Jeff Stern: Over the Edge For Love, Against Cancer

By Marivir R. Montebon

It was to be Jeff Stern's thrill of a lifetime: to rappel 470 feet of building in Jersey City in memory of his wife Marlene Stern (NaFFAA CT State Chairperson and FilAm Global Community Advocate) who passed away after a 7 ½ month battle with pancreatic cancer (12/13/58 – 02/17/11) and brother-in-law Joe Perez who succumbed to lymphoma on June 1, 2012.

Both deaths had a significant impact on Jeff and left a void in his life as well as that of his two children, Kenneth, who currently plays rugby for the Philippine National Rugby Team (The Volcanoes), and Elizabeth, who is currently in college and former Philippine National Figure Skating Champion. The rappelling fund raiser seemed a meaningful cause and an outlet for the pain of their loss.

Family and friends cheered Jeff from start to finish, and obviously growing wilder when he was about to land and finally landed. Jeff, a businessman and resident of Connecticut, scaled down in about 14minutes, one of the fastest of the participants.

"Where you scared doing that? What were you thinking while you were up there?" I asked. "No. I wasn't scared. I only thought, get down, get down," he laughed. Rappelling is a game of will, just going over the edge, first and foremost, of course.  Secondary to it is one's physical ability to stabilize oneself with one hand, and to hold down descender using the other.

Jeff said his arms have hardened while rappelling. Extending his arms up, he smiled and grimaced at the same time, "I need a massage." "Would you do it again next year," I asked again. "Yes!" he said quickly, and his team of cheerers screamed once again. GO JEFF GO!!!

The OVER THE EDGE rappel for cancer was more than a stunt, of course.  There were about 120 more who braved the Harborside Financial Center Plaza 5 that sunny September 29 morning by the Hudson River, all in the memory or honor of their loved ones. It raised funds for the research work of the American Cancer Society as it continues to find breakthroughs against the cloak of death by cancer. Participants had to raise at least $1200 to be able to rappel that weekend. Jeff’s team raised over $22,000. Jersey City Mayor, Jerramiah Healy, event and congratulated the organizers for having raised a quarter of a million dollars that weekend.

As far as cancer is concerned, there is so much fighting and persistence needed. More research must be done to effectively curb the ascending mortality it brings worldwide.

Frankly, there is not a rosy picture as far as cure is concerned. Cancer remains the most treacherous of all diseases. For women, breast cancer remains the no. one killer, followed by uterine corpus, and colon and rectum.  For men, it is prostate, colon and rectum cancer, and melanoma.

There is an estimated 13.7 million Americans with a history of cancer, the American Cancer Society data showed. Breast cancer continues to be the site where survivorship is highest, at 41%, projected in the span of ten years, from 2012-2022. However, the colon and rectum cancers is projected to have slim survivorship at 8% for the same time period. Hence the need for intensive researches for cure and prevention.

The American Cancer Society has spearheaded fundraisers such as Over the Edge rappelling and Relay for Life marathons to respond to the multi-faceted issues imbedded in cancer prevention and cure as well as patient and caregiver care. More and more people have been inspired and joined the Over the Edge challenge.  Diedra, another participant and Jeff’s team captain could not have said it any better. ”I was beside myself in awe. I loved it and I want to do it again!"

With this high energy attitude, the race for cancer cure has definitely reached greater heights.

Martial Law Babe

By Marivir R. Montebon

I had sketchy memories of Martial Law in the Philippines. When Pres. Marcos declared it on September 21, 1972 to usher in a dictatorship that lasted for 20 years, I was in kindergarten, one of those referred to as Martial Law Babe. I faintly remembered there was chaos on the streets that day. I saw people marching and shouting and all my aunts and uncles who were in college and living with us at that time were home early, with curfew set at 6 o'clock in the evening.

They simply told me that the police will put people in jail if they were not home by 6 pm that day. That made me anxious, waiting for my parents to be home before 6 or they would be in jail! I cried during Martial Law for that.

In no time, my parents were home from the college where they work as teachers and we had dinner together. I wasn't afraid anymore. End of memory for Martial Law.

