Vol. 7, No. 17, November 24, 2003
The
National Steel Corporation (NSC), in photo, could possibly start by March
2004 if negotiations with Global Infrastructure Holdings Ltd. (GIHL) push
through. According to Trade & Industry Secretary Mar Roxas, the
bank group led by Philippine National Bank is in serious discussions with
GIHL on the sale of NSC. The bank group plans to provide a 90-day
period on which it will exclusively negotiate with GIHL and discuss the
terms of sale. The negotiating team composed of bank creditors led
by PNB has asked GIHL to improve its terms of offer it originally submitted,
foremost of which is the shortening of the terms of payment. "Upon
the signing of the agreement within the 90-day period, GIHL can swiftly
assume the possession of the plant for the commencement of the pre-opening
rehabilitation activities," Roxas said.
Construction
of Makro CdeO completed
… to open later
this month
The
construction of the 10th Makro wholesale center in the Philippines is now
completed. Pilipinas Makro Inc. (PMI) president Bunny Khurana announced
that store operations will start before the end of November. The
store is located along the Cagayan de Oro-Iligan highway corner Pelaez
Boulevard, Kauswagan, Cagayan de Oro City, known as the business hub of
the province of Misamis Oriental. The store site measures 10,800
square meters and provides free parking to customers.
The fundamental business concept of Makro is that of a wholesale cash-and-carry distribution system. It is a volume-driven, low-cost low-price self-service cash and-carry operation, selling both food and non-food products to registered customers and institutions. Makro offers its customers the lowest food and non-food prices in the local market. This is because Makro is a low-cost operation with strong buying power in both the national and international markets. “Makro maintains an effective low-cost operation as it aims to sustain its wholesale prices at the lowest possible level. It incorporates various wholesale activities into a one-stop, everything-under-one-roof self service trade center,” Khurana stated.
Makro is a joint venture company formed by the Holland-based SHV Holdings N.V., along with SM Investment Corp. and Ayala Land Inc. There are at present 9 Makro stores nationwide—Cainta, Imus, Novaliches, Sucat, Manila North Harbor, Cebu, Davao, Pampanga and Batangas.
Roger Suminguit, Batch '73
Alumni in circulation
LCHS-AA president Henry C. Dy (Batch '64),
in photo at left, flew over last Nov. 11 to Makati where he graced the
birthday bash of his good 
friend,
Makati mayor Jojimar Binay who is also president of the Boy Scouts
of the Philippines (BSP). Together with Henry at the party held at
the posh Makati Park were his co-members of the board of governors of the
BSP, among many other dignitaries and guests. Meanwhile, Henry's
batch mate of 1964,
Remedios Tan-Wee, in photo at right, is
currently on vacation in the U.S.A. She left for the U.S.A. last
Nov. 14 after receiving the Philippine Airlines "Madayaw Award" in Dipolog
City as a topseller for her Airtime Ticketing Travel & Tours based
in Cotabato City. After her trip abroad, Remy will join the rest
of her siblings for a reunion of the Tan family in Puerto Princesa, Palawan.
From there, with barely enough time to catch her breath, she will proceed
to her hometown of Lucena City to grace the birthday celebration of her
eldest sister. That's right, aside from Ricarda Tan-Lee (Batch
'66), Remy has another sister named Iluminada "Luming" Bang.
She lived in Manila when the rest of the family was living in Iligan.
Spotted recently taking a quick side trip to Cebu en route to hometown
Iligan was Linda Ong-Galenzoga (Batch '72). Now based in Baybay,
Leyte with her own family, Linda made use of the stopover to visit her
sister Aurora Ong-Sy (Batch '66) who is now a resident of Cebu.
Keeping Linda company while in Cebu was her batch mate and best friend
Marilou
Lim-Bordalba who owns a flourishing bake shop in Talisay City called
Mommy Lou Bakeshop. In far-away Vietnam, Josefina
"Datdat" Guiritan (Batch '84) has been teaching a course for over a
month now in FPT, the biggest information technology company in Hanoi.
