Vol. 7, No. 22, February 2, 2004

LCHS may soon have a video camera of its own to record school programs and activities for posterity.  Hilton Neil Sy, former president of the LCHS Student Government, and his Batch of 1995 will donate a video camera to the school.  Hilton Neil Sy explained that they were able to raise some funds from their school projects during his term as president of the LCHS-SG in 1995.  The money, kept in a bank deposit, has reached P30,000 with the accumulated interests earned since the graduation of their batch in 1995.  The group originally planned to purchase a video projector for the alma mater.  However, it was learned that LCHS is in need of a video camera. Thus the group will use the fund instead to acquire a Sony video camera, complete with a stand and/or carrying case, for donation to LCHS.

Hilton is now a resident of Cebu City where he is pursuing his career as a civil engineer.  He is the son of Samson Sy and Aurora Ong-Sy (Batch '66) who is a former Chinese faculty member of LCHS.

LCHS shines in intervarsity debate
By Christine Veronica B. Uy

The LCHS Board of Trustees, Administration and Faculty congratulated the following for bringing more honors to the school as they garnered most of the awards at the 6th All-Iligan Intervarsity Debate Championships held last January 24-25 at MSU-IIT. The event was participated by top caliber schools in Iligan City as each vied for a place in this prestigious competition:  Miss Rebecca L. Galga, best adjudicator; Diane Marie K. Zorilla, best speaker (Quarter Finals); Iradine P. Cabrera, Dave de Jesus, Giselle Mae S. Letigio, and Diane Marie K. Zorilla, best speakers; Dave de Jesus, Giselle Mae S. Letigio, and Diane Marie K. Zorilla, first runners-up (over-all); and Miss Rebecca L. Galgo, coach.

LCHS is specially indebted to Professor Rodolfo P. Yu for giving all the extra efforts in introducing the rudiments of debate to our high school students and for convincing them that they have the potentials to make it through this competition. Who could ask for more? Professor Rodolfo P. Yu is definitely one among the inspiring alumni who has helped tremendously the school in whatever capacity he is able to give. We salute you, Sir Rudy Yu!

DIGITAL ARCHIVE
Spectrum compilations in CD

The Spectrum recently completed a digital compilation of all its issues from 1997 to 2003 in compact disc (in photo).  The  digital archive, contained in a single CD, includes photos and graphics featured in each issue.  It also features recent issues in Portable Document Format (PDF) that have recently been added to its editions.  The PDF editions are ideal for readers who wish to print the issues to hard copy using Acrobat Reader.

The Spectrum CD Collections were produced by Charles O. Sy.  He turned them over to Roger Suminguit during the latter's visit to Cebu City last Jan. 27.  Three additional copies were also presented to Roger Suminguit, one each for the collection of Spectrum editor Victor Chiu, the LCHS-AA through Terry Racines, and the LCHS library.  Alumni in Iligan who wish to make a copy of the collection may secure the original CD from Roger Suminguit. The collection can be copied to any blank CD on any computer equipped with a standard CD Writer.

Deal to reopen NSC signed

The creditor-banks of the National Steel Corp. (NSC) finally signed last Jan. 29 an agreement with India-based Global Infrastructure Holdings Ltd. (GIHL) for the reopening and rehabilitation of the steel plant in Iligan.  With the signing, the rehabilitation of the steel firm is expected to start real soon.  GIHL will pay secured creditors and original stockholders of NSC P13.25 billion over eight years.  PNB said the five local banks that signed the agreement represent 64.32 percent of NSC's exposure to the banking system.  The other secured creditors are expected to sign the deal soon.

Iligan cops foil rob try, capture 4 suspects

Police caught four robbers after an exchange of firepower in a foiled robbery attempt on Sun Gate Pawnshop located in front of Emelia Supermart, Palao, Iligan City last Tuesday, Jan. 27. Two of the suspects and a police officer were wounded.  Caught by the police were Julito Etok of Catadman, Ozamiz City; Jerson Bonenoso of Bonifacio, Misamis Occidental; Charlie Laure of Lopez Jaena, Misamis Occidental; and Celso Baluran of Ozamiz.  Etok is now struggling for life at a local hospital.  He was shot in the chest. Bonenoso was also wounded.  A police officer, PO3 Mohammad Laut, was also wounded.