Living in a shielded childhood, I never saw what political repression was, until I entered university and became a journalist. I realized that all hasn't been well in my country and life wasn't entirely a bed of roses. I began to write about it. The rest is history.

Freedom is precious and it has to be protected. No one has the right to control anybody, even if it had a well-meaning intention. Nothing could be worse, of course, if and when that control was meant for selfish ends.

There was no doubt about the greed for power that motivated Pres. Marcos to declare Martial Law. Strengthening him was the might of the military and the bunch of power sharers who had both economic and political stakes.

The repression seemed only controllable in many years. Then burst. Nothing lasts forever.

But the remnants of Martial Law became more chaotic and complex. It wisened up almost all power brokers, and the people were much more deep into fear and poverty. The immediate aftermath of Martial Law was worse.

To this date, there is still political repression in my country, in a much different degree, and poverty continues to dwell in majority of families. The fundamental problems on economic poverty and lack of appropriate education and ethics for development are still there. The continued diaspora of Filipinos to other lands is an outright proof of these long-standing problems.

I believe it doesn't only take a clear visionary leadership to put forward a development agenda for the Philippines, it also takes a mature people to demand for it and work on it.

The Philippines' rebirthing process is painfully slow. But I believe that as I write, many share my thoughts that genuine development is from the bottom up.

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The "I Will Survive" Guy

I called him the "I Will Survive Guy."

He was a short, scrawny man of indeterminate age, with shoulders always hunched over, whether due to poor posture or to the extreme cold, I could never quite tell.

It was difficult to discern what color he was because of the grime and filth that had blackened his face, hair, hands and tattered clothes. He had a distinctly aggressive odor about him so one could not help but be aware of his presence whenever he was around. And he always had a toothless grin in a gaping hole of a mouth with blackened gums.

I met him in the New York City subway, on the red line where the Number 2 and 3 trains ( the express trains) or the Number 1 and 9 trains ( the local trains, meaning, they stopped at all stations) plied their routes, from uptown Manhattan in Harlem all the way downtown to the World Trade Center towers in the Financial District.

I took the Number 1 or 9 train every morning from my Upper West Side station on 86^th street, two blocks away from my little apartment on the West End. I disembarked four stations down at Columbus Circle on 59^th street, a block away from Fordham University's Lincoln Center-Manhattan campus, where I was attending graduate classes in business.

It was December 1999, the cusp of a new millenium. One bitterly cold morning, I took the train as usual on my way to school and encountered "I Will Survive" Guy for the first time.

It was the midst of morning rush hour and I was jammed cheek to jowl with other morning commuters. Almost everyone was dressed in suits, clutching their briefcases and copies of the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times. Some people were face-deep into the city's favourite tabloid and everyone's guilty pleasure, the New York Post: catchy headlines, lurid pictures and deliciously naughty gossip about the rich and famous on Page Six.

It was a particularly dreary, gray morning and everyone's winter pallor and sour facial expressions matched my own.

Although I had just moved to the city, I already hated it. It was too cold, too loud,  too dirty, too foreign.

I was homesick for my family in Cebu. I missed Hong Kong and my friends terribly. And I was glumly wondering to myself, what on earth had possessed me to choose a New York school when I’d had alternative choices in the more favourable climes of California and Arizona. I was cursing myself for not pursuing grad school opportunities in Barcelona, Spain, a school of which I’d actually visited the summer before.

The subway doors opened. Someone came in and into the car wafted a most peculiar, intensely nose-twitching aroma. The commuters around me bunched even closer together and seemed to be clearing a lot of space for the new arrival.

I glanced up and that's when I saw him. Standing there in the middle of the subway car, with a little circle of space around him. He looked around and everyone, with typical New York attitude, just ignored him.

Everyone in New York ignores each other on the subway and in the streets but everyone seems to ignore the homeless bums wandering around the city with particular intensity.

All of a sudden, and to my great astonishment, he burst out into song and dance.