She is lucky to be able to witness the 22nd Southeast Asian Games there.
Is there anybody from her batch or some alumni friends who are coming to
watch the SEA Games? Datdat is looking forward to joining
you watch some games especially basketball.
Meanwhile, Dy Tiao Un (Batch '40) recently arrived back in Cebu after a 12-day trip to the People's Republic of China. He was with the 70-man delegation from the Philippines that attended the formal inauguration of the Dy Family Association's new Long Se Temple headquarters in Chuan Chiew. There were also delegations from Singapore, Malaysia, Taiwan, and other Asia Pacific countries. Dy Tiao Un, together with the rest of the Philippine delegates, also toured Xiamen and Tsim Chun before returning home. Tiao Un is a past president of the Cebu Long Se Temple and the Cebu Quemoy Association. He advises the younger generation of LCHS alumni to visit China someday so that they can see for themselves how modern and progressive China has become today. Any visitor to China will no doubt be impressed by its new Great Leap Forward. Tiao Un belongs to Class of 1940 of pre-war LCHS. Among his batch mates were Co Chik Bon, Dy Kim Seng, Kho Ding Suan and Tiu Ko Chuy Cristobal.
New
lawyers
Sun, 9 Nov 2003 07:50:04 -0700
Our congratulations to Dr. & Mrs. Alex Rodriguez (Batch '65) for their daughter Danzette and son-in-law Roger Allbrandt, who passed the bar exams in the U.S.A. Atty.Danzette Rodriguez-Allbrandt is now working at the Baltimore district attorney's office while her husband is with a private law firm in Annapolis, Maryland. --Peter Dy (Batch '66), Tita Dy and family, Edmonton, AB, Canada, email: pdy@telusplanet.net
Nating's
Tailoring, not Jam Chiong
Tue, 11 Nov 2003 03:49:30 +0000
To Roger Suminguit: May I call your attention about Dodo Chan's tailoring in the old days, which was Nating's Tailoring rather than Jam Chiong Tailoring. Thanks. --Alex Rodriguez (Batch '65), Miramar, Florida, U.S.A., email: alpacino_8@hotmail.com
[Rejoinder: My friend Alex Rodriguez may have gotten the names mixed up. Dodo Chan's father's tailoring was named Jam Lung Tailoring, which used to be located near Canton Restaurant along Quezon Ave. and later moved to Cabili Ave. Jam Chiong was another tailoring located in front of the Iligan City Fire Department. The old Nating's Tailoring, on the other hand, was owned by Pedro Dy, located at Mercado St. fronting the Padilla Recreation Hall where we in our youth used to play billiards and bowling. --Igdono Caracho (Batch '66), Cebu, Philippines, via text message +639177162000]
Opps!
Sat, 22 Nov 2003 21:36:20 +0000
Hi A-E: It's been a long time. How are ya? I've talked to Dodo Chan the other day and he reminded me of my mistake when I called Roger's attention about Dodo's tailoring as Nating's. My apology to Roger. The consolation there is that I'm reading the articles in the Spectrum. Anyway, thanks for telling Dodo and in turn Dodo reminding me. Regards. --Alex Rodriguez (Batch '65), Miramarr, Florida, U.S.A., email: alpacino_8@hotmail.com
[Rejoinder: Thank you, Alex, for dredging up our memories. Now that you mentioned it, I remember wearing short pants with “Nating’s” tag on them. I also recall wearing pants tailored by Ong Gong Tailoring and Singco Tailoring owned by the family of Alicia Singco Chen Foo (Batch ’68). I think I can guess why “Nating” came to your mind when you recalled the tailoring shop owned by the father of Dodo Chan. During his grade school days, Dodo was so small that we, his playmates, used to call him “Mating”-- short for gamating, a diminutive form of gamatoy, which means very, very small. --Victor L. Chiu (Batch ’65), Iligan City, Philippines.]