Supt. Amor Masbud said the suspects barged into the pawnshop at around 8:00 in the morning and announced the robbery.  Receiving a report from a security guard, the police rushed to the crime scene.  Not long after, the police and the suspects fired shots at each other.   Police said it launched a manhunt against the other suspects who were able to escape.  One suspect, a woman, reportedly posed as a customer of the pawnshop.  Police recovered the following at the crime scene: a caliber .45 pistol, a caliber .38 revolver, spent bullets, a Yamaha motorcycle without license plate, wristwatches, a holster, three mobile phones and P3,800 in cash.

LCHS bags top honors in math olympiad & challenge
By Christine Veronica B. Uy
LCHS Assistant Principal

LCHS once more bagged top honors in two separate events.  The first event was the Secondary Math Olympiad and First Mathema-Text Competition held last Jan. 9 at the Regional Science High School, Sta. Filomena, Iligan City.  The inter-school competition was a coordinated program of the Dept. of Education and the Division Secondary Mathematics Teachers Association.

Several math challenges were considered, such as: Individual Quiz (written contest), Team Quiz (oral contest), Math Trail (outdoor activity / group contest) and Mathema-Text Quiz (E-text contest, using cell phones).

LCHS won 2nd Runner-up in the Over-all Results with the Regional Science High School (Sta. Filomena) as champion, and Iligan City National High School (Science curriculum) as 1st Runner-up.

The following LCHS students bought honors for the school:

Individual Quiz: Pao-Ju Chi (Champion), 1st yr. level; Tristan Irvin Lim (1st Runnerup), 2nd yr. level; Joni Ling (2nd Runnerup), 3rd yr. level; and Kenneth Ong (2nd Runnerup), 4th yr. level.

Team Quiz:  Kevin Lee, Ben Alfie Oliverio & Kyle Tamala (1st Runnerup), 1st yr. level; and Katrina Lee, Giselle Letigio & Joni Ling (2nd Runnerup), 3rd yr. level.

Math Trail:  Dave de Jesus, Irvin Michael Kuan, Brandon Lee, Janalee Ng, Sylvester Siangco, Ashley Uy, Justin Paul Uy & Claire Yu (1st Runnerup), All Levels.

Mathema-Text Quiz:  Iradine Cabrera & Claire Co (1st Runnerup), 4th yr. level.

LCHS acknowledges with gratitude the valuable efforts of the following coaches who conscientiously guided our students in the preparations and in the actual events: Miss Sun Lay Dy (3rd & 4th year coach), Mr. Rafael Benedictus (1st & 2nd year coach), and Mr. Joel Tiquel (Math Trail coach).

LCHS congratulates the following students and the coaches as well, for giving their best on this competition which was conducted last Jan. 16:

2nd Place - Grade 1:  Justin Roland Lee, Justin Ann Yu & Jan Avery S. Chen.
2nd Place - Grade 2:  Maxine Ang, Mary Olivienne G. Uy & Kristine Mae F. Aguilar.
5th Place - Grade 3:  Norman Ted U. Tabasa, Jude Shahara Rosales & Al Josef Rai Tan.
1st Place - Grade 4:  Nicole Leslie L. Chua, Kenn Carlson M. Dy & Kevin Bill R. Taongan.
4th Place - Grade 5:  Reggielloyd F. Aguilar, Ann Catherine L. Co & Sarah Grace B. Uy.
3rd Place - Grade 6:  Karen Andrea L. Chua, Kevin Bryan M. Dy & Sydney Francine D. Chan.
2nd Place - 1st Yr.:  Ben Alfie C. Oliveriio, Kyle S. Tamala & Pao-Ju L. Chi.
3rd Place - 2nd Yr.:  Tristan Ervin G. Lim, Zynth S. Yap & Jan Brian K. Ano-os.
4th Place - 3rd Yr.:  Joni A. Ling, Claire Kathleen K. Yu & Giselle Mae S. Letigio.
5th Place - 4th Yr.:  Arman Miguel T. Celdran, Kenneth A. Ong & Roxanne P. Conol.

Coaches: Miss Sun Lay G. Dy, Mrs. Annabelle A. Rapliza, and Mrs. Leonor U. Tabasa.

