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AFTERWORD
(Is there life after high school?)
But before we go, there is one last unanswered question (I was afraid to ask): "Where do we go from here?" High school prepared us to our first taste of the real world. That its scope is wide and the choices confusing, are apparent when we reached the junction at the crossroads. And there, the path you take seals your fate in destiny. It makes or breaks and no consolation acceptable lies between. As I tread on the road taken, I remember the days of fun and laughter I spent with my classmates...sometimes strangers, but mostly friends. Most of us started out at the other side of the fence in Lucena West (Iyam) Elementary School. It was inside the security of this confined space that we expressed the unrestrained joys of our care-free youth. We recited in class, teased our classmates, made fun of our teachers, we sang and danced, and we quarreled and fought (and, sometimes, managed to hurt each other) only to be friends again after. Sadness, in our case, is not the norm and we sympathized with each other about the losses that we don't mourn. It was here, too, that I met most of my classmates, toiling and growing up with them, until we transferred to the institution across the street: Quezon Provincial High School (our dear old Alma Mater). Rosita
Amat was a name to reckon with those days. She's the torchbearer of our class
and was the darling of the teachers. She, and Elvira Borda who joined us from
the Salvacion District, were the centers of much attention due not only to the
talents they possess but, to the beauty they own, as The
other head turners were: the intriguing looks of Grace Remoroza, the silent
innocence of Lolita We boys were different. We liked to form groups. Edgardo Nicdao, an ever-present figure in the crowd, has no problem associating himself with any. He's the class politician and he enjoys that role. (It's funny though, how Euclides Forbes turned out to be the real politico. But, even then, he's the one who's always discussing current events, local and global). The male catalysts in the crowd lies in the striking person of Alexander Garin (he was to become the PMT Corps Commander), the funny antics of Bayani Quinto (an original, who's family owns 'Nida's Department Store, a city landmark during those days), the athletic figure of Johram Hernandez, the boyish grins of Andres Arenas and Fernando Abcede, the humors of Peddy Palomar (whose uncle is a favorite teacher), the easy gaits of Henry Tesalona (who became the Senior Class President), the seriousness of Danilo Zoleta and the magnetic attraction (girls were always attracted to him) of Johnny Jardin , the new kid in town. (I still remember that time when JJ first showed up from nowhere. Coming from a tiny town of Sampaloc (I think), he asked if he could join the group. He doesn't know anybody. To me, that was brave!) Others, like Charlemagne Alejandrino (who doodles and sketches a lot inside a boring class), Willy Kwan (the rotund embodiment of health with a sharp-edged crew cut), Cezar Reyes (the 'quiet gigolo'), Raymundo Argosino (whose awesome 'artwork' greeting cards always amuse everybody), Danilo Sambajon (whose twisty penmanship style I found interesting), Antonio de Guzman (the 'tisoy' in the group), Medelio Quizana (our favorite 'company scribe'), Josue Encanto (with his endless arguments on any subject you pick), Tomas Llorin (whose stern outlook in life made me question mine), Federico Daleon (in his perennial horn-rimmed glasses)and the rest who, like the girls I can't remember, were the silent majority. They stayed in the background, ever observant, and created their own waves (the results of which, on some of these guys, you could tell these days!). Everyday is news and the enthusiasms overflowing...always a story to tell under the sun! But those where the days. After we parted, we went, each to his own, to seek the playing fields outside the secured walls of QPHS and lay claim to the legitimacy of our continued presence. As we look for greener pastures, we found a harsh world waiting. We struggled and got pre-occupied while we search for a bountiful life. Some needs are basic and ends there. Other wants are obsessive, consuming all our energy until we became the means to our ends. Then, we forget the things that matters most, watching the passing days unaware of our very own existence...life. According to T.S. Elliot,"...we must not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we begun and know the place for the first time." When I received the e-mail message from Rosie, I was caught unaware because I never expected her to reply with certain dispatch. I even made my initial note short simply stating that "if she's looking for a 'few good coconuts', I'm in..." You see, I was told by her brother-in-law (he's married to Raquel, Rosie's younger sister, and happened to be in the same duty station that I am), who gave me her e-mail address, that she's planning to attend our 30th Class Reunion. That left me dumbfounded! At once, I was taken aback and was lost for words trying to think back thirty years before. "Why wasn't I aware? Did anybody really bothered to care?" And, just like that, it all started from there. Although the rest is history, the incident re-kindled that 'high school feeling' again. Our succeeding 'conversations' struck a different chord. Just like a shot in the jugular, the once platonic relations I had with my mundane and redundant routines became alive. And I began to notice the wildflowers along the road while I sang the 'oldies' playing on the radio on my way to work. (Brings back memories of Spiral Staircase, "I love you more today than yesterday!") As our 'e-mail circle of classmates' grew and became the 'merry bunch of fellow coconuts,' it was obvious, we're back in high school again! Then JJ ('though not talking much at first) were in. Then (after greeting the 'strines' Down Under: "G-day!") Cezar and Mil were in. Then Elvie. Then Joni. Then Willy. And out of the desert sun came the inquiring message from Ray in SA. It's been a long while and his trying to hide underwater (he's a SCUBA diver) cannot quench his thirst for some news of his 'old classmates' . Then Tony appeared from hibernating in LA (thanks to my Mom!). And later on, while Rosie, and Cezar and Lorly attended the last re-union, JJ, Mey Sangalang and myself had a mini-reunion in San Diego where the idea about an Internet 'pergola' was spawned over some suds. It didn't take very long and we now have our own Website (thanks to JJ, Rosie, Ray and Mil) to replace the classrooms. And suddenly, just like before, we're all classmates again! Now, is there life after high school? Definitely! Dear classmates, we don't have to wait to see each other under the sun. There is no substitute for a hearty reunion, I admit, but we could use the time in-between to stop and smell the flowers. This world is not making us any younger so, let us indulge ourselves. Let's talk! Uel Ongwico Click here for previous issue. Back to the top or BACK TO "SITE MAP"
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