77 Well-Lived Years: Remembering Adolfo “Rudy” Ortigoza Agra
July 22, 1941 - November 26, 2018

I’m sure most of you know me, but for those who don’t, I’m Lizzie, the eldest and only daughter. As my brother said last night, I’m the smart one, while he is the good looking one. My dad was my very best friend and this is my summary of his 77 well-lived years. 

On July 22, 1941 in Pila, Laguna, Philippines, Adolfo Ortigoza Agra was born to Paterno and Feliza Agra. He grew up in Masapang and attended elementary school and St. Anthony Academy in Pila. He went on to graduate from Araneta University in Malabon, Manila with a bachelor’s degree in Agriculture and Animal Husbandry. 

Throughout those years, my dad was a steady constant in my Lolo’s fields, growing tons of rice and cultivating his lifelong love of the agricultural arts. 

My dad was a dreamer. A few years ago, we were admiring some prime real estate and he said to me, “Don’t stop dreaming, anak. I’m 73 years old and I still have dreams.” 

It was that attitude that led to his decision to join the US Navy in 1964. Dad had the desire for more opportunity than what was currently in front of him and when the land of promise called, he truly answered. He went on to serve the United States for 20 years, spending time all over, including Japan, Hawaii, Chicago, Michigan and San Francisco. He was a Vietnam War veteran and served onboard the USS Schofield, the USS Kansas City, the USS Talladega, the USS Samuel Gompers and the USS Midway. He humbly worked his way up from cook to petty officer first class. 

He did have a brief break in service to explore a dream of building a massive farm in Palawan. It wasn’t meant to be, but he always spoke fondly of his time there. I was able to visit Palawan earlier this year and when I called him from the island, he encouraged me, with a smile in his voice, to walk in his footsteps. 

In 1982, at the age of 41, dad met mom while on home leave through his friends Rico and Tessie Landan. They dated for two years, mainly through letters, and married in 1984. They actually had two weddings – the first in October at St. Anthony in their hometown and then again a month later in Reno at the Starlight Chapel. Dad’s favorite story from their courtship period is that my mom had “never been touched” and when he kissed her underneath the sampaloc tree in Caliraya, she cried. 

I came along in 1985 and through some well-executed campaigning by my aunt, was given my mom’s name choice instead of my dad’s suggestion of Lassie (thanks, Tita Grace). Raendy came two years later; his entrance into the world is a story my dad always loved telling. They were traveling across the Bay Bridge by ambulance towards the Army Letterman hospital in The Presidio, only to have to exit and pull over on the corner of then Army and Potrero Streets. As my dad liked to joke, “Your brother was born in the street.” 

In 1990, dad retired from the navy. We moved to Sacramento and dad did stints at Conoco Oil Refinery in Elk Grove and Sands Casino in Reno before landing in his second career home. He worked as a Building Equipment Mechanic for the Postal Service’s main processing facility in West Sacramento, humbly working his way up from custodian. He retired from the Postal Service at the age of 70. I know. The man was not afraid of enduring hard work. 

The 90s and the early 2000s were all about being a father. We had fun times in the Agra household, despite the fact that dad did not believe in cable television, nor having the newest video game system. It forced us to really use our imaginations, playing with “analog” toys like action figures and dolls… he even once had us fish for rubber bands in a tray of sand using BBQ skewers. Dad went to all of our sports games at school, even if he didn’t really understand the scoring system for a particular sport. He let us throw pool parties because he liked meeting our friends. Well, and he also liked us being at home versus being out gallivanting. 

In 2009, dad gave us a real scare. He had emergency triple bypass surgery within 24 hours of diagnosis. He was hospitalized at the VA Medical Center in San Francisco for almost two weeks and there are three very clear things I remember that time: 

The first – the hospital is located on top of a hill overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He spent hours looking out the window. One day, when he was looking extra pensive, he turned to me and said “Look at this million dollar view. I just needed to get really sick to enjoy it. <insert expletive>.” 

