Vol. 7, No. 15, October 27, 2003

Marcelino Siao Dano (Batch '66), aka Siao Kiao Eng, in photo, 56 years old, was released by his abductors along the highway of Taraka, Lanao del Sur at around 12:30 a.m., Thursday, Oct. 23. He was kidnapped last Aug. 7 near his warehouse in Del Carmen, Iligan City.  He was finally freed after two and a half months in captivity.  He was released to the hands of a joint task force of military, marine and PNP operatives.  Siao was immediately turned over to Col. Francisco Gudani, commanding officer of the First Marine Brigade. He was later reunited with his family.  Law enforcement personnel said no ransom was paid.  Media reports said that law enforcement operatives had encircled the safe house after the location was identified.  In order to avoid any potential clash that may endanger the life of Siao, the authorities opted for negotiation with the kidnappers that eventually ended with the victim's safe release.

Col. Gudani refused to publicly divulge any information as to who really abducted Siao as it was the agreement reached with the victim upon his release. According to Gudani, Siao's abductors were not from the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) or the Abu Sayyaf group but part of a "professional kidnap syndicate" operating in the area. Authorities said there are several of these kidnap-for-ransom groups in Lanao del Sur and authorities are doing their best to hunt them down.  Marcelino Siao's family owns the Nema Electrical & Industrial Sales, Inc., located along Quezon Ave., Iligan City.

Greg Dy to be inducted to Freemasonry Hall of Fame

Greg Dy, M.D. (Batch '58), in photo, will be inducted to "The Hall of Fame in Freemasonry" by the Fil-Am Organization in Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A. on Nov. 22, 2003.  Earlier, Greg Dy and his wife Mary Dy were also formally honored in "Memory Everlasting" for bringing the Masonic Brotherhood closer at the induction ceremonies of the Philippine Masonic Association of America, Inc., Charleston Chapter, Charlston, S.C., U.S.A.

Spectrum now in true newspaper format

Anyone who wishes to print each issue of the Spectrum in its true newspaper form can now do so with ease -- and some added flair. The Spectrum now offers a special tabloid edition that is designed in the same manner as a standard newspaper layout (in photo). Pages now come adorn with column partitions, pagination, photos, graphics, half tones, and full color.  The edition is in PDF (Portable Document Format), which is readable and printable using Acrobat Reader software in any PC.  The new format is particularly ideal for readers with an eye for a more presentable Spectrum that they can read with ease or pass around to friends.  The tabloid edition, with an average file size of 800KB, is free and available only upon request.  Interested readers simply have to email their request and a copy will be sent to them individually by email attachment.  Ask for your copy now and see for yourselves.  You might like its new look so much you wouldn't wanna go back to reading the Spectrum in the old webpage format.  To receive a copy of the tabloid edition, email your request to: spectrum@i-cebu.com.ph.   To download Acrobat Reader software, go to this website:  http://www.adobe.com/products/acrobat/readstep2.html

Iligan vies for top plum in Mindanao games

Iligan continues to flex its muscle for the overall championship in fierce contention with Davao at the 3rd Mindanao Friendship Games in Mati, Davao Oriental.  As of this writing, Iligan leads the pack in the field of swimming and placed second in overall medal standing next only to Davao.  Iligan has already amassed 26 golds, 18 silvers, and 23 bronzes, as of Oct. 23.  The city's swimming sensation, Monique Bacolod, won most of the golds in Iligan's impressive haul of medals.  Among her triumphs to date are three of four golds in 100m backstroke, 50m freestyle, and 400m freestyle relay.  Monique Bacolod, 14 years old, is a UAAP swimming champion.  "We are very proud of our swimmers," said Iligan City Mayor Franklin Quijano.  He also disclosed to journalists covering the games that Iligan's swimming team all trained in the chlorine-free swimming pools located beside Pres. Gloria Arroyo's ancestral house in Timoga, Iligan City.

