One downside of being among “the new young old” is the gradual disappearance of one’s friends—either because they have retired from their jobs, moved to the province or less accessible places or, in the worst case scenario, fallen victim to the Grim Reaper.
Since the dominance of social media, the internet—and not the obituary page—is now the main venue of such sad news as death. It is a bit chilling to realize that, like watching a film in slow motion, one’s stroke, falling into a coma, removal of respiratory tubes and passing away can be covered in real time by the breathless reporting of one’s friends or associates, as has happened to a dear friend of mine recently.
Cutting edge
This was not the case some eight years ago when, on Aug. 7, 2009, Reynaldo G. Alejandro of Manila and New York passed away. Alejandro was a writer who was always on the cutting edge, so he may have appreciated from a theoretical level today’s manner of communicating news.
Today’s millennials may not know who he was, but those who do will remember him as a cultural pioneer who made people in the Big Apple sit up and recognize the Philippines as a country of interest.
Ronnie or Ronois (pronounced “ronwa”) to his friends was a man with a plan for his daily life and, one could say, for his entire existence. A true workaholic, his OC (obsessive-compulsive) personality enabled him to accomplish his life goals, among them to finish 40 publications in his lifetime, and to put the Philippines on the map in New York City.
When he passed away, he had succeeded at both goals, working in the diverse fields of dance and choreography, cuisine, Philippine nontangible heritage and cultural history. Yet, he did all this with grace and good humor; rarely, if ever, did one see him in a temper or in bad humor.
Whenever one met Ronnie, he had just finished one project and was about to proceed to another one. On one occasion when I met him, he had just arrived on a flight from Manila and was already on his way to the New York Public Library to complete his research for a book that he was working on. Like a native New Yorker, he would use a speed bike to arrive from place to place, even though the subway system could easily have served him as well. Not a minute to waste, if he could help it.
Crowded domain
His domain was appropriately centered on his apartment in 160 Bleecker St., Apt 56W in Greenwich Village, which was chockfull of his books and collections. It had everything from a huge framed watercolor of himself by artist Nonon Padilla, framed Muslim textiles, gongs and artifacts to santo carvings, memorabilia and plants galore. One could see the Chrysler Building, way up in Manhattan, through one window, or glimpse down onto the street the hustle and bustle of the Village.
It had a crowded but neat aspect when I first visited him in 1982, but toward the end of his life, it was rumored that only a narrow path remained in his flat through which to negotiate his formidable collection. His friend Nelson Navarro remembered that, reflecting his open nature, Ronnie always kept his door unlocked.
It was here where he probably incubated his ideas on what aspects of Philippine culture he could focus on. Ronnie had been a Bayanihan dancer as well as a graduate of Library Science from the University of the Philippines. He drew from both backgrounds to write a groundbreaking book, “Philippine Dance: Mainstream and Crosscurrents,” in 1978.
For this, he got raves from such critics as Anna Kisselgoff of the New York Times, who praised his “gift for choreography for women,” and Lillie F. Rosen of Dance News for his “projecting vigorous life and emotion.” One of his proteges was the ballerina Maniya Barredo, who stated that “he gave with no expectation—only the reward of sharing.”
Philippine cuisine
Perhaps, realizing that organizing the Philippine Dance Company and teaching the rigodon de honor for Pinoy events would not be enough to sustain him, he became a librarian at the New York Public Library to sustain himself.
He then turned his attention to a hitherto neglected aspect of Philippine culture—cuisine. Turning his tiny apartment into a venue for focusing on Philippine cooking, he had the daring to invite food critic Craig Claiborne for a degustacion à la Philippine. Claiborne observed that “Mr. Alejandro is a young man of many talents… an excellent and dedicated cook… the soul of hospitality.”
With his aim of “putting the Philippines on the culinary map of the world,” he then published “The Philippine Cookbook” in 1982 and “Flavor of Asia” in 1984. If Philippine cuisine is now hailed in culinary circles around the world, it was due to these first steps at projecting it as a distinct cuisine in the ’80s.
Using his familiarity and exposure to the archives of the New York Public Library, he also wrote “The Culinary Collection of the New York Public Library,” “Classic Menus of the New York Public Library” and “Restaurant Design” (with Lily O’Boyle).
He would experiment and test his recipes in some of his friends’ larger kitchens, and came out with some of his own creations, such as chicken Mindanao and Malacañang salad. His entrepreneurial side also lent itself to catering, which led to one memorable dinner at my residence where I had invited Ambassador and Ms Sedfrey Ordoñez with writers Luis Francia, Jessica Hagedorn, and Ninotchka Rosca.
Book collaborations
By the ’90s, Ronnie had established himself as a Pinoy New Yorker writer (although he pretended to bristle when he was referred to as “the doyen”), and published “The Pinoy Guide to the Big Apple” with Gloria Syquia in 1992, as well as “Pinoyork: The Filipino Americans in New York” in 1998.
He collaborated with Josephine L. Hermano in 1999 on a tome called “Lamesa: The Filipino Table,” and with Marla Yotoko Chorengel on “Pasko: Philippine Christmas” and its offshoot, “Philippine Christmas Art and Form.”
With Vicente Roman Santos, he would produce “Flowers of Baguio” in 2001, “Tahanan: A House Reborn” in 2003, “Parol: Philippine Christmas Lantern” in 2003, “Inukit: Preserved, Carved Fruits and Vegetables” in 2005, “Kiping: Ornamental, Edible Rice Wafer” in 2005, and “Pabalat, Pastillas Wrappers” in 2003.
Under Unilever’s sponsorship, he wrote with Krip Yuson the books “Pasig, River of Life,” “Laguna de Bay, The Living Lake” and “Manila Bay, Crossroads of Asia.”
He still maintained his connection to cuisine by publishing with Nancy Reyes-Lumen “The Adobo Book: Traditional and Jazzed Up Recipes” in 2004 and “The Food of the Philippines” in 2005.
It seemed he could never run out of ideas, as he also wrote about stamps (“Selyo: Philippine History in Postage Stamps,” 2000); beauty (“Magandang Filipina: Beauty for Life” and “Beautiful Filipina”); fiestas (“Fiesta! Fiesta!”) and various provinces (“Buglas: Oriental Negros” and “The Beautiful and Estilo Ilonggo”—still a work in progress at the time of his passing).
Sprightly spirit
He did not allow his deteriorating health condition to interfere with his grand plan. He was active to the very end, coming down from his apartment to have an ice cream cone with me at the Italian gelateria downstairs. His sprightly spirit and bubbling good humor were still intact, as they had been in earlier days.
His generosity and kindness were reciprocated by those friends who gladly attended to him in his last years. One of them discovered him in a yoga position when he was found dead one morning in his New York flat, indicating that he had planned to take his last breath with courage and equanimity.
But he was a man with a plan to the very end. I was to receive an invitation to his memorial in Manila with a beautifully prepared booklet summarizing his achievements and recording some of his friends’ memories of him, in an envelope that seemed to have been addressed by him personally in his own script.
Ronnie, you had the last word indeed!
