‘Diaristang sosyal’ and Makiling

TWO STORIES in yesterday’s issue struck me, not only because they held rich human interest, but also because they reminded me of family members.

Tooling around in an ukay-ukay tie, starched shirt and cap on his second-hand bike, “diaristang sosyal” Carlos Antolo is surely a sight to see on the streets of Lucena. I can imagine how his customers must have been taken aback by this middle-aged man dressed like a bureaucrat or businessman delivering their newspapers. He must have struck them as a lunatic, a buffoon or a pretentious prig. But as he tells correspondent Delfin Mallari, the get-up may have begun as a “gimmick” to help him stand out from the crowded field of newsboys, but today it is his way of putting “respect and dignity to newspaper vending no matter how lowly it is in the eyes of other people.”

Antolo is a man after my own heart. And his dedication to his work, his sense of self-worth and importance, remind me of my brother Manny who worked part-time delivering newspapers until shortly before his death.

As a migrant to the United States determined to support his two children, Manny took on any and all jobs necessary. His main “gig” was as a driver with the Latvian Embassy in Washington, D.C., but to supplement his earnings, he would wake up before dawn every day to pick up stacks of newspapers and deliver them to suburban homeowners, oftentimes with the help of his son Rocky.

In fact, Rocky recalls one early winter morning when their car plowed into a snow drift and they were forced to deliver the papers by foot. But Manny’s dedication paid off, getting hundreds of dollars in tips from his customers each Christmas.

I doubt if my brother thought to put on a coat and tie just to drop off newspapers, but I am sure he felt much the same way as the “diaristang sosyal,” seeing his sideline as not just a good way to earn something extra, but also as a means of satisfying his customers’ “hunger for news.”

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THE FEATURE on the Philippine High School for the Arts in Mt. Makiling, Laguna, reminded me of the time my daughter declared, shortly after graduating from grade school, that she was going to apply for a slot in “Makiling.”

She was then seriously into ballet, and wanted to go for the dance program, while also nursing the hope that she could be admitted into the creative writing course. We her parents were all for encouraging her creative side, but were apprehensive about letting a 13-year-old live so far from home.

On the day of the qualifying exams and interviews, we got up before dawn and I drove her all the way to Makiling, where we found parents and students from all around the country waiting anxiously for the tests to begin. When the applicants were finally called into a classroom, I strolled around the school, dropping by the dorms and classrooms (housed in individual huts) and even the performance space with a breath-taking backdrop of the view from the mountaintop.

I couldn’t help being taken in by the beauty and serenity of the place, and envied my daughter for spending her youth in such a peaceful locale—if she passed muster, that is.

My daughter was quiet when she finally emerged from the test, and when I asked her what she had to do, she shared that one of the required exercises was to gaze upon a still life arrangement of fruits and flowers and write a poem about it.

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IN THE next few weeks, I was torn between praying that she be accepted into Makiling and that she wouldn’t make it. I knew she should take every chance she should get to broaden her horizons and challenge herself. But to live away from home at 13? My daughter may have been prepared for it—or told herself that she was—but neither her father nor mother were mentally or emotionally ready.

So it was with some relief, and also a bit of guilt, that we learned that she didn’t make the cut-off. With less turmoil than I expected, my daughter went on to high school at Community of Learners, ballet classes with Lisa Macuja at Ballet Manila, and staying home with us.

Some of her friends were eventually accepted at Makiling, at both the creative writing course and dance, and I remember one of her grade school friends launching a book of poetry upon her graduation from Makiling. I had forgotten about my daughter’s dream of Makiling until the article brought all the memories back. One never knows where the road of life will take us, but when we chance upon a fork in the road, we can only trust that the path we choose or is given us will take us to the right place.

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SUMMER MAY be the best time to put on your travel shoes and explore our beautiful country. But it is an even better time to write about your experiences and pitch your articles to editors and “Jumpstart Your Freelance Writing Career.”

That’s the name of an upcoming workshop organized by Writer’s Block, founded by three women freelancers who all left lucrative positions in publishing, public relations and even banking to explore the freedom and flexibility afforded by a freelance writing career.

“Jumpstart Your Freelance Writing Career 4.0” takes place April 30 and May 1, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. at Powerbooks Greenbelt 3, in Makati.

The two-day workshop takes participants through the why’s, what’s, where’s and how’s of freelance writing and is participant-focused, helping you find your writing voice to better identify and maximize available writing opportunities. “Jumpstart” will help equip you with the necessary tools and information to get started, as well as debunk myths that can get in the way of freelancing success.

Workshop fee is P4,000, but you may avail of the early-bird rate of P3,600 until April 15 only. Email writersblock.ph@gmail.com or call (0927) 850-8280 for inquiries.