CdO anti-war activists stage demo vs Bush

Militant groups in Cagayan de Oro City and Misamis Oriental joined their allies nationwide in denouncing US President George Bush's state visit to the Philippines last Oct. 18 by staging their own protest actions. The rally drew about 1,000 participants from various cause-oriented sectors that assailed Pres. Bush as a war-monger. The demonstration began at the Provincial Capitol grounds and culminated at the Magsaysay park in Divisoria.  Among the groups were Bayan Muna, Bagong Alyansang Makabayan (Bayan), Karapatan, Promotion of Church People's Response, Anak Pawis, Anak ng Bayan, Gabriela, Talikala, Kilusang Mayo Uno (KMU), Kilusang Magbubukid ng Pilipinas-Misamis Oriental Farmers Association (KMP-MOFA), Kalipunang Damayang Mahihirap (Kadamay), League of Filipino Students (LFS), and Student Christian Movement of the Philippines (SCMP).  The activitists also accused Bush of waging a genocidal war in Taliban, Afghanistan and Iraq.  Bayan Regional Coordinator Alvin Luque said they condemned the summary execution of Indonesian bomber al-Ghozi which he said is obviously timed for the Bush visit.
 

NEWS PICTORIAL Kasadya 2003 A pretty participant of the Kasadya 2003, a street dancing festivity of Iligan fiesta celebration last Sept. 29.  The refreshing smile on her face mirrors the spirit of Kasadya, Iligan's version of mardi gras that forms part of the highlights of Iligan's annual fiesta celebration.  Photo by Bobby Timonera.

Lesson from CEC alumni homecoming

"Tracers" gathered from spot reports sent in by its Cebu connections that the Cebu Eastern College alumni homecoming affair held on the occasion of the CEC 88th Foundation Day was a success.  The Teachers and Alumni Night held at the White Gold House on Sept. 27 was well attended.  Songs and dances prepared and performed by alumni, teachers, and students gave added color and meaning to the occasion.  One of the highlights of the program was the formal installation of Kho Siok We (in photo at left) as the new administrator of CEC by Augusto Go, Chairman of the CEC Board of Trustees.  Siok We's promotion to the highest office in this premiere Chinese-Filipino school in Cebu is indeed a great pride and distinction shared by all LCHS alumni.  Sianse Siok We is an alumna (Batch '57) and a former teacher of LCHS, and a true-blooded Iliganon as well.

Despite the successful program, it was noted however that many alumni in Cebu missed this major event of their alma mater.  There seemed to be a lack of proper dissemination of information by the alumni association to its thousands of alumni members.  More alumni would have shown up in full force had there been a serious campaign among its alumni by batches several weeks ahead of the occasion.  This could be a lesson for us, too, when we prepare for our own grand alumni homecoming in 2005.  A more effective promotion would have generated better attendance had proper coordination been made with individual batches.  Another thing is that, unlike in our case at LCHS, the CEC Alumni Association classifies its alumni batches according to their Chinese classes.  As a result, many other alumni were somehow left out because they discontinued their Chinese education after finishing elementary or middle high school.  We, in the LCHS alumni association, based our alumni batches according to English classes.  It's more comprehensive that way as the roster can cover more alumni because there are more of us who finished English than Chinese high school.

"Tracers" recently learned that Gloria Tecson (Batch '70), in photo at right, who used to be a flight stewardess of Cathay Airlines, now owns and manages an elegant coffee shop in a big mall in Vancouver, Canada.  The last time Gloria revisited Iligan was in June 1998 when her father, Johnny Tecson of Lanao Arkay Radio & Electrical Supply, died.  Gloria studied at LCHS from Grade I up to third year high school, after which she transferred to St. Michael's College where she became a staff writer of the Sword & Shield in 1969 when it had another LCHS alumnus, Charles O. Sy (Batch '67), as its editor.   Are you having migraine or arthritis? Or any other ailments like sinusitis, neuritis, anginal pain, asthma, anemia, sciatica, paralysis or facial palsy?  If so, try to seek therapeutic treatment from Felipe S. Lim (Batch '70) who has established himself as one of the few notable accupuncturists in Cebu City.  Trained in Taiwan, Felipe, or Boy as he is better known among LCHS alumni, runs the Diagnostic Accupressure & Reflexology Center, located at 2nd Street, Happy Valley, V. Rama Ave., Cebu City.  Go visit him.  You may yet discover that life under needles and pins ain't so bad after all.

