On the Verge of Sainthood

Finally a date for canonization, for Mother Marie Eugenie: June 3, 2007, Vatican City!

Read the Vatican announcement HERE.

For the story of the road to Canonization (the exciting events of the last few weeks!), read HERE.

Watch this space for updates on information for the canonization itself. All roads lead to the Vatican! Andiamo!

Sister Rose Peter

Please pray for Sister Rose Peter (China's Sr. Jujitsu) who is currently undergoing a spinal operation. Please pray also for her surgeons, and nurses.

NEW VELADA BLOG

Work in progress, but plenty of pictures already. Click on TOP link, in LINKS box to the right.

The FINALE: 4th YEAR HIGH SCHOOL

I was trying to spread the posts so it would reach velada time, and here we are almost there, and I almost forgot to do a senior year post!

I remember the following teachers: Miss Barrera was English for half the year, Miss Marie Lim for the other half. We all got our share of a half year with Miss Barrera, the most terrifying yet thrilling English class ever. She somehow had the same tone and volume of voice, when one gave an excellent answer, or when one had none…or had the guts to actually utter a stupid one. Miss Barrera also taught us World History for a few months. The most important thing she taught me that year was to ask "WHY?" She gave us a quiz, once a week, I think. The quiz was on facts: dates, what, when, where. But that was just to prepare you to ask the big WHY question. Analysis, analysis, analysis. That class was simply brilliant.

Mrs. Mapa was religion, Mrs. Yorro for Pilipino, Mrs. Viloria for Trigonometry, Miss Paulate for Physics, Prof. Estrada for Philosophy, Mrs. Carlos for History, until she got pregnant and had to go on leave early, at which point we got Tina Zulueta, who was young and hip and just a few years ahead of us. P.E. was Mrs. Zafra! And Home Ec was Mrs. Pedrosa, just don’t remember what class it was anymore!

Pope John Paul II came to Manila sometime in January 1981. A bunch of us went to see him at U.S.T. Don’t remember who they were, just that I was not one of them, since there was no guaranteed seating, and I faint at such occasions. I went with my family to Luneta, where I got a seat. Saw the Pope again as he passed by my lola’s house on Shaw Blvd. He was riding a large tourist bus, and he was simply standing on the steps of the open bus door, as the bus moved slowly along, allowing him to be “close” to the crowd as he waved. No popemobile yet. The attempted assassination was yet to come, some 4 months later in Rome.

CMT or Citizens Military Training (or so I think?): Sorry to my many friends who were officers, or model platoon, but I HATED THIS! I was never so glad to be a "fainting" kind of person, such that after a few episodes, I got shuffled to the INDIA platoon, "I" for Invalid! Happy to be "invalid" for the rest of the year with wackly platoon leader Cindy "Travolta" Dominguez! I started out in Foxtrot, with Annette Lim as my platoon leader. One thing I learned: the alpha as in Alpha, Bravo, Charlie. Very handy now when I give the airline clerk my flight confirmation numbers! Hahaha!

GRADUATION PICTURES: We took them sometime in August. We had to go to the studios of Chat Peypoch, on a weekend. I remember being sick for my assigned day, yet I insisted on going. My mom said I would take a horrible picture and I should wait. I ended up liking my picture, it is still one of my favorite pictures of me in my youth! I still have my collection of grad pics that we traded with each other, complete with written notes at the back. I love to read through those notes, over and over again!

PROM: See post on prom. No sense in my typing up the trauma all over again.

GRADUATION: Okay, another confession coming. At one of our VP luncheon meetings (I think we met once a week?), Manila Cathedral came up, as the venue of our graduation. It started as a joke, like that was too ambitious to even dream up, but someone asked and found out it was possible. But there was a trade-off: Prom could not now be at a fancy hotel, if graduation was to be at Manila Cathedral. I thought it was a good deal: Manila Polo Club/Manila Cathedral vs. fancy hotel/Mother Rose Hall. No idea we would start a tradition. Many batches after us (up to today?) had their graduation at the Manila Cathedral. And it was a beautiful graduation, wasn't it?

PHYSICS AND TRIGONOMETRY: Will not bore you with my geekness to tell you how much I loved those subjects. But hey, I was in good company, Karina Galang, and Mia Unson loved them too. Miss Paulate, at the end of the year, made it a condition of our being exempted from Physics finals, that certain girls who were having trouble, had to pass, or else. I thought it unfair, but was too innocent to fight, and actually believed her (who knows, she might have been serious!) so we tutored those girls. Whoever you are: thank you, thank you, thank you. You passed and we got our exemptions!

BAGUIO RETREAT: Right of passage. Something we all looked forward to, from the time we were freshmen. Not sure if it was because this was the most significant and serious retreat by reputation, or because the venue was Baguio and Baguio = FUN. See Section 7 website, and see who some of us ran into at Wright Park. I wonder how many packs of Marlboro blue seals, and contraband food baon, among other contrabands, got consumed those few days and nights in Baguio?

At the retreat, the most awaited (or dreaded) part: Sex ed via Jesuit priest. Need I say more? We had no more explicit sex instructions, (actually DON’Ts, rather than DO’s) than from Fr. Reuter. Anyone here who actually got told by their mom or dad, or other teacher, explicitly, that one must not do this or that because it was a MORTAL SIN? I’m not complaining. I love Fr. Reuter.

Okay, now our “guy” lurkers, (yes, we know you are there, are you blushing yet?) will finally understand why you did not get what you asked for back in high school. Or maybe I should say, now you will realize how lucky you are that you got what you asked for back in high school! We got the book thrown at us, and promised the fires of hell, and eternal damnation if we did certain things. Certainly, not all of us complied. Enough said. Enough material there for another blog of another sort (insert naughty smile here) and I'm not the one writing it.

COLLEGE EXAMS: We all had to troop to Don Bosco, probably on a weekend, to take the NCEE. I think it was a whole day affair. And if you got a score less than 99, well, you were....err...having way to much fun in high school! For Ateneo exams, we had to go to Ateneo, also on a weekend. We had to use the high school classrooms. I remember some girls trying to figure out whose desk they were sitting on. For La Salle exams, well, we were special. La Salle came to us, and exams were administered right in our classroom. Why the special treatment? I believe that the Dean of Admissions of La Salle at that time was an Assumption girl herself. UP: We had to trek to U.P., on one of two or three “national” testing days, sometime in December. Those are all the tests I took, don’t know what other universities required, and sheepishly, don’t know what Assumption College required either!

The year went by quickly. We were busy, we had more difficult subjects, and serious life decisions to make: what college to apply to, what course to take. That’s on top of what party to attend this weekend, what to wear to the prom, who to take to the prom. It was fun, and it was sad. I knew that a major part of my life would be over, and I was to turn a new chapter the next year. I knew some of you I would not see again for a long long time, but of course, it had not hit yet during that year. I excitedly looked forward to college, nervous, apprehensive, not knowing where I would go really. All I knew is that for the first time in my life, I would go to a school that was not exclusively for girls. I could not wait to break out of Assumption, yet I was sad about leaving something that was my life for 12 years.

The day after graduation, we still had to go to school, to pick up our report cards and say goodbye to each other. I remember walking around San Lo that day, looking at everything. It was not as poignant as my goodbye to Herran 7 years before. I had not come to love San Lo the way I did Herran. I do remember running into Christine Carlos at the yard in front of our building. She gave me a hug, congratulated me, and I her. We did see each other again at college, but not everyday anymore, unlike the last 12 years. Now that I think about it, Christine was with me when I did a final "walk through" of Herran at the end of Grade 4.

Many of you, I never saw again after graduation. Shirley Robles and Regina Yulo, never will again, not in this life anyway. Adieu, old classmates.

Maybe I will see the rest of you again in San Lo, in the next two weeks. I hope so. If you are still sitting on the fence, c'mon, show up at Assumption on October 15, 2006, 10:00 a.m.

BE THERE. It's our time to COME HOME.

SCHOOL SUPPLIES

School starts in New York City in a little over a week. As my daughters and I went through the frenzy of buying school supplies and checking lists, a wave of nostalgia suddenly washed over me. It’s almost velada time, so my sensibilities are pointed toward my Assumption years, 1969-1981.

See how many of these school supplies your remember yourself:

Our rulers were likely the skinny transparent ones called ORION, that came in a light blue plastic sheath. There was the short kind, maybe 6 inches, and the foot-long kind. We also had those multi colored ones, that were harder plastic, but also broke more easily. Wooden ones were available, but I was afraid of the edge that was metal and could cut. In college, my friends taught me to glue or tape centavo coins to the back of the Orion which would elevate the ruler, so that when you used it to draw a line (mostly with pencil in math class), the pencil stain on the edge of the ruler would not mark up your paper!

Notebooks: In the early years, we had “Assumption” notebooks, with the Assumption logo in front. I especially remember our writing notebook, where each writing segment had three lines, the bottom two nearer each other, so that we had HUGE capital letters, and small lower case letters. And of course, who can forget our penmanship models, the ones we copied from diligently during our penmanship classes? Someone (I assumed it was one of the nuns) would write a sentence down on a writing paper, paste or staple that to cardboard, and individually wrap those sheets in plastic. We would then pick out a segment each to work on in class. The sentences went something like “Anna ate apples all afternoon” or “Beautiful birds bounced on branches above the babbling brook” so we got to practice each letter several times in a sentence. I've made "writing sheets" for my girls using the computer, and have started to teach them Assumption writing (American cursive is just ugh!) Sad to say, I hear that they no longer teach penmanship at Assumption today? We also had an assignment notebook. It had grids inside, where you wrote down the subject, the date, the homework instructions itself. There was also a box for your parent to initial, to make sure you did your homework! Those notebooks disappeared after our early years, especially after II (Individualized Instruction) got instituted.

In high school, my favorite notebooks were CORONA brand, which were spiral, and had shiny royal blue covers. I would cover the “crown” logo on each notebook with a cute Snoopy sticker. This sticker thing became quite a trademark for me that my U.P. classmates could identify my notebooks from afar because of it. Another popular brand was CATTLEYA. There was a time where it was “uso” to twist away the spiral, then sew the holes up, so now you no longer had a spiral notebook but a flat hand-bound notebook!

Paper: There was such a thing as Grade 1 paper, Grade 2 paper, Grade 3 paper and so on. It was marked in the back of the pad what grade paper it was. How curious that was, now that I think about it! I'm not sure but was it starting in Grade 4, when we now needed several kinds: Intermediate pad paper, ½ lengthwise, ½ crosswise, and ¼ sized pads? And we lugged all 4 kinds to school everyday. We also had a special kind of "lengthwise" pad for spelling, and another special one for "talasalitaan" in Pilipino class.

Pencil box: We could probably write a book about pencil boxes, can’t we? I remember the Japanese kinds, that closed with a magnetic kind of latch. There were those with just one layer, and the fancier ones with several layers, and even secret compartments! My aunt used to get me fancy German ones in Europe, where one side was for pencils, erasers, ruler, and the other side had a complete set of color pencils! When I see those today, I still have the compulsion to buy – all these many years later. At some point, it was Sanrio of some kind, at another point, it was a plain, clear plastic envelope type, that we just decorated with stickers. I also remember the hard plastic boxes, that looked like elongated soap cases. It came semi-opaque in different colors, and again we decorated and personalized each with stickers and dymo-tape labels.

Pencil: Was there any other than Mongol for our first few years of school? Only later did the Snoopy, Mickey Mouse, and Hello Kitty pencils come. We also had the non-sharpening kind, where you just pulled out the used nib, and tucked it away at the bottom to reveal the fresh nib up top. Those were called BENSIA pencils. What grade were we when it became “uso’ to shave away all the yellow paint from the pencil so now you were left with something that looked like a brown twig? (And how did we shave them, with a razor blade?) Most classrooms had a sharpener screwed on to some ledge with a garbage can underneath it. Or we had our own little portable ones tucked away in your pencil case. My favorite sharpener was a silver metal one, that came in a case with spare blades. The cute ones usually did not last long or did not sharpen well.

BALLPENS: When were we first allowed to use ballpens? The very first kinds were BIC. Remember when the barrel only came two ways: solid yellow orange, or transparent white. My brother loved to take our BIC pens, cause he would convert the barrel into a blow gun using wet toilet paper as pellets, (ouch!) After the BICs came MONGOL, and I believe the barrel of that brand was ribbed, and if you were not careful, you got awful kalyos on your writing fingers from those. There was a time when we played with those ballpens and "melted" the barrels over candle flames and twisted them to make our ballpens fancier. If you were not careful and melted or twisted it too much, then the pen would not write anymore! Vivian Honorio and cousins also had this blown glass pen barrel that we all bought from them (or made pabili!) You just took the ink tube from any regular ballpen and put it inside this glass barrel. You now had a fancy pen, that is until you whacked it too hard and the entire thing broke into many pieces! My favorite simple ball pen, even to this day, is PAPERMATE. I like the one that comes in the blue-green colored barrel. For me, my handwriting looks best when written with this simple Papermate. (Who does handwriting anymore, anyway??) Later on, this new felt pen called FLAIR came out. I still love those! In late grade school, the Japanese (of course!) came out with these pens of rainbow colors, with matching smell! My favorite “exotic” color was turquoise. They also came out with pens with erasers at the end, thus erasable ink was born (how soon after did the crooks figure out they could now erase amounts on checks and change them in their favor?) Did you have that pen with the huge barrel, maybe 1 inch in diameter, that had a gazillion colors in it? The barrel was transparent, and you could pick which color you wanted to use. The idea was novel and interesting, but impossible to write all day with that pen! And did we not check each other's work with a red ballpen? And so did the teachers, they even used FLAIR so your mistakes would be marked even more glaringly!

ERASERs: Again, could occupy a chapter in the pencil box novel! Let’s start with the “ugly” kind, if you made the mistake of buying it. There was the half white-half gray kind, can’t remember the brand. If you were left with nothing else to use but this, and you rubbed too hard, there would be a hole in your paper. My favorite erasers, once again, were made by the Japanese. Whoever managed to invent erasers with smell, and those erasers that looked like nougat, with stars or flowers embedded in the eraser body (you know what I’m talking about!) was genius. I actually saved allowance money to buy new erasers. Today, my 8 year old is as obsessed with erasers as I was (must be a genetic trait.) But the choices today are even more mind boggling than our time (I used to think of my eraser obsession as a “simple joy” of childhood.) My daughter has erasers that look like real food (think fake food displays in a Japanese sushi bar) and erasers that smell like the food they depict. While I actually used the erasers I collected, my daughter won’t let anybody near hers! I just warn her about excessive eraser sniffing (recounting the Tita Vina story where my sister sniffed too hard and required a session of tweezer extrication from her nose.)

SCHOOL BAG: In our early grades, there was an Assumption school bag. It was blue vinyl, and open on top, with transparent handles, and no wheels. The only ones with an Assumption bag on wheels were Gigi and Babita Anido who had theirs custom-wheeled! The more common school bag of our childhood was a squarish one, which had a flat sealed top. Working in a law firm some years ago, I recognized what is known as a “court bag” in legal circles, as our school bag of decades ago! Our bags came in different sizes, and different colors from black to red to green to a bright kind of blue. Because the tops were flat, many of use chose to use the bag as a seat while waiting for our rides home. Therefore, sometime towards the middle of the school year, it was not uncommon to see super lopsided bags that had seen many hours of use as chair! I can’t remember what school bags I used in high school, but it was certainly not the back pack that is now the uniform of school kids all over the world, it seems. When we were about Grade 5 or Grade 6, on top of the regular school bag, some of us brought an “Ace” bag to school. What we put in there, I can’t remember! But some of us actually stuffed notebooks in there. How? I don’t know, cause some of those Ace bags were tiny!

Our markers were called PENTEL, our water colors were called GUITAR or PRANG, the glue was good old Elmers or DUCO cement. We even played with Duco cement by spreading a thin layer on our palms, letting that dry and peeling it off, and this dried glue now looked like skin, complete with the lines of your palm. Our paste came in color plastic tubes, or a round container with a well in the middle that housed the brush. And if massive pasting was needed, then the cook just made up a big batch of gawgaw (cornstarch) that made the best paste for paper mache projects! And the best crayons then as now are CRAYOLA. We also used pastels called CRAYPAS. Bond paper: did any of you call bond paper “KOKOMBOND” like my yaya? I still don’t know how to spell it. But I’ve read somewhere that the term KOKOMBOND was actually a Tagalog contraction of the term “coupon bond.” I loved the shiny ART paper, where one side was glossy and colored, and the other side was white. There was also CONSTRUCTION paper, which was the same dull, matte color both sides, and heavier than ART paper. And for our projects, we had CARTOLINA, which was stiff but soft enough to roll. And to remove the “roll” once you were in school, you just simple rolled it the other way in, and it straightened itself out! Stiffer still was ILLUSTRATION board, which was black on one side and white on the other.

Can you forget carbon paper? I loved to play with carbon paper, even if we did not actually use in school (okay, we did, in sewing class, to make blouse patterns with, using that little wheel with teeth.) I am sure my kids will say “Huh?” if I gave them a piece of carbon paper today!

I loved going on school supply shopping trips. Everything was going to be crisp and clean and new, even if of course it meant that summer was almost over, and school days were at hand. We went to many places for supplies over the years: Unimart, Alemars, National Bookstore, Philippine Education (PECO). Many years later, my aunt discovered a store along Ongpin in Chinatown, where we would buy in bulk for me and my siblings and cousins who were now of school age too. I cannot remember the name of this store (maybe Corona, like the notebook?) but what fascinated me most was this system they had of sending money to the cashier to make change. They had rigged this pulley system throughout the store. A salesperson would ring you up from any counter (painstakingly writing down everything you bought on a receipt book), take your money and the receipt, put these inside some kind of canister, seal the canister, then send it shooting through the pulleys to the “cajera” somewhere in the middle of the store, who would now ring up the sale on the cash register, put your change and receipt back in the canister, and shoot this back to you. By the time this was done, your purchases were wrapped up nicely, and off you went. I loved those buying trips. In the States, if you go to one of the warehouse clubs like BJ’s or COSTCO, see if you find that kind of pulley system rigged up. I’ve seen it in a few stores, but they use a vacuum and air to shoot the canisters from the cash registers to the cash office!

Looking at some of the supplies my daughters use, it seems like some of them have been around forever, but I am sure we did not have them while we were in school, (maybe they were not even invented yet?) like Post-its and highlighters. I seem to remember Liquid Paper, but even before that, do you remember those white sheets that you inserted into the typewriter, so it would type in white to cover your mistake? And of course, most of our typewriters were manual or simple electric, that you could carry around with you. Once in an antique store, I saw an old fashioned typewriter, so I excitedly called my jaded children to show it to them. And back then, most of the paperwork we got in school were "mimeographed" and were not "Xerox copies."

Now my daughters have “marble composition notebook” on their supply lists. They used to come in just black and white, but now they come in various colors. Of course, I am bored with how they look, so I’ve taught the twins about cute stickers and stuff, and so the habit has been passed on to the next generation. :)

Assumption Girl at the State University

When my mom first told Miss Barrera that I was applying to U.P., Miss Barrera’s first reaction was “Baka ma-culture shock siya.” Well, I ended up in U.P. And culture shock indeed it was.

First of all, registration. Our batch had the grace to experience what the legendary U.P. registration was all about. I had a cousin, a U.P. student, who accompanied me to my first one. We had to be in line by 3 a.m. It was an adventure, you and hundreds, maybe thousands of other students lining up, hoping to get into the prime classes (read that as good professors, and decent schedules.) My cousin was so helpful and eager to be with me, but I think she really just wanted to see if her hoity toity Assumption cousin could stand up to this initiation rite of all U.P. students. I did. If I was going to be a U.P. student, then I had to behave just like all the other thousands of regular U.P. students.

Now back to broad daylight, the first days of school. My first impression: Madumi! Que horror! For years at Assumption, I took for granted clean, dust free classrooms, pristinely erased blackboards, and well-lit rooms. At U.P., I made up my own alcohol pads. Everytime I sat at a new desk, I would take out the alcohol, and clean it. Of course, my other ex-Assumption friends, now at U.P., would laugh at me. After awhile, they were borrowing my little jar. This lasted, maybe a few months. By then, almost every seat in every classroom would have been sat on by someone already, in essence, wiping the dust on their clothes. No more need for my alcohol.

The bathrooms: left much, much to be desired. How to cope? I wanted to bring a can of Lysol in my bag. BUT, my ex-Assumption friends managed to prevail upon me. Some of us were trying hard as it was, to not look too conspicuous. Cricket Concepcion’s next solution was to walk about 10 minutes away to her tita’s office, where we could use her bathroom. But of course, it wasn’t always possible to do that. So, for the next semester, all my classes were in the morning only. By noon, I was on my way home. If I could hold off going to the bathroom until I got home, then I would. And I did. It’s a minor miracle I did not get some kidney disease or something, that first year in college. Also, nowhere until U.P. did I find a "convenience store" in one corner of the banyo: a woman selling juicy fruit, halls, ballpens, blue books (U.P. exam booklets), kleenex, Kotex, at marami pang iba!

