Pep talk with Loren

My friendship with Loren Legarda may be likened to saving loose change in a piggy bank, except that in our case, it is kuwento (stories) that we save and we spill out everything each time we meet up for dinner (always just the two of us) that happens about twice a year.

For 2006, however, we only saw each other once — around this time last year — when I went to her house for a merienda of suman and chocolate eh.

My cell phone was stolen a couple of months after that and we lost touch completely (my entire directory was in that phone). She tried to reach me many times over, but all these attempts were futile.

Last month, I sent her a decorative teapot (she collects them) for her birthday and with the gift came a note explaining my "disappearance." She promptly got in touch with me and made plans to meet up again. I swear it wasn’t an easy thing to do. Between her schedule and the way I like people to believe how busy I am, setting up this dinner was like finding a free day in the calendar of the Pope and President George W. Bush.

During the first attempt, she begged off at the last minute because of a splitting headache and I believe that — given all the things she has to do during this campaign season.

We reset the dinner date last Tuesday evening and I thought even that was going to be cancelled because she was coming from a motorcade and there was no telling what time that would end. But we worked it out somehow: I was leaving my place to go to her house only when she pulls out of the motorcade. That way I didn’t have to wait. And it worked.

By the time I got to her Makati residence, she had showered and had slipped into a white housedress (she still wears white at home) and we finally had our reunion.

Over sinigang na ulo ng salmon (she beat me to the eye!), a couple of slices of what I believe were fried alumahan (mackerel) and a Korean beef dish that was left untouched (I’ve never known her to be a carnivore, except when she was conceiving with first-born Lanz when she ate meatloaf from a Greenbelt restaurant every day during the early phase of her pregnancy), we related what happened to our lives the past year. It turned out that we were both victims of Milenyo (her neighbor’s balete trees fell into her yard and knocked down her fence) and that we both had to be hospitalized due to stress (I had my own Milenyo catastrophe, remember?).

Surely, we both had personal tragedies, but we decided to sweep all that under the rug for the time being and, in fact, made an accounting of all the good and bad circumstances of our lives. In the end, we were just thankful for all the blessings from above.

For one, given all her stress, she managed to keep her good looks at age 47. And that was after baking in the sun during the afternoon motorcade where she waved at Manila residents from the sunroof of her father’s old Trooper that followed the Opposition route from Tondo all the way to Vito Cruz.

Like a schoolgirl who just received her first love letter, Loren excitedly showed me a heart-shaped card that was handed to her by a lady from the window of a moving bus. Signed Helen and written in black ink, it said: "The Filipino people need you!"

Earlier in Quiapo, a middle-aged man showed her his ID and introduced himself as Antonio Hael. No, Mr. Hael didn’t want any favors. He just wanted to assure Loren that there are seven voting members in his family and that he will make sure he delivers to her those seven votes come May elections.

While campaigning is no walk in the park, Loren enjoys herself joining the campaign trail. Up before 6 a.m. to prepare for radio interviews, she is on the road the whole day all the way to evening during this campaign period. Meals are rushed — that is if she is able to eat at all. Usually, before she could even chew into her first bite, a supporter — or even just a fan from way back during her Pep Talk days — would approach her to have a picture taken with her. Of course, she obliges — all the time. And then there is going to be another interview — after which she would be called on stage. And off she goes to the other campaign activities with that single bite as her only source of nourishment to get her by.

So where is the fulfillment there? This question comes from a political ignoramous like me who only won class president after giving everyone a ride to Cubao the day before elections. According to Loren, whenever she goes to the people, she is moved no end every time she sees their faces — "and that they are pinning their hopes on you." This, she says, is where she gets her inspiration.

Although there was still a lot to talk about and it was only 10 p.m. — the end of her day and the beginning of mine — I decided to say goodbye (even if I was unable to eat the turron for dessert) so she could start storing up energy for next day’s campaign activities.

Before showing me to the gate, of course, she gave me her usual lecture on what I should be doing with my life. That was my dessert. Sermon a la Manang Loren. But I’m telling you, that was sweeter than any confection I had ever tasted in this world. In the past, she had given me wonderful pieces of advice that somehow straightened in parts my hopelessly crooked life.

As we finally said our goodbyes, I wished her well and suddenly remembered (I swear our talks are never-ending) to ask her what she still wishes for at this point. Like the usual very organized Loren Legarda I know, she gave them to me like she was answering an exam in enumeration form:

1) That she be given good health — and all the energy she would need during the three-month campaign period.

2) For her kids to be okay.

3) For her votes to be counted.

From my end, I also wish her all three with particular stress on the last one after remembering the events of Elections 2004.