Are the Muslims of Mindanao more enlightened?
Sun, 12 Oct 2003 08:39:11 -0700 (PDT)

Self-determination is a universal dream for those who have been awakened from the deep slumbers of colonization; racial discrimination; abject poverty and glaring neglect. This kind of awakening is further enriched and energized by the spectral aura of enlightened acceptance to freely  pursuit one's own  destiny. Thus if the Muslims in Mindanao have long savored the sweet and bitter taste for self-determination then could it be true that they are really more enlightened and much more awake than the Christians and Maragats of  Iligan and the rest of Mindanao?

According to a documentary by NHK, it's already an established and accepted  fact that Mindanaoans in general, that means Muslims, Christians and genuine Mindanaoan Natives, are all referred to as 'those simpletons from the boondocks' in Manila and are being comically made fun of  because of their accents and coyly innocent  nature. The report based in Davao also reiterated that the people of Mindanao and Luzon actually speak different languages and need the English tongue to communicate.

Thus I am requesting  Mr. Pacificador Lluch Jr. to please elucidate why Iliganons in particular and Christian Mindanaoans in general are not yet awakened and enlightened by their sacred and inherent rights to self-determination?  An article in  the Crusader On line of XU noted that many people are now not laughing at the once much maligned  'Mindanao Independence Movement' of  Mr. Reuben Canoy but are now crying and deluged by tears of regret by making fun of this truly visionary Mindanaoan.  If tiny Singapore can be independent from Malaysia and be super-successful then why can't big, natural resources-rich and beautiful Mindanao?  Respectfully, Hiro S. Nobumasa, naruwan4ever@yahoo.com.  P.S.: My warm regards to Mr. Fidel.

Thank you for locating Elsa Lagrosas for me. Hurray for LCHS Spectrum!  --Alex Rodriguez (Batch '65), Miramarr, Florida, U.S.A., email: alpacino_8@hotmail.com

The Philippines' achilles heel is not its politicians or government system but the people's lack of patriotism.  Perhaps we're not teaching the children this trait in school and at home. --Rene Tio (Batch '70), Cagayan de Oro, Philippines, via text message +639177066834

Hi, Tsinoys of Iligan!  Just sharing my concern, why don't you guys build an airport?  That can  make your city even more inviting to tourists and investors as well.  Air transport makes places accessible. Iligan and its suburbs can take advantage with it.  --Aries Dy Lo, Cebu, Philippines, from message posted on guestbook of  Spectrum Home Page

I got text message from Igdono Caracho that Kiau Eng was finally released. Thank God he's in good health.  Regards.  --Peter Dy (Batch '66), Edmonton, Cannada, email: pdy@telusplanet.net

Thank you Lord for Kiao Eng's safe release. It's a jubilation for the family and friends. --Alex Rodriguez & family, Florida, U.S.A., email: alpacino_8@hotmail.com

Vivina C. Chiu (Batch '61), in photo, was featured as "Woman on the Go" by Cebu's Sun-Star Daily.  In the Lifestyle section of its Oct. 23, 2003 issue, the full-page article notes that Vivina Chiu "is into so many things there is no way Cebu society can overlook her."

Vivina is a pediatrician with clinic at the Cebu Doctors' Hospital.  She is a board member of the Mariquita Salimbangon Yeung Foundation and served as clinical coordinator of "Operation Smile" in Cebu.  She is also board member of the Kapwa Ko, Mahal Ko Foundation where she chairs the medical advisory board.  Through this, she serves the underprivileged, especially children with facial deformities and leukemia.  She is also currently Cebu Arts Council vice president and OIC of the Swiss Consulate in Cebu and chair of the pediatrics department of the Gov. Celestino Gallares Memorial Hospital in Tagbilaran where she goes weekly.  She is also connected with the faculty of the University of the Visayas Gullas College of Medicine.  She is president of the Philippine-Israel Business Association (Cebu chapter).