The second – he would tell anyone that the worst pain he’d ever felt was when they had to remove his drainage tube post-surgery since he couldn’t be anesthetized. At one point during the procedure, a nurse asked me to help him cooperate. They needed him to hum and hold his breath but he seemed to be confused at the request. I explained to the nurse that Filipinos don’t hum – we sing outloud – and then instructed my dad to sing with his mouth closed. He looked up at me, scowled, and barked, “why didn’t they just say that?!” And then he asked me to sing a song he knew so he could follow along. I went with Bayang Magiliw, the Philippine national anthem. 

The third – we have a really amazing support system and a tremendously awe-inspiring family. So many people held us up during that difficult time and those same people, plus more, have been our rocks these past two weeks. 

We consider the years after the surgery dad’s re-birth. He was renewed, turning interests into passions. 

He bought a house on acreage and created a small farm where he grew olives and bought a professional olive oil press to make his own oil. And then he gave it all away to family and friends. So he literally did all that work just because he wanted to. 

He bought an SLK, another Corvette and another Camaro. That’s right. I said another – twice. Dad liked to joke that he changed his car every time he changed his shirt. 

He took mom on numerous trips, including the Philippines, Hawaii, Mexico, Canada, Virginia, Minnesota and the Caribbean. 

And of course, in 2011, his came into his proudest role ever. He became a Lolo and discovered a whole new level of unconditional love. 

I also want to share some things about my dad that you may or may not already know. 

He was a loving husband, thoroughly enjoying his 34-year marriage with my mom. He showed his love by cooking for her, driving her everywhere and consistently checking things off her honey-do list. He wasn’t very good at being romantic. There was once a time, we were still living on Tidewind, when we were cleaning out a closet and found a delicate window-pane box with a small, odd shape inside. We all wondered what it was. After awhile, dad had a realization. He had hidden a flower corsage for mom for Valentine’s Day, and completely forgot about it. Last Monday, one of the last things he whispered was: “Honey, I love you.” 

Dad had the biggest heart and was generous beyond belief. He taught us to give whatever time, talent and treasure we could spare. He always told us “this is how we show our love.” He loved breaking bread together over finely grilled meat and a good Scotch. He looked forward to volunteering in the kitchen each Rec retreat and was so proud of his empty soup pots after each night of Simbang Gabi. He loved hosting parties to help people build stronger bonds and if there was a rare opportunity to spend quality time together, he’d gladly drive several hours to be with you and then stay up all night chatting. The time and effort in getting to know people was worth it to him, as evidenced by all of the faces in the room today. 

He was a tough-love dad who didn’t sugar coat anything. Ever: 

Once, I whined to him that I was so hungry and didn’t know what to do. He told me that there are only two types of people in this world who are hungry: broke people and lazy people. And then he asked me, “which one are you?” 

A couple of years ago I was really down and told him that I wanted to give up on my career and move back home. He told me I could do whatever I wanted with my life, but if I did decide to move back and realize later that it was a mistake, he hoped he’d already be dead so he wouldn’t have to hear me B-I-T-C-H about it. 

Luckily, his bark was always louder than his bite. 

Dad loved to complain. He once called me to complain about something that mom wanted him to do. I calmed him down by explaining to him that God only made one Corazon and that she was all his. He laughed and said, “yeah, I guess.” 

Dad rightfully earned the nickname MacGuyver as he could literally fix almost anything. Every time someone asked how he figured something out, he’d smile ear-to-ear, point to his head and say, “I used my brain.” 

He had a consistent list of favorites: deli sandwiches and soup of the day, muscle cars, Hawaiian shirts, action movies, Reader’s Digest and National Geographic. So now you know what to eat, drive, wear, watch or read whenever you miss him.

My dad went by many names in his lifetime: Anak, Rody, Rudy, Kuya, PO1 Agra, Honey, Dad, Ninong, Tito, Toti, Uncle, Don Senor, and I think his most cherished title of all: Lolo. 

On behalf of my mom, Cora, my brother, Raendy, my sister-in-law, Irene and their babies, RJ, Iliana and Romeo and our entire family – we thank all of you for being there for us these past couple of weeks and for being here today to help us celebrate 77 very well-lived years. 

Eternal rest grant unto Adolfo, O Lord. And may perpetual light shine upon him. May he rest in peace.