Spectrum
as an alumni newsletter
Mon, 10 Nov 2003 06:06:42 +0000
To the LCHS Spectrum staff: I am a movie fan of FPJ. But personally, I'd rather see him remain "The King of Action Movies". In like manner, I am an alumnus of LCHS, and I'd rather see the LCHS Spectrum remain as an alumni internet newsletter rather than tackle issues like "The Folly of Being FPJ" (Spectrum, Nov. 10, 2003). I suggest that if you really want to share your views about politics, be it written by yourself or by other non-LCHS alumni people, then send it separately to the Spectrum egroup and not print it in the newsletter. Let our LCHS Spectrum be an alumni newsletter that tackles the whereabouts of alumni, among others, but not about politics or political wannabes. --Henry L. Yu (Batch '69), Cebu, Philippines, email: hvty@skyinet.net
Thank
you
Fri, 14 Nov 2003 06:52:20 -0800 (PST)
Thank you for reprinting several of my articles in theSpectrum. It's an honor for a writer to be read by a distinguished audience such as the LCHS community, and through it, by the Iligan Filipino-Chinese community in Iligan at large. Through you, I wish to thank also my friend, Charles Sy, who was a prominent figure in my past, for his kind words of welcome for me. Without his knowing it, Charles helped stoked my interest in writing by simply being such a good writer -- I wanted to be as good, if not better than he was, back in college! Should you wish to reprint more of my articles, I would be very happy to submit more. In fact, I would be very glad to submit new articles on a regular basis, if I am welcome to do so. –Pacificador "Ladi" Lluch, Jr., Lluch Park, Palao, Iligan, Philippines, email: ladjous@yahoo.com
Change
of address
Fri, 14 Nov 2003 03:53:50 -0800 (PST)
I'm David Lee, a Lanao Chinese High School Alumnus. Please change my email address in the roster of batches to my current email address: Davidnvrealty@yahoo.com, and Dlcveanvrealty@hotmail.com Please include me for an internet subscription to Spectrum. Thanks a lot. Have a good day. God bless you. --David Lee (Batch '76), Las Vegas, Nevada, U.S.A.
Thought
to ponder
Fri, 21 Nov 2003 10:07:30
There are many games our politicians play. The Filipino people should learn that when politicians play, the Philippines suffers. It would be better if we don't laugh easily, lest we be a laughable nation. --Rene Tio (Batch '70), Cagayan de Orro, Philippines, via text message +639169565106
Charles O. Sy, Batch '67
The Origin of the LCHS Whistle This early, our politicians are already gunning for a slate in the May 2004 elections. A few will be running just for the fun of it. Many will be running for the fund of it.
- ooo -- Roderick Ngo wants me to join him on a trip to South Korea. He says it's about time I find myself a Seoul mate.-- ooo -- Filipino boxing fans who flew to Texas last Nov. 16 to watch Manny Pacquiao beat Marco Antonio Barrera came home jubilant. They got their Manny's worth.-- ooo -- F4 member Ken Zhu, during his recent visit to Manila, said of his Filipino fans, "The people here are Zhu polite." Ken you believe that?-- ooo -- LCHS-AA president Henry Dy says every alumni officer has a say during their board meetings because he practices Dy-mocratic leadership. He also knows how to assign tasks to keep the association running whenever he travels out of town. It's called the art of Dy-legation.-- ooo -- Postscript: Following our story on the LCHS whistle last Oct. 27, my good friend Arturo "Toto" Samson (Batch '58) called me up to confirm that the three-note whistle started with their group way back in the 1950s. Like most carefree teenage boys in Iligan in those days, Toto says his group used to hang around at the city plaza at night fall. But there were some other groups from other schools which would also converge at the park. In order to distinguish themselves from their rival gangs, the LCHS boys devised a secret code that would be easy to remember. Everyone abided by it with as much zeal as the Mafia would swear by its omerta. Thus was invented the "pee-poo-peooo" whistle which the LCHS boys used as their secret call for a nocturnal rendezvous of the gang at the park. The gang was made up mostly of the boys of Batches '58 and '59, the likes of Toto Samson, Rudolfo "Popong" Bagatan, Eddie Ang, Lucio Co, Angel "Angi" Chiu, Godfrey "Bowen" Siao, Roberto "Mike" Handumon, Teodoro Tan, Rolando "Tiya" Te, among several others.