She was known in the community as “the doyen of Filipino theater in D.C." But to those who were nurtured by her love for the lively arts, she was more than that. She mentored and inspired many young people - budding thespians and aspiring actors, and anyone who enjoyed performing on stage.

Tanghalang Pilipino was one organization that benefited immensely from Mama Sarah’s tutelage. She served as drama coach, artistic adviser and doting mother. She delighted in teaching the kids how to act and lavished on them her sense of personal pride as she savored every moment of their achievement.

On Tanghalan’s Tenth Anniversary, she wrote a review of the company’s production, “Hanap Mula” (Search for Beginnings). The musical was shown at the World Bank on September 1994.  She was awed by the “huge contingent of 49 actors of all ages and sizes, all bursting with huge enthusiasm in this artistic endeavor." But she also noted with dismay the romantic scene of “Malakas at Maganda” and its “lack of ardor and passion in their dance to warrant the desire to procreate."

Admitting to “devilish thoughts,” Mama Sarah chalked it all up to “a religiously regimented director." I have no doubt that had she directed the play herself, more provocative sensuality would have oozed from the performers themselves. Always constructive in her criticism, she nonetheless called on the community to “remember the performance as an event, a great experience from which to learn how to do better, and as an occasion to celebrate."

I had the rare honor 10 years ago of being directed by Mama Sarah in a play produced by Bahaghari - another community theatre. Mama Sarah was the guiding force and creative energy behind this group of enthusiasts who have joined hands “to bring forth from the rich storage of Philippine cultural heritage precious gems of literary pieces and present them on stage and screen in the vernacular." I was privileged to play a character in “Panhik Ligaw,” a one-act comedy based on Anton Chekov’s “The Marriage Proposal.” She knew how much I like to ham it up so she cast me as the bumbling servant - providing some comic relief to an evening heavy with drama. That role was more enjoyable than playing Dictator Ferdinand Marcos a decade earlier in a Tanghalan musical.

Among my treasured souvenirs is a handwritten letter from Mama Sarah, dated October 12, 1998:

“Dear Jon, Thank you for thinking of me and sending me this gala ball invitation. But, darling, I am going to a concert in the afternoon of that day, and this 90-year-old woman cannot take more than one social event in a day. That is one luxury the realities of aging brings to life.

“Of course, I will miss the fun of seeing and talking with you, but I will just think of you that night.

“Love and prayers, Mama Sarah.”

She died a few years later. I never had a chance to bid her good night, or put a flower on her grave. There are days when I think she’s still at home on Walnut Manor Way in Falls Church , plotting another play. That’s where she lived with her daughter and grandson, Jojo and Dino dela Rosa , and where we celebrated her birthday one winter night in January seven years ago.

She’s who I think of each time I remind myself of what another kindred spirit, Reme Grefalda, once wrote:

“There is a will out there, greater than ours that insists we play. It tells us that we try too hard and in our tired struggle to efficiently control our lives, we lose touch with all that is whimsical and creative in us. I am a sucker at such Insistence. I therefore play. This, and every creative endeavor in the past, is a homage to that Greater Will who allows us - my friends and I - to sustain our playfulness and to find time for that change of rhythm within our busy lives."

Thank you, Mama Sarah, for the many plays that brought us many nights and days of laughter and tears. But most of all, thank you for insisting that we play.

E-mail your comments to jonmele@aol.com