an email from Paolo Manlapaz
Jonnel was a quiet, simple, unassuming person. He didn't stand out in a crowd or draw attention to himself. He may have looked timid, but if you pierced that disguise, you'd find that he could be fiery and passionate about many things.
During our elementary and high school years, I would often spend weekends with Jonnel, either at his Malabon or Xavierville residence. Day and night, we'd fight ninja warriors in Legend of Kage, listen to When In Rome's The Promise, and walk around Virramall in Greenhills. We'd go through his stacks of Teen Titans, watch veritechs dogfight on Robotech, and strafe Kilrathi ships in Wing Commander. We'd drink those pulpy Japanese orange drinks that came in aluminum cans. We'd draw (hopefully) like Ryoichi Ikegami. When we'd play with miniatures, we'd make ridiculous battle sound effects. It was all simple, honest fun and it didn't get better than that.
Over the last few years, his Hobby Cafe came to reflect his life. In it, he created a place where he merged the things that he loved the most. There was Tita Pining, chatting with his friends. There was his fiance, Jaimie, by his side. There he was, commanding his Warhammer army against Jeff or Owen's troops. He offered networked computer games like Counterstrike and Starcraft. He sold Magic the Gathering cards, Samurai X anime videos, Dungeons and Dragons rulebooks, and Mage Knight miniatures. He created a place where he could share his joys and passions with family and friends. He made a business out of his pleasure.
On Saturdays, I would make is a point to pass by Hobby Cafe, even if just to say hello. During my last visit there, I saw him talking with some people and proudly showing off some of his wares. He called me over, "Pao! Mechwarrior!", referring to a new collectable miniatures game. He grinned at me, sensing a sale like the Hero Clix I bought from him two months ago. I laughed, "Maybe next time, buddy. I need to save up a bit. I gotta run, but I'll see you later, okay?" He nodded but when I came back two hours later, he had already left Hobby Cafe.
On Monday morning, I received a call from a friend, informing me of the tragedy that had befallen Jonnel.
I do not know why this happened to him, but I would like to think that, at the time, God acquired a large shipment of Warhammer and Mechwarrior miniatures. I would like to think that He needed someone to paint His figures and command His miniature armies. I would like to think that He called Jonnel to run the Great Hobby Cafe in the Sky. In Jonnel, He couldn't have picked a better person.
Jonnel, my friend, I keep my promises. When my time here is done, I'll see you up there. You can teach me Mechwarrior and blitz me off the field with your Jupiter mech. I'll see you later, okay? Okay.
Jonnel Apolonio Mendiola (March 22, 1972 - September 22, 2002)