Speaking of food: There were no Assumption-like cafeterias, which we were now pining for. Instead, they had little shacks a la roadside turo-turos and carinderias. (They only got nicer years later.) So that’s where we ate, or if we were lucky, and we ran into a friend with a car, then we drove and got to eat elsewhere.

The professors: My first glimpse of this man, well, he looked like Juan de la Cruz to me, dressed in maong and t-shirt, and for heaven’s sake, chinelas! It turns out that he was one of the most brilliant calculus professors I have ever had! You see in U.P., you never know. The most ma-porma guy in class, could be really bobo, but the batang kalye dude who kinda looked greasy was brilliant. Lesson to be learned: do not judge a dude by his cowboy boots, or the state of his toenails, truly.

Class: I was a math major, so we all had the same required subjects, pre-requisites, etc. I looked around for familiar faces, knowing full well that among my circle of friends, no one was crazy as me to apply for math. Lucky for me, Gena Concepcion was just as crazy. So right away, I had a friend. We were the only two Assumption girls in our course. Ahead of us a few years was Nina Huab, Mrs. Huab’s daughter (so no surprise there.) Here’s what I did the first few days of class: When the teacher walked in the room. I stood up. Why? Because I was ready to say “Good morning, Mr. Reyes.” Pahiya ako, no? No one else stood up. No one greets teachers apparently, outside of Assumption. Another time, not only did I stand up, by sheer force of habit, I made the sign of the cross too and only when I was halfway through did I realize I was alone! Of course, no one prayed before class started in a non-sectarian school! It felt very strange the first few weeks.

So what one item did I need to purchase, which I never owned before? An umbrella! Life before UP: you got dropped off where there was an awning, and your school was covered in covered walks, that you never needed a payong. Now it was a must. Plus we learned how to take public. Cricket and I eased our way into public transportation. At first, we would only take the aircon Love Buses. After a while, not wanting to wait for them anymore, we would take non-aircon ones, but the nicer kinds. After a while, not wanting to wait even for those, we learned how to take the….dyipney! Especially since now there was a Sharon Cuneta movie every few months. We would sneak down to Ali Mall between classes, watch the movie then get back to school. So we became experts on the U.P.-Cubao dyip routes. Also, the only way to get around the HUGE Diliman campus, if you did not drive, was to take the free ikot jeeps that went around as shuttles.

In the beginning of college, we would dress nicely, fix our hair, put on a little make-up. Susan Benitez and I had this game, where we would try to make our closets go as long as possible without repeating an outfit exactly. In later years, as long as you left your house with no muta, and no bad breath, you were fine! Slowly, we were scrubbing off some of our Assumption skin.

As the years went by and we all went deep into our own majors, I saw less and less of my Assumption friends, and made more new friends. I went on to make friends with wonderful, salt of the earth, brilliant people at U.P. It was truly a different universe from the one I grew up in, but this new world also opened my eyes to what really goes on in life. I went from being a kinda big fish in a small pond, to a truly tiny fish in an ocean. If I used to think "I know a lot", well now it was "Oh my God, what else do I not know?" In many ways humbling, in many ways a great relief.

If we were such sheltered children in Assumption, U.P. laid it all bare (including the annual Christmas streakers running through the halls!) If Assumption was safe, U.P. was always teeming with cops. If Assumption was predictable, at U.P., you never knew what would happen next (bakbakan? walk-out? demonstration? rally?) If Assumption had chaste uniforms, well U.P. had... The Oblation, in all its glory! If Assumption was prayerful, U.P. was usually irreverent. My world suddenly had balance and new perspective. It was enlightening to see life from another point of view.

Soon after U.P. ended, my world would become Chicago, Illinois, then St. Louis, Missouri, then New York City: far, far away from my life at Assumption. The ocean just got larger and larger and larger.

But did Assumption prepare me for this bigger, wider, wilder world out there?

Actually, YES. Assumption taught me grace, and dignity, and generosity, and duty, and responsibility. And most of all, Assumption taught me courage and faith, enough of it to deal with whatever the big world out there would toss at me. 25 years later, gratefully, this little fish is still swimming strongly.

ASSUMPTION DAY

Happy Assumption Day, Assumption Girls!

MISS MARQUEZ HAS BEEN FOUND!!!!!!

Will post details soon. It seems she found her way to Lucena, Quezon, to the home of a former co-teacher at Assumption Antipolo.

She is safe, and seemingly well.

Text message of former Mother Martha, n.k.a. Remia Evaristo to Popsie:

"God is wonderful. Talaga Happy Assumption Day! Marina Marquez found in house of an Antipolo teacher in Lucena, Quezon. Our prayers have been heard!"

And a HAPPY ASSUMPTION DAY TO YOU ALL too!!!!!

Miss Marquez Missing Poster

MISSING PERSON

Marina “Baby” Lanuza Marquez

§ Age: 71 years old

§ Height: 5 feet (approximate)

§ Weight: 110 pounds (approximate)

§ Last seen wearing an old, double-collared, colored pink-fuchsia, Manila City Hall uniform.

§ She suffers from Alzheimer’s disease/memory lapse.

Please contact us

Mr. Rene Marquez • Ms. Elgin Manlangit

Home Address

3427 Guernica Street,

Barangay Palanan, Makati

Telephones

758-3268 • 728-1338

Cell Phones

0917 251 5351 • 0917 244 7302

0922 806 5522 • 0917 527 4329

SOUVENIRS

VELADA -- I have used this word countless times in my life, and yet don’t really know exactly what it means. Finally, looking it up online in the Spanish-English dictionary, I came up with some terms:

velada: veiled; evening reunion; soiree

From that, one can surmise that the velada was probably originally a “secret”, such that the show was to be a surprise to the audience on Old Girls Day. Maybe it was even held later in the day, like late afternoon or early evening. And indeed, most shows are kept well under wraps by Jubilarians, in order to present a delightful surprise show for the rest of the alumnae. My mother, and her mother before her have been annual attendees of Old Girls Day for decades. I suspect my lola took me along as a child but I have no memory of it, other than this picture. So I have attended just one Old Girls Day that I remember: my mother’s own Silver Jubilee in 1982, when most of us were in 2nd Year College.

Since I moved to the States 21 years ago, my mom comes to visit every year, arriving around the third week of November. This means that Old Girls Day at the end of October is still fresh in her mind. I usually get a review of the velada, especially if it was particularly spectacular or special, or if one of my various aunts was a jubilarian. Most of all, every November, I get a velada souvenir, whatever it was that was being given away or for sale at the last Old Girls Day, plus the souvenir program if it was particularly interesting or significant. Good ol’ mom, never fails to bring me something. One year, she even brought me a box of still fresh Assumption tarts plus guava jelly in a really cute Assumption lunchbox! Here are a few of the souvenirs I have gotten through the years. I wonder what our velada souvenir will be?

1000 Hits

Okay, we've sorta reached a milestone today. Or more appropriate really, a kilometer stone. Our blog's readership made 1000 hits sometime today. Not bad for a blog created just about 6 months ago, and considering we are a class of just under 300. Yes, yes, if you read multiple times, it counts it again and again, not to speak of the times I end up reading and re-reading what I wrote myself. Nevertheless, I am impressed that there are many of you out there who read this.

But, if there are that many of you out there who read this, send in a comment naman, now and then! If you think the post was awful, or galing, or whatever. I have thick skin (and it's moisturized, remember?) Better yet, send in a post yourself.

We are coming to the homestretch of velada prep. My original goal was to keep this blog going at least until October 15. That is why I "stretched" the posts over the months. I was not sure I would have enough to say to the end. I do hope to have lots of posts from the trip back home to Manila, and lots of velada pictures to publish. So hopefully, we can keep this going even after October 15, when it may become not just a Batch 1981 blog, but an Assumption blog.

There's gotta be a readership out there of non-Batch 1981 people -- I am sure of it. Go ahead and comment too! Afterall, ours is a shared Assumption experience.

So keep on reading, say something too. My hit counter says that not all of you are sleeping! (smile!)

Assumption Uniform

If there was one other thing that immediately distinguished us as Assumption girls other than our handwriting, it was our uniform. For a long time in Manila, we were the only school girls in plaid, and what a distinctive plaid it is. In my mother's day, the plaid was made of wool and was imported. During our time, it was mercifully made of cotton.

Decades before us, the Assumption girl uniform was blue with white piping, and long sleeves, sailor suit style. I can't tell you what kind of blue, because the memory in my head is a black and white photo. I believe that this is why our blouse and necktie are nautical in design too, a remnant of that earlier uniform. In my youth, you could still see the occasional Old Girl wearing her blue sailor uniform, like Mrs. Enriqueta Ver and Mrs. Casas.

There even was a white uniform, which was just like the red plaid one, but all white, including the skirt and necktie. It had to be worn to school on certain days. Its required use ended with the batch a year or two ahead of us, so we never got to use one. For graduation, we got to use the pretty gala uniform, with lace collar. Too bad we only got to use that once. In my aunt's time in the 60s, they got to use theirs throughout the school year on special occasions. Sometimes families even handed down the gala collar. I remember having to bleach our family’s, so I could have it pristine white on our graduation day. My mom just sent me the collar, it is now yellow with age and history. I will leave it like that and have it framed as is.

How did we use our uniform, let me count the ways: there were some who rolled up their sleeves, astig style. There were some who rolled up the waistband of their skirts, creating an instant mini, and there were those who wore them almost to the floor, or midi. Accessories? Lots. How about a cute Sanrio ID card holder (covered in stickers, to cover your ID picture), pinned to the regular or bubwit sized necktie. Or various cute pins like Snoopy, or a monchichi monkey hanging on for dear life on the tie, a cute wallet in one blouse pocket, and the all-important Denman brush sticking out of your skirt pocket (in grade school it was a Pro brush.) My other blouse pocket contained a hanky or Kleenex. Socks had to be white, but there was an art to folding it. There was the regular sock fold, twice or thrice over; not too high as to be nerdy, not too low to look like a "kanto girl" as my mom would put it. And there was the inverted fold, rolled in to end just under the ankles so it looked like we were wearing rolled down knee highs (mom hated that kind of sock look!) At one point, one had to have the Spanish calcetines from El Corte Ingles that looked like they were crocheted. Shoes were black, with styles ranging from Greg, to kung fu, to leather Mary Janes, and when we could get away with it (fake sugat), clogs with no socks! Buying school shoes from Greg was an adventure, but nothing like going to Shoemart and just watching that show played out by the salepeople and the person calling the shoes down from the storeroom. Do you remember that? I don't think I've seen anything like that in any shoe store in the world other than SM. Do they still do that?

We had a recompense, which we only got in our senior year. Did that go on the left lapel of the blouse, or the right? Why do I think that years before, anyone could get a recompense any time?


Our P.E. uniform was a white t-shirt with the Assumption logo in blue in front, plus blue shorts made out of some poly material, definitely not cotton. Sneakers were blue Bantex, with white socks. I thought I hated our P.E. uniform, until I got to U.P., then blue changed to maroon, yuck!


So now you have to don your uniform again on October 15. Did you have yours made yet? Did you follow Popsie’s very specific measuring instructions? Or are you so lucky you still fit into your old one? Lala de los Reyes can, but her mom said the tela is faded, so she has to have a new one made. What to wear with it? Black flats? Pumps? Manolos? Socks or stockings or sup-hose?? Do you still have your recompense? Put that on. How about your class ring? Did you give it away to someone? Hope he or she was worth it. Does it still fit? If not, wear it around your neck as a pendant. ID card holder? Maybe I can borrow my daughter’s, and put my NY State ID in it, just for old times sake, otherwise my necktie will feel bare.

How ever you wear it on Old Girls Day, wear your uniform proudly, and stand tall. You are an Assumption girl after all.

STABAT: Mary Stood at the Foot of the Cross

"The mother was standing"

Popsie sent me an email this morning, that I had to write a piece on STABAT, our class motto. I realized immediately that this would be no easy task, and I could not whip out this piece quickly. On the other hand, this is a perfect example of “karma”, as STABAT has come back to haunt me, yet again.

You see, some 26 years ago, I campaigned heavily, that our class choose as its motto, “STABAT”. I cannot tell you what the other choices were, I don’t remember. I cannot tell you exactly why I wanted this, other than it was more profound, and it seemed to me then, more applicable to us, and it was something that we could aspire to in life. All I remember is we had a few choices (don't know who came up with the choices), 3 or 4 mottos, and we vice presidents were tasked to take them back to the classrooms and put it to a vote, and so we did. Section 7 voted for STABAT, and it turns out, so did most of you.

Through the years, when my life would take a turn for difficult, to say the least, I would look upon this choice, made long ago in my youth. A few times, I regretted it, in the midst of my own agony of the moment, thinking that my life had just imitated motto. Why couldn’t I have chosen something easier, less profound, maybe I would not have to be standing up to my own sorrows? I even dreaded reminding anyone that I was somewhat instrumental in this motto choice all those years ago, lest you blame me for making you live up to something so demanding.

Yet many times, the motto has served as inspiration: If Mary did it, watching her son die on the cross, then my cross to bear is so much less, so stand up myself, I must.

Where else to turn, to “research” STABAT, but the internet, something not available to us, 25 long years ago. All I can say is that I have not had a yahoo search turn up to be so deep, and so moving.

Did you know that:

• STABAT MATER is the title of a 13th century hymn, originally in Latin, consisting of 20 couplets which describe the sorrow of the Blessed Mother as she stood at the foot of the cross.
• There are more than 60 English translations alone, not to speak of the translations in Spanish, German, French, Italian, and even Kapampangan, among others.
• The text has inspired hundreds of musical compositions, dating from medieval to the present time. Some of the music was traditionally sung or performed on Good Friday.
• At some point in history, the STABAT was banned by the Council of Trent (1545-1563), among others, because the singing of the sequens (a sequens is where every melody was sung only twice, so that every pair of stanzas got a new melody) was putting great burden upon the liturgy itself. Subsequently, STABAT was reintroduced into liturgy as initiated by Pope Benedict XIII in 1727. It was the 5^th sequens in the missal, sung on September 15, the feast of the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady.

Here are some of the more interesting websites I found. I invite you to surf, and be astounded yourself:

http://www.stabatmater.dds.nl/index.html

http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/14239b.htm

http://www.catholicculture.org/docs/doc_view.cfm?recnum=3290

And when you are ready for more, read on...

I was not at all prepared to be floored, by doing research on my love-hate motto. For 25 years, all STABAT meant to me was “Mary Stood at the Foot of the Cross.” I likened it to one of the things my Lola Ninang always said to me: When you are suffering, offer it up. As I took a big bite of life, and it of me, STABAT in plain English simply meant “endure the agony.” It gets even more blunt in Tagalog, “Tiisin mo.”

I never connected STABAT MATER to MATER DOLOROSA, that is, until now. I think that if I did in my youth, I would not have chosen it. My great grandmother had a life-size statue of Mater Dolorosa, and this was her traditional contribution to the Holy Week procession in her home town of Naga. When I was ten years old, curious and disobedient, I explored every room in my grand uncle Guito’s home in Naga, after being told not to. Did I get the scare of my life when I had the misfortune of opening the room where the religious icons were stored. I shall not forget the weeping face of the black hooded statue, towering over me as I opened the forbidden door.

Yet now, I see that Mary, as she stood at the foot of the cross, was the Sorrowful Mother. Of course. How I never saw that before, I do not know.

Growing up, I never liked doing the Stations of the Cross. If I was made to accompany my mom and aunts to do it during Holy Week, I saw it as infringing upon my vacation time. It was an hour or so to endure, before I could go out and have fun again. I did not learn to appreciate it, until I was an adult attending mass at my parish, St. Francis Xavier in New York. This past Holy Week, I gained an even greater appreciation as our Family Faith group (Sunday school for the entire family, not just the kids) reflected on the Stations, in a manner that would be easy for children to understand.

We also traditionally think of the Stations from the perspective of Jesus, as in “Jesus receives the cross, Jesus falls, Jesus is stripped of his garments.” We do not really think of the Stations of the Cross from the perspective of Mary, his mother, who is witnessing all this.

Yet, that entire journey of Jesus, was also her journey. As he fell, as he was stripped, as he was in agony, so was she. It is called the Via Crucis, or Way of the Cross. But it is also called the Via Dolorosa, or the Way of Sorrow, Mary’s sorrow.

Here’s my 1st profound revelation for the day:

This entire journey of Mary, culminates in STABAT...She stood at the foot of the cross.

So in order to go through that same journey ourselves, and to finally come to a greater understanding of STABAT, one must do Stations. Here we go…

I found this most inspiring website, with the beautiful bronzes of the Blessed Mother during her journey: http://www.materdolorosa.co.nz/

Juxtaposing the sculptures here, with the Stations, we see that Mary went through the following:

1 SORROW (Jesus is condemned to death)
2 PAIN (Jesus received the cross)
3 GRIEF (Jesus falls for the first time)
4 SUFFERING (Jesus meets his mother)
5 GRATITUDE (Simon helps Jesus carry the cross)
6 COMPASSION (Veronica wipes the face of Jesus)
7 DISBELIEF (Jesus falls a second time)
8 ANGUISH (Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem)
9 TORMENT (Jesus falls the third time)
10 MERCY (Jesus is stripped of his garments)
11 SURRENDER (Jesus is nailed to the cross)
12 ACCEPTANCE (Jesus Dies on the cross)
13 GRACE (Jesus is taken down from the cross)
14 RENEWAL (Jesus is laid in the tomb)

Upon reflection of the above, one shall see, that to be able to stand at the foot of the cross, one must go though all of that: Sorrow, Pain, Grief, Suffering, Gratitude, Compassion, Disbelief, Anguish, Torment, Mercy, until one comes to a space where Surrender and Acceptance are possible, at which point one allows Grace to come in, and finally, Renewal.

To stand up implies some kind of strength, some kind of courage, so the knees don’t buckle, allowing one not to fall, quite literally. So to finally stand up, one must move from the place of pain and sorrow and agony, to a place of surrender and acceptance. Only then can one stand up in strength and courage, and receive the grace of renewal.

STABAT MATER, therefore, is not simply that Mary stood at the foot of the cross. Instead, STABAT MATER is the spiritual journey one takes, in order to be able to stand at the foot of the cross, and move on beyond it. It does not mean we do not or cannot fall, for we do, and we will keep falling. It means that after we fall, we pick ourselves up again, we stand up, and we keep walking, and continue with our quest. It means acceptance, it means surrendering to a higher power. This here is the deeper meaning of Lola Ninang’s “Offer it up.”

My problem all these years, I now realize, is that I fixated on a picture, that of Mary at the foot of the cross, a moment standing still, static in time through the ages.

And the problem with a one word motto such as STABAT is that it froze me in that one moment, keeping me stuck in the mud of sorrow and agony, not looking back before it, as to how one came to stand at the foot of the cross, or beyond the crucifixion itself.

So here is the part I was missing all these years:

STABAT is not simply standing at the foot of the cross, not just that one moment in time.
STABAT is a journey one must take in order to be able to stand up again.
And standing up again is exactly the RESURRECTION.

Lest you think the insight ends here, in my research, I discovered that there are two parts to STABAT: STABAT MATER DOLOROSA, which is Mary’s sorrows at the crucifixion of her son, the part we have been accustomed to, and the part we adopted as our motto 25 years ago, and there is also STABAT MATER SPECIOSA, one of the most tender Latin hymns of all time, based upon the Gospel accounts of the birth of Jesus Christ. SPECIOSA is about the rapture and exultation of Mary at the birth of her son, the Son of God.

Click here to see entire text of SPECIOSA: http://www.stabatmater.dds.nl/speciosa.html

Could it be, that we have spent the last 25 years thinking of our motto as STABAT MATER DOLOROSA, and we were not seeing the other side of it? Did we actually miss the other boat, the carnival cruise ship, and instead only bought tickets for the funeral barge? But now that we have come half-circle in life, is it now time to think of our motto in terms of both STABAT MATER DOLOROSA and STABAT MATER SPECIOSA?

I can’t help but point out that almost 300 years ago, under a Pope named Benedict (XIII), STABAT MATER found new life in the liturgy. Today, under yet another Pope Benedict (XVI), might WE now find new life in all aspects of STABAT MATER, our motto?

Wow. Thank you Popsie, for ambushing me into writing about STABAT. Even you did not know until now that I originally had a hand in it.

Maybe I am the only one who was blind and not seeing, and did not quite make all the connections these past 25 years. I do hope this post brings you all anyway, to a greater understanding of the motto we chose, and brings you even further in your life’s journey. Maybe then I won’t feel guilty anymore.