It was Gloria Gaynor's disco tune "I Will Survive", but done at an extremely rapid pace, the indistinguishable words all running into one another. It was like watching someone dance "The Cabbage Patch" fast-forward to a song being sung fast-forward by someone who was not only toothless but also did not even know the lyrics very well in the first place!

The toothless grin was flashing throughout this entire routine. The whole effect was extremely comical.

I had to look down at my feet and bite my lips because I could feel the beginnings of a smile on my face. And that just would not do. I was in New York. New Yorkers do not smile at each other.

He abruptly finished the song and as someone from the back of the car actually clapped, he bowed to his waist and said something like: "Hank you."

And just as abruptly, toothless grin beaming, he launched into Brian McKnight's ballad: "I Believe I Can Fly."

That's when I lost it, completely. I burst out laughing. He looked and sounded so darn funny! As I laughed, I caught the eye of a guy in a suit and spectacles across from me and he started laughing too. Before I knew it, everyone in the whole car was roaring with laughter. And it wasn't even 9:00 in the morning!

The "I Will Survive" Guy, obviously pleased with himself, preened, got several pats on the back, pocketed some dollar bills and grinned his toothless smile to no end.

It was a classic New York moment.

From time to time, I would see him on the subway. Always got on the 1 or 9 train during morning rush hour. He seemed to favor the Upper West Side.

And it was always the same routine, rendered at the same breakneck fast forward pace. Much like life in the big city.

"I Will Survive", always followed by " I Believe I Can Fly". Songs of hope, of picking up the pieces after loss, heartbreak or suffering. Of following your dreams, no matter what.

Songs capturing perfectly the soul of a city which I had hated in the beginning and later grew to love. Songs reflecting the spirit of its people, who, after experiencing absolute horror on one life-altering, deceptively beautiful morning in September of 2001, eventually started to heal in time and move on.

Songs about survival.




This is the first in a five-part series of personal narrative essays about New York City, dedicated  to the victims and survivors of 9/11/2001. This writer can be reached via email at bamboostiletto@gmail.com or via her personal blog – The Bamboo Stiletto, http://bamboostiletto.wordpress.com

 

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Diane Fermin Roeder is a reformed marketing communications expert in the hospitality and financial service industries. She enjoys being an expat's wife and founding wordsmith of DFR+word.works, a consultancy specializing in content solutions and development for luxury hotels and resorts in China.  She carved a 15 year leadership career spanning the Philippines, Hong Kong, the US, and China, with an American MBA to boot. Diane suffers from an incurable addiction to killer stilettos. You may to The Bamboo Stiletto (personal blog)  http://bamboostiletto.wordpress.com and Follow tweets: https://twitter.com/bamboostiletto

Like Magic

By Janet B. Villa

 

My mother, a retired public school teacher, thinks of life in simple terms. Feeding and caring for us has been her crusade and her redemption. Many years ago, while I was rushing work while vacationing in Cebu, she watched me feed a page into the fax machine. She was entranced. “The page goes in here, then comes out in Manila?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“Mura’g magic,” she said. Like magic.

I think of Mama now, about to turn 84 in December, while I write this. I think about how these words have been borne through the years and grown from her insight. I think about how my words will meet you wherever you are and whoever you have carved yourself out to be. I think about how they will meet Anna one day, perhaps when I’m no longer around to share them, perhaps when she’ll need them the most. Like magic.

We tend to lose sight of such magic. We complicate things. We lose our awe. We peg our happiness on the wrong things. In our neediness for something monumental, we overlook the momentous.

A few nights ago, while I was journaling, I thought: Nothing remarkable happened to me today. But that’s the thing: nothing has to. Writing isn’t just about recording the fantastic; it’s recognizing that the very ordinariness of our days are worth writing about, are worth being grateful for. Each day is carved into its own space, separated from the gush of time—each day is sacred and each day’s delights are sanctified. What we do with that grace is our gift, but also our accountability.