-- ooo -- Having lived just within a stone's throw away from the city plaza, I remember often seeing the gang gathered at the park in the evening during weekends. I was still in the elementary grades. In my innocence, I often wondered what racket the boys were up to in the park at such unholy hour. Much later I learned that some free-for-all fist fights occasionally ensued in the dead of night following a clash between rival gangs vying for territorial dominion of the park. Fortunately, unlike the violent gang wars of today, the worst things that ever happened to our boys in the aftermath of the brawl were nothing more serious than a few bruises or a black eye as take-home souvenirs.-- ooo -- Needless to say, what started as a sort of underworld Morse Code among this bunch of LCHS boys has outlasted their years of juvenile mischiefs and withstood the passage of time. Up to this day and for all intents and purposes, this all-too-familiar tune is still used and understood by everybody who has his roots in LCHS. Knowing how it all started, indeed who would have thought that a mere whistle inherited from the gang of '58 and '59 would become the unofficial clarion call of LCHS for all seasons?
In Response to Mr. Hiro S. Nobumasa's Query
In the October 27, 2003 issue of Spectrum Mr. Hiro S. Nobumasa posed the question to this writer why Iliganons in particular and Mindanao Christians in general have not awakened to their sacred right to self-determination. Mr. Nobumasa apparently finds the idea of a Mindanao independent from the Philippine Republic appealing and would like to know why Iliganons do not seem to have the same enthusiasm for it.
To tell you frankly, Mr. Nobumasa, I really don't know what most Iliganons feel about Mr. Canoy's idea of an independent Mindanao Republic. I remember having discussed it perhaps once or twice among friends, but it was never in a serious and passionate vein. And so, I can only speak for myself regarding this subject.
Personally, my identity as a Filipino is too deeply rooted that I'm afraid I would have a serious identity crisis should an independent Mindanao Republic emerge. My memories of things Philippine, of Jose Rizal, Aquino, the Luneta, of Baguio and the streets of Manila and Makati, my familiarity with Tagalog as a second language, all that I've ever experienced, have served to permanently fix my identity as a Filipino and I guess I wouldn't want to be anything else other than a Filipino. (As an afterthought, the way things are in the Philippines today, perhaps it might not be that painful to forsake one's allegiance to this blighted country after all).
I guess, too, there are countless others among us in Mindanao, Cebu and other parts of the Visayas, who do not have the same sense of identification with that social being called Filipino, and these are the people who would not suffer too much identity crisis if a Republic of Cebu, Republic of Bohol or Mindanao would be created.
On the practical side though, I can see a serious risk should the Christians of Mindanao entertain thoughts of seceding from the Philippine Republic. This is the issue of dominance. The leftists, I think, were the first to coin the term tri-people to describe the situation where Mindanao is inhabited by 3 major groups: Christians, Muslims and Lumads. Given that many Muslims have long dreamed of an independent Islamic Republic of Mindanao, wouldn't a struggle for dominance inevitably ensue? I see a fierce war for supremacy erupting even before the ink on a Declaration of Independence of Mindanao dries up.
My best bet for a peaceful solution to the problems of Mindanao is the adoption of a federal system of government for the Philippines, where the Bangsa Moro will have their own state within a state carved out of areas where they predominate, population-wise. If still that is not acceptable to them, then perhaps the only solution left is to allow predominantly Muslim areas to secede from the Philippine Republic. That area isn't much bigger than the present ARMM. As I said in a previous column, people have a right to self-determination that we have to respect, and that in any case, we don't think the overwhelming majority of Mindanao Christians have any vested interest whatsoever in such Muslim areas as Sulu and Tawi-Tawi for which they are willing to fight and die.