A graduate of the Cebu Institute of Medicine (CIM), Vivina is a medical director of the Mactan Medical and Dental Center Diagnostic Laboratory in Lapulapu.  She specialized in pediatric nephrology in the U.S.A.  She is a past president of the CIM Alumni Medical Association and of the Cebu chapters of the Philippine Pediatric Society and the Phil. Medical Women's Association.  She was treasurer of the Cebu Medical Society and governor of the Phil. Medical Association Region VII. Aside from her career-related activities, Vivina also plays golf and bowling.  She also collects stamps as a hobby, having been president also of the Cebu Philatelic Society.


Charles O. Sy, Batch '67

My friend Kenneth Lim went on leave just to watch the F4 concert in Manila last Sept. 13.  He says he Kenneth afford to miss the show. -- ooo -- The Agence France Press reports that a man in Paris jumped off the Eiffel Tower with a parachute and landed in the Seine River.  This guy must be in Seine. -- ooo -- The state of Missouri is trying to get some of the other states bordering on the Mississippi River to join in a flood control project.  The explanation for this action is that Missouri loves company. -- ooo -- Do you know that the Chinese surname of Roderick Ngo is Ho?  He says he's using Ngo instead because people might not know Ho he is. -- ooo -- To prevent varicose veins, my doctor advised me to refrain from standing still too long.  I followed his advice but my efforts were all in vein. -- ooo -- Here's an interesting point of inquiry from Bonifacio Khu (Batch '71) that can pass as a trivia quiz in our next grand alumni homecoming.  Bonnie wants to know who started the three-note whistle that has become the standard code among LCHS students for calling someone's attention.  It seems the three-note signal is still being practiced today by LCHS students and alumni alike.  Bonnie himself says he still whistles the same tune today whenever he calls out his friends from a distance. Try whistling the tune out loud yourselves before a big crowd anywhere.  You can be sure the first fellow who will turn his head is an Iliganon Tsinoy.  It works just like the secret handshake among Freemason brethren. -- ooo -- It's unknown who started this unique whistling signal.   This simple yet distinctive tune was already in use among LCHS students as far back as the 1950s.  Gangs among teenagers were the fad in the late 50s when they were popularized by the Filipino movie "Lo Waist Gang."  Somehow gang members in LCHS whistled their own unique tune as a secret code of communication or a reveille of sorts among themselves.   Most of them belonged to Batches 1958 and 1959, the likes of Eddie Ang, Lucio Co, Arturo Samson, Popong Bagatan, Teodoro Tan, Godfrey Siao, Jaime Handumon, and Felix Te, among others. They were already using this tune to summon their gangmates to a rendezvous at the city plaza. But then again, exactly who started it all remains a big mystery. Anybody knows? -- ooo -- Come Nov. 1, cities and cemeteries throughout the country will once more take on an eerie reversal of roles. Cities will be deserted and transformed into ghost towns while graveyards come alive as millions of Filipinos troop en masse to cemeteries to pay homage to the dead.  It's an occasion observed with the dogged pursuit of tradition as it is punctuated by modern-day contradictions.  The cemeteries become bizarre venues for family reunions -- for clan members who haven't seen each otther for years as well as for those who have simply ceased to see eye to eye with one another.  For many, it will be a day to commune with dear departed souls; still for some others, it will be a day to reconcile with their own lost and misguided souls.  While candles are lit, prayers offered, and Masses heard, the graveyards will resound with the blare of punk rock from portable stereos, the crackle of reshuffled mahjong tiles, and sound bytes from cell phones and beepers. While candlelight flickers and joss stick burns to revere the departed, so will a few poor piglets roast in the same sacred place to feed the living.  One wonders on a day such as this if it's not only apt to worship the spirit of the dead as one ought to also mourn the ways of the living.