So now I propose, that instead of thinking of STABAT as the six letter word found inside our class ring, think of STABAT as a six letter phrase:

STABAT = JOURNEY FROM AGONY TO RESURRECTION

So did we make the right choice all those many years ago? From where I stand now, I think so.

Love and peace, everyone.

Third Year High School

Third year high school. Academically, it got harder. Suddenly, we had Chemistry with Mrs. Malanyaon, Geometry with Mrs. Gonzaga (?) These subjects were just not like any other math or science subject you’ve had before, so life got a little complicated. When Rina Macasaet told me her older sister Rona got exempted from Geometry finals, then my Algebra exemption meant nothing. Geometry exemption was going to be the goal this year.

From the first scene where the three witches come in, I was hooked. Banquo, Macduff, Thane of Cawdor. Mix in Chrisostomo Ibarra, Maria Clara, Padre Damaso, Capitan Tiago. Wow! What a reading year this was!

We had Miss Reynoso for English. Our literature studies went from colonizer to colony: Shakespeare to Rama and Sita. I think we all looked forward to having Miss Reynoso because we heard from the older girls how she was different from all the other teachers we ever had. Different she was alright. She was more interesting, more bold, really ahead of her time. I think this is just a memory of what was told to us by the older girls: she conducted one class while dressed in a caftan, in a dark room lit by candles and incense! I am convinced that by the time it was our turn, she had already been told not to do this again! Too bad, the higher ups always killed the innovators!

I cannot remember the name of our Oriental History teacher, but we broke out in giggles every time she prayed at the beginning of class. She said something like “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy SPIWIT” at which point most of us lost it. Yes, we were young, and irreverent, and irrepressible. I did love this class though: at one point in time I actually knew each ancient Indian and Chinese dynasty by heart, and in the right order. Since then, I’ve never lost my fascination for the history and culture of India and China. Decades later, it is not even politically correct to say “Oriental” anymore. I wonder if that subject is still called that at Assumption.

For work education, we had Miss Luz Marcelo, who taught us Interior Decoration. That class was so much fun, for many of us anyway. We had to make plates of all the rooms of the house. I still remember my bedroom plate: it was for boys with a nautical motif, with a whale painted on the wall as a mural. Too bad I don’t have boys, or I would have replicated it! Parts of my home today though, oddly enough, are in the same color scheme as my 3rd year high school plate: blue with brown and orange accents! You just never know how long something will stay with you and affect the rest of your life!

For Religion, we had Mrs. Villafania, and this year, we studied the gospels in depth, except John. We were told it was too complicated, and it was not part of the “synoptic gospels.” Later on, I found out that John’s gospel is more esoteric and mystical. So, they did not want our 3rd year selves to get into it? Wait ‘til they find out I have read the gospels of Thomas, Mary Magdalene, and soon I will read the gospel of Judas!

Our retreat this year was at Mary Ridge in Tagaytay, the school for the naughty girls. I don’t remember too much about it. I never really got into any of our retreats in school, until the senior one. I used to wonder at girls who spent the entire retreat just crying their eyes out, while I was usually tear- free. Little did I realize then, I should have considered myself lucky, and not the odd one out.

Our class president was Toni Feliciano. One of our classmates was Rosette Monteverde, daughter of Mother Lily. Not many of you know, but Mother Lily’s sister is actually an Assumption nun, Sister ????. Rosette’s family opened a restaurant on Pasay Road called “Mother China.” You can imagine that Rosette’s group at cooking class always had the best décor, garnished with carrot roses and all that, fresh from a couple of blocks away!

We had an underground prom this year, together with some other sections, I can’t remember exactly which ones, but for sure Sections 3 & 4. We had it at the Century Plaza Hotel. Section 4 has a lot of pictures in their yahoo group from this prom. The Section 7 website also has a few.

Karina Galang left for the States, to spend junior year there. Our class was maybe a little more quiet since she was gone? Maybe not. I still remember that it was noisy, but we didn’t bother too many people since we were the last room at the end of the hallway, and only poor Section 6 had to suffer our antics.

With Macbeth for English, and Noli Me Tangere for Pilipino, we had a lot of plays during the school year. Those were fun, the dressing up part, and bringing props and all that, no matter that we probably butchered Shakespeare and Rizal that they’re probably still spinning in their graves. Between Sisa and Lady Macbeth, we had many insane women acting out in class. I decided not to cheat and read Noli in Tagalog in its entirety. Hey, it was like watching Sine Siete in my mind, why not?

I remember spending a lot of breaks and vacations with Gigi Anido and family. Once, while up in Baguio, we girls deemed ourselves way more grown up than our brothers and cousins who followed us around. Someone coined the derogatory term “boylets” just to minimize them even more, and that is what we called them. I remember us running around Hyatt Baguio, trying to dodge the boylets and hoping to lose them. To this day, any immature boy, or man, is called a “boylet” by me. And alas, Hyatt Baguio is no more.

Is this the year we had yoga with Mrs. Tenna? I can’t remember if it was this year, or senior year. Anyway, I loved yoga since then, and have practiced it now and then through the years.

I did get exempted from Geometry finals, hooray. Next goal: get exempted from Physics and Trig.

Prayer for the Canonization of Blessed Marie Eugénie

Lord Jesus Christ,You gave Marie Eugénie

the grace of belonging entirely to You.
You filled her with an ardent desire to know You

and make you known,

to love You and make You loved.
May the Church,which she so greatly loved and served,

recognize her way to holiness and proclaim her a saint

among the Saints in Heaven.
Grant us all the grace to live as she did,

in holiness and love,

faithful to our particular vocations

for Your glory

and the salvation of the world.
Amen.

*Taken from the website of the Assumption sisters -- find link in the sidebar.

From Sine Siete to Kuya Germs: Staying in Touch with you Inner Baduy

Don’t ask me to pick out from a line up people named Assunta, Ara, Juday, John Lloyd, Rufa Mae, Alessandra, Piolo, and Jenny Lynne. I have no idea how they look like, I just see their names in the online edition of Philippine Daily Inquirer, and it doesn’t always have pictures. Not that I would be able to keep track anyway. There are just so many new names, an extraordinary amount of which seemed to have been picked out of a Makati phone book!

Ask me any day about Amalia, Susan, Rosemarie, Juancho, Vilma, Nora, Amy, Hilda, Sharon, Pugo, Bentot, Chichay, Nida, Bella, Matutina, Dely, Babalu, Etang, and I’ll give you a smile. Okay, it’s many years past, and those of you who want to remain in the Tagalog movie closet, stay in there. Just smile secretly to yourself as you read this, and admit that YOU DID watch Sine Siete, and that YOU DID enjoy it!

I remember wanting to go home eagerly in the afternoons, so we could watch Sine Siete. My partner in crime was my sister, and it turns out, a great number of Assumption classmates! I have great memories of watching Dance O’Rama and Ang Senyorito at ang Atsay over and over and over again. Today, when we have pan de sal at home, I can’t help but say in my mind “At nasaan ang jamon?” And can anyone say “Dance O’Rama” and you not reply “Marlene, Marlene, you are the Dance O'Rama Queeng of My Heart.” Once my husband had all these errands for me to do, and I actually curtsied and said “Opo, senyorito.” My God, all these years, and I’m still messed up!

There were all those Pugo, Bentot, Patsy, and Cachupoy ones where it seemed they were always getting into trouble, and the funniest scenes were set in cemeteries. Remember the one where there was a character named “Dr. Kagaw” and the haunted house one where Rosemarie was a young girl in twin braids, that would rise whenever she got scared? There was another scary movie I remember called Gumising Ka Maruja and I think it was starring Susan Roces. And a whole bunch of Charo Santos and Hilda Koronel scary period movies, the titles escape me. Then there were those Luis Gonzalez, Gloria Romero, Amalia Fuentes, Nida Blanca, Bert Leroy, Nestor De Villa movies, where they wore native probinsiyano costumes, that clashed with their pretty and handsome city faces! Then there were those World War II movies, some with famous American actors in them, but where the mean Japanese captain would always be Vic Diaz! I learned all about Corregidor and Bataan and the death march from Sine Siete, before I learned about them in school.

Why is it that in the movies, someone’s mom was always dying, leaving the poor children “ulila” to be raised by a nasty aunt, or step-mother? Seemed to me like Charito Solis, Caridad Sanchez, and even Hilda Koronel were such abused, kawawa women. Such drama, such stereotypes, such fun!

And Dolphy always had some effeminate role, like Fefita Fofonggay vda. De Falayfay or something like that, and another wacky one called Buhay Marino. I know it’s not cinema but television, but are there videos of the John and Marsha series? I would love to see those all over again. Anytime I see my brother in ugly, old looking shorts (he’s notorious for hanging on to old clothes) I call him John Puruntong! And at Target, a few years ago, they sold those food covers that keep the flies out, made out of wire, the kind that John put over his face as he slept on the bangko! I had to buy it, even if we have no flies in the city, just to show my kids. Of course, they just rolled their eyes up at me. I also can't forget Dolphy's tv show called Buhay Artista where he or his sidekick Panchito would sing a song, and the other would translates it into either English or Tagalog, with such hilarious results!

I remember watching the original Darna, and all the impaktos that came with the movie. Like me, did you learn all about aswangs, vampiras, manananggals, tianaks, capres, and the like from Tagalog movies? What a wealth of cultural trivia they were back then. Then there was the Vilma Santos remake of Darna. Speaking of Vilma, you also need to speak of Nora. I remember my sister and I were closet Vilmanians. The household staff, including our yayas, were Noranians, to our dismay. I remember someone actually saying that we like Vilma cause we were maputi like her, and the yayas like Nora, who was maitim, like them. That was kinda offensive, even back then, I just could not explain why, but then again, when you think about it, one tends to identify with someone who is like oneself, so maybe it had anthropological truth to it? Then we would go into great debates about who was the better singer, and who was the better actor. In light of what they are today (Mayor of Lipa, and suspected drug smuggler), it all seems silly and irrelevant. (But you did watch Superstar, on Sundays right, with Ate Guy and Kuya Germs? Actually, you never missed Germspecial, or Inday Badiday on “The Truth and Nothing But the Truth” did you? Or were you the Flor de Luna or Anna Lisa type?)

Ah, that’s getting too deep into analyzing Filipino entertainment, but why not? A good part of my childhood was spent enjoying it. There was one of Chichay, I think it was called “Shootout sa Baboy Corral”, where they were cowboys but had pigs and not cows, a pancit luglug western, if there ever was one. Chichay would caress the pigs to sleep by massaging their tummies and chanting “Yatatata, yatatata” something like it. Just to show you how messed up I am, that is how I put my daughters to sleep. They laughed when I first did it, totally did not get my explanation about the movie, until I told them they were the little pigs I needed to put to sleep. They still request it. Look at that, passing it on to the next generation, indoctrination of Filipino movie culture.

My aunt remembers taking my sister and I to a Nora movie because we kept nagging her: Lollipops and Roses, which was set in California, with Cocoy Laurel in the lead. I used to think Cocoy was so cute, and followed him around their Matabunkay compound, where my parents always played in the Holy Week pelota tournaments. My tita still tells people that she had to buy us giant lollipops to eat while watching, and that we sang along loudly with the movie, to her ultimate shame. She'll never let us live that down. There also was Nora Aunor and Manny de Leon in “Tell Nora I Love Her”, and yes, I can even sing that song. Scary, no? What’s even scarier is that one night, on my way home on a bus with my husband Gerry, and his friend Ner Martinez (brother of Leo Martinez) I started to confess my Sine Siete obsession and it turns out, the Martinez family has one too, no surprise there of course. It got really sick and I thought my husband would throw up, when Ner and I started singing Tell Nora I Love Her right there on the bus. But it helped to know I wasn’t the only one in the closet, or just outside of it.

Now if you remember this, you have to admit it, just for my sake. Do you remember the Vilma Santos movie called “The Sensations” where they had all these love teams, etc. etc.? I can still remember the song especially the refrain, and that the fashion of the day was hotpants! I remember my sister and I went to Magallanes Theater to watch it, and as a treat to go with the movie, spaghetti at Pancake House with the yayas in tow!

We cousins used to scare each other just by saying this movie title, in our scariest possible deep voice: "Hatinggabi na, Vilma!"And were you afraid of Mary Walter, Etang Discher, and Bella Flores as I was? They looked so scary, mean, and witch-like, especially in the black and white movies they appeared in. How thrilled I was recently, to see a gentle, older, more graceful, still beautiful Bella Flores in Crying Ladies! Frankly, not only was it the high note, it was one of only two things that made me not regret wasting my $12! The other thrill was seeing a fat Edgar Mortiz as the noisy upstairs neighbor!

For much of my childhood, I remember that actually seeing a Tagalog movie in the theater was forbidden, since many of them were ‘bomba”. Then they started to make quality “Lino” movies, but still, I was too young, and would not dare sneak in. So the next era of my Tagalog movie enjoyment came with the Sharon movies, and Regal films. (Do you Section 7 girls remember that Mother Lily’s daughter, Roselle Monteverde, was our classmate in 3rd year high school? She was only there for one year. More about her in the Third Year blog, coming soon.) I actually remember seeing “Katorse” and “Bilibid Boys” in the theater, as well as “Bagets.”

Ah, the Sharon movies. This was to be Cricket Concepcion’s and my secret pleasure. Fun enough, that we would take the jeepney all the way from U.P. to Ali Mall, to be there on opening day. Not only did we watch them all, Cricket knew the dialogue by heart. Ah too late, she can’t kill me now, by the time she sees this, the deed is done. I don’t know if I was more amused by her amazing memory (she would start quoting soon as we left the movie house) or by her funny Tagalog. Actually, I believe Cricket expanded her Tagalog vocabulary, thanks to Sharon!

I think I continued to watch Sharon movies even when I moved to the States, via video of course. I did stop at one point, since I got bored. We grew up, but Sharon didn’t. She seems to think she is still this cute 14-year old ingénue, when she must be 40 years old by now. Pa-cute pa rin siya, nakakainis na. And when she is supposed to be poor in the movie, why in the world does she have marvelous haircuts and highlights, and perfect manicures? Gimme a break.

As an adult, I no longer need to sneak in, so when they showed these films at a festival in NY some years back, off I went to enjoy them: Itim and Karnal. I also saw Marilu Diaz Abaya's Rizal on video, and it was excellent.

In recent years, I’ve seen a few more, and was quite surprised that I enjoyed them: Milan, Mano Po (the first one), Ngayong Nandito Ka – with Jericho Rosales and Kristine Hermosa (Wow! I know who they are!) Actually, for the latter movie, I ended up watching it thanks to my brother and my husband. One weekend, we left them at home while we went shopping. They had the entire house to themselves plus a bunch of videos my sister-in-law borrowed. They put in Ngayong… and by the time we got home, we found them in front of the tv with tears in their eyes!!! Mwahahahaha! Now they will really kill me for typing this! Magnifico was good, but not quite magnifique. I don't know what, but was it too gut wrenching with no redemption, and could there have been another way to depict the tragedy without all that weeping and wailing? Maybe living away has just changed my taste. This iyakan melodrama might just be what attracted me to Pinoy films in my childhood in the first place.

So my eras in Pinoy movies are the 50s and the 60s, then I jump into the 80s and am starting to discover the 21st century films. I feel like I missed out in the golden age of the Brockas and Mike de Leons and Laurice Guillen ones cause I was too young when they first screened and then I left the Philippines. Sometimes I wonder if they ever got shown on Sine Siete or its reincarnations, much like the movies of the 50s were. My only recourse now would be video, if they ever got into video. I stopped going to the Filipino video stores ages ago, when it seemed like the only movies I could rent were from the modern day versions of bomba films.

Recently, I heard that a Filipino restaurant near me holds Monday night screenings of old movies from the 50s, plus all-you-can-eat buffets for less than $10. And to top it all, the feature that I just missed was “Dance O' Rama” Oh my gawd, pan de sal, jamon, Marlene honey, and all the lechon kawali I want. What more could a Sine Siete die hard ask for?

Like The Colors of My Mind

What sort of future is coming up from behind I don't really know. But the past, spread out ahead, dominates everything in sight.

--- Robert M. Pirzig, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

With such a busy lifestyle being mom to twins, working full time, and living in a fast-paced society, one needs to resort to power shopping. For me that means not just groceries (buy in bulk, buy online) or clothes, it also means books. When I find myself in a bookstore, I just stock up: perusing interesting covers, speed reading synopses, watching out for favorite authors, even if it means I won’t get to actually read the book ‘til weeks, months, even years later.

I do believe that when it is the right time to read a book, your fingers will find it (under the pile of clothes, stacked high on top of the pile of books, as they balance themselves on top of shoeboxes...) Somehow, when it is time for you to know what it is you need to know, the book will find you. Such is what happened to me when I found my copy of “An Alchemy of Mind” by one of my favorite authors, Diane Ackerman (thank you Didi Manahan for introducing me to her) under my bed a few weeks ago.

As the title suggests, the book explores the mind, as Ackerman only can and as best as one could, I suppose, since I believe the mind is as unique to an individual, as are fingerprints. I discovered with delight, the chapter on memory. I quote entirely from her below, I will not even attempt to say it better than she does. Here goes…

From the Chapter entitled “What Is a Memory?”…

Like tiny islands on the horizon, they can vanish in rough seas. Even in calm weather, their coral gradually erodes, pickled by salt and heat. Yet they form the shoals of a life. Some offer safe lagoons and murmuring trees. Others crawl with pirates and reptiles. Together, they connect a self with the mainland and society. Plot their trail and a mercurial past becomes visible.

Memories feel geological in their repose, solid and true, the bedrock of consciousness….Memories inform our actions, keep us company, and give us our noisy, ever-chattering sense of self. Because we are moody giants, every day we subtly revise who we think we are….

Without memories we wouldn’t know who we are, how we once were, who we’d like to be in the memorable future. We are the sum of our memories. They provide a continuous private sense of one’s self. Change your memory and you change your identity….

…Shared memories bind us to loved ones, neighbors, our contemporaries. The sort of memory I am talking about isn’t essential for survival, and yet it pleases us, it enriches everyday life. So couples relive romantic memories, families watch home movies, and friends “catch up” with each other, as if they’ve lagged behind on a trail…

…Picture yourself younger, and what image forms? Most likely it’s a static image, a snapshot someone took. Memories can pile up and become mind clutter; it’s easier to store them in albums. We remember our poses. Each photograph is a magic lamp rubbed by the mind. When we are in the mood, we can savor a photograph while sensations burst free….

From the Chapter entitled “Reflections in a Gazing Ball”…

…One excited person can somehow rally all the others. Stimulate one facet of a memory and the whole world can suddenly pop into mind…

…Add enough pieces to the mosaic and an individual finds shape. We take for granted these dazzling skills, and the most treasured gift of all, being able to time-travel and explore the lost kingdoms of yesterday. We may be the only animals with this rich form of episodic memory, in which we can revive our past, play it back like a film, we stop to look at, enter imaginatively, and revise as we grow older.

From the Chapter entitled “Remember What?”…

Say memory and almost everyone thinks of the past. But most of our memories are really about the future….

We complain about normal forgetfulness, but thank goodness we don’t have better memories….People cursed with comprehensive memories have minds like overstuffed closets – open the door and an avalanche pours out…Forgetting isn’t the absence of remembering, it’s memory’s ally, a device that allows the brain to stay agile and engaged….

So now I do not wonder, that my closets and my rooms look like avalanches, they are just reflections of my comprehensive memory! (Hah! Yet another excuse to give to my husband.) Thank you all for allowing me to be the excited person, to pour out the memories, just so my brain doesn’t overload, and short circuit soon….And yes, I still do not remember everything, so how about YOU start sharing your memories too? One last piece of advice from Ackerman:

Challenge, novelty, and rich environments can rejuvenate memory. So does gentle aerobic activity, and, quite possibly, eating a cup of blueberries each day.

So go out for a run, or play some badminton, have some berries, and remember away.....

PROM MEMORIES

These dinners we've been having in NY are lot of fun. They also stir up some more memories, as if I needed more, right? I don’t know how we got to the topic, but you all know how it is, one thing leads to another, and then it all comes tumbling out.

My jaded adult self does not know anymore what the idea of “prom” conjured in my teenage self. Maybe it had to do with visions of romance, being asked or asking someone you like to be your date on a special night? Getting to wear a pretty dress and shoes, having your hair and make-up done? Dancing the night away, maybe living happily ever after with your prince for the night? Hmmmm, not quite, in retrospect.