Roger Suminguit, Batch '73

What started as a simple business trip to Cebu last Jan. 27 turned out to be a trip of pleasant rediscoveries for "Tracers."  Aside from our business appointments, we made it a point to pay a visit to Spectrum supremo in Cebu, Charles O. Sy (Batch '67).  At lunch, he treated me to a sumptuous meal of Peking duck at the elegant Grand Majestic Restaurant along with Igdono Caracho (Batch '66).  In exchange for our pasalubong of Cheding Peanuts from Iligan, Charley presented us with the latest collection of Spectrum issues from 1997 to 2003 in CD.  This valuable collector's item chronicles seven years of events of the LCHS-AA.  In its entirety, the collection can pass as an almanac of the LCHS community.

After lunch we walked over to the trendy Rica's Gourmet Cafe nearby (see photo, taken with Igdono's cellphone digital camera).  Over cappuccino and brewed coffee, we exchanged the latest news about our fellow alumni.  And soon the topic shifted to the Spectrum and the forthcoming GAH2005.  Out of the blue came the idea of holding a Spectrum reunion in Cebu instead of Iligan.  The idea seems novel.  We can hold it in July 2005, perhaps a couple of days before the GAH.  If this materializes, it promises to be an exciting get-together for Spectrum staff, contributors and supporters.  A reunion in Cebu, with all its charms, glitters and strategic location, will be difficult to resist.  But then again, all this is still, as Charley puts it, "an idea in incubation."   Anyway, that same evening when I missed the boat for my return trip to Iligan, Charley took the opportunity to drive me around town for my rediscovery of Cebu's ever-changing landscape.  This boom town is progressing by leaps and bounce since my last visit two years ago.  The best part of the odyssey was when Charley gave me an impromptu tour of his favorite hangouts, including the steamy nooks and crannies of Cebu's night life -- a subject my good friend knows like the ppalm of his hand.  He-he!  What an unforgettable trip.  O-la-la!

Back in our hometown, the Dy brothers are in Iligan for a little family get-together of their own.  Jesus Dy (Batch '63), in photo at left, flew in from Canada late last month, followed by Greg Dy (Batch '59) and Johnson Dy (Batch '64), in photo at right, from Chicago.  Meanwhile, Remedios Tan-Wee (Batch '64) will be off to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, sometime this month.  Remy, who owns Airtime Ticketing Travel & Tours in Cotabato City, will join a select group of travel agents in the tour sponsored by the Philippine Airlines.

Here are some additional info on the LCHS whistle brought back to life by Charley Sy in his column, "Sy-llables," recently.  During my usual evening tete-a-tete with Carlos "Bonnie" Dy at Teepoy's Grille, I learned that the LCHS whistle actually started with some members of their Batch of 1958.  Among them were Lim Kim San, Bebencio Palang, Jaime Handumon, Eddie Ang and Carlos Dy.  As early as their high school years in LCHS in the mid-50s, they were already whistling "pee-poo-peow" to call one another for their evening or dawn gathering.  Aside from the public plaza, they would sometimes assemble at the Dy Un Suy Store, then located along Quezon Ave. on what is now the site of Nema Electrical & Industrial Supply.  On some nights, they would go around the city to do some serenades, with Lim Kim San playing the ukelele.  Bonnie recalls that whenever they passed the house of Ang Han Tiong along Juan Luna St., they would whistle the LCHS tune and Andy "Siok An" Ang (Batch '56) would appear on their balcony to throw them some candies.  It didn't take long when their gang grew in numbers. They were soon joined by the boys of Batch '59, the likes of Toto Samson, Angel "Angie" Chiu, Roberto "Mike" Handumon, and others.  So there you have it, folks.  The beat goes on.  Long live, pee-poo-peow!

Seen Nee Kwai Lok!
Wed, 21 Jan 2004 11:50:03 +1100

Dearest LCHS community and friends:  My warmest greetings of Seen Nee Kwai Lok/Kiong He Huat Tsai to you all!  May the year of the Monkey be a joyous year to everyone!  P.S.: Warmest Greetings means our temperature today is 35c or 95f.  We are right in the middle of our summer! From Sydney With Love.
--Loloy Tan (Batch '66) and Family, Sydney, Australia, email: edtan@iinet.net.au

Lakatan, Latundan, Señorita, Morado, Tindok, Tudlo, Datu, Saba ... whatever size, shape and taste you want ... may you have lots to eat in 2004 -- Year of the Monkey.  Kiong He Huat Chai!
--Suniel Lim (Batch '66), Iligan, Philippines, via text message +639209102133