So Mr. Nobumasa, thanks but no thanks for Mr. Canoy's Republic of Mindanao. I'd rather go for Mr. Pimentel's Federal Republic of the Philippines.
Marie Janiefer Q. Lee, Batch '87
Star Talk
It was one very beautiful night so I decided to step out of the room and try to get some fresh air. I decided to give the TV a break for once. A gentle breeze brushed by cheeks and blew some wisp of my hair out of the plastic clasp that I was using.
"This night is really perfect," I muttered to myself. I stared out into the clear sky and staring back at me were millions of twinkling stars. And the more I tried to count them, the more seemed to appear out of the blue to be counted. Wow! They really looked like "tiny diamonds in the sky." If the stars could talk I'm sure they'd say that "this girl has turned into a woman." I'm sure they could still remember how I used to do a lot of stargazing when I was still in Iligan. There were nights when I'd just stare and stare into the night skies, until my head ached. Part of me was silently wishing to see a shooting star so that I could make some wishes. I know that I saw some, although there was nobody else who could confirm it because nobody was there with me. If the stars could just talk I'm certain they could attest to the fact that I did see shooting stars back then. The same stars who saw me when I would go up to the roof deck of my college dormitory and spend hours there, silently wishing, praying, and dreaming. It's been years since I had the luxury of communing with the stars again. I'm sure that the other night when they saw me they wanted to ask me "what happen to your big dreams? Are you there yet? Or are you way off track?"
I can't remember what big dreams I used to whisper to the wind. One thing is sure though: they were all idealistic and very much childish in nature. If given another chance to make some new and more realistic wishes, I know that I'll wish for some peace. Peace of mind and even peace on earth.
If I wished and dreamt of having peace in my life, well, I found that certain peace that night. I felt so peaceful just staring at that beautiful sky. "Where were you all this time?" "Why is it that I only get to see you tonight?" These are some of the questions I whispered to the wind. Even though inside my heart I know the answer; inside my heart I know that it's really been awhile now that I've been caught up in the big rat race. The stars and the beautiful sky have always been there. It is I who just didn't have time. No time to even glance up at the sky and bathe in the shower of those million twinkling lights. Something I love doing back when my worries were still smaller and my dreams were larger than life. How time changes things! How time changes people! Yet time heals all wounds too, right? That's when I started to wonder if the peace I found was brought about by that perfect night. Or was it because I finally confronted and forgave somebody that day. It seems that the act of "forgiveness" set my heart free. Not only did I make peace with that person but in the process I made peace with my heart too. Time heals all wounds indeed. Even if some wounds leave some very deep and nasty scars. Scars which can last a lifetime, scars that hopefully mark the lessons learned.
On that one very beautiful night I got some fresh air into my dull life, a new glimpse at the old me. Reminding me of how life was so simple then. How I dreamt of leading a simple life. Reminding me of how I intended to live my life and how I should live my life. So with the millions of stars as my witness I made another wish. I said another prayer and I built another dream and blew them all to the wind. As I watched the stars glow brighter they seemed to chorus and say, "Go for it girl. It's not too late yet. But come out and see us more often."
Her Mother’s Daughter
(Last of three parts)
By Candice Ang Uy
Cebu, Philippines
This
went on for weeks. She was a frequent visitor to the house and would
sometimes stay over the weekend. There was talk all over the town.
My father didn’t seem to mind at all. It was as if she had never
been a widower, never been a father. Suddenly, he was letting loose
of all his responsibilities. All his time was spent with that woman.
The house was never silent now; it seemed to reverberate with her laughter.
I learned to find solace in my piano, the only place where silence and
melody came together. I try to think about the times when we were
together as a family. Often these thoughts make the headaches start.
Things begin to blacken and I hear many voices in my head. I would
just lay down on the bed until things come back to normal. But still,
I’d feel restless like there is something that I should have done.
I just couldn’t put my mind to it.
“What are you doing in my mother’s room?”
“You stupid brat! Don’t just stand there looking like a pale little
ghost! What am I doing here? Well, your father says that since
this is to be my room now, I can decorate it anyway that I like!”