In 2nd year high school, I got asked to LaSalle’s Junior Prom by one of Nana’s friends. (I am going to omit many names here, to protect the innocent and the guilty!) Nana (and as a result, we her friends) hang around with a bunch of La Salle guys who were one year ahead of us. Many of us had “crushes” on them, and vice versa. I think I got asked in January, for the prom in March. Wow, how thrilling, my first prom! Not to speak of what it meant for my ego and reputation at home: my family, especially my sister, always teased me that I was a “manang” and I would be an old maid forever. Getting asked to the prom stopped all that! I just remembered what triggered this memory: Marichu, at dinner, reminded me of this guy, who was so handsome, and took me to his prom in high school. Ah yes, he was guapo, but, by the time the prom came around in March, PROM DATE was now the boyfriend of another girl GIRLFRIEND! But he was nice and did not “disinvite” me, but obviously, prom night was now not going to be romantic prom night! But it was not romance anyway for many of my friends. Just think about this mess: J asked K, but by prom time, J’s girlfriend was T. So R took T, so that she could be at the prom too. Another guy Matt took someone to this prom, but supposedly, by prom time liked someone else. GIRLFRIEND also managed to come to the prom somehow, can’t remember how anymore. So most of us girls got asked to this prom, but good friend Nana who introduced us to most of the guys, and who really really liked R, did not get to the prom at all. Is that ironic or what?

Add to this memory: My mom, of course, was thrilled I was going to my first prom, so she took me to her salon Budjiwara that afternoon for hair and make-up. I went home convinced there was something wrong with my face, but my mom said it was okay. So I went over to Toni’s house, where we would dress up and get picked up together. Soon as I walked in, Toni and her mom gasped and confirmed what I thought: my face was GREEN! Forever thank you to Toni and her mom, for fixing my face and redoing it all over again! And my Malu Veloso dress, pretty as it was, she even designed it in front of me, or so I thought – at the next family gathering, I wore the dress again, and in comes my own cousin, in an identical Malu Veloso dress. She also thought it was designed uniquely for her. Needless to say, it was my last Malu dress ever, and my last make-up session at Budji! Nice footnote: PROM DATE and GIRLFRIEND eventually got married, and as far as I know, still are 20 years later! And Nana and Matt also married each other, and 19 years later, are still together. Bravo to them all! I wonder how many other hook-ups arose from this prom drama at the Mandarin in 1979?

Third Year prom: Some of us sections banded together and organized our own “underground” prom at the Century Plaza Hotel. This time, I wanted to ask N to my prom, but before I got around to do it, he got a girlfriend P who was a friend of mine, so I did not ask him. I ended up going with C, the “crush” of one of my good friends S, with her permission of course. I don’t remember anymore why S did not ask C herself. I don’t remember much about this prom, and again, it was not the romantic Cinderella ball one dreams of as a young girl.

Fourth Year prom: Disaster in the making from the start. I wanted to ask this guy to be my date , BUT, somehow, one of his friends M, started to tell people that I asked HIM to my prom! How that happened, I do not know, and since I was so mabait, and did not want to embarrass anyone, I really did ask M. Forget romantic again, this guy M is really nice, but no sparks, sorry. If you remember, our parents came to this prom too, with strict instructions to my dad NOT to come over to our table at all! But we did get to dance the first dance with our dads, that is so sweet and I love that memory.

I don’t remember who my tablemates were anymore, except one good friend C, who was miserable cause her mom made her come to the prom and forced a date on her. Good old mother arm-twisting tactics. My mom tried that too this year. She said I HAD to take the son of one of her friends, someone that I know they’ve been plotting to set up with me since we were born. You know the drill, I am sure some of you have dictator moms too. But I stood my ground, and she gave up. (Hey mom, aren’t you glad I refused, that boy is now a bum!)

Ah but yes, I got my Cinderella wish, maybe even did better than her, because by midnight, I was home, horrors! My own parents came home much later than me, cause they went out hotel hopping with Tita Sarah and Tito Bert Anido, Tita Guila and Tito Raffy Maramba, and other parents! How shameful is that, I was long in my pajamas by the time they called it a night!

So there you have it, prom memories not quite “Carrie” but not quite Sandy and Danny’s “You’re the One that I Want” song from Grease either. But at least they still make me smile, and make for good and funny story telling at reunions 25 years or so later!

Silver Fox or Left-Over Turkey?

“Velada, velada, salada, salada” is my latest mantra. I have never eaten as much leaves as I have in the last few months. It doesn’t seem to be working though. I am sure I am not alone, in this non-feeding frenzy to get slimmed down for the velada. Starting to want to be like one of Imelda's Beautification Projects - maganda overnight. One Manila based classmate sent an email to Stateside friends, regarding plans for partying, Boracay or Baguio in October. Included in the suggestions was a line that said something like “those interested in Botox and liposuction, I can also make arrangements for those.” That made my day, I laughed for a long time. I started to wonder what would happen if I mixed Botox, lipo, jet lag, Bora, intense dance practice, and lots of late night partying while in Manila for 10 days in October. I might come back to New York looking like an even more twisted Joan Rivers, que horror! Even my husband had to laugh, and made him wonder what his Manila classmates would offer for their December jubilee – wart removal? penis enlargement? sex change?

One of the last things my mom said when she left last January to go back to Manila was not “Goodbye, see you in October” but “What are you going to do for exercise so you get thin for October?” You gotta love her though. I should be so lucky to look as good as she does at her age. I am already hearing stories about “so and so lost 30 pounds” and “so and so wants to be as thin as Jojo Reyes”. Wish I could say that for myself, I probably already weighed more at birth than Jojo Reyes now. Don't be mad Jojo, it's just inggit talking. Had another great laugh the other day with China’s self-deprecating minutes of the April 10 meeting, and screamed when I got to “white pants” and “silver top.” What about “brown paper bag” so I can cover my face when I manage to squeeze myself into the white pants? And I am positive that a silver top will make me look like a turkey wrapped in Reynolds wrap. Popsie, when is the absolute drop dead date when I must give you measurements for my school uniform? By the way, China, I just had an idea. Can we wear ball pen cartoon drawings on our thighs under our uniform on October 15? I still have nice, perfectly waxed legs, the only "not fat" part of me other than my ears. Might as well show off the good parts.

What is this desire, that we be as thin, and as young-looking, and as fit as we were 25 years ago? Is it to capture lost youth, is it to try and be as gay and carefree as we were back then? Or is it a desire to preserve youth and extend life as long as we can? Are your crows feet a sign of your age, or just prove that you laughed a lot these past years? What about the gray hair? Did you worry a lot, or does it just run in your family? What about the fat and the wide hips? Enjoy your kitchen too much or bear beautiful children or both? I wonder if I will ever learn to see wrinkles as marks of wisdom and not as ravages of time.

They say 40 is the new 30, which makes me 32 again today. Do I really want to be 32 again? At 32 I was childless, and starting to feel frustrated that I would remain childless forever. At 32, I had a tight budget. At 32, I worried about no one but myself. At 32, I was not as wise as I am today. At 32, I did not look ahead and say “I want to live a long life so I can see my grandchildren.” At 32, I did not yet know what I really wanted in life.

So I should be proud to say “42” and shout it from the treetops. Afterall, I’ve spent hundreds of dollars at the Chanel counter and on facials in the last six months, so no one will think I’m 42. What do I take 12 little pills (vitamins, calcium, green tea, fish oil, anti-oxidants, etc. etc etc.) every night for, just so I can deny that I am 42? Huh? When did I get so confused? Must have been right after the epidural.

I decided I just am not going to worry about it anymore. I’m just adding to the furrows in my brow, above my well-tweezed eyebrows. It’s already end of April, and I still have not started the swimming/running/ Pilates regimen I told my mom I would. My life now is Atkins Monday through Friday, and lamon on Saturday and Sunday. I feel like the stupid monkey who climbs up the well two feet during the day, and slips back one foot during the night. I do get to walk/run now and then, but when I start sneezing from the spring pollen, then it’s back to being the couch carbohydrate in front of the tv again.

All I know is I want to see all my old friends, some of whom I have kept in touch with, some of whom I have not seen at all in the last 25 years. Living away for 21 years now, I’ve missed all of the weddings and baptisms, and just lived vicariously through kuwentos, letters, email, photos. Now I want to go home and hug, and scream, and see everyone LIVE, and not via webcam. Who cares how high my cholesterol is, or how much eye cream I shovel at myself. All I know is I loved you when you were the slim, sexy, smooth skinned, noisy, gossipy, naughty, funny, thick and gorgeous haired, scandalous, sweet, sassy, young, wild, innocent, hopeful, friend that you were 25 years or more ago, and no matter what you look like now, I love you still. And I hope you do the same with me, bottle brunette, moisturized, chipped nailed, Bengay-toting-Vicks-sniffing, underwire-bra’d, tabachuy creature that I am now. And I promise to wear whatever costume you decide we should wear. Just remind me to bring my Brooke Shields mask so no one recognizes me.

Having said all that, let me chew on my dry lettuce and sip on my Crystal Light. I still want to be thin in October and back to my high school size or closer to it. Oh God, now I need to do some yoga, I’m starting to feel neurotic again. I saw Tessa A’s pan de sal abs and all it did was make me crave for pan de sal with condensada… Now where is that Pilates ring somewhere in my cluttered, messy house...and if none of it works, how about that Botox and lipo…so pardon me now, Clairol awaits as my roots are showing, I have to finish screaming at the twins for the mess they made in my bedroom, and I have a manicure appointment at 6.

More from Vivian's Baul

(Click on photos to enlarge)Antonio and Evelina Honorio, nee Bartolome, on their wedding day, July 15, 1961; offering her flowers to the Blessed Mother at the Chapel of Assumption Herran.


Nativity Scene: Salvacion Locsin as Mother Mary, Celestina Bernasconi as St. Joseph; Vivian Honorio as Angel Gabriel; Peachie Gonzalez and Monica Francisco as "sosyal village people" according to Vivian! ( I think they just ran out of "period" costumes, and giant hair bows must have been uso!) This was circa 1969. Does anyone remember the name of the teacher behind the piano? I just remember her ever-smiling face.

Early San Lo Years

Since we have a blog for "Early Herran Days", I thought it would be nice to have a San Lo perspective. Since I'm not gifted a writer as some of you are nor do I have a memory-base like some of you (yes.....I'm taking about you Mon:) but I'll try my best to remember as much as I can. What stands out in my mind was when some of my classmates did not make the move to Herran. Most of them went to San Agustin. Namely, Baba Araneta and Mitzi Aguirre. I remember we used to go swimming alot in Mitzi's house. We went swimming rain or shine. And somehow the rainy days were more fun till it would start to thunder and lightning and Mitzi's mom would finally order us out of the pool. Then do some of you remember Non Faustino and Tinette Inigo? These girls moved with their families to the States and unfortunately I lost touch with them. I remember Baba, Mitzi, Non and I would go to the Polo Club after class for that super cheesy club sandwich then we would hitch hike to Quad (in uniform pa, kapal talaga!). One time, I think it was Lisa Africa's driver who stopped because he recognized us from school and he made us sermon pa! I also remember spending alot of time at Non's house in Magallanes with Susan Benitez and Caroline Kwok. Caroline seems to be the one whom I recall has been my classmate/batchmate since day 1! Some other early on classmates that come to mind are Elsa Almeda and Telly Almeda Lopez. It was also nice to see Lorna Santiago in the Spa/Retreat pictures. Lorna lived in the street behind us in San Lo. I went to so many of her birthday parties and somehow I always won in musical chairs!?!?!What wonderful memories.

More Photos From The Shoebox...

From Peachie's Baul:
(click on all photos to enlarge)

Field Day in Antipolo: costume was "Hawaiian" looking and involved 2 sticks as props? Note stage built between library and multi-purpose hall, note unfinished bare cement and steel bar spires on MPHall!

Field Day in San Lorenzo (Peachie with bangs, Sandy Harper to her left)

From Monica's Baul:

THE CASE OF THE MISSING NECKTIES:

Grade 4: Annabelle Luzurriaga and Rina Macasaet

Grade 4: Jackie Bustamante

Grade 4: Popsie Gamboa and Christine Carlos

Prep: in the center hut: Anna Hortaleza (with crown), Vivian Honorio, Felicia Mesina, Peachie Gonzalez, Monica Francisco, Angela Quirino. Taken in the parlor, in Herran. Grade 2 girls in the background. Note the nun is Sr. Gertrude. The tallest teacher is Miss Quintos, to her left is Miss Aguilar, later Mrs. Aguilos. To her right, is that Mrs. Chan?

Happy Birthday, Popsie!

Nov. 21, 1971: Probably the last time we looked like angels!
(from Popsie's album)

Sophomore Year

Sometime around sophomore year, three girls from the batch ahead of us took their own lives. Two of them were friends, and died together. One of them was named Joy, and the other I believe was Belinda. The third was Lizanne Powell. May they rest in peace. I do not remember how far apart the suicides were, except that it happened all in the same year, and it shook up the whole school. Never before had this happened, in my life at Assumption, and mercifully, never again. What happened next is that suddenly, the nuns became more visible. We still had a lay Religion teacher, this year it was Mrs. Batacan.

In spite of this, sophomore year sticks out in my head as perhaps the most fun, easy-going year of high school. Our classes were still relatively simple, compared to the next year and the final year. Our schedule seemed looser, and there just seemed to be more opportunity for adventure and mischief.

For Algebra, we had Mrs. Viloria. And I discovered I loved math even more than I already did. Yes, I am strange. I cannot remember the name of our Biology teacher other than that Karina Galang and I disliked her so much. The tragedy was that Bio is such an interesting subject, and could have been much more so, had it been taught to us properly. Lab class was fun though, because of Karina. Never have I seen excellent dissecting and comedic skills combined in one person. We also benefited from the healthy and fine specimens of frogs and pig innards from their family farm. :)

Speaking of comedy: on the first day of 2nd year, who should we find in our classroom but Miss Cristina Concepcion. It seemed that she and her friends were being split up by the higher authorities. Miss Cricket did not look very happy to be in Section 7. She took one look at us heathens, made irap, gathered up her stuff, and left in a huff. Soon as she was gone, we all broke out in laughter. Apparently, Miss Cricket had friends even higher than the higher authorities, because she was back in Section 3 in two minutes flat. For now. One day, she would be back. No kidding.

Karina was our vice president. Some shifting of girls occurred this year, we gained some and we lost some. Now we had Didi Manahan, Gigi Anido, and Mabeth Webb. We lost at least Melissa Maio, Maby Sandoval and I believe Anggot. I really liked our class. We had some of the funniest girls: Bea Montilla and the songs she invented; Tina Fineza and her antics (remember when she wore an ENTIRE pack of Goody clips on her head?); Karina Galang herself and her super Pinoy expressions (Sampal!); Cindy Dominguez and her John Travolta thing. Sure, we all had our own little groups, that even included girls from other sections, but it seemed that for the most part, we all liked each other and we mostly got along. We also had an unwritten rule where everyone else tried to include every one else in everything (party girls pulled the shy girls to come to the dances; smart girls shared their notes with the ones who did not even have notebooks, that kind of thing!) I loved this about our class, something that we managed to carry on throughout high school.

I cannot remember the name of our history teacher (Miss Boquiren?), other than that she taught us EPCR (Economic, Political, Cultural & Religious). She always wanted us to analyze cultures and civilizations using those 4 factors. I still find that so useful to this day. We also came up with the most hilarious skits and presentations. That’s where I discovered that the quiet girls could be quite funny: Janice Muyargas, Mariel Recto, Rory Ocampo, among others. For Pilipino, I believe we had Miss Paredes. I never struggled as hard in this class, with Florante at Laura. I cannot remember who taught us English.

On the other hand, I will never forget the Sewing Teacher: Mrs. Balbina Tapay. We had to use sewing machines again, and this time we had to make a blouse from scratch, including the pattern. Worse, class had to be conducted in Tagalog. I can still see clearly in my head the day she taught us how to draw the patterns. She got to the darts for the bustline, and was teaching us how to measure: “Utong hanggang sa utong.” I will spare you from whipping out your Tagalog dictionary and translate: “Nipple to nipple.” The English was outrageous enough, did we really have to learn it in Tagalog? We also never quite figured out why the sewing room had this ammonia-like stinky smell. Most of us were just glad to be done with making our own clothes forever after that year. Thank you God, for Barney’s, Bergdorf’s and Banana Republic.

We also had Mrs. Carreon for baking, a class that everyone looks forward to when they get to high school. Not only was it a fun and yummy class, Mrs. Carreon was just such a delightful teacher, and who can forget “No neeeebling”? And the only hazard to perfectly manicured nails was Mrs. Batacan’s typing class. But aren’t you glad for it now? Little did we know the personal computing revolution was just a few years down the road and typing would prove to be an invaluable skill.

Our retreat this year was in Silang, Cavite. We managed to do many irreverent and unholy things during this little escape, but they should remain forever secret.

Towards the end of the year, we had a class night at White Sands, thanks to Didi and family. The Towers (Gigi, Janine, Mabeth) all had vans so we rode some of those. Rina took her black family car, con todo driver, Toni took her mom Tita Manette and sister Ana along. The other moms who came were Tita Nening Manahan, Tita Sarah Anido, and Mabeth’s mom. I can’t remember if there were any more parental units. THAT WAS SO MUCH FUN. Plus, we managed to come back home to Manila in one piece, safe, happy and nicely tanned. I still have pictures (see Sec 7 website.) Don’t worry, we were all thin back then, bikini bodies and all. Really.

After class night, some of us went to our first prom, La Salle’s junior prom. Karen Montenegro has the pictures, and to this day, she won’t tell me how she got those. Sometime that year, I also got my first suitor. No, he did not become my boyfriend. I turned him down (and he went and got himself another girlfriend the very next day, go figure.)

This year, our partying was in full swing. We probably organized one a month, our PRO was very busy. Janine, that was you, right? The other sections also had their filled-up party schedules, and we were very good with coordinating so we didn’t have them all the same night. Thus, if you wanted to, you could find a party to go to every weekend. But, I didn’t. I stuck to my parents’ rule of ONE PARTY PER MONTH. I was so good, I complied. I never made takas. Really.

I don’t know why anymore but on a certain day of the week, we got dismissed early, while other years still had class, leaving about two more hours or so before you got to go home with your carpool or bus. This left a lot of time for us sophomores to explore Makati Commercial Center. I can’t even count how many movies we watched (in uniform, lying flat on the floor, in the very first row, with Birdhouse pizza boxes in tow) or how many times we made ronda around Quad: window shopping and playing games in the carpark. We weren’t supposed to be roving in our uniforms, but we did anyway. We were nicely behaved in public most of the time. Really.

Okay, here is something naughty but funny that we did in 2^nd year. Whoever remembers whose house was the “scene” of the crime, keep it to yourselves, please DO NOT post the name anywhere. We do not want to embarrass anyone, plus we are ALL equally guilty. A bunch of us were off somewhere one afternoon, at someone’s house. Someone had a forbidden Betamax tape. We all piled in front of the Betamax and started the tape. Some of us were so shocked, that we started weeping (really!) Some of us, and that includes moi, started laughing like hyenas. And some of us, were watching AVIDLY! And then, a few minutes into the film, like judgment from up above, BROWNOUT!!!!!! Omaygad! We were going to get caught! How were we supposed to get the evidence out of the Betamax? Lintak na Meralco yan! So we all ran out of the house, giggling and nervous at the same time. (Okay, we were pathetic!) But, our host was so cool: she calmly called her house back, spoke to the maid and said: Pag balik ng koryente, paki-eject yung tape sa Betamax, tapos itago mo. Whew! Safe! I somehow managed to not get into trouble for the very few naughty things I was actually guilty of in high school. Really.

I probably did the most sleep overs in 2^nd year high school. Spent so much time at Toni’s house that I learned to make cheese omelets from her mom! And only at their house did I get to swim with giant blocks of ice at the bottom of the pool when it got too hot. Spent a lot of time at Nana’s house, with most of the fun from running away from her gazillion dogs and watching her eat catsup with EVERYTHING, while she watched me drown myself in Coca-Cola. At Nana’s, I actually met a family that literally prayed together every night, (and that is why they stayed together!) Hey Eusebio family, I really appreciate that, inviting me to pray with you at night. Spent a lot of time at Mimie’s house, playing with make-up and figuring out ways to get more Shower to Shower powder from the Rotary Exchange student living with them then.

So sophomore year was nice and easy, other than the tragedies of the three girls. I never forgot those girls. I don’t know why they decided to end it all. I only know that I decided I just wanted to be nice to people as much as I could.

We were learning to be more social with boys. We were making new friends, renewing old friendships. Most of my friends in sophomore year are still my friends to this day. We had eased into high school life quite nicely. It was actually just the calm before the storm.