I've been hooked to your Spectrum since reading  Mr. Fidel's  Code of Kalantiaw, Charles O. Sy's Syllables, and puzzled about Mr. Lluch's lack of enthusiasm and support for Mindanao Independence.  I am therefore requesting for regular subscription of your  'Spectacular Spectrum'.  Thank you very much.  Ichariba choodee!  "Once we meet and talk, we are brothers and sisters."  -- Okinawan proverb.
--Hiro S. Nobumasa, Naha, Okinawa, Ryukyuan Republic, e-mail: naruwan4ever@yahoo.com

Charles O. Sy, Batch '67

Anybody who uses e-mail must have, at one time or another, received unsolicited commercial e-mails (or UCE), known popularly as "spam."  The trouble with spam is that it keeps coming, whether you like it or not.

Spam gets its name from the Monty Python TV series in which a restaurant serves Spam (yes, the Hormel luncheon meat) with every order a customer places.  From that TV skit, spam took on a whole new meaning, referring to piles and piles of e-mails that come right at you without let-up.  I know of some friends who were so fed up with spams that they had to switch e-mail addresses.   How, in the first place, do spammers find our e-mail addresses?

Spammers use the Internet to dispatch spams to promote their products or services for the same reason others circulate junk mails through the postal office.  They use sophisticated software such as "robots" and "spiders" to scour the Internet and harvest e-mail addresses.  Spam mailing lists are created in a variety of ways, including scanning Usenet discussion groups and other chat groups, buying or stealing Internet mailing lists, searching the Web for addresses, or harvesting them from circulated e-mail headers.  If you have an e-mail address, chances are  you're going to get spam, one way or the other.

While we can't totally stop spams, here are some steps we can take to guard ourselves against their invasion into our computers:

Never Reply to Spam.   Some people are compelled to respond to a spam in order to ask that they be removed from the mailing list.  This doesn't work all the time.  Don't be fooled by phrases such as "to be removed from this list, click here."  Spammers use these types of catch phrases to entice users to respond to their mails. The spammers may or may not remove your e-mail from their list.  Either way your response only serves to confirm that your e-mail address is valid. This can be more valuable to the spammers because they can now sell your address to another spammer knowing that the e-mail address is legitimate.  So you may have been removed from one list, but there's a good chance that you will end up on another.  In any case, the best thing to do with spams in your Inbox is to simply ignore or delete them altogether.

Steer Clear of "Forward" Mails.   Do not take part in passing around Forward-Type e-mails, such as those containing jokes, gossips, or get-rich-quick pyramid schemes.  Doing so only makes it easy for spammers to harvest the many e-mail addresses, including yours, found in the headers of these message threads being forwarded from one sender to another.

Use Filters in Your Email Program.   Some e-mail applications allow you to block specific messages.  When an offending e-mail comes in, set the filter to block further incoming mails from that sender.  Most e-mail programs, such as Outlook Express and Qualcomm's Eudora, allow users to trash unwanted e-mails by setting up filters.  While this doesn't prevent spams from getting into your PC when you check your mails, the filters can at least delete them or send these mails to Trash instead of your In-box.

Turn HTML or Display Images Off.   Turn off the HTML or Display Images option in your e-mail program.  A spammer can use a cleverly written "IMG" tag to verify your e-mail address.  The IMG tag is loaded by your mail reader when you open an HTML message.  The tag specifies a server name and a file name to load. The spammer can, instead of specifying a file name, specify a CGI script with a unique code that identifies your address. When your mail reader requests this "file" from their server, their script marks your e-mail address as "verified" in their database.  If your e-mail program has the option to view HTML messages as plain text, turn it on.  If you're just viewing the plain text, it won't load images.

Create Alternate E-mails.   Don’t sign up with every free newsletter or attractive offers that come your way.  Every time you enter your e-mail address into a form and or a subscription, you are making it easier for companies to send you spam.  As much as possible, refrain from displaying your e-mail address in websites.   If you have to post your address on website, or fill up an online form, use an alternate or disposable e-mail address instead of your principal address.  Keep your preferred e-mail address for exclusive use between friends and family, and secure a separate e-mail address from free services like Hotmail or Yahoo for general or public correspondence.

