Months after we bonded at the UP National Writers Workshop in 2003, a bunch of the fellows met up at our house. I am their Mudra, designated mother goddess, which only means, really, that I am responsible for stocking enough food and drink on my table and cleaning up after their mess. (And, yeah, I am way older than they are.)
Jay Fernando, one of two beautiful writers who facilitated the workshop, had predicted that our post-workshop camaraderie would last only so long; we had been tight, true, but he said the fellowship would wane.
He was right, in a way. Some of us formed deeper attachments and some stalwarts could be counted on to attend get-togethers, but through the years it became harder to gather warm bodies. Our yahoogroups conversations have dwindled to a trickle.
I miss my kids. I read about them a lot, in their blogs and in others', where they and their work are praised. I am proud of them and their achievements and accolades, as if theirs were my own.
I'm thinking of mustering the brood again, just to catch up. I'm hoping this post on that Octoberfest at our house will help rekindle the fellowship.
That night we played Taboo 'til kingdom come—you know, that game where you're supposed to describe the word to your teammates but there are some terms that are taboo, words you cannot use. No gestures or actions allowed.
Here are snippets of our game:
K (trying to describe the word PLATINUM): This is better than gold!
R (shouting): Sex!
* * *
U: This is what I'll never find!
G: LOVE!!! [True enough, the word was LOVE!]
* * *
U (describing SADDLE to his teammates): Assholder!! Assholder!!
His teammates (confused, of course): Chair?
U (getting more incensed and raising his palms to cup the air): Assholder!! Assholder!!
* * *
U (describing FINGER): F**k you! F**k you!
U: This is what you use when you F**k you! F**k you!
* * *
Me (describing POEM): This is what G writes!
Someone (I forgot who): Trash?
* * *
U (nagmamarunong, after G found it difficult to describe SALMON): Dapat sinabi mo, G, "Blank Rushdie."