of domestic (female) violence.