Scan Mails Before Downloading.   Some people install a lesser known yet useful tool called "Pop3 Scan Mailbox" that allows the user to peek first into his mailbox on his server before receiving mails.  The program allows you to delete unwanted mails and large mail bombs without having to download them. You can also use this program to read or inspect all the mails in your mailbox, including their origins, dates and file sizes before deciding whether to accept them.  This nifty software is available for free download on this website: www.kempston.freeserve.co.uk/smb

These are just some of the stuffs you can do as a form of defense mechanism against spam.  With these, you can lean back and put your troubles with spam away.  For now.  Or until some computer geeks somewhere cook up another form of sneak attack.

Marie Janiefer Q. Lee, Batch '87

I heard you my dear, when you said that you feel blue.  That things aren’t working out the way you expected them to. You don’t have to say much because I can feel it from the different pitch in your voice and the tired gaze of your eyes that something’s wrong.  The hunch of your shoulder and the cuts in your hands tell me more than enough.  Just come home, I’ll help you start all over again.

I heard you my dear, when you said you needed to leave.  I know that this isn’t about earning in dollars.  I know that you’re not too keen on the idea of looking for a boss since you’re the boss here.  But living with somebody who expects too much is more than enough for you.  I just want you to know that I’m not condemning you for leaving.  It’s your life, so bon voyage and good luck. Whatever happens I’ll always be here for you.

I heard you my dear, when you said that you’re fine. But I know that you’re not, because the curve of your lips that’s supposed to be a smile isn’t reflected in your sullen eyes.  The way you inhaled the smoke from that Marlboro stick looks like you want to fill up a certain void inside you.  You don’t know when he will come back if he’ll ever come back and yet you still wear your wedding ring as if he just went on a business trip.  You don’t want to be tagged as a “separada.”  But does it really matter?  I just want you to know that you’re still the same person I know, you’re still the most beautiful person I know.  My respect for you will never diminish.

I heard you my dear, when you said that your wife seems to be too busy for you.  I know that this is the time when she’s finally having fun with all the time she has. Now that your two kids have move out of your house. But I won’t say a word because I can sense that you don’t really want my opinion, just my undivided attention.

I heard myself say that everything’s going to be fine.  I assured you my dear that you’ll be ok.  But if you could only come a little closer you’d probably hear that my heart is weeping from helplessness, wishing I could do something to lift your burden and make everything ok.

"They're tearing down the streets where I grew up.
Like pouring brandy on a dixie cup.
They're paving concrete on a part of me.
No charge for killing a memory."
-- "Ashes to Ashes" by Dennis Lambert

That road seemed forbidding.  Every day as we sat by our gate watching the buses breeze through, leaving a cloud of dust in our midst, we would often wonder what lay beyond the curve.  (As we grew older, though, we found the answer to our profound question -- what lay beyond was just another curve.)<

Every so often, especially during summer vacations, just when we would start to smell like the season, our mother would scrub the cakes of dirt off our backs until we would sparkle and smell like freshly laundered shirts.  Then she'd bundle us off to the city to visit our grandparents in their big house.

Riding in air-conditioned cars then was a luxury that did not exist even in our wildest imagination.  So during those summer vacations, we had to take the passenger buses to the city.  The buses were always crowded with chickens, pigs, goats and people from all walks of life.  People with different smells -- smells that were as proletarian as coconut oil, dried and fresh fish, tuba-tuba or as bourgeois as X-7 perfume and Three Flowers pomade.  People who would drowse through the three-hour trip, banging their heads against our shoulders as saliva dripped from the corners of their mouths.  People who would sit spreading their legs 180 degrees, squeezing  us into a tiny bundle.

Obviously, those trips were not the kind that we looked forward to with bated excitement.  But we had no choice -- the alternative was to walk 71 kilometerss to the city and we estimated that by the time we reached the city, summer vacation would have been over.

On the other hand, those trips had their silver linings too.  The sight of the lush rice fields and the country belles washing clothes and taking baths at the artesian wells by the roadside.  The smell of ripening corn and the faint stench of the cow dung.  The sound of the endless chatter of the barrio folks  discussing the latest Garcia coins and other barrio politics.  The experience of being seated next to a pretty lady (which was rare and far between) which somehow put wings to those three hours and made them seem very short.

Even those roadblocks were a welcome respite.  At the first stop, everybody would take a leak although I always wondered where the ladies took theirs (the men and the boys invariably faced either a wall, some thick bushes, or any post that could keep their faces hidden).