Each day Anna’s eyes—trusting, expectant, unpolluted—reintroduce me to life. We feed our parking access card at the automated reader when leaving a mall without thinking about it. Anna, strapped to her car seat, leans forward and asks, “What that?” The boom barrier lifts. Like magic. She marvels at the numbers that flash on the screen. “Five! Zero!” she shouts. She speaks in exclamation points. Her joys are uncomplicated. In her world, things are magnified.

We walk on the pavement, and she points, “Mommy, look!” She tugs at my hand and says again, “Look.” She speaks in italics. In her world, things are highlighted. So I look. And I see how the roots of a tree had broken through the concrete, refusing to accept the limitations of the city. Like magic. In the hills and vales of the roots, Anna finds a playground. She clambers up one root, goes down the other, up and down.

There are wonders even in the shower. She lingers after a bath to watch the water flowing through her fingers. It is the same water that she swims in after she uses it to make a sand castle on the beach. The same water that washes her clothes and cleans dishes. The same water that wiped off the face of the earth in 40 days of rain, but also sustains her, sustains plants, sustains life.

Anna, like any child, has what Henry Miller considers a divine awareness: “The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, severely, divinely aware.”

My purpose, like that of any mother, is to guard that awareness and to live it.

 

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Janet Villa practiced Law for nine years before she received a fellowship to the Philippine National Writers' Workshop and to the UP National Workshop. Her first published sotry "Undercurrents" won the NVM Grand Prize in 2003, and her sond "Closopen" won the NVM Grand Prize Special Prize in 2005. She is now finishing her MA in Creative Writing. Her biggest adventure is being best for husband Jojo and daughter Anna, while pursuing her passions in writing and teaching. Janet maintains CreW, the creating writing special interest group of Mensa Philippines after being the Mensa Philippines president in 1998.

http://motheringonapostit.wordpress.com

http://usingaborrowedlanguage.wordpress.com

OSM! Event: Cultural Confluence VI in NY

 [slideshow]

Loida Nicolas Lewis aptly described Celso Pepito's artistry as value-filled as well as modern. "It is distinctly Filipino that imparts values on hard work and family ties. Highly impressive."
The Art Exhibit Cultural Confluence VI was graced by Consul General for New York Mario de Leon Jr., Miss Lewis, Miss Nena Kaufman, and Mr. Clint  Ramos. It was the first event sponsored by OSM!, in partnership with the 5th Avenue Lions Club and the ArtPortal Cebu.

Thirty works of art by Cebu-based couple Celso and Fe Pepito are up on exhibit until October 5, 2012 at the Philippine Consulate in Manhattan.

The event was also supported by Xocai Healthy Chocolate.

Celso and Fe will also hold an art workshop on October 2 for interested art enthusiasts during the course of the exhibit, which opens at 9 am till 5 pm.

The sixth of the series of art exhibits, Cultural Confluence has been toured by Cebuano artists in Manila, Paris, Singapore, and New York. It provides art enthusiasts and collectors a glimpse of the life in Asia and the values it holds dear. For several years now, it has become a hub for artists like the Pepitos to forge unity and understanding among the culturally diverse roots of fellow artists.

By Ruth Ezra

CASSAVA STEAM CAKE

This cake was a success at my abode. As a first timer, I was very pleased and my palate was satisfied as well.

Only 3 ingredients were used in this cake.

1 pack frozen grated cassava thawed.

1 can condensed milk.

1 pack, 2 oz coconut powder.

Much easier, the ingredients were in my kitchen.

Back home in the Philippines, this is being wrapped in banana leaves, and I believe someone who can wrap it has a special skill. Not me! The easier the better it is for me, as long as it tastes great!

I managed to save two containers and shared this cake with the Markines sisters who just came back from their Philippine vacation.

It went well with coffee.

Here is my step-by-step instruction:

Prepare steamer by putting water to boil.

While waiting, combine the cassava, coconut powder and condensed milk in a large bowl until thoroughly mix.

Pour into individual molders that you have available to fit into your steamer.

Put in steamer with the water in rolling boil for about 30-45 minutes.

Let it stand to cool, about 10 minutes.

You may serve warm or room temperature.