She said this with obvious relish, like a cat who had just been fed some
cream.
“This is my mother’s room and nobody else can use it!” I stood,
rigid with anger staring at the heavily made-up face of the woman before
me.
“Well, since we are going to get married, that makes me your stepmother-to-be!
And as your stepmother-to-be, this room rightfully belongs to me.”
“Married? Father never mentioned …” I was stunned.
Father marrying this creature? This creature to replace my beautiful
and loving mother? My head was starting to ache. The voices were
wanting to be heard.
“Oh, dear!” she pouted. “Did Charles forget to tell you?
We are getting married next week. Your father is an extremely busy man,
he even forgot to mention it to his beloved daughter!” Crashing laughter
made her overly-exposed bosom heave, the contents almost spilling out.
My head was starting to pound and when she passed by me, the smell
of her cheap perfume almost made me gag. I caught up with her at
the top of the stairs.
“It’s not true! It’s not true!” I shouted into her face. “My father would never marry you. You are nothing like my mother! You are nothing but a tramp! A cheap and vulgar woman who is only after my father’s money.” My head was now pounding and my breath was coming in shallow, little gasps. The voices were getting louder.
“We’ll see about that, you vicious little brat! I will put you in a boarding school, far away from the memory of your father and your precious mother.” She said this on a jeering note. “Speaking of your mother makes me sick! The beautiful Hester Thorpe,” she spat at me and sneered, “she’s dead! And you should do well to remember that. She’s molding and decaying in some grave while I am very much alive!” Her laughter again. I pushed her with all my strength, my one thought to erase her ugly words. Her laughter turned to a terrified shriek, her claw-like fingers grasping at empty air. I watched her slow-motion descent in a kind of detachment. I felt nothing, only that the voices in my head were slowing down. The pounding had slowly eased into a throbbing. I passed her broken body lying at the foot of the stairs. Her eyes wide with fright and horror, a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of her mouth. There is no more restlessness inside me. I went over to the piano and starting playing Chopin. How Mother had loved me playing Chopin.
“Helene? Your father is here now.”
I am led to the garden. In my four years here it has become my favorite place. The doctor encourages me to come here often, for comfort and solitude he says. The headaches are not recurring very often anymore; the doctor said that I just have to avoid filling my head with too many thoughts at a time. I pass by some women sitting in the shade and hear snatches of their conversation.
“Is that Hester’s daughter? Such a beautiful child.”
“It was a tragedy, that’s what happened. The doctors called it
temporary insanity. It must have been such a shock to that poor child’s
system.”
I smile and wave at the women. I am always polite. Yes, Hester Gardner Thorpe’s daughter. That’s me. The very image and likeness of my mother.
How to speak English properly
(From the Internet)Verbs has to agree with their subjects.
Prepositions are not words to end sentences with.
And don't start a sentence with a conjunction.
Be more or less specific.
Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.
Contractions aren't necessary and shouldn't be used.
Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.
One should never generalize.
Comparisons are as bad as clichés.
Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.
The passive voice is to be ignored.
Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary.
Eliminate quotation, as Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."
Puns are for children, not groan readers.
Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.
Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.
Our
officemates wanted our department to go on a summer outing March 29 and
30. But our wife reminded us that our daughter was graduating on March
29. She insisted that we should be there, present, to see our daughter
climb the stage to receive her diploma. So, being the loving husband and
doting father that we are, we had to request our officemates to move the
summer outing date.
That should have been no big deal except that our daughter was graduating from kindergarten only. But that is how solicitous mothers can be for their graduating children.
Time was when graduations were no big deal. We tasted our first graduation ceremony almost four decades ago when we crossed elementary to go to high school.
That graduation did not mean anything much to our parents. After all, our mother barely had a year or two of high school while our father did not even go beyond the equivalent of the primary schools in China where he was born.