Vendors took this occasion to peddle soft drinks (Coco-Cola and Pepsi-Cola cost only ten centavos each then) and all sorts of snack items.  No, not hamburgers nor pizza pie.  Nothing of that sort because McDonalds wasn't born yet and Shakey's wasn't shaking up all the pizza people then.  All we had were boiled eggs, oranges, bi-ko, bud-bud, ampao, and the like.  Perhaps it was in this rustic scene that the joke "Itlog mo, Noy, orange" (which in the right context simply means, "Sir, would you like to buy some eggs or oranges?" but in a convoluted sense means, "Sir, your eggs are orange.") came about.  Our personal favorite was the "bi-ko" -- that delicacy made from glutinous rice and coconut milk, cooked well done in the middle.

Those who were not hungry simply lazed around continuing their verbal calisthenics about geopolitics.

It was in that stretch of road that a part of our childhood was molded.  Somehow, over time, we must have gotten, ha-ha, too westernized in our language and looks that soon, our grandparents started to nag our parents to send us to the schools in the city to learn some old Chinese culture.  Finally, against the dictates of his heart (it pained him to see his, ha-ha, favorite sons away from his lap, hacking it out in the concrete jungle of Cebu City, alone and far from his loving gaze), our father relented and sent us to the city.  Initially, we were sent to a Jesuit school for a year but finally to a Chinese school that was also our mother's alma mater (well, sort of -- because she never finished high school, but that's another story).

Needless to say, our life was reversed because this time, home was the city and summer vacation was the sea and the mountain.  But just the same, we had to endure that three hour ordeal over that stretch of road.  Our father bought a World War II surplus jeep and for a while, we stopped taking the bus.  But it was no consolation, for the ride in the jeep was more bumpy than the one in the bus.  Riding in the jeep jarred our liver so much that we suspect that is the reason why these days we tend to doze off after drinking only two bottles of beer.

Over the years, progress finally came to our sleepy town -- a white cement plant was set up, 24-hour electricity suddenly became available (that was supposed to stem the population growth, if you are able to follow the logic), and prawn grow-out ponds started sprouting all over.  The underground economy also became active -- marijuana was said to have been grown abundantly in the hinterlands and the National People's Army and the military battled over those mountains like Darth Vaders fighting against the Luke Skywalkers.

Along with these developments, our road was given a facelift.  Concrete ribbons of highways started replacing the macadams.  Our road no longer cut through the mountains of Toledo as some government engineers finally discovered that a much better highway could be built by cutting through the hills of Naga.  Hence, the new highway.

We did not have to pass through the roadblocks anymore.  The bus companies started fielding faster and slicker-looking buses and travel time became shorter.

As for us, over the years, we became busier over a thousand a one matters of consequence -- and we no longer went back in time to enjoy the sun and the sea.  If we did, it was only to zip through the highways, sometimes in an air-conditioned car, in the company of some city friends, having just enough time to drink a case of beer and a bottle or so of wine coolers.  Sometimes, we felt like rats in the midst of life's eternal race.  But that's how life goes.

Sometimes though, I manage to pause and look back -- and every so often, I catch a glimpse of a child smelling of the sun and the sea, sitting by a rusting gate, watching old run-down buses disappear at the curve in a cloud of dust from the macadam road.

Funny.  His face looks familiar.

Dearest,

I am here in the solitude of our special garden.  It is nearing dusk now and the fireflies are flitting through the trees.  The sun is a sinking orb of red and orange.  A ball of dwindling flame, you once said.  The sounds of laughing children fill my ears and the air is resplendent with the smell of magnolia blossoms.  You would have loved this day, dearest.  As it is, I am all alone with my memories.

Remember how we started?  Valentine’s Day fifty five years ago seems like yesterday to me.  It was prom night and you had danced with almost every girl but me.  I swore to myself that I would never ever dance with you, but the sincere honesty and something else in your eyes caught at me.  And so I put my hand in yours.  Funny that you had had your eye on me since junior high and how could my heart not beat a little faster at the sight of the captain of the debate team?  The only one who could match me on the honors list!

From our very first dance, I knew that it would be you.  Everything felt so right, and as you told me, I fitted perfectly in the crook of your arm.  We danced all the dances that night and drove home under a blanket of stars.  I was so giddy after all that happened I didn’t even thank you for such a wonderful evening.  I didn’t sleep all that night.  And I know you didn’t, too.  Years later, you would tell me that you stayed wide awake staring at the souvenir photograph taken of us that night.