One of our family’s favorite humorous anecdotes, the one that sends us into epileptic fits at every retelling (no matter that it happened almost thirty years ago), is appropriately titled, “The Case of the Uninvited Wedding Sponsor.”

My father had just begun his political career then, and as the fate of all politicians, he was besieged with invitations to stand as wedding sponsor.  One time, he couldn’t make it to one such wedding and so he sent one of his sons-in-law (I won’t mention his name) to act as proxy for him.  So off went the earnest young man in coat and tie, determined to fit the role as well as he could.  He arrived in church a few minutes late, with the wedding entourage already at the altar.  He looked around; saw some familiar faces, although the bride and groom he hadn’t personally met.  Spotting a vacant chair among the sponsors, he heaved a sigh of relief and proceeded to take his place. When the wedding ceremony was over, he promptly went over to wish the bride and groom a long and happy marriage and then exchanged pleasantries with the rest of the entourage. He didn’t notice the odd way some of them regarded him. They then posed for pictures, some more pleasantries were exchanged, and then it was time to proceed to the reception.

Outside the church, another wedding party was waiting for its turn. When our young man came out, he was immediately greeted by members of the second wedding party who, while escorting him to his place among the sponsors, commented admiringly how in demand he was, standing as wedding sponsor two times in one day.  That was when goose-pimples erupted all over his body -- he was supposed to stand as sponsor in only one wedding, and the first was not the right one!

What happened was that the first one started very late, almost at the same time when the second wedding, where he was supposed to stand as sponsor, was to begin.

So ends the story of the uninvited sponsor. To this day, nobody ever bothered to find out whose wedding it was our brother-in-law gate-crashed in such a memorably bold manner, but we’re pretty sure every time that couple would reminisce with their children about their wedding and they take out their wedding albums, there they would see and relive “The Case of the Uninvited Wedding Sponsor.”  That would be enough to send them rocking and rolling on the floor in stitches.  Well, it was nice to know that our brother-in-law has made many people happy.

Marie Janiefer Q. Lee, Batch '87

How could this be?  I entered my classroom one day, the big classroom we used in first year high school in the old school campus.  I was perturbed to find that everybody seemed busy memorizing something.  The whole room was buzzing.  I tried to peep at what my seatmate was reading but all I could see were Greek signs and symbols.  And then she looked up to me and asked, “Are you ready for the exam?”  My throat felt dry, I panicked.  And all I could think of is “how could this be?”  I would never forget something as important as an exam.

I could feel sweat pouring down my forehead and down my back.  My freshly ironed uniform is now soaked pretty bad.  Then everybody turned and looked at me strangely as if I’ve just grown another head.  So I ran to the door to escape but when I open my eyes I found myself in bed.  I sigh with relief knowing that I’m not in a classroom nor do I have to take an exam.  But I still couldn’t help asking “how could this be?”

(Note:  This is a recurring dream I’ve been having since high school. I don’t know why but until now I still get this dream. Somebody told me that the answer lies in what is written in the book that my seatmate was reading but until now I still couldn’t decipher what those signs mean.)

He never wrote an essay.  He never delivered a speech.  He never sang a song.

He was never a leader.  But neither was he a follower, because he never belonged to a group.  Perhaps not by choice because he was not a loner nor was he aloof.  He was amiable despite his stern looking face that looked tough because of his unwieldy beard.  He was shy, maybe painfully so.  But he could go into an engaging conversation with anybody who cared to talk to him.  Most of the time he preferred to listen because he always felt that he had nothing much to share.  Also, he didn't want to go into arguments with anybody.

For several years, he worked for various companies owned by relatives.  But he couldn't bring himself to come to office on time.  He usually took his own sweet time preparing for office:  one hour and a half in the toilet and the bathroom; another hour to eat, and another hour to walk and commute to his office.  His superiors could only throw their hands in exasperation.  Still he retained his job because he had honesty and integrity.  And his relatives knew that they could rely on him, especially on money matters.

