July 2010

 Reunion Afterglow (Part 5)

“I was freezing last night.“

“Did you find the air-conditioner‘s thermostat?“

“I hardly slept. It was so cold.“

These were some of the conversation threads during breakfast the following day at the CWC. The catered breakfast consisted of fried rice, longganiza (Philippine sausages), and a coffee mix called three-in-one. To coffee die-hards, just skip this okay and don‘t tell me I did not warn you. It consists of powdered instant coffee, creamer and sweetener poured over hot water. The result is a hot, sweet and thin brew that‘s hard to define. There should be a law against the sale of these mixtures.

After checking out of CWC, Ludi, Annie and I piled into Romy‘s service car with a consensus mission to search for freshly-brewed coffee. I have a deferential relationship with coffee. I like coffee grains that talk to me. I like a caffeine kick with an attitude. We ended up at the Red Ribbon at the SM Mall. The Red Ribbon has a Lavazzo type coffee machine that turns out real, strong, macho coffee. If coffee can have muscles, this is where to find it in Naga City.     

Ludi and Annie were roommates in last night‘s cabana and oh-boy, did they have funny anecdotes to tell.

The reunion agenda that morning was a tour of the Colegio de Sta. Isabel grounds plus a visit to an orphanage. In the afternoon was the homecoming parade around Naga‘s centro. I have to mention at this point that the homecoming organizers originally planned to have a torch parade instead of an afternoon parade. There were groans in our eGroup – loud and vocal from Alaska to Australia via Europe and the United States that went on for weeks.  Eventually, Ines wrote an impassioned letter to the homecoming organizers to schedule the parade in the afternoon and not otherwise. We got what we asked for. We have Inesky to thank.  

I needed a pair of sneakers and stretch shorts to go under my short pompom skirt. I reckon, when that skirt flutters on the stage during our dance presentation and shows some Maarte undies, that would be fodder for You Tube or Facebook. I was going to stop that at all costs. I shared the same sentiments with the California girls. At the lingerie section of SM we met Nans (editor of our reunion photobook), Sol and Grace, all looking for stretch shorts. Ludi ended up buying half a dozen tops plus the gorgeous, red, eyelet tunic similar to what I bought for my sister Ting three days ago.     

For lunch, Ines joined us at the Japanese restaurant. In spite of our protests, Ludi took care of the bill. I would remember this lunch as one of the rare quiet moments during our Ruby