From Vivian's Album

TRYING TO BE TISAY: Vivian Honorio, Christine Carlos, Nadine Adad


I JUST LOVE MY BOB HAIRDO: Lenie Llapitan, Vivian Honorio (with the bob!), Shirley Robles and unidentified between Vivian and Shirley; 2nd row: Belen Alon, Mailou San Gabriel, Margot Legarda, Victoria Valmonte; Top row: Cristina Ramos, Nadine Adad, Christine Carlos


GO SNOOPY GO: Vivian on Snoopy, Felicia Mesina in brown to her left, Monica Francisco in white dress. Behind: Cindy Palanca, Lucille Vasquez

Our Teachers

Okay, time to remember our teachers. Whether you liked her or not, she was part of your history and it cannot be denied.

Let's make a list of our teachers -- no more judgments, just a list. Nevermind if you hated her guts, and she almost failed you, or she was "walang karapatan" to be a teacher, or you liked her so much you still text/email each other to this day, or she inspired you to be one --- you must have learned something from her (Or him!) even if it was "how not to be"!

I do not remember everybody, and I don't know who the San Lo teachers were, so you have to help. Send in a comment, with anyone you think of, and I'll keep editing the post to make a comprehensive list.

Prep: Miss Connie Gomez,
Grade 1: Miss Alegre,
Grade 2: Mother Martha, Miss Moran, Mrs. Agregado
Grade 3: Miss Ramos, Miss Reyes, Miss Botanes,
Grade 4: Mrs. Angeles, Mrs. Aumentado, Mrs. Orencia, Miss Bernal, , Miss Santiago
Grade 5: Miss Barba, Mrs. Rebollido
Grade 6:
Grade 7: Miss Silao, Mrs. Aguilos, Sister Mary Grace

Music Teachers: Miss Dulcecilia de Vera, Miss Alzate, Miss Vasquez (later Mrs. Legazpi), Mrs. Ramos, Mrs. Quezon
Art Teachers: Mrs. Blanch, Miss May Martin, Mrs. Antonio
Sewing: Mrs. Estaniel, Miss Saturnino, Miss Custodio, Miss Salvatierra, Mrs. Tapay
Work Education: Mrs. Pedrosa, Mrs. Carreon, Miss Marcelo, Miss Villanueva, Mrs. Ramirez
Religion: Mrs. Mapa, Mrs. Batacan, Mrs. Villafania, Mrs. Casas
Math: Mrs. Viloria, Miss Bernas, Mrs. Huab, Mrs. Gonzaga (? Geometry)
Economics: Miss Nanad
English: Miss Marquez, Miss Lim, Miss Reynoso, Miss Barrera
History: Mrs. Tengonciang, Miss Marquez, Miss Manas, Miss Boquiren (later Mrs. Sinsay), Mrs. Carlos, Miss Zulueta, Miss Barrera
Pilipino: Miss Barba, Mrs. Dizon, Miss Paredes, Mrs. Austria, Mrs. Yoro, Mrs. Monsod,
Science: Mrs. Magtaas, Mrs. Malanyaon, Miss Paulate, Miss Trillanes
P.E.: Miss Rizal (later Mrs. Casacop), Miss Guzman, Mrs. Joven, Mrs. Tenna, Mrs. Santiago, Mrs. Zafra
Philosophy: Professor Estrada
The Nuns who taught us at one point or another:Mother Mercedes, Mother Rose Peter, Mother Vicenta, Mother Martha, Mother Teresa Consuelo, Sister Carolina, Sister Rita Imelda, Sr. Mary Grace, Sr. Fidelis, Sr. Fe Emmanuel, Sr. Regivic

Milen's Herran Pictures

This is the Administration Building, c. 1974, taken from the flagpole area. To the rear left is the Primary Building.

Miss Reyes, c. 1972. Not sure yet if this is Grade 3 or Grade 2. Right behind Miss Reyes is Michelle (?) Pareño, Anna Lucas, Annabelle Luzurriaga .....In the background is the Auditorium. They are standing in what was the parking lot. Note how all the skirts, inc. the teacher's, are minis!

United Nations Day 1974: Annabelle Agregado (like her twin, dressed as American, hence denim); Katrina Aquino (dressed as Russian); Eloisa Blas (costume unseen and unknown); other twin Annette Agregado; Jojo Reyes (dressed as Filipino farmer?) In the background is the building that house the 5th-7th Grades. See the lagoon, and the small wooden bridge at the bottom rear?

Tayo Na Sa Antipolo...yet again

When the nuns announced that they had sold Herran and that we would be moving to Antipolo, I literally felt the world tilt. It was so depressing, we kept on walking by the auditorium and looking at every nook and cranny, our weird way of saying good-bye. I think I decided to hate Antipolo forever. And when we did get there, it sure didn't lend itself to much affection! Overwhelming primary impression: RED MUD. EVERYWHERE. MUD.MUD.MUD. Well, you get the point. And the oddest buildings on earth...why do they have holes in the middle??? Why are the tables shaped like the buildings? Why do we have individualized instruction?? Oh, I was prepared to dislike Antipolo...

But, just like moss, it kinda grew on you. The bare cement with iron spikes ambiance of the roofless multi-purpose hall was great for climbing (and clinging on to dear life when the wind whipped around the corners). The bahay kubos were cool. At least we had lessons out in the fresh air. The nuns decided we should learn to play softball. I guess they figured that warball would eventually kill us all (warball frightened the heck out of me...I seemed to be some sort of magnet or something...)

We dissected a chicken leg for Grade 7 science. If Monica thought that feeding young children BLACK pusit in the cafeteria was bad, dissecting a raw chicken leg was also up there in terms of horror content. I mean, you actually saw the veins and ligaments, they glistened, there was blood...you suddenly decided that fried chicken LEGS were now an absolute no-no. Forever.

How about sewing class (again, a dear favorite) with those Singer machines that you had to pump up and down or tilt or something with your legs to get it going? And if you did it too fast, the cloth got eaten up and you sewed all the way to the bitter end of the cloth...was that a Mrs. Estaniel as sewing teacher?...memory super fleeting when related to sewing...

How about Pilipino with Ms. Barba, Grade 5? The ONLY teacher who ever pronounced "CarRRRRmen" with the longest rolling of rrrr's ever? And I don't even like my name...it was with much dismay that I discovered my name to be even more horrific than expected as I entered UP Diliman. I discovered my real name was "Maria del Carmen Socorro Angeles Peypoch Reyes". Why, God? Why?

Riding a school bus was....I can't find the adjective. For Grade 5, I rode the Assumption bus at the Malate Church. It was filled with a lot of older kids. I got to sit on that middle seat you just push down when everybody is seated (and of course, you had to get up every single time someone moved seats. Sigh). I invariably dozed off and that's when the fun began....for Raiisa Roque or Judy Baltazar. These grade 6? people would yank my pig-tails, wake me up then look somewhere else when I tried to figure out who had woken me up from deep, saliva-drooling sleep. Hey! I lived in Las Pinas, was brought to Malate and rode the bus to Antipolo. Wouldn't you drool too??? You wouldn't?..hmmmm

You'd get off the bus in Assumption, step off in your shiny gregg shoes and SQUELCH into red mud. Ugh. Every single day. Then you would go to the straggly growth of grass on the side and valiantly try to wipe, clean it off. Am not surprised why it took forever for that grass to grow... Rainy days in school meant watching the center of the cluster fill up with water..and if you sat near the back of the classroom, you would actually get sprayed by the rain coming down the middle. But you cant beat that memory, right? Having a mini-pool at the back of your classroom? Actually seeing into other classrooms all day long (if you snuck looks at the back, of course). We were, after all, a MODERN school.

I remember watching the movie "Oliver" in the huge library. I remember discovering the Chronicles of Narnia in the library on the day I finished all my required reading in the II module.

Becky Sanares and I were best friends and classmates since Grade 2. In Antipolo, we sure got into scrapes. Once, we were so bored in class that we decided to draw people on our thighs. With ballpen ink, we drew huge, cartoon people from our knees, going down into our groins. We embellished those drawings and snickered all throughout that class. And then, what happens next is what is known as KARMA. As luck would have it, the next class was P.E....where you wear SHORTS. Skirts could hide the drawings but shorts, ah, shorts meant we were DEAD. Becky and I panicked, we couldn't let anyone know what we did. So we asked permission to go to the bathroom but ran to the library bathroom instead. We climbed up the sinks (one each), knelt as near the sink as we could and scrubbed our thighs violently. I don't even think we had soap. We got back to the classroom with bright red, violet-tinged thighs. I guess the P.E. teacher just thought it wasn't worth going there..hahahaha.

I remember being a Girl Scout. One weekend, I was playing in the park near my house and a swing whacked me on the forehead. Right in the middle, I got a gaping wound with blood running down my face. It didn't need to be stitched but they did have to put a huge gauze bandage right there. Monday morning comes and Ms. de Guzman tells me oh so happy news: I have been picked to lead the ENTIRE school in the "Panatang Makabayan". With a big white gauze bandage on my forehead. And dorky black glasses. In front of the library, facing the entire school. My, my, how assumption BUILDS character....

But when you look back, I feel that Antipolo was just a transition phase, a saying goodbye to a beloved school, a preparation for San Lorenzo. We had miles and miles of land to run around in (despite the red mud.) We had the multi-purpose hall to climb (better than any jungle gym set!) We grew up, played softball, had a fair (and got "kilig" being locked in "jail"), learned social dancing, had retreats in the rooms below the multi-purpose hall...the list is endless. It was our wild and free time before the walls of San Lorenzo. And red mud and all, it was necessary.

Early Herran Years

Reading all the previous entries does overwhelm you with a tsunami of nostalgia. There will never be another Herran. With its imposing buildings, corridors that seemed to whisper of secrets through the ages (like were the nuns really bald??), that incandescent lagoon that drew all of us like moths, the serene chapel (with the tombstones on the side...). How can one ever forget Herran??

Just like Monica, I think the entire female population of my family came from Assumption. Being an only child did not help. My grandmother's studio was then at M.H. Del Pilar (it didn't have its present lovely reputation at that time hahaha). My parents dropped me off every morning and my mom waited at the Studio to get me at dismissal time. Both my parents were veritable chimneys and the long ride from Las Pinas to Herran insured that I would reek of cigarette smoke every single day. Some prep classmates actually commented that "you smell funny" as I lined up my rectangular school bag (with wheels) outside, in that fenced in area, prior to going to our classrooms. Then, while waiting, we would jump up and down those cement enclosures embracing the acacia trees until the bell rang.

I remember loathing sewing class. Those little white scraps of rectangular cloth and you had to do a running stitch, a blanket stitch, sew a buttonhole...omigosh..I felt near death. Years later, I would have the ultimate shame of actually FLUNKING sewing, I think in 2nd year, and taking summer classes to learn how to make a blouse. Of course, when I recount this shame, everyone asks "Why didn't you ask the maid to do it??" and I want to answer, all hoity-toity, "Because I was honest?" but the truth was, because I was an innocent (hahahahaha!) And now I'm an ob-gyn and I haven't yet heard a patient complain about how their c-section scar looks....hmm, maybe that's a whole different story?!?

The foreign classmate in the cutie picture was Tamarra but she was Spanish (at least, to my recollection). During recess, we would play in that central park in front of the administration building. There were slides and swings. The slides were built in such a way that there were 2 slides connected by a midline platform and when you climbed the ladder, it really felt you were high up, like on a pirate's ship and so we played pirate's or robbers or monsters, always making the slide home base. We were very enterprising young things then...

Truly, I hated the fact thay my mother signed me up to eat in the canteen. Assumption meat and I..well, let's just say no friendship ever developed between us and I still shudder when I see meat that has a circle of fat in the middle (oohhh, just saying it, am shuddering.) Bleah. But siomai and assumption tarts were the best. More so the fact that you got to spoon out gobs and gobs of guava jelly and could die of sugar overload and no one thought twice of it.
I dont quite remember the Grade..2? or 3? but Miss Moran was my Science teacher. We had a show and tell day. And Maridol Dilag brought a "balut" egg. And calmly opened it in front of the class. And calmly ate the chick? fetus? Ugh. Whatever. You can surmise that I am also not best friends with "balut". And Maridol, you scarred me. For life.

I remember in Grade 4 that, after lunch, a bell would ring and you had to get to your classroom pronto! Well, one day, Becky Sanares and I decided to play longer, bell rang, we still had to race up the stairs to get to the classroom. There were stairs on both ends of the 2-storey building and for some reason, we split up. I took one side, ran up, pelting for dear life towards the classroom when suddenly...Mother Rose Peter materialized out of thin air! Ulp! Too late to stop, going a gazillion miles a minute! What does this lovely, nurturing nun do? She sticks out her arm. It catches me at my neck. My feet go whoosh (still trying to run to the classroom) and I fall with a loud "thud!" to the floor. I look up with glazed eyes and she calmly scolds me and tells me to get moving. In the meantime, I feel my vocal cords will never be the same again. Oh well, at least, Becky got away. I begin to think of Mother Rose Peter as some quiet POWER, gently swooping when you least expect it. So when I see her eons later, I am surprised that she remembers me fondly (does not remember the ARM incident) instead remembers she put the veil on me for my first communion. What can I say? Memories are fleeting....more so when you take a hard fall in Grade 4 courtesy of jujitsu....

Ah the lagoon. It was a mad, careening rush to the lagoon every lunchtime. And whoever got there first filled up the 2 boats and had themselves a good time with the ducks and their poo and the wilting plants in that stagnant pond. But oh, when the bell rang (as in the ARM incident) and everybody rowed to get back to the dock and get off asap..well, that was a natural recipe for disaster. Maripaz de Sequera jumps out, I tumble into green murky water and surface, HORRORS! underneath the capsized boat. I can hear Becky's muffled voice "China where are you?" and I look gingerly at the water, knowing I have to dunk myself in again to get out. Not lovely at all. I re-surface once again and Becky gives me this look..its a look of horror...empathy...and outright hilarity. She finally has to smile and say, "C'mon, I'll bring you to the clinic". Because, though unhurt, the clinic had a shower and extra clothes. And I had green moss on my hands and forehead. So I take a shower and Mrs. Ibuna hands me a uniform. Remember, I am 9 years old at that time. She hands me a panty that fits but the uniform..oh,well...the uniform is for a high school person. The blouse reaches mid thigh. The skirt reaches my ankle. There are no shoes so have to wear my squeeky, squelching gregg shoes. No socks too. What a sight. And I have this faint sensation that I swallowed some water from the pond...

How about those annual vaccinations? All of us walking around like we had robot left arms (of course, NOW we know we should have moved our arms!!). I seem to remember being punctured yearly!!!!

Grade 4 was also when I discovered I was blind as a bat from reading comic books with a flashlight till late at night. I couldnt see the blackboard so I pestered poor Stella Mendoza to tell me what was written every 5 minutes. What a patient friend! Finally my mother had my eyes checked and I came to school with the BIGGEST, BLACKEST, DORKIEST glasses on earth. Enough said.

My, what a torrential tale this has been so far. Herran really is a state of mind. Talking and/or writing just unleashes it all. What a spectacular idea this is, Monica. BOW. Till the next off the wall commentary...

Ghost Valentines

Dear Classmates,

If you are afraid of ghosts, then stop reading now. But if you believe in Valentine’s Day, then read on. This is both a Valentine and a ghost story. Now many of you will think I’ve gone wacko, although many of you who know me well will remember that I’ve always been like this. My 41-yr old self doesn’t care much anymore what anyone thinks of me. For now, I just need you to listen.

Last weekend, New York City, my home, was buried in record snowfall of almost 27 inches. Homebound, I decided to dig into my box of old pictures. I found this beautiful one, of my lola and her good friends, her Assumption classmates. I realized that they graduated high school from Assumption in 1936, exactly 70 years ago this year.

Yesterday, I got an email from Bing Ongsiako inviting us all to meet the Ruby and Diamond Jubilarians who will share Old Girl’s Day with us. At the same time, I got an email from Bing’s sister Jeannie, inviting me to view her blog, where her lead article was on dreams. So I wrote Bing about the photo I found, suggesting that if any of these women were still alive, they must be invited to the velada. At the very least, maybe this beautiful picture could be published in our program. Then I read Jeannie's blog, and wondered what I would dream about tonight.

So off to bed I went, ready to get a good night’s sleep. That’s what I thought. Instead, I spent the next hour or so crying my eyes out, at the same time, remembering in exacting detail, every little bit about Herran. Jeannie, was I dreaming? Was I channeling? Or did I just drink too much Diet Pepsi before I went to bed?

All I know, is that now I remember it all. So I got up from bed and typed it up. It is now almost 2:00 a.m. Thus, you see how the post below this one was born.

Then, my rational almost 42-year old mind took over and asked myself: Why are you still weeping for a place that is over thirty years long gone, a continent and an ocean away from where you now live? Why and how, does your present day mind, remember in immense detail, a place that your 9-year old brain and body left behind? In fact, it would be a 7-year old brain and body that remembers all the ”insider” places that I only saw on account of Lola, who died when I was 7.

Rational self to Monica: half your friends didn't even go to Herran or stay there long enough. Why are you doing this???

So, did the ghosts from the photo put the map in my head tonight? Or did my 9-year old brain tuck it away deep, so it could be retrieved 32 years later, so I could type it and make you all remember again?

I thought that my typing out the article would make me go to sleep. And I tried, I lay down again. Big NO. The women in the picture did not think so. They were not done with me yet for the night.

Here is what they want: they want to be remembered. They do not want you to forget. Batch 1981, I am not really speaking to just you anymore, I am speaking to every Assumption girl out there, especially the ones who came before us, who may actually have known these women. They want to be remembered, this Assumption High School Class of 1936: From left to right, Front row: Pilaring Aldanese, Mary Whitaker Ansaldo, unknown for now, unknown for now, Conchita Zaldarriaga Arnaiz (Gina Tambunting’s lola). Back row: Aurea Natividad Salcedo, Carmen Bayot Garcia, Bibiana Diaz Guysayko (my lola), Remedios Corpuz Moya. I believe that Mrs. Garcia, and Mrs. Arnaiz are still living, there might be more. Not in the picture but one of their gang, was my grandmother’s best friend, Angela Pena (HS 1934 or 1935), for whom I named my Angelica for. She came to visit me tonight as well.



So please, Manila classmates, I do not need to be Sleepless in New York anymore. Allow the ghosts to be at peace too. Please include them on Old Girls Day, and especially seek out the ones who are still living. They must be invited, they must be remembered.

Be careful of what pictures you dig up on snowy days too close to the day for love, lost or otherwise. Happy Valentine’s Day to you all. It is now almost 4:00 a.m.

There, maybe now they will let me get some sleep.

Lola Babing y amigas, permítanme dormir, por favor.

Abrazos y besos,
Monica

The Herran in My Mind

This is the best drafting I can do for now. This is the map of Herran in my head. Corrections will be appreciated. This is not to scale, at all.

I went searching to go online, to see if there were any pictures of Assumption Herran. I found none. Worse, I tried to find a map of the grounds of Assumption Herran. Again, none. But I have a map in my head. Maybe I can describe it to you, and you will remember.

Along Herran Street (now called Pedro Gil), there were 2 gates: one at the corner of Herran and Adriatico (A), and one towards Taft Avenue (B). These gates were big, black, and usually open. The corner gate had elaborate and ornate iron work. If you came very early in the morning, too early, the gates would be closed. You needed to knock or blow your horn so Mang Segundo would come and open the B gate for you. My Tita Luisa tells me that he came quickly because near this gate, beside the auditorium, was the house where he lived. Alongside one of these front gates would be a pedestrian gate. This is where the externs (the girls who went home to eat lunch) would go in and out of. The third gate (C) was in the back, along Adriatico, going towards Padre Faura.

If you entered through the first gate (A) on the corner, to your right, and behind you as you drove in, would be a large parking lot (gray), which we also used for various field activities like games and dancing. To your left, as you drove in, would be the Primary Building (1), parallel to Calle Adriatico. If you made made a right after the gate, you would be facing the Auditorium (9). Dominating the view really, perpendicular to the Primary Building, would be the Administration Building (3). On the other side of the Administration Building, parallel and facing the Primary Building, would be the high school (8). These three main buildings would form 3 walls around the area in the middle where the flagpole stood (10). There were driveways for cars, as indicated by the green lines in the figure above.

Behind the Administration Building, was the Chapel (4). Somewhat behind the chapel, parallel to Herran Street and Padre Faura, would be the Intermediate Building (5). I believe this building was newer than the rest of the school. There was also another such building (7), parallel to it, on the the other side of the chapel, almost coming out of the other end of the Adminstration Building. I believe this housed the upper grades like 5^th – 7^th. This part of the school was also newer than the rest.