Eventually, he got fed up with the routine and the constant reminder to report for work on time.  He resigned and put up a sari-sari store in their house.  He never dreamed to be able to challenge the likes of Rosita's and Gaisano in Cebu City or Bohol Quality Store and Alturas in Tagbilaran.  Still he had pocket dreams for the store: he wanted to be the biggest soft drinks and bread dealer in the area.  Never mind if he had to deliver the soft drinks and the beer himself.  And never mind if he didn't bake his own bread.

In the morning, he would be seen dragging his oversized trolley to deliver cases of soft drinks.  Then he would spend the next few hours attending to his customers:  children with runny noses, half-naked tough-looking guys who probably were pimps or drug users in the neighborhood, or cantankerous housewives forever dragging babies with them.  The afternoons would often find him inside his store, watching people go by, nodding and smiling at those who would greet him every now and then.

In other words, he led a very ordinary life.  And he did not do any extraordinary things.  In a society that is constantly in search of heroes and role models, one that roots only for winners, over-achievers, the good looking, the strong, and the brave, he didn't rate a second look.  Not even a first look.

Then suddenly he died.  He was just doing his morning rituals and as quietly as he lived, he slipped away just as quietly.

He was already gone when the doctor came.

Many people came to his wake and many more brought him to his final resting place.  People one would never imagine knew him.  There was a high ranking government official who sent flowers.  And there were a few others who mattered in society who also came.  But most were the faceless people -- ones whom you may bump into in the busy streets of Cebu City and will never notice.

They came and told stories about him who died.  And, slowly, an image came up not exactly of an ordinary person but who was a hero to those who knew him.

He was generous where generosity mattered.  In his own small way, he shared what little blessings he had.  The unsold bread was given to the hungry "cargador" on his way home from work.  A piece of candy went to the neighbor's kid who ambled into the store now and then.  A bottle of softdrink to slake the thirst of an old man.

The fact that he listened a lot made him a favorite conversation partner of the "stand-bys" in the neighborhood.  These "stand-bys" would have been the pickpockets and the holduppers in a different place.  But in his presence, they were just friends.  And because he listened to them, he became their confidant.   They talked about the increasing drug menace and warned him of certain places where pushers and users abound.

There were also those hustlers who hang around government offices, peddling influence here and extorting a little money there.  They also came to his store to buy a piece of bread and a bottle of Coke and to talk about their exploits in the corridors of power.  They shared with him the secrets of the high and mighty, confident that he wouldn't tell a soul.

When one learns about the little things that he had done to these little people, it wasn't difficult anymore to understand why there were a lot of them who mourned his death.

To some of them he was a sage to whom they could run and discuss their own little dreams and frustrations.  To others he was a Mother Teresa who provided food for the hungry and drink for the thirsty.

He wasn't much of a religious person; he stopped going to mass regularly several decades ago.  But in his actions, he reflected the teachings of Christ, perhaps, better than most faithfuls.

Time passes by rather quickly.  Come November, it will be twelve years since he went back to his heavenly Father.  But I still remember that when he died, I suddenly felt a loss like I never felt before.

After all, he was my brother; my one and only brother.

He never wrote an essay.  He never delivered a speech.  He never sang a song.  But his actions wrote his essays, delivered his speeches and sang his songs for him.

My brother Arturo, for this forthcoming All Saints Day, this one's for you.

[ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Fermin Chio writes from Cebu City, where he is assistant vice president of a leading commercial bank.  He was editor of the Easternian of the Cebu Eastern College, and later associate editor of the Weekly Carolinian of the University of San Carlos in his student days.  He is a past president of the Cebu Toastmasters Club.  He spent two years in Kathmandu, Nepal as project consultant of the United Nations Development Fund Cottage and Small Industry Project in 1988 and 1989.  He can be reached at: fetch@philwebinc.com]

“Helene?”
“Yes, Miss Lena?”
“I have good news for you.  Your father will be visiting you today.  He will be here in a couple of hours.  Best to get ready now.  You would want to look pretty for him, wouldn’t you?”  Miss Lena held up the brush invitingly.