College had me rushing to the mailbox everyday in anticipation of your never-ending letters.  The sight of a blue envelope never failed to bring a smile to my face.  And you always scented it with lavender, my favorite scent.  Your anecdotes and funny drawings had me laughing my sides out.  I could see that you were going to be a great lawyer.  You even wore the sweater I knitted for you and it wasn’t even made properly.  My fledgling talent was showing, you mischievously remarked.

Summers were spent along the seashore with the diving terns and the crashing surf.  We would build ourselves sand castles and pick up every unusual stone and shell we came across.  Or bicycling down the little hill fronting the parish.  I remember Father James mouth open in shock as my skirt billowed wide in the windy afternoon.  I did one more extra penance that week, not that God would have minded.  And the backyard swing where one day we pledged ourselves to love forever.  It was nearing dusk, too.  There was the smell of magnolia blossoms and the sun was a ball of dwindling flame.

You built the special garden for me on our first anniversary.  It was to be a font for my literary gift.  You planted it with every kind of flowering bulb and a seed from your mother’s old magnolia tree.  And my gift did soar to great heights.  You were and still are my greatest inspiration.

We did get to have four children, two boys and two girls.  Gregory, Matthew, Emily, and Rebecca.  The string quartet of our family, you’d often joke.  You were a loving and admirable father.  Memories of childhood will always be filled with Sunday morning picnics, trips to the carnival, and piggyback rides.  Growing up, the boys enjoyed debating with you for hours on end and the girls loved listening to your oft-repeated story of how you won me over, sighing and theatrically swooning each time.  Countless times had they told me that you were the greatest there ever could be and you knew it, too.

Through all that time we remained as devoted as ever.  Oh, we had our share of quarrels but they were never about anything significant.  Whispered words of apology and some quiet time alone would heal the hurt.  Soon, we would be laughing over our silliness and everything would be just as it was before.

The years flew by.  The string quartet grew up, got married and had families of their own.  It was back to us two again.  Just like when we started out, we laughingly said to each other.  We traced our steps to the familiar little hill in front of the parish and strolled along the seashore hand in hand.  There was the never-forgotten dinner and dance on Valentine’s Day, a night out under the stars and best of all, quiet afternoons in our special garden.  Remembering some funny, hidden memory or just talking about the past, relishing the present and hoping for the future.  Sitting on the backyard swing, we’d watch the magnolia blossoms drift gently to the ground.  Time stood still for us in that place.

It is night now.  The fireflies light the garden with their burning light and the sun has long sunk beneath the horizon.  The gentle wind caresses the dampness on my cheek.  I miss you, dearest.  I miss you still.  A magnolia blossom has fallen onto my lap.  How like you it is to make me happy.  I glance at the faded photograph in my hand.  The captain of the debate team and his Princess Honor.  I smiled.  Everything was going to be fine.

Yours forever,
Mary Elizabeth

[Author's Note:  This love letter was written years ago inspired by thoughts of a great and lasting love.  The setting is in post-war America, the late 40’s or 50’s when full skirts, pearls, gloves, and hats were all the vogue.  I find that period very fascinating.  As for the name I just have a penchant for Victorian names.  A tribute for Valentine’s Day.  Comments are welcomed at candz911@yahoo.co.uk]

Senior citizens
Forwarded by Ellen Lim
Manila, Philippines, Email: ellenlim427@yahoo.com

Three sisters, ages 92, 94, and 96 live in a house together. One night the 96 year old draws a bath. She puts one foot in and pauses. She yells down the stairs, "Was I getting in or out of the bath?"

The 94-year-old yells back, "I don't know. I'll come up and see." She starts up the stairs and pauses. Then, she yells, "Was I going up the stairs or down?"

The 92 year old is sitting at the kitchen table having tea, listening to her sisters. She shakes her head and says, "I sure hope I never get that forgetful." She knocks on wood for good measure. She then yells, "I'll come up and help both of you as soon as I see who's at the door."

Born fat:  Bob Uy
Born during brownout:  Andy Lim
Born blind:  Kenneth See
Born mad:  Aga Go
Born stupid:  Beau Go
Born a joker:  Gavino Ang