GOD HAS chosen to pluck a big shiny apple from the Big Apple?s tree of the significant and magnanimous ? Reynaldo ?Ronnie? Gamboa Alejandro.

For young readers, you may not know him, but for those of us who had the pleasure of knowing and loving him, he flung open his hip Bleecker Street apartment to so many. Even if he didn?t know the person too well, when endorsed by a friend, he would take him in, give him a bed and great food with full trust and joy.

If you could locate the guest book in his bohemian flat, you?d find very ?droppable? names. On my last visit I flipped through the pages and saw scribbled such names as Lara Caballero Fabregas, Monching Locsin, Jessica Zafra, and Raffy Tesoro and, on my request, Emmanuel Baja (who stayed for a whole year while he finished his Harvard doctoral scholarship).

Other entries: Marla Yotoko Chorengel, Baby Bunag, Bishop Ledesma, Patis and Tito Tesoro, Lisa Macuja Elizalde (before her triumphant Kirov Ballet stint), Heherson Alvarez, Richard Warwick and the late Lady Victoria Yorke, Roberto Tanizaki (Tokyo?s ad wiz), Josie Darang.

With Sutton Place fund managers Laida Adduru Bowman, Alejandro raised funds for Manuel Rodriguez Sr. during his struggling years.

?City my living room?

He?d press a set of keys into the guest?s hands, then challenged him to hit the village street, walk through Washington Square and plunge into 5th Avenue, starting from the iconic No. 1 5th Avenue where Anna Bayle resides.

On foot, one is immediately electrified by the thrilling energy of the Big Apple. With exuberance, Ronnie would proclaim his mantra, ?My flat is my bedroom and the city is my living room.?

He?d challenge everyone to take the subway, even offer his bike ? ?Don?t be so bourgeois and touristry by taking taxis, you?re in the right zip code area, mingle, flirt, say ?hello? or yell back when attitude is flung at you.?

Reinvention his nickname

Alejandro evolved from a dancer-choreographer to New York Public Library librarian and to published writer with over 30 books bearing his name. He also earned a chef?s toque with a few Zagat reviews for innovative catering and became a contributing writer for this paper, covering the New York beat.

He bought a video camera and threatened to be a videographer, when even if a simple cell phone and texting profoundly challenged him.

As dyed-in-the-wool foodie, he?d take friends and visitors to high tab and ridiculously affordable but memorable restaurants.

At Shanghai Joe?s, we put up with the coarse customer-handling skills for the joy of a siopao with broth in the steamed bun.

Indulging my whim to try the controversial Le Cirque, Ronnie finessed our entry with ?Do you have any cancellations for lunch?? And the pretty, smiling receptionist, after giving us a nanosecond once-over, cheerfully chirped, ?Oh, so you want to be with us for lunch today ? but of course, gentlemen!?

During the meal, I simply had to tilt my head and try to catch the eye of a server, when the hawk-eyed maitre?d, wordlessly signaled a waiter to speed like bullet to my side, whispering into my ear ?How may we help you. Sir??

Ronnie would be wide-eyed in telling me, ?Now that?s chic Manhattan-grade service, isn?t it??

Or we?d sneak into ?one of Manhattan?s best-kept secrets,? Takashimaya Tea Room, where chic WASP-y ?ladies who lunch? elegantly handled their chopsticks and sipped green tea like Japanese royals.

A-list New Yorkers

Even at the crack of dawn, he would hustle me out of my castro-convertible bed, which had a view of the Empire State building, to say, ?Quick, we have to see the fabulous hats on Easter Sunday, worn by A-list New Yorkers, after morning services, as they mingle among friends in the middle of 5th Avenue, which is closed for the morning.?

?Just nod with appreciation,? he would say, ?or learn to exclaim, ?Outstanding! Beautiful!??

He would moan in disappointment at how most Filipinos, maybe being innately shy, would never show affirmation or applaud what is beautiful or good.

Always the work-horse (he was multitasking even before the term became au currant among techies), he?d invite me to join a meeting in the grand offices of the Asia Foundation. Ronnie was a ?connector? and knew how to reach people who could influence his project, or help someone else with their cause.

He would constantly help Josie Darang get young artists to have their shows at the Philippine Center. Or wrangle privileged tickets from his circle of monumentally rich friends with deep pockets and big hearts for Broadway plays impossible to get into. He tugged on Bill and Lily Gamboa O?Boyle to produce tickets for me to ?Phantom of the Opera? when the next available seats were six months away. He made appeals to Marsha Coburn, who quickly cut checks not only for Ronnie, but also for artists in distress.

He would laugh and squeal with delight over some bit of gossip exchanged with such press legends as Llita Logarta and Ethel Timbol, such as that story about then First Lady Hillary Clinton and Martha Stewart being sshhhhd to silence for chatting in a library.

I also remember Ronnie running some ideas by Donnie Ramirez, or foodie critics Nancy Reyes and the late Doreen Fernandez.

When I had the privilege to reciprocate by hosting him in my South Syquia Malate apartment for his usual two-month sabbaticals, a phone was always installed in my guest room so he could have his breakfast in bed, watch the morning news, talk on the phone, clip articles from all the papers, then hit the computer keys.

I would hear him comment loudly at the TV when he disliked what he saw or heard. ?Sinugaling! (Liar), ?Che, yabang mo!,? and I could only laugh in amusement.

He would have a stream of visitors, especially book designers: his energy to create and network would exhaust a triathlon champion.

Collaborations

He cherished collaborations, most especially with Socorro Ramos of National Bookstore (his patron for his Filipiniana series) and Chito Macapagal of Unilever (who supported his advocacy for a cleaner Pasig River).

He also cherished his collaborations with Anita Magsaysay Ho, with whom he had found a certain kinship based on his family tree, and who would try to keep him still as she made a portrait for him during his many courtesy calls with Doris Magsaysay;
With Marietta Santos who shepherded Ronnie?s New York medical mission cohorts around the country;
With Niles Perlas and husband Leus, who always volunteered to be publicist and photographer of Ronnie?s book projects; Bonjin Bolinao, his friend way back during DOT days; and Nelson Navarro, ready source of political information.

I myself was Ronnie?s early collaborator in dances. We had a choreographic collaboration with Totoy de Oteyza and Inday Gaston Manosa of the Hariraya Dance Company for the ballet ?Legend of The Sarimanok,? which was critically acclaimed.

Even when castigated by his New York doctors for veering away from his mandated diet, he would exclaim, ?Die is in the word diet!?

Ronnie had long prepared for his passing. When biking around Manhattan, he wore under his shirt a huge scapular, which would have his name, address, and person-to-contact in case of any emergency. Over lattes in his Bleecker Street flat, he would point at the funeral home a few blocks away, saying, ?All my services have been paid for, years ago.?

He disdained going to wakes, so some friends ? Nonon Padilla, his theatrical anchor, Mike Santos, his co-author in his last books, Virgil Calaguian, a gourmet buddy, and myself ? plan a fabulous dinner to celebrate his memory in our hearts. No eulogies, no altars, no candles.

The best of apples are plucked in the prime of their perfection and sweetness. And to Yorkers and New York habitués. the Big Apple will always be associated with ?Ronois.?