I obediently seated myself on the stool in front of the dresser.  She started brushing my hair in long and soothing strokes.  This was our ritual.  The continuous stroking relaxes and calms me, almost lulling me into sleep.

“You have such beautiful hair, Helene.”  Here she pauses, as if unsure of her next words.  “Just like your mother’s.”  The words were said haltingly as if she were weighing them before she actually said them.  Now why should she feel that?  Sometimes I feel that the people around here actually avoid talking about my mother.  I think it is because they fear that they will upset me.  But why should talking about my mother upset me?  Well, they have never really known me then if they could think of such a thing.  I will not think too much on things like that.  The doctor had said that I should not cram too many thoughts in my head; the headaches might start again.  I will think instead of my father and that he will be coming to visit me soon.

“Just like my mother’s.”  I repeated dreamily.  “She was a very beautiful woman, wasn’t she?”  “Will my father really be coming over?  I have missed him so much.  He hasn’t been to visit me in three months.”

Miss Lena paused again.  “Well, he has been busy, dear.  And the doctor has said that it wouldn’t be advisable for him to see you that often.”
“Does it have something to do with the incident?”

The brushing immediately stopped.  Miss Lena stood up and said, “I think your hair looks better now,” her hand caresses my cheek.  “Such a beautiful child,” she whispers and I could see the sheen of tears in her eyes.  The door closes softly behind her.  The people around here act strangely.  I refuse to dwell on that now.  I close my eyes, lay down on the bed and welcomed thoughts of my mother.

My mother, Hester Gardner Thorpe, had been a beauty.  In the past, she was what poets would have called a diamond of the first water. She was tall and slender with the softest and silkiest blond hair.  How I loved to run my fingers through her hair.  Her eyes were the deepest shade of sapphire-blue, so dark as almost to appear violet.  Her skin was the color and texture of finest cream.  In her youth, she was one of the reigning debutantes of the season.  Despite her beauty and her being born into a very wealthy family, my mother was a very warm and loving person.  Her company was much sought after by her friends; her presence always a boon to the many civic charities of which she and my father were a part of.  She was very generous with her affection and sensitive to the needs of her family.  My father and I completed that small family.

My father, Charles Spencer Thorpe, was the sixth generation of Thorpes to be born in the Manor, the great Georgian structure which I call home.  He was a very competent heir to his father’s vast business empire and a very devoted family man.  He had met my mother in one of those Southern balls and fallen immediately in love with her.  There followed a long courtship, an engagement, and then an elegant wedding.  I, Helene Angela Thorpe, was the product of that union.  I was not born until five years after their wedding, when everybody else had despaired that my parents would ever have a child. Great was everybody’s joy when my mother finally conceived.  Greater still when I was born nine months later, the very image of her.  My parents loved me very much.  I was raised in the lap of luxury; however, my mother saw to it that I was not spoilt by all these.  She would bring me along to her many charities and whenever there was a cookfest or a bakefest, she saw to it that I dirtied my hands and helped out in the kitchen.  I was a good and obedient child.  Mother was always being told that by her friends and how she would glow with pride.  She was bringing up little Helene in the right way.  One thing in particular that she was really proud of was my skill at the piano.  Her skill had been mediocre but mine was extraordinary.  My teacher was all praises for this ten-year old who played the instrument with such skill and passion.  I always had the lead part in school recitals.  Mother and Father would always be there to see me play.  Life was being so lovely to us.

Happiness can be so fleeting.  Who said that?  Was it some poet or did it come from my own mind?  I can still remember the day when I came home to shattering news.  The headaches are starting again, but there is no stopping the thoughts and images going through my head.  Like the reel on a movie projector, it keeps on moving forward and forward.  Mother had not been feeling well that morning when I left for school.  Her face appeared wan and her lips were pale.  Father called the doctor over; mother was given some medication and told to rest in bed.  There was nothing wrong, not as far as the doctor could see.  It was probably something she ate which did not sit well with her.