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Ruth D. Ezra is a culinary queen in her own right through experience and training. She works at the AllState Roadside Services in Northbrook, IL. Her greatest delight is serving good and healthy food to her husband Heman and only daughter, Isabelle. Kit would love to receive feedback on her recipes, and exchange them with yours at ezraruth@comcast.net.

Chateau Renaissance Wines: Sweet Despite Bitter Times

By Marivir R. Montebon

The rugged country artistry of Chateau Renaissance Wine Cellars stood out in the teeming Green flea market at Union Square last summer. Both by its looks and the outright friendliness of its marketing person, Allen Zausner, had caught my attention. The uniquely shaped wine bottles were inviting.

Zausner was busy attending to some customers, but made an effort to say hi. And so our chat begun.  "Times are tough, and being here in the flea market is part of aggressive promotions to survive.  But we have a great market who loves our unique taste, that's the bottom line," he quips.
Allen would later introduce me to Patrice De May, owner and winemaker who comes from a French family whose lineage with wines dates back to 400 years ago in France.

Chateau Renaissance's labels are remarkably handcrafted in watercolor painting, something which absorbs you into the time of centuries old conoisseurs.  Its logo, the lutin (an amusing goblin which popped up from the cork), is distinctively French.

The labels alone were an attraction.

On display that sunny Saturday were the champagnes and fruit wines which the Fingerlakes-based company has been famous for.   Its champagne selections include Naturel, Brut, Demi Sec, Doux, and Rouge.

Its Brut Champagne won a gold medal in California's 2001 Grand Harvest Awards wine competition, with a rating of 91 points from the judges panel.

Brut Champagne is one of five actual Methode Champenoise Champagnes (the process of blending wines) made one bottle at a time by Patrice, using a 400 year old recipe from his family  champagne cellars in the Loire Valley of France. Its cuvee wines are made in the traditional European style using spontaneous wild yeast fermentation.

The label used on the Naturel, Brut, Demi Sec, and Doux champagne bottles was commissioned by Serge DeMay, Patrice's father, for the DeMay-Gremy Champagne Cellars in France in 1933 while the artwork for the Rouge label is by Patrice which features a painting of his father working on the champagne dosage machine.

Champagne Rouge is for meat and chocolates, Demi Sec for light meats and salad/medium sweets, Naturel for any food, Brut for lobster and seafoods, and Doux for pastries.

Chateau Renaissance's "Fruit Sparkles" or champagnes dosed with 100% fruit wines are as amazing.  They come in Pear, Peach, Raspberry, Cranberry, Blackberry flavors.

Its white wines include Chardonnay, Reisling, Late Harvest Vignoles, D'Artagnan, Basset Blush, Joie de vidal, and Frosty and the red wines are Merlot, Sangria, DeChaunac, Cabernet Franc, and Vineyard House.  All the wines are completely from local grapes and pressed at the winery.

I bought the Cranberry and Raspberry fruit sparkles, on a discounted price.

Then Patrice comes back to the booth, in bright red shirt and beige shorts.  "It is hard doing business these days. People buy 3-4 bottles instead of the usual 2 boxes at Fingerlakes. That is why we are here at the flea market," he immediately said.

Survival is the name of the game, Patrice said, who had to cut on labor cost and work the entire business process all by himself and his wife. He admitted to having lost $60,000 in revenues last year.  The recession also meant aggressive marketing in the midst of cut throat competition.

He has some bitter words at political leadership today.  "This is the worst presidency in my entire business life," Patrice opines. He believes that taxing small entrepreneurs like him who earn $250,000 isn't a good idea.  "The taxes are killing small entrepreneurs. We better have someone who can straighten things out."

It is not surprising for many businessmen like Patrice to admire Presidents Reagan and Clinton, who were staunch bipartisan leaders who stood in the middle to unify the ideals of the Democrats and Republicans in the economic and fiscal spheres.  A seasoned winemaker, Patrice also teaches wine making at the Corning College in upstate New York.

He said he doesn't see hope in President Obama and wished that things change in Washington by November, to breathe a new life into his business. Meantime, his centuries old family enterprise is on survival mode.