As for us, we didn’t exactly look forward to that graduation ceremony either. As a matter of fact, we were more excited about the long summer vacation that came immediately after that. We knew then that, as usual, we were going to spend summer in our hometown some 70 kilometers north of the city. (We were not privileged enough to have parents who could afford to bring us to USA or Hong Kong for vacation, thus summer vacation was invariably in that sleepy town tucked behind the mountains of Manunggal.)
Nonetheless, spending the summer in our hometown sounded exciting enough to our unsophisticated mind. In our town, we could spend the whole morning swimming in the sea at the back of our house until our mother called us for lunch. Then we could sleep until three in the afternoon, and spend the rest of the afternoon playing sho-bowl or shatung with the neighborhood kids until sun went down. At times we explored the swampy area in front of the house where the mangroves grew and the agukoys built their castles.
With all those games to look forward to, what boy wouldn’t find going home inviting? That’s why, a week before our trip back home we prepared everything. We wanted to travel light so we packed up our clothes early and sent them through our father who went home ahead of us. (He wasn’t attending the graduation rites because, after all, that was only a graduation rite. He never experienced graduating from anything, remember?) Now that our luggage were out, we were ready to go home, except that there was still a graduation ceremony that we had to attend because, on top of the diploma, we were supposed to receive some medal.
In the morning of the graduation day, we prepared our graduation clothes. We went to our cabinet and looked for our white polo shirt and khaki long pants. To our horror we could not find them! We turned the cabinet upside down and inside out but there was no trace of our khaki pants and white polo shirt.
Then suddenly we remembered: we sent our graduation outfit together with the rest of our clothes to our hometown! That was the only pair of long pants we had and it was too late to get them back!
We buried our face in frustration on the lap of our mother.
But our mother, ever so resourceful -- like all mothers -- tried to console us and promised to do something about it. There was no Shoemart nor Rustan’s nor Robinsons’ then so our mother had to swallow her pride and went door to door (we had no telephone then as it was still considered a luxury in those times) to her friends and our relatives asking if they could lend us the needed outfit. After so many tries, she finally hit pay dirt. Pretty soon, we saw her come into the house beaming happily, bringing with her a pair of pants and a white polo shirt. Both were too big for us, but we didn’t have much choice. So with some safety pins tucked in the most inconspicuous parts of the shirt and pants, we went to our graduation.
After receiving our medal and beaming proudly before the photographers, we went right back home and went to sleep. We had no party at home nor did we have a celebration in the restaurant. But we didn’t mind because we did not know then that graduations were supposed to be celebrated. We always thought in those days, that celebrations were reserved for bigger events like weddings and passing the bar.
Besides it was already 9 o’clock in the evening and it was bedtime in our house.
A few years after that, our mother passed away.
Now, from time to time we find ourselves remembering our elementary graduation day. And we couldn’t help but remember how that day our mother had to scamper around the city just to find us a graduation outfit, something she didn’t have to do if not for our mental lapse.
But she did it, without much fuss because she was our mother and she loved us. When we realize this we always feel a lump forming in our throat and the tears welling in our eyes.
Didn’t somebody once say that God could not take care of everybody on earth that’s why He had to make mothers?
And this was also why our summer outing earlier this year had to be moved to another date.
[About
the author: Fermin Chio (in photo, website edition) writes from
Cebu City, where he is assistant vice president of a leading universal
bank. He is an excellent writer and an eloquent speaker. He
was editor of the Philippine Toastmaster, a newsletter of the Philippine
Toastmasters District, that was adjudged a "World's Top Ten District Bulletins"
awardee by Toastmasters International. In his student days, he was
editor of the Easternian of the Cebu Eastern College, and associate
editor of the Weekly Carolinian of the University of San Carlos.
A past president of the Cebu Toastmasters Club, he is a much sought-after
speech writer and speaker. He can be reached by email at: fetch@philwebinc.com]
Scene of Iligan
A bird’s eye view of Iligan City with the St.
Michael’s College
and St. Michael Cathedral towering over the rest
of the
buildings in the area. Photo by Charles
O. Sy (Batch '67).
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