I sensed something was wrong the moment I stepped into the house.  There were people, far too many of them for this time of day.  Their eyes were red and they spoke in shushed voices which suddenly came to a halt when they saw me standing by the door.  There was a tense, heavy silence.  I could feel it bearing down on me like a leaden cloud.  I stood frozen, my mind numbed by the anticipating horror.  The study door creaked open and suddenly there stood father.  He had aged ten years.  His always immaculately pressed shirt was all rumpled, his tie had seemingly disappeared.  He walked toward me in a daze, his eyes looking at me and yet not seeing me.  But it was his eyes that caught at me.  That and the anguish so openly undisguised.  “Helene … Helene.”

It was then that I screamed.  It is something that I cannot recall no matter how hard I try to remember.  All I remember is that the radio seemed so loud yet the people around me couldn’t seem to hear it.  They kept pressing me down and then merciful, black nothingness.

Mother had died of an aneurysm.  There is no diagnosis for it; not even the best doctors could have detected it beforehand.  It just happens and is most of the time, fatal.  Everybody kept saying that, repeating it again and again, hoping to make me undertand that what happened was beyond anyone’s control.  That no one was to blame and that Mother had died peacefully.  I fully understood that.  For a child of my years I did understand Death.  What I was not ready for was the yawning emptiness it would leave in my life and my father’s.  I doubt if anybody could ever understand my longing to have my mother beside me again, to have her gardenia-scented hair blowing upon my cheek and her kisses raining soft and sweet upon my head.  (To be continued next issue)

[ABOUT THE AUTHOR:   This is Candice Uy’s first attempt at writing a short story.  Over the past months, ideas have been forming in her mind about plots for short stories.  It wasn’t until over a cup of coffee and conversation with Mina, one of her bosom friends, that she got to really sit down in front of the computer and start to type away.  After five or six hours of continuous typing, “Her Mother’s Daughter” was the result.  And it all started because Mina posed a question as to what Candice was writing besides poetry and essays.  Candice mentioned that she was fiddling about with ideas for a short story and Mina said why not.  Give it a try.  They both had the same idea on having murder as part of the plot because … This first attempt is dedicated to Mina.]

Oh, Canada!
Forwarded by Peter Dy (Batch '66)
Edmonton, Canada

Joe Smith started the day early having set his alarm clock (made in India) for 6 A.M. While his coffeepot (made in China) was perking, he shaved with his electric razor (made in Hong Kong).  He put on a dress shirt (made in Sri Lanka), designer jeans (made in Singapor) and running shoes (made in Korea).  After cooking his breakfast in his new electric skillet (made in India) he sat down with his calculator (made in Mexico) to see how much he could spend today.  After setting his watch (made in Taiwan) to the radio (made in India) he got in his car (made in Japan) and continued his search for a good paying Canadian job. At the end of yet another discouraging and fruitless day, Joe decided to relax for a while.  He put on his sandals (made in Brazil) poured himself a glass of wine (made in France) and turned on his TV (made in Indonesia), and then wondered why he can't find a good paying job in … CANADA.
 
 

EDITORIAL STAFF VICTOR L. CHIU, editor Correspondents: Roger Suminguit,Teresita Racines, Charmaine Molo, Rodolfo Yu & Virginia Handumon-Te; Castor Ong Lim, business manager (Iligan); Igdono Caracho (Cebu); Marie Janiefer Lee (Manila); Peter Dy (Canada); Leonardo Tan (Australia); Ernesto Yu & Aurora Tansiokhian (U.S.A.); and Charles O. Sy & Henry L. Yu, past editors. Founded Aug. 1, 1968.  Published fortnightly since its revival on April 15, 1997. Distributed free on the Internet to LCHS alumni & supporters worldwide. Postal address: LCHS Alumni Association, Lanao Chung Hua School, Pala-o, Iligan City, Philippines. Web site: www.oocities.org/lchsspectrum. Spectrum welcomes articles, news reports & comments from LCHS alumni, students and readers. For subscription, contact Roger Suminguit, tel. 221-2422. For contribution, e-mail manuscripts to the editor: spectrum@iligan.com with cc to: perfidia6180@hotmail.com