The Primary Building: It was two stories high, with stairs in the middle, as well as to the right, if you stood in front facing it. Under the middle stairs was a storeroom were various P.E. materials were kept such as rings and batons. There was also a closet where they kept the games we could borrow during recess, such as jumping ropes and hoop jumps. Mrs. Estaniel also had a small cupboard here where she sold school supplies, including nice smelling yummy erasers. You could walk through the building right here, and come out in the rear play yard. The rear play yard was where we lined up after recess to go up the stairs class by class. The front part of the building had this long corridor. The first floor corridor was were we would sit and play endless games of jackstones (regular and Chinese) during recess. [Can you still sit in your jackstone position, legs forming an M on the sides of your body… and not be in pain?]

There was an extension (2) on one side of Primary. On the ground floor of the extension was the cafeteria for the bigger kids and the faculty. On the second floor, the extension contained the music room, art room, library and faculty room, as well as Mother Martha’s office during my time. The 2nd set of stairs was also in here. At the bottom of the steps on the 1st floor was the clinic. Mrs. Ibuna was our nurse, Dra. Hortaleza was our physician. Some times there would be a dentist too, and I believe her name was Dra. Villegas. Against the school wall behind Primary, the other side of which would already be Adriatico Street, was the cafeteria (pink building) for the lower grades. This is where we bought egg pie and meringue, and where they force fed us Sustagen one year.

Going back to the other end of Primary, almost between it and the Admin, was the Assumption zoo. Walking a little further, going out towards the Adriatico gate, was the walled swimming pool (aqua). Beyond it, walled even better, were the cloisters (purple) of the sisters. If you followed the driveway some more, you would get to the Adriatico gate (C).

In front of the Primary and High School buildings would be yards. The yards were fenced in, with hedges growing all around. (See Vivian’s description of the yard and the trees.) Acacia trees, what would Herran be without those trees? We were wicked but ignorant as children, since we peeled the bark so we could play piko. I wonder if they tore down the trees too. At the end of the day, you lined up in the yard, with your bag (boxy with wheels; or blue and white Assumption school bags – with wheels only if you were an Anido girl) and you moved up slowly to fill the gaps as the girls in front of you got picked up. My aunt says that during her time, they had to wait IN COMPLETE SILENCE. I do not remember that we had to do that, but we did have to stand still while waiting. The cars would come around and stop in front of the little opening in the hedge. I can’t remember how we knew our car was there: did they call us out, and if so, did the one calling know all our cars and drivers, or did our drivers say something to them? After a certain hour, if you were still not picked up, you were brought in front of the Auditorium, joined by the older girls who were also still waiting. If still, after a certain hour, you were not yet picked up, then you went to the Administration Building and waited there. If you started seeing the Boarders come out, still in their uniforms but wearing chinelas, then you knew it was really late, and someone must have forgotten to pick you up! I know it happened to me a couple of times.

The Administration Building was in a way, very forbidding to us as little children. It was a very formal place, almost inducing us to behave once we stepped foot in it. There were steps in the middle to enter the building, although there were also entrances on each side. The middle entrance was the most dramatic, including the steps. This is where we would see VIPs, whether it was the President (Marcos, since we only knew one in our childhood), or visiting Assumption Mothers General. Can you imagine Mother Immaculada standing on the steps? I still can. If there was an important event or ceremony of some sort, the steps would be where the VIPs would stand or be presented. This is also where Assumption brides would pose for their pictures.

This building, unlike the others, had two corridors running on each of its lengths, in front and in the back. In between would be rooms called parlors. Important visitors to our school were also received here. One of the parlors even had a baby grand and we held many programs there, including Christmas Nativities. Upstairs, is where the Boarders lived. Apart from the Cloisters, upstairs is one of the places in Herran that I never went into. Somewhere in the back, along the left side of the Admin was a teacher’s lounge. I went in there many times in search of lola. Her office was at the other end of the Admin, towards the high school. There was a certain ambience, a certain feeling that I associated with these parlors in Herran. I cannot even describe it fully. Now and then, I would get that same feeling in the parlors of San Lorenzo, but it was fleeting, and would be gone in seconds. I never quite felt that same hush in San Lorenzo.

The middle lobby of this building was grand and elegant. You almost wanted to speak in quiet tones any time you were in it. There was a caged window on one side, where you paid for tuition. Through this middle lobby, one could walk through and go down some steps and walk into the chapel. This is where many an Assumption bride walked through, as she brought her wedding flowers to Mother Mary after her wedding. I always wanted to do that one day and of course, it could never be.

I never spent much time in the high school building (8), but I imagine it was built in much the same way as its counterpart across the way, the Primary Building. I also know that there was a library somewhere in here, because Lola would take me in there with her sometimes. There was another building (orange) behind the high school, it was only one story perhaps, an annex of sorts. I know we would have our science exhibits in there, maybe there were labs there, I don’t remember. There was also one room there that had a bathtub. I know. I got dunked in there once to get cleaned up after getting so sick from drinking too much Choco-Vim.

We spent 4^th Grade in the Intermediate Building (5). China describes this building well in her Herran post. Behind this building was the back wall of our school, as well as the side wall. I remember that we sometimes could see the boarders, or whatever they were, in the buildings in the school next door. I cannot remember if it was U.P. Manila, or PGH.

The older girls of Grade School were in Building #7, across from our Intermediate building. We did not go there much unless we had some movie to watch. The AV room was in this building. In between, in front of the chapel, was the famous lagoon (6). Don’t forget that there was a grotto there too (did it have something in it, or was it empty?) and a bridge that spanned the lagoon.

The Chapel: Someone else, please describe the chapel. I think it needs a post of its own. Someone Anonymous posted a comment on 2/7/06 (see sidebar) and said she joined a walking tour a few years ago, and still saw the chapel, which was being used as a locker room (@#$%!) In the late 1980s, I heard that Dondi Mapa, Lorvi’s older brother, was going to get married in the chapel, and that it was going to be reconsecrated so it could be used for mass again. I don’t know if it actually happened. I just know I wished that it did. Log onto Carlos Celdran’s blog, and you will see that our beloved chapel is gone now…it was the last piece of Herran to go, and it has been torn down. Bravo to Carlos for calling what happened to our beloved Assumption Herran a DESECRATION. Indeed, indeed.

The Auditorium: Christine Carlos, where are you? Of all of us, you played in here the most, you should describe it.

Sometimes I still dream of Assumption Herran, and sometimes, I even see myself in the dream, walking around in my red plaid uniform. Sometimes, I see the buildings crumbling, being torn down bit by bit, and I am running in my dream to escape the falling pieces. When this happens, I know it to mean that there is something in my life that I need to fix, and immediately. Sometimes though I will have my Assumption Herran dream, where I am safe, and not dodging the wrecking ball. I take it to mean that I am just longing for my more simple innocent life, and that I should take a break from my present day complicated adult one. Or it might mean I just miss my childhood, so I go to the phone or email an old friend to chat.

I still grieve the loss of Herran. But then my reasoning mind takes over, telling me that without departing from Herran, there would be no Antipolo, the Antipolo that I also loved, even in her incompleteness and newness. I hear that today, there is an eco-park aptly named Pacem, that is part of Assumption Antipolo. I need to visit that park one day, see the waterfall and the butterflies with my own two eyes. Then maybe the hole in my heart called Herran, will finally heal and be at peace.

Freshman Year

We graduated from Antipolo already a large class of five sections. When we moved back to San Lorenzo for high school, several things were going on at once. STC Manila was closing its doors forever, and the previous year’s 7^th Grade class needed to find a new high school. At the same time, since San Lorenzo was infinitely more accessible than Antipolo, all those girls who left after Grade 4, were now coming back in droves: balik-Assumption!

First day of school was a riot. Old, long-gone friends were seeking familiar faces, everyone trying to recognize each other through adolescent acne, braces, newly bought contacts, and growd-up-we’re-not-little-anymore bodies. We don’t know what she did that summer, but… Angelica Calalang was now Ina Calalang: tall, and at the end of the line! Shrieks of delight to find old pals like Mimie de Ocampo and Betta Gallego. From STC came Karina Galang, Tina Fineza, Yellie and Cri-cri Alcaraz, Alma Consing, and the balik Assumption girls Tessa P and Marichu Alcasid. Plus more girls from all over: Janine Cuenca, Bea Montilla, Didi Manahan, Mabeth Webb, Marites Capili, Maxie Maceda, Joy Pena, Melissa Maio, Maby Sandoval, Maricor Sambrano, Carmela Puyat and Georgie Sibal among others. We were now SEVEN sections strong!

Because I was not so tall, I ended up in section 7. With lola long gone, advanced Prep registration be damned, high school was now a different ballgame, a different school. THEY DID NOT HAVE ME ON ANY OF THE ROSTERS AT ALL! For the first time in my Assumption career, I was a non-entity! I was starting to have a hissy fit, but then I realized I was not alone, there were at least 7 of us who were “stateless.” Miss Ramos, one of our Mistresses of Class, gathered us in a circle and started pointing and assigning sections just like that. I knew I wanted to be in Section 7 with Toni, so I hid behind the tallest girl I could find (I think it was Mafe Quimson) who then got assigned Section 1. Miss Ramos went down the line then I popped my head out just in time for her to point at me and say “Seven.” Bingo! Talk about taking destiny into your own hands.

I believe Miss Bernas was our homeroom teacher and Algebra teacher. Mrs. Mapa was Religion, Miss Marie Lim was English. Mrs. Magtaas was our IPS or Integrated Physical Science teacher. Miss Salvatierra was the Work Ed teacher and our project for the year was weaving beads, or abaloryo, in the vernacular. Wasn’t it so annoying, that for the minor subjects, we now had to speak in Pilipino? That was very hard for us who were steeped in learning in English from Day 1. Although I suppose we should be grateful that we did not need to use Pilipino for Science and Math or we would have gone nuts (How would you say “Find the square root of the numeral resulting from the nth factorial of the value of the x-coordinate …” in Tagalog????) And I must say, using Tagalog in work education, for instance, resulted in so many moments of hilarity for us (wait for the 2^nd year memory post).

Our classroom, oddly enough, was diagonally across the hall from the one we occupied for a few months in fifth grade. Marissa Picornell was our class vice-president. I believe that many of my sectionmates from 7^th Grade were in Section 7. Add to the mix: Melissa Maio, Bea Montilla, Connie Quirino, Kandy Fernandez, Rina Macasaet, Janine Cuenca, Tina Fineza, Karina Galang, Anggot Veloso. Can you feel the walls of that old classroom starting to explode? Oh, we had a blast!

I did not know San Lorenzo that much. I thought her grounds were the shabbier stepsisters to the beautiful Herran. To me it was new, characterless, and without history, much like I now distinguish between pre-war and modern New York apartment buildings. We had to figure out where the clinic was and check out the nurse (boohoo, no more Mrs. Ibuna and Dra. Hortaleza.) We scoped out the cafeteria and its offerings (no more Antipolo turon and fried chicken and Manang Rita.) Instead of wide open spaces and rolling hills, we had walls plus Sgt. Pepper Anderson, a.k.a. Mrs. Dominguez, our female sikyo. No more yayas and drivers hanging around. The familiar, smiling nuns were nowhere to be found. In fact, there were hardly any nuns at all. For the first time in my life, Religion was taught by a lay person, (not that Mrs. Mapa was not good, she was brilliant.) Goodbye Sumulong Highway, hello Ponce and Pasay Road. Actually, hellooooo Makati Commercial Center! Back from the wilderness, our urban escape was just a few blocks away.

We lay claim to specific areas where we would “hang out.” Ours was the stairs from the volleyball/basketball court that led up to the dorm rooms.

We made new friends, rekindled old friendships, formed new alliances, joined a “group,” left the group, joined a new group. Our lives were changing. We were growing up. No more little girl games, climbing trees or ball playing. We were working on our poise, coiffing our hair, primping and priming as much as one could in a plaid uniform, and getting ready for….boys.

High School memories - Anna Pison Stanford

I can't place years, but these are my most vivid memories of high school:

Practicing calligraphy and forgery during Pilipino (and other) class. Ina Calalang and I used to try to forge each other's signatures, and it became a game. One of us would scrawl our signature, and the other would forge several copies around it. Then we would have to pick out our own original signature. I won the game - she once picked the wrong signature, but was never able to fool me!

Forging teachers' signatures on test pemission slips. I was too lazy to walk all over the school to find a teacher to sign a permission slip when I wanted to take a test, so I just signed a lot of them myself. Math teacher Mrs. Huab's was the easiest to forge.

China Reyes' cartoon adventures of "Joey" and "Dean". She started doing these in grade school and continued in high school. China, do you still have those notebooks?

Playing "shooting star" (usually with Lupe Romulo).

English teacher Miss Reynoso and writing poetry in her class in either 2nd or 3rd year. I still have those poems to this day.

Giving Mrs. Huab in class a math problem from my book "Mathematics for Fun" and seeing her stumped, unable to solve it. She then borrowed my book and never returned it. I found it in the library one day, stamped like a library book with the envelope pasted at the back! At least they returned it to me when I claimed it.

Those class plays we had to put on in 2nd year! Our group had to do "The World is an Apple". I was the mother, Pauline Bermejo the father, Marlou de Vera the baby.

The (I think in 1st year) class debate on the Japanese Co-Prosperity Sphere. Our team had to debate in favor of it (which put us at a disadvantage). I remember our arguments reducing Cri-Cri Alcaraz on the opposing team to an indignant huffy reply (can't remember what she said) when she couldn't come up with a rebuttal. Though their team "won", I still believe our arguments were more logical and we debated better, with cooler heads.

I have more, but I'll leave it at that for now!

Grade 7

Ah, Grade 7. Our final year in the idyll that was Antipolo. I think I was in Section 4. In my class were Toni Feliciano, Estrella Fule, Nina Torres, Trixie Garcia, Chinkie Gabriel, China Reyes, Becky Sanares, Rory Ocampo, who was newly returned to Assumption, and Mariel Recto, newly arrived. Also in it were Donna Licaros, Elena Palarca, maybe Elena Viray. We also had an “import”, a Fil-Am girl in Manila just for the year. I think her name was Annette Vela and she was Frannie Figueroa’s cousin. We also had Angelica Calalang, when she was still that little girl at the front of the line, with the Dorothy Hamill haircut. Bonca Bengzon was a little late starting the school year. She spent summer vacation in China, and broke her leg (ankle?) in a biking accident. I remember wanting to see China then, and still haven't. The bikes might even be gone now, just traffic and cars with their newfound affluence.

Cricket Concepcion, Maripi Jalandoni and Mailou San Gabriel were also in that class. Sometime during the school year, they had this intellectual debate (a loud one!) among the three of them: Jimmy Carter vs. Gerald Ford, of all things. I used to scoff at them, like how silly they were, WHO cared about the U.S. elections? I eat my words now. For much of the last 16 years, I’ve dealt with Washington politics, day in and day out. Plus, years ago, I actually spoke to President Carter, an old friend of my boss! He introduced himself on the phone simply as “Jimmy Cahruh”, just like that, with his Georgia accent. I was so thrilled! And I actually did some work for the 1992 and 1996 U.S. elections. Funny how the world turns.

I hung out with Toni, Nina and Trixie. Nina spoke Spanish at home with her lola. Between her and Estrella Fule, they taught us Spanish, the bad words! I learned to say mierda, long before I learned to say “La cuenta, por favor.” I can still hear Nina giggle, making her eyes disappear. Don’t know who was more outrageous, her, or her stories about her family, or... Trixie Garcia!

We had Miss Marquez for social studies, and I think Miss Silao for Math. Mrs. Dizon, an old friend of my lola, was our Pilipino teacher. Miss Moran was our science teacher. For work education, we had Miss Custodio, who will be proud to learn that I still know how to crochet. And now, I can even knit! We learned how to diagram sentences. Strange how I can't recall the names of any of our language and reading teachers, and Cricket remembers that we had really good ones and I agree.

Finina Reyes was in the class next to mine, but in the middle of the year, her family moved to the States. I don’t think I ever saw her again, but I did call her a few times when visiting San Francisco. Her younger sister Candy, who was so cute, passed away a few years after they moved.

The mom of Becky Sanares passed away in Grade 7. China and Becky were good friends. I remember that a bunch of us including China and Cricket, together with a nun, maybe Sister Mary Grace, our Mistress of Class, rode the school’s Ford Fiera (?) and went from Antipolo to Cavite to attend the funeral. Already there was Mafe Quimson, who is Becky’s cousin. Becky was so sad, and so was China, and so were we all. I believe that was the first and only time I ever went to a classmate’s parent’s funeral.

At graduation that year, Cricket Concepcion got the Mother Marie Eugenie award. We shouldn’t, but we do: we laugh about it now. I quote her exactly: I can't recall ever doing ANYTHING Marie Eugenie-ish! And look at me now, struggling to get my daughter into Catholic school!

And my big award at graduation? A certificate for “sportsmanship”, whatever that meant. Did I truly become a jock by then? I still think to this day I fooled Mrs. Casacop somehow. My only interest in sports is that I can spell it.

Patricia Carino remembers our Grade 7 Graduation song, but not the title:

All my life I’ve been hoping to be
Strong as the wind as it blows from the sea
Gentle as the sunset, quiet as the evening shadows
Soft as the green of spring, young full of hope
And now I must live to be, all that I’ve hoped to be
From this moment, I must go
I must be where dreams come true

Did we?

Games We Played - by Vivian Honorio

The big yard fronting the primary building in Herran was just the best place to spend our recess and lunch breaks. Didn't we have those huge acacia trees rooted on large cemented "flower pots"? I recall playing ship: whoever stayed on the cemented base of the trees could not get eaten up by the sharks outside the pots. We'd push each other off those pots until we'd work up a sweat. I remember playing garter. Now there were two ways of playing that! One way was to do the exhibitions, first kicking the sides like 5 times on both ends of the garter, then there were the criss cross, the jumps, and I believe we brought up those darn garters all the way up to our waist for I don't know what? I hated wearing those Gregg shoes with buckles as they got caught in the exhibition part of the game. Then there was the "real" garter game where we'd have to clear the height of the garter which was way past the height of the tallest elementary girl! I was always awed by those girls who had those long legs and just managed to clear it. If I remember right, it was Cristina Ramos who was our usual bet to beat the upper graders as she had very looooong legs.

Didn't we also play with colored strings? I remember having to do some sort of manuevering of the string with all your fingers until you go way past all the steps and freeing the string from your partner? Then we had the piko. I remember drawing the patterns in the floor using orange chalk from broken pots. Now where'd we find those broken pots, I can't recall. Then we'd fashion our pato from all sorts of things: our hankies, wallets (containing laminated cafeteria chits) , etc. but the best patos I think were pieces of bark we chipped off from the beautiful trees as they wouldn't jump that much. The running and "rough" games we played were melting candle, touch taya statue and the boat is sinking.

I also remember playing the jackstones. I don't recall what grade I was, I believe though it was already in the Antipolo days mostly as we had a lot of the marble flooring... just perfect for the game. I remember the exhibition part of the game such as around the world, begging, the dot, the cave, the fence, around the world with begging, etc. I think we had to do 10 of those before we could rewind and do the game all over again. Of course there was also the chinese jacks (with monggo beans.) The exhibition part I could recall was the the cave again, the fence again, the begging again and the ballet.....

There was also the sipa (a million rubber bands tied up together) and I think I was kinda good at that. Of course the champions were Mia Gadi and Bernie Veloso and I could recall they could do that 100 times without missing the ball (both using the inside and outside sorta kick).

Since Antipolo had huge pockets of free space, we played kickball all the time. Again I always looked up to the girls who could just kick the ball way too far for the "fielders" to catch it. Way too far would mean up the hilly red soil of the rugged terrain of our beautiful school. Then we'd also have those good pitchers who would roll you a fast, curve ball until you'd strike out. I would be one of those who'd usually strike out being one of the "weak, payatot ones". Of course there was also the catchball as how Mon, you pointed out, for the "strong," and the patintero for the highly mobile ones.

Nowadays, my daughter Maia would get the usual jacks sometimes in her party loot bags and she would just set them aside as she finds it too difficult to learn. I always thought that all little girls were gifted with the talent of playing the jacks. I guess nowadays this new generation's sense of fun would be anything to do with the TV and video. I wish I could still have time to show her what the real fun games are all about. ---Vivian

Vivian Honorio's Twenty Most Significant Memories

You belonged to Assumption San Lo Batch 1977-1981 if:

1) You owned an Ace bag…

2) You hair brush was probably branded Denman…and the handle stuck out of your right skirt pocket…

3) If you had long hair, you probably wore it in a French braid and had your friends do it in class or you had the deadly flip…..if you had it short, you had the apple cut…

4) Your thermos brand was Aladdin…the red cap and beige body model…

5) You wore your socks below you ankle bone and your school shoes was probably branded Gregs…

6) You mastered knotting your necktie and you knotted it small…sometimes you’d clip a tiny monchichi monkey doll on it…

7) You wore a bra even though you only had booblets…

8) The “in” mall then was Quad, Brick Town, Shoppesville or Angela Arcade and that’s where you hung out to meet the boys…

9) Your wallet was probably Hello Kitty or Little Twin Stars and your baon was P20 a day… I know mine was…

10) Your pencil box had magnets…with a built in sharpener and compartments and you arranged your pencils from longest to shortest…I know I square-rishly did… Your erasers were probably fruit scented…

11) Really good food for you then was Assumption siomai and cafeteria cottage pie…

12) During boring classes you practiced signing your name with your crush’s last name… or you played FLAMES (remember… friends, lovers, admire, marriage, enemies, and sweethearts…)… or you could have also wasted your time playing tic tac toe or hang man or shooting stars…with your equally bored-in-class-to death seatmate…

13) You knew how to dance the swing….or also knew how to dance to the tune of Rock Lobster and Oh Mickey…..

14) You loved Sesame Street and might have spent your weekends watching Combat, Little House on the Prairie, Dance Fever, Charlie’s Angels and Hardy Boys…

15) Then, the best movies you’ve ever watched were Boy in A Plastic Bubble, Carrie and Endless Love…

16) You at least owned a pair of Clogs, Happy Feet or Crayon Shoes…

17) The height of your artistic creativity then was how to innovate your class party invitations…we went from laboratory slides, test tubes and blown glass…

18) Your worries then were what you were going to wear for the weekend parties, or how you were going to do your hair (which side of flip you were doing your hair…). You also worried about what excuse you were going to tell your parents for being late that Friday or Saturday night….

19) When you received your class graduation ring, you made everyone turn it once to make a wish…don’t know why we did that…?

20) And you probably wished you looked like Brooke Shields….

--- Vivian

Melissa Maio's Addendum to Vivian's List

You belonged to Assumption San Lo Batch 1977-1981 if:

(Continuation…)

1) Not only did you wear a bra (and panties), they were branded St. Michael, di ba?

2) If not Greggs, you wore black kung-fu shoes to school.

3) Your everyday scent was Nenuco or Denenes.

4) You were in love with Rex Smith and adored his movie about the teeny-bopper fan and him falling in love. Haay! His hit song was You Take My Breath Away (…and I don’t know what to say).

5) You were a Superstar if your household had a Betamax.

6) You loved Dippin’ Donuts and hanging out at Whistlestop where you could purchase the latest American-made candy and chocolates.

7) If you smoked then (or explored to---I know I did), you bought your blue-seal pack of cigarettes from the Manang at the Caltex station, Makati Avenue corner Pasay Road.

8) Your nail polish was metallic red.

---Melissa

Grade 3

Grade 3 was a really fun year for me so maybe that's why I have soooo many memories of what happened then.

We were Section 2, but I don’t remember our teacher’s name. Section 1 had Miss Ramos and Section 3 had Miss Botanes. My classmates in Section 2 include China Reyes, Popsie again, Gia Maramba (a San Lo migrant), Carla Fernandez, and I think Lala De los Reyes, Mimie de Ocampo, Elena Palarca and Nelia Gonzalez. Maybe Milen Batungbacal was in that class also. We also had Michelle Hizon (small girl, curly hair, always had an elaborate hairclip for her fountain, and Diana Gamboa, sister of Arnold, the artista. Some San Lo girls came over because they had sisters in Grade 4, the “experiment" batch, for the transfer to Herran. I know one of them was Sylvia Santos-Ocampo.

We had Mrs. Estaniel for sewing. This is the year she taught us to embroider, with basket weave and DMC thread. I LOVED those classes, and in this sense, I am NOT my mother’s daughter. I can still embroider to this day, and I have taught one of my daughters how (she also loves it!) We also made hooked rugs this year. Popsie’s was peach and mine was aqua. We were so surprised that Mrs. Estaniel came through with our unusual yarn color requests.

China and I always got to play together after school, because we would go straight to the Chat Peypoch Studio. Our mothers had a PX business together there. China, I know I promised you in Grade 3, that I would never tell anyone our secrets. Well guess what? I will never tell, because for once, I can’t remember what those secrets are anymore!

You did break one of my secrets in Grade 3, but I still love you anyway. One day, while playing at the studio, my mom discovered that I had….kuto! Que horror! She grabbed me and my sis and we ran across the street to Realistic Beauty Salon to have our hair CHOPPED OFF. I made you PROMISE China, not to tell anyone what happened, but… either you did, or Popsie figured it out the next day in school. Are your ears really red now, China? Good, cause I’m sitting here laughing my head off telling everyone my big Grade 3 secret. You escaped the kuto probably because you hair was already short, lucky you. But SOMEONE in that 3rd grade class gave me the kuto. Whoever you are, well.....I hope it’s gone by now!

It might not have been China’s fault really. It was hard to get anything past Popsie. It still is right, people on the velada committee? One day I wasn’t feeling so good so my mom put a bottle of Polymagma in my lunch box and told me to drink a teaspoon every few hours. I tried to be discreet, when I went out to my lunchbox (they were on a shelf outside the windows, remember?) But Popsie noticed and wanted to know why, and of course she checked out the bottle. I was hoping she would not know what Polymagma was for. Of course she did.

You all know by now that Popsie = Milky Way = Food. Well in Grade 3, she brought in this special sarap kind of brownie that we called “food from the gods.” I can't forget, cause I never tasted that ever before. Well, I haven’t stopped tasting it since.

Grade 3 was also when Martial Law got declared (September 21, 1972.) China’s mom and my mom were on their way to Hong Kong that very morning when they got turned back at the airport. Travel ban! Vina and I were so upset, because all our bilins would not get bought. Little did we know that should have been the least of our worries. I am not sure if this really happened anymore, but did they teach us to seek cover under our desks that year? I know my dad taught us to duck in the car. To get to school, we had to travel through parts of Manila where there could be gulo. He said that if he ever yelled “Duck,” we were to dive down under the seats and not come up until he said it was okay. We even practiced a few times. Vina and I would of course, say “quack, quack, quack” and giggle while we were down under, not realizing the direness of such a situation, if it happened.

Miss Ramos was our reading teacher. One day, we were reading a piece from our American textbook, and the piece happened to have a song called America. Of course, none of us knew the tune to it, except Gia Maramba, who had previously lived in the States. So Miss Ramos asked her to stand and sing, and I can still hear her voice:
My country ‘tis of thee
Sweet land of liberty
Of thee I sing...
Little did I know that one day that country would be my home.

At the end of the school year, we had our usual musical presentation in the auditorium. For once, it did not just involve my putting on a nice party dress as costume. Actually, I think I had three numbers to change for but one of my costumes, my favorite ever, was for Mr. Banjo (Look at that fine young man, Mr. Banjo...) China and I were in it together. We had to wear black pants, a black vest, a white shirt, a black top hat and a cane. Just a few years ago, I could still remember and sing the songs we sang for glee club that year. That was the last year I ever joined glee club, and probably the last time I ever voluntarily wanted to sing in public. No, I don't think I was bad, I could sing then. Just don't remember why I quit.

That summer, China's family and mine went to Baguio. My Zosa cousins came too. We stayed at an inn owned by the family of Rowena Alonzo, a year ahead of us. All I remember is that we had FUN.

PREP and Grade 1

Shortly after my cousin Gia was born in April 1971, on my lola's desk, I found an Assumption enrollment form for Prep 1976. I asked my lola why, and she said, "I also enrolled you for Prep right after you were born." She did that for all four grandaughters who were born in her lifetime. Thus, it was sometime in 1964, and not 1969, that my career at Assumption actually began.

My Prep Memories 1969-1970: Popsie Gamboa was my first friend ever. On the first day of school, our moms who were friends in college, introduced us. The rest is history. In 1999, Popsie came to visit me and gave me a pearl necklace. Why? Cause we had been friends for 30 years, so pearls. Wow! I treasure that necklace and not just cause I love pearls. My other friend from Prep, and still to this day, is Vivian Honorio. Vivian and I ended up living in Chicago in the mid 80's and have kept in touch ever since. Now there's your "to the grave" secret stories, right Vivs?

Back to Prep, our teacher's name was Miss Connie Gomez. Our classroom was the last one in the floor, and right outside was the Assumption zoo, with the monkey named Valentino. We were just around the corner from Mother Martha's office and the school clinic. Our music teacher was Miss Dulcecilia de Vera and our P.E. teacher was Miss Rizal (actually related to Jose) who later became Mrs. Casacop. My lunchbox was Dawn. I used to treat my lunchboxes badly, to my regret. I looked it up on Ebay recently. Wow. You try it, look up your old lunchboxes.

My Grade 1 Memories: Our teacher's name was Miss Alegre. I liked her so much I invited her to my 7th birthday party at the end of the school year and she came! Our mistress of class was Mother Rose Peter and for some reason, for part of the year it was also Mother Vicenta. My lunchbox was Super Laugh-In. I remember that Peachie Gonzalez was also my friend. One day at recess, Peachie and I were running after each other. This scene in my mind is precious, because years later, Peachie got poise, and a lot of it, so now it's hard to picture her running around. Plus, in Grade 1, Peachie's hairdo was...a fountain! Don't kill me now PGU. You were cute. Okay, so back to recess. Running around, I ran smack into a 3rd Grader and she dropped her merengue on the ground. It was Elvira Mesina, older sister of our classmate Felicia. I was terrified! She looked at us with her big round eyes and she was so mad, so we just ran away. Then recess was over and we had to line up and wait our turn to climb the stairs back to class. They had monitors every few steps and if you were not walking up properly, you would be turned back to go down the stairs and start all over again. Nakakahiya, diba? Everyone behind you would see that you got turned back. Well of course, on that day, one of the monitors was ELVIRA. I was trembling that she would see me and make me turn back. She did not but I was afraid of her since then. Of course, in the 1980s, I met her in New York. No longer terrified, I told her the story. We laughed so much about it, especially since she did not even remember the incident AT ALL! I haven't run into her in a while, but everytime I see a piece of merengue, I have to laugh!

My awful Grade 1 memory: I was a day-boarder, meaning the school prepared lunch for me. I was inggit of the picnic lunchers so one day, I asked my mom to make me a baon. She did, it was fried chicken and rice. Well guess what, she forgot to put in utensils, so I think I cried. Peachie tried to save the day, and wanted to lend me hers, but I don't think I agreed cause then she took me to look for my lola in the high school lunch area. I don't remember what happened anymore other than I never wanted to picnic lunch again and today, I am very careful when I make my daughters' baon so they never have traumatic fried chicken lunches.

There are so many faces in our Grade 1 picture, classmates who left Assumption and did not come back. I still wonder where and how they are: Marissa Laurel (now known as Iwi), Mia Roces, Mirza Alfelor, among others. There was also an American girl named Tamara who was with us for a few months while her dad worked at Shell Oil (how do I remember that?)

Seated, left to right:

Bottom row: Teresa Hernandez, Corinna Abarri, Katrina Aquino, Mirza Alfelor

2nd Row: Jojo Reyes, Peachie Gonzalez, Belen Alon, Eileen Alikpala

3rd Row: China Reyes; Milen Batungbacal, Mary Ann Ignacio, Diane Pardo

4th Row: Tamara ?, Leah Montinola, Jackie Bustamante, Popsie Gamboa

Standing in front of the planter: Maridol Dilag, Chinggay Evangelista, Marga Rellosa

Standing against wall on the left, moving up and to the right: Christine Carlos, Cristina Ramos, Mafe Quimson, Pureza Marifosque, Marianna Unson, Teresa Borja, Monica Francisco, Mia Roces, Angela Quirino, Vivian Honorio, Marilyn Santiago, Marisa Laurel, Felicia Mesina

One of my funniest Grade 1 memories is of...the cabinet falling on Vivian! I know she won't kill me for telling this because we still laugh about it when we get the chance to chat. I think it involved girls just running around and running around like Diane Pardo, Felicia Mesina, Peachie, Vivian, and myself until that cabinet falls, and Vivian is on the ground lying still. Well, we all know she turned out okay after that mishap (or so we think!) Speaking of Diane, I remember distinctly that I learned the term "Indian giver" from her in Grade 1. Don't remember why, just that she explained it to us. In this age of political correctness, when we can't really use that term anymore, I sometimes use it in my head, and think of Diane.

One of my best Grade 1 memories is my 7th birthday party cause so many of you were there: Vivian, Maridol Dilag (hitting the pot on the left), Teresa Hernandez, Teresa Borja, Chinggay Evangelista (our husbands are now good friends in NY), Marilyn Santiago (distant cousin of my husband), Marga Relloza (we became classmates again in UP), Corinna Abarri, Popsie and sister Gina Gamboa.

Another birthday party I remember is Popsie's and I think it was in Grade 1. Her birthday fell on a weekday so after school, her mom sent a coaster to pick up the entire class and we all went to their house in San Miguel. I remember that we had so much fun going up and down all the floors plus, our loot bag that day was a chain of candy (cellophane with candy tied inside like sausage links.) For many birthdays after that, Popsie's mom would send boxes of chocolate bars to school. Each girl would get an entire Cadbury bar or something like that. Yum. I should blame my loving chocolates on Tita Julie.

Typing this now, I realize that a lot of my Grade 1 memories involve Peachie. And it gets worse, because after Grade 1, she left and moved to San Lorenzo. That was awful, I remember. I can still see Tita Aguing telling my mom that San Lo was just so much nearer their house than Herran was. Peachie invited me to her birthday party in 2nd Grade and I was happy, even if all the other kids were from San Lo. One kid I remember in particular was Elsa Almeda. At first she was wearing a peasant dress like the rest of us. Then later it was hotpants and boots, and she was doing cartwheels all over the place. So Mariels, that was my first memory of you. Haven't bumped into you in years but I think you are still in NY/NJ somewhere. Send me a note when you get the chance.

The Madre Mystique

Maybe it was just because I am third generation Assumption girl, after my mom (HS 1957) and my lola (HS 1936) or maybe because my lola was a teacher there, that we were close to the madres.

Growing up, I remember the “foreign” nuns, and we addressed them as Mother: Mother Immaculada, Mother Veronique, Mother Marthe. There were also the homegrown nuns like Mother Estella Infante, her sisters Mother Rose Peter and Sister Carla Teresa. There was also Mother Milagros. I got into trouble big time with her – she kissed me and I wiped it off, how ill mannered of me. I got a super scolding from lola but I loved Mother Milagros anyway. She passed away a few years ago, still devoted to Assumption in San Simon, Pampanga. There was Mother Bernarda who disappeared and left for Africa when I was a young girl. Last I heard, she’s still there. Mother Estella was co-principal with my lola and later went on to be Provincial of the Assumption. She made the most beautiful scrapbook for us after my lola died, made up of the pictures that were under the glass on her desk. I still think of that scrapbook. There was also Mother Esperanza, and Mother Angela, and Mother Carmen, and Mother Remedios, and Mother Rosario, and Mother Mercedes. Many of these nuns have passed on, I just don’t know for sure, which ones, so I dare not even try.

At some point in time, we made the shift from calling them “Mother” to “Sister.” I never knew exactly why. Mother Carolina became Sister Carolina to us. I know she passed on a few years ago, may she rest in peace. Then there was Sister Rita Imelda, Sister Gertrude, Sister Regivic. I had Mother Teresa Consuelo in Grade 3, and she is now known as Pinky Poblador. Yes, the Assumption lost many of its younger nuns to the larger society extramuros: Mother Martha became Mrs. Remia Bacaling Evaristo. Mother Jude Mary is Carmen "Pinky" Valdes of San Francisco, CA. Mother Joan Frances is now Mrs. Ann Marie Carlos in Chicago, IL. Sister Araceli is now Araceli Suzara, also somewhere in Illinois. Sister Mary Grace is Mary Grace Montelibano at the United Nations in NY.

How did I keep track of them all? Well that is the fault of my mother, who tends to look for Assumption nuns anywhere she is, and she makes sure my sis and I know who is where and what and makes us call them (which, I have to admit, we are not very good at complying with.)

When we were younger, we used to wonder if the nuns were really kalbo, as rumor had it. So we kept trying to make silip Sr. Rose Peter in Grade 1, and observed she had wisps of hair coming out of her veil. We thought maybe she was allowed, because she was just a postulant then. Speaking of Sr. Rose Peter, our family got invited to her final vows, I think it was in Antipolo Church. It was quite a moving and beautiful ceremony, as she became the bride of Christ, but not enough to move me to ever desire donning the purple habit myself. I think I steeled myself to reject such notions at an early age since I had this line “Monique, will you be one of us someday?” whispered in my ear one time too many by one of the nuns (Mother Milagros, forgive me, but I think it was you.)

We used to wonder as children if they ever took their veils off, if they wore nightgowns to sleep just like the rest of us, how hot it got under that habit, if they were allowed to use deodorant and shampoo, if they missed their own families while they lived in the convent. I don’t think I ever discovered the answers to those questions and maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe the answers to the mysteries should only be given to those who actually say yes to the “calling.”

Now I can tell you they are not bald. They don’t even wear veils anymore, how shocking is that! (Don’t know how it is in Manila, over here, no more veils.) And this side of the globe, the “habit” is a purple suit jacket and skirt! Last May, I attended the ordination of one of my cousins in Philadelphia, such a rare occasion nowadays. To my delight, coming out of the church, I spotted eggplant and lo and behold, two Assumption nuns in attendance: Sister Cecilia Hervas and Sister Loreto Mapa. We had a nice time saying hello and chatting after all these years at the luncheon that followed. Of course, now that I have seen them bareheaded, my inquiring mind still wants to know if they use rollers or blow dryers, or ever use Clairol to cover the gray…

So after years of thinking I was tired of Assumption (could not wait to get out of there, was arrogant enough to not even apply to Assumption College), I realized I missed that purple habit. The purple habit is a good habit.

In search of... Mother Marie Eugenie

I used to be ashamed of this as a child, just cause it was such an unusual name, but I am over it now. My middle name is EUGENIA, and I was named after MME herself. Back in 2001, my sister Vina and I found ourselves in Paris so we decided we had to visit the Mother House in the Auteuil section of Paris. Not just cause we could hear our mom's voice in our head over and over, "You cannot leave Paris without going there." Now that I think about it, Vina and I were probably in search of some place safe, and familiar, and comforting, having just survived 9/11 in New York.

In Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence, at the end of the book, this school gets mentioned. We had no address, nothing, we just had a map that had Rue de L’Assomption on it. We took the Metro and got off at the Ranelagh stop and just started walking. Then, we saw this street sign that said, “Rue Milleret de Brou” so we got excited because we recognized it as the lay name of MME, Eugenie Milleret de Brou. We tried looking for a building that said “Assumption” but there was no such blaring sign. There was an Assumption Church down the street, but that was not it. Then we saw a door that looked like it could be Assumption so we started ringing the bell, and ringing the bell, and ringing the bell but no one would answer. We did see people inside by peeping through the cracks, but it seemed like no one could hear us. We followed the wall down the street until we saw an open door and my bolder sister popped her head in. She saw no one but came out excitedly and said it was the cafeteria of something, and it was the EXACT same peach color of Herran, therefore it must be Assumption! We had no luck that day getting in but we decided to come back the following Sunday. The church down the street told us there was always Sunday mass at the convent.

So we returned, this time with my husband, cousin Anna Zosa, and my two daughters. We were at the right place a few days before, the doorbell was just broken. We had no trouble now as all the doors were thrown open and we walked straight into the chapel. On one corner was MME’s grave itself. The place was packed and there was a hum as pre-mass preparations were going on. Suddenly, there was the familiar color purple, and after so many long years, we had our first sighting of…Assumption nuns! Never thought it would be such a thrilling sight! It was almost like coming home. Never thought I would say such a thing, but really, it was a nice, warm feeling!

Suddenly, one of the sisters approached my daughter Angelica, and spoke to her in French. I gathered enough to understand that she wanted Angelica to carry the candle in the offertory procession. What a coup, I thought. Here was my daughter’s chance to be an Assumption girl somehow! Alas, she was too shy and said no. She was only three, almost four, and had no idea what carrying the candle meant or even what an offertory procession was. During mass, we saw that there were quite a few Filipino Assumption sisters in the community. Later we said hello and chatted with them. They were thrilled to have Assumption girls from Manila, who lived in New York, who were visiting Paris, who came to hear mass with them. We did come a long way, bébés!

We visited MME’s gravesite, and I grabbed as many novena stampitas as I could. I will post the prayers here soon. My big MME question is: Why, after she got beatified 32 years ago, is she not a saint yet? I think the problem is she needs a P.R. firm to lobby for her at the Vatican! As Tessa P. might put it, she needs to "generate buzz!" Any P.R. people out there up to the task? Or maybe we all just need to pray harder.

I also found out that the convent takes in “boarders.” It costs about US$30.00 per night to stay at the convent (maybe it is higher now) and the only caveat is: there is a curfew after which the gates are locked and too bad for you if you don’t make it within the walls before then. I think I shall give it a try the next time I am in Paris (can’t beat that price) but my sis Vina says, “No way I’m staying with the nuns again.” She wonders how she is supposed to knock at the convent door, arms laden with shopping bags, when we are supposed to profess "love of simplicity?" Siya nga naman.

And here’s a juicy bit I found out not too long ago: someone told me that MME was actually MARRIED at some point in her life before becoming Mother Foundress. I don’t think we were EVER taught that in school. Anyone know more about this, please post. I looked up the MME website and it seems her family name was MILLERET, so could “de BROUS” be her married name? Abangan ang susunod na kabanata.

Grade 6

I must have done something wrong in Grade 5, still don't know what it was though, because Popsie and I were removed from our section and moved to Section 2. The nuns told my mom something about my not studying anymore so they had to move me. Actually, I was furious at the nuns cause they started giving letter grades (since Grade 4) which I hated. I liked the number grades. I was such a grade hog, probably still am, but don't tell my kids. I was sad at first because I was leaving behind Liaa and Annabelle in Section 5. Well if the nuns thought I would get gooder in Section 2, well maybe not. Popsie and I hung out with eleven girls, let's see if I remember them all: Nana Eusebio, Nadine Adad, Jojo Ledesma, Finina Reyes, Sandy Harper, Lynn Pellicer, Mara Villasor, oops, that's all I remember for sure (Rina Mac? Baba Araneta?) These were by then the tougher, "cooler" girls that Popsie and I were ever friends with. (Not that I knew what "cool" meant back then, it probably wasn't even part of our vocabulary yet.) Some of them maybe even had boyfriends already (my lips are sealed.) I remember Nadine saying more than once, "Let's have a bull session." I had to ask someone what that meant. Popsie and I would just sit in the circle and be quiet, after all, we had nothing and no one to complain about. Popsie and I were the gigglers, that I remember someone said they should kick us out of the group cause we were so "childish." They never did, and we loved them all anyway even if we were saling pusa, and to this day, we're still the happy gigglers. I also learned to play kick ball and war ball really well in Grade 6. Well if hang around those girls, then I better learn to play well. Someone even had the nickname "Bakal Boobs" cause she could catch any hard flung warball and not flinch. Good for us both, I don't remember who Bakal Boobs was, but I sure remember the nickname.

Speaking of boobs. Grade 6 was when many of us started to wear a bra...whether we deserved to or not. Many of us were just gaya-gaya and nagged our moms to take us to Rustan's to buy our first training bra, cause your best friend had one. Then of course, in the middle of the day, when you got an itchy attack, you would take it off and stuff it in your skirt pocket. So Grade 6 was the year you would see white straps peeking out of the sides of our skirts (in later years to be replaced by the ubiquitous Denman brush.)

We had Mrs. Tengonciang that year, and everyone was afraid of her, except me, but I never told anyone I wasn't. She was my mom's classmate in high school and my mom tipped me off that she sounded strict but she was really nice, so I wasn't afraid of her. Plus, I loved her class which was social studies. I cannot remember who our mistress of class was. I do know our art teacher was Mrs. Antonio, and we even had a special art bahay kubo near our cluster that we used for art class. Our P.E. teacher was Miss Guzman, one of our groovier teachers back then. We had sewing with Miss Saturnino, yet another groovy teacher. We got to use sewing machines and had to make a sundress out of katsa. I think only Gina Joaquin made a decent looking sundress. We also got to sew while listening to Terminal and Mandy by Barry Manilow. Can't beat that.

I think this is also the year that Peachie Gonzalez came back to Assumption (from St. Paul?) By this time, she was so poised, had really nice neat hair, and was no longer malikot. Beside her, we all looked madungis, especially in Antipolo where we got muddy, climbed trees and ran up and down hills! We also loved to sit on the steps of the middle of the clusters, which was pebble wash-out. That middle space was also open so the rain and sunshine came right in! When I think of it now, how lucky we were to have experienced being in a school like that. I described Antipolo to some of the parents in my kids' class: that it was in the mountains, with lots of trees and we had these hexagon shaped clusters and even our desks were trapezoid shaped that we could form into bigger hexagons, and that there were no real walls between classrooms, just sliding corkboard panels that you could open and close to make bigger and smaller spaces! Antipolo was far ahead of its time. A classroom that looks like that in present day New York would still be cutting edge! By the end of my description, the other parents were salivating. If only our kids could have such a space for learning!

After the experience of the Angara bus service in Grade 5, many parents decided to buy vans and club wagons and haul groups of kids to Antipolo. Eileen Alikpala was our van girl. I'll bet you have really strong arms still Eileen, since you sat by the door and opened and closed it countless times for all of us! In her van were the Honorios: Vivian, Nikki and Nini, my sister and I, Tinette and Suzette Bartolome, Bambi and Barbie Bartolome, Rissa Pineda, Angel Innocentes, Lally Hidalgo, Cecilia Martinez, and Sylvia and Cynthia Santos-Ocampo. I want to say Mrs. Huab (may she rest in peace) and daughter Nifleda were in that van too, but can it be? That's a lot of people, but maybe the van was huge and we were all sooo small back then? Anyway, that was the San Juan - Greenhills van! We had lots of fun, especially since Eileen's driver was named Mang Andres. Of course, we called him Mang Andres, but Tita Digas just called him Andres. Try saying that name to yourself, and you will understand why we would start giggling in the van when she called him. And I'll bet it was Vivian who pointed that out to all of us. The Honorios also had this thing where they got dizzy if they did not sit in front, so they all sat in front. Nini Honorio was Grade 1, and did not want to let go of her yaya, so for a few weeks, "Aya" went to school with her and Nini sat on her lap in the van. There was near riot when Mang Andres and his fellow drivers who waited in school all day for our departure (it was too wasteful of gas to go back and forth to Metro Manila for hatid sundo so all drivers and yayas stayed in Antipolo all day) started bringing chickens to make sabong. Miss Vivian Honorio is deathly afraid of chickens. End of story. No more sabong for Mang Andres.

Of course, I should end with yet another Peachie G. memory: in Grade 6, she LOVED Donny Osmond and the color purple. And I have to admit, I also had a Donny Osmond lunch box.

Grade 2: The Year we had First Communion and First Confession

-------Margot Legarda, Mailou San Gabriel, Fr. Tony Sharma, Vivian Veloria (?), Irene Cordero, Kathleen Santiago, Lally Hidalgo, Lucille Vasquez, Diana Gamboa, Belen Alon, ? Annett Agregado, Marianna Unson

See if you can find these faces: Vivian Honorio, Susan Antonio, Chinggay Evangelista, Monica Francisco, Marilou Fabre, Diane Pardo, Nadine Adad ----------------------------------------------------------------

BELOW: Karen Montenegro, Sandy Harper - San Lo First Communicants
GRADE 2: If you were in Section 3 with me, your 1st Communion date was Nov. 21, 1971, and the priest was my grand uncle, Fr. Jesus Diaz. I think the priest who gave us First Confession was Fr. Tony Sharma. I know all that, but I cannot remember who our teacher was. I believe our mistress of class was Mother Martha (now known as Mrs. Remia Evaristo!) Our Mother Superior then was Mother Immaculada.

I remember I had this classmate named Evangeline Eigenmann. One day, her lola and mom came to pick her up in school and I realized her mom was Rosemarie Gil, the actress. Well, Ms. Evangeline is now known to most of you as Cherie Gil, also an actress! I also remember a classmate, Naomi Murakami. At some point during the year, I think she converted and had her own First Communion. I think that was the first time I realized that not all the world was born Catholic. That girl could draw so well, and her drawings of people look just like the people in those Japanese pencil boxes, including all the white highlights in the eyes. I remember we kept drawing and drawing and sending in entries to the Shankar art contest in India. Nowadays, when I think of Naomi, I wonder if she is related to the Murakami person who designed the Louis Vuitton line a few years ago!

I can't remember exactly when it started, perhaps in Prep. But it seemed like every Christmas, when we re-enacted the Nativity, I was always chosen to be an angel, together with Vivian and Angela Quirino. All we had to do was wear a white party dress, and voila, we were angels. Mother Mary was always Salvacion "Ton" Locsin. With a face like hers, no one could ever be Mother Mary but her. I wonder where she is now. I last saw her in college in U.P. Speaking of Angela Quirino, we loved to go to her birthday parties. She usually had swimming parties. Their swimming pool was beautiful, I think it was art nouveau-like, definitely not the modern day swimming pool that most other people had. There was even an actual chapel on the grounds of their compound on P. Guevara Street in San Juan. Sometimes we would attend mass there. We even had a field trip to her house once, because there was also a doll museum there. And on that same field trip, my mom or my lola had this idea that they should come by my lola's house a few blocks away so we could all see the giant pechay our gardener had planted! Imagine that, dolls and giant vegetables, all in one field trip, what fun! Such simple joys we had in our youth.

My lola also passed away this year. Her wake was at the chapel in Assumption, and her funeral mass was in the middle of the school day. I remember that as we drove out of Assumption, along the driveways, and out of that magnificent black wrought iron gate, the road was lined with Assumption girls and nuns and manangs all the way, to say goodbye to my lola. When I think of that day, I am both proud and sad, that all those girls wanted to say goodbye to her too.

Tayo na sa Antipolo - Grade 5!

Grade 5: Was confusion time. We were supposed to move to Antipolo, but it was not physically ready so we had to move to San Lorenzo and share the space with the high school. For two or three months, we had class only in the mornings, and then the high school girls came in the afternoon. When we finally moved to Antipolo, the school was not quite finished. The multi purpose hall in fact, never got a roof while we were there. When we graduated three years later from 7^th grade, it was still topless, with steel bars sticking out from the unpainted concrete! I remember that the nuns wanted us to wear rainboots, to protect our shoes from the mud, and none of us would have any of it. So no one ever wore those rubber boots. Now that it’s a necessity for us in New York, I have to smile every time I have to go buy some for my children! I took Angara bus #103 from Unimart. Pia Baens and sisters lived far from Unimart, but for some reason, that was their stop too. Popsie, why do I think you and your sisters were Unimart bus girls also? Back in those days, it was safe to wander around Greenhills unsupervised and so we would do that in the afternoons, while waiting to be picked up. Pia, do you remember we kept going into FUN HOUSE to browse, and I think we even bought sea monkeys at one point. I know I did, and I tried to grow them, and got them to the little-swimming-thingys stage until I started to think about what they might look like if I let them grow some more so I flushed them down the toilet. (Okay, ASPCA, come after me now!) I know I did not finish Grade 5 until the last day of school because a few days before it, I came down with chicken pox, that I got from Chiqui de Castro, or Gina Tambunting, or both. This year, Popsie's sister Malu was Grade 1, and in the classroom right next to ours. She was quite naughty, so... we made her do a lot of things, and she followed whatever we told her! Nuf said. Don't want to get anyone into trouble! Big sigh of relief to see that Malu grew up nice and normal.

If you went to Antipolo, then you must know who John Philip Sousa is. Assumption's contribution to waking up super sleepy girls who got up at the crack of dawn, who got dressed by their yayas while they were still snoozing, and who dragged themselves into the vans or buses to make it up to the mountain school, was to blast martial music ad nauseam over the loudspeakers. I can still see that blasted phonograph with the 33s and the 45s playing by itself outside the door of the library. I cannot hear Sousa music to this day and not wake up!

I won’t post anymore about Antipolo because it is your turn, I am sure we have TONS of Antipolo stories!

Grade 4 - San Lo and Herran Mix, last year in Herran

Grade 4: This is when San Lorenzo came to join us. Some of you San Lo girls came in Grade 3, because you had older sisters in Grade 4, who made the move to Herran one year earlier. Now we were 5 sections strong: 2 from San Lo, 3 from Herran. We had three sets of twins: Annabelle and Annette Agregado, the Melvins, and Marga and Jenny Villalon. I have theories that since I knew many twins during my childhood, I made some of my own. I think I was the class president. How did that happen? My friends in the mafia: the likes of Popsie, and Christine Carlos, and more, how else. I remember someone telling me in confidence “you will win, cause three sections will vote for you and two sections will vote for the other girl.” My apologies to the "other," a San Lo girl, don’t even remember who you are for sure, (but I have a vague memory that it was someone whose name I could not pronounce then, P-U-R-I-F-I-C-A-C-I-O-N Jalandoni, or was it Cricket Concepcion?) In the beginning, we called each other by our full names. It seemed to us Herran girls that the San Lo girls were noisier, bigger, taller, and had...well, lighter colored hair! It was a case of “us” vs. “them” when the two schools first joined. Soon enough, we made friends with each other and learned each other's nickanames and now it seems like it’s been forever. My new found friends in Grade 4 from San Lorenzo include Liaa, Finina Reyes, Toni Feliciano (whom I called Antoinette for the longest time initially), Rina Macasaet, Cricket Concepcion. Betta Gallego came in (from STC?) Rhea Rodrigo also arrived that year, and so did Eva Marie Tan. I think we were Section 5 and our teacher was Mrs. Angeles. Our mistress of class was Mother Rita Imelda.

Tessa P., a.k.a. Sea Princess, also came to Herran. That year, I saw Best of Broadway at the CCP, and in one number, I think it was South Pacific, Tessa and some other kids popped out of baskets and they all sang "Happy happy happy happy talk, talk about things you like to do." Am I remembering this correctly? Even back then you had dramatic entrances! Marichu Alcasid has told me she was in Herran for Grade 4, but I don't remember! There were so many of us now. I never had this many classmates before.

I remember that I had at least four friends who had long, beautiful hair: Liaa, Toni, Finina, and Jackie Bustamante. I was not allowed to have hair as long as theirs. We also used to love playing in the lagoon which was in front of our school building. Some of us would get into that dinghy and row around. One day, the end of lunch bell rang, and whomever was in the boat kept trying to get back to shore with no success. Then someone panicked and rocked the boat, and everyone fell into the lagoon. Of course it was icky and sticky and yucky. I believe the clinic ran out of spare uniforms that day. I don’t even remember anymore if I was in the boat, or watching! All I remember for sure was that Jackie and Liaa were in it. I remember you crying Liaa, and I remember thinking of your hair, and all that lumot from the lagoon. I will also never forget your telling me what your full name was, hence the acronym nickname LIAA! In Grade 4, I had a nice fried chicken lunch memory thanks to you (See Grade 1 post for the bad fried chicken lunch.) Your sister Mikey was born sometime in Grade 4, and the next day, for baon, you brought Max Fried Chicken, including the ketchup packets. It had something to do with there being a Max near the hospital when your family visited the new baby the night before. Don't tell Mikey, but when I see her now on TV or newspapers, pretty and glamorous as she is, I think of Max Fried Chicken. Funny how you make memory associations and they stick in your head forever.

I remember celebrating United Nations week with a contest. Our team was composed of girls from all sections, and our rival was Grade 5. We had to know current events, we had to read HIGHLIGHTS regularly. I think Cardinal Santos even died that year. (Well hello, I really kept reading the newspapers as advised! I still know to this day who Dag Hammarskjold and U Thant are. If you don't, google them!) Why do I think Valerie Novenario was on that team, am I right? I know we won, and we beat Grade 5. My U.N. week costume that year was Dutch. Our modista copied it from one of my story books. I remember that Vivian's was from Papua New Guinea and it had to be authentic, cause no modista could have done that! (Why that country, or why do I even remember that, I don't know. I think I just OD'd on ginko biloba this weekend.)

I also remember another contest: interpretative reading. Mrs. Aumentado picked me to represent the class (I think it was even to represent the Grade) but I had such a bad case of stage fright, that I cried and backed out. She was so mad at me, then she picked Betta Gallego. Well guess what? Betta won!! And so did Jackie Bustamante, who recited a poem. She was sooo good at that, I remember. Betta and I became friends in Grade 4.

On Saturdays, my sister and I took art lessons at the home of our art teacher, Miss May Martin. I think Paulina Estrella and sister also came to those, and Rica Concepcion and Rianna Hechanova. Miss Martin lived on Samat Street in Mandaluyong. She was such a cool teacher. I heard she passed away already, may she rest in peace.

I am not sure if Christine Carlos and I were in the same section, but we were still friends. I remember that her lola, everytime it was exam time, would send in peanuts as baon, with a portion just for me! Her lola would always tell us that we had to eat peanuts so we would remember everything we had to remember while taking the test. Sometimes it would be boiled peanuts, sometimes roasted peanuts, sometimes peanut cake! I have such fond memories of Christine’s lola (and lolo, and their black car!)

Speaking of cars, who can forget the Volkswagen beetle of the Dilags. Maridol was an only child, and on the day that parents came to visit (can't remember the name of the day, open house?), her parents would always come, then take her to lunch to a restaurant nearby then drop her off again. When she got back, she always had this special candy, can't remember the name, but I think that it looked like a Tic Tac box. Whatever it was, it was rare candy, I only saw it from Maridol when they got it from that restaurant. I also remember that Maridol always had pretty matching dresses and bows, and it turns out, her mom sewed them! I was so impressed since my mom can't sew a stitch to save our lives! Years later, Maridol's mom even sewed Nana's wedding gown!

The nice thing in the lower grades, is that we were friends with girls from all over the grade, not just the same section. We started to get "cliquish" only in high school. I remember that my Herran friends included Jojo Reyes, Leny Llapitan, Lala de los Reyes, Katrina Aquino, Milen Batungbacal, Yvette de Leon, Cecile Cuna, Mimie de Ocampo, Becky Sanares, Arleen Verzosa, Lucille Vasquez. I am sure there were many more, I wish I had all my yearbooks with me here.

The end of the school year of Grade 4 was very sad for me because we were leaving Herran. To this day, I can still cry about that. I love that place so much, and it holds so many memories for me, especially since I picture my beloved late Lola Babing in that place, where she went to school herself, and taught countless generations of Assumption girls including many of our mothers. On the last day of school, I remember walking around Herran with my first ever Kodak camera taking pictures. I know Christine Carlos walked around with me. I took pictures of the buildings, the chapel, the auditorium. They were black and white, and quite dramatic when it came out. I have since lost those pictures, having left Manila over 20 years ago. I also “lost” many friends who did not follow to Antipolo and never came back, not even for high school. I never saw Jackie Bustamante again, not in high school when she was in St. Scho, nor in college. I heard she went back to Assumption but I went to U.P. And to think people used to say we were inseperable. I never saw Monica Veloso again, the one other Monica of our batch. Nor Carla Gomez.

But what you lose, you gain in other ways. Cricket and I were just “hi” friends in Grade 4, cause our moms knew each other. Fourteen years after Grade 4, Cricket introduced me to her babyhood friend, and I married him 3 years later. Today we live a few miles from each other, and are ninang to each other’s daughters. When we meet each other’s friends, we always tell them we’ve been friends "since 4^th Grade”, which as the years go by, simply means "forever."

STORY TELLING TIME

Hello Classmates!

Inspired by the search for missing friends, I thought it would be nice to have a spot in cyberspace where we can reweave all our stories.

Some of us go way back to Herran or San Lorenzo. Some of us made the pilgrimage to Antipolo while some of us went elsewhere for a few years. Then we all met again in San Lorenzo, joined by many other new friends. Here we are now many years later, reunited by the internet!

I invite one and all to send in their stories: funny ones, happy ones, remember-when ones. As the kuwentos get posted, I am sure you will remember more and more and all our stories will come out again. There is a Native American belief, that if you keep telling the stories, the stories will never die.

But hey, if you promised your friend, way back when, "Peksman, cross my heart", "this goes to the grave", that you would NEVER tell, then please, NEVER tell! Karma, karma! And we don't want to know that you were actually seeing so and so's boyfriend while she was busy inventing the names of the childen she would bear for him!

Oh, and this is a BLOG which means the ENTIRE UNIVERSE might see it, including your crush in 2nd year high school who is now as gay as a bouquet! This is not private like our yahoo groups, where only we girls can see it. So be careful what you write, don't use full or real names in your stories, if necessary, in order to protect the GUILTY as well as the INNOCENT!

The way this is set up is ANYONE can comment, but if you want to post a story, I need to add you in. So email me, if you have lots to share. Go take that ginko biloba pill, or whatever memory booster you take, and start remembering!

If you find that someone's memory of something is hazy or not quite right, or seems like this chick actually "inhaled" something at some point, then by all means, send in a COMMENT and correct it, but please BE KIND! I am sure that many of us by now have undergone at least some anaesthesia, among other hallucinogenic substances, that some of the memories are... well, GONE! So before we lose any more brain cells...

It is time to remember, it is time to share the "good" stories with our familes and each other, and not to forget.

So send in your memories, here is a nice place to preserve them.

Your classmate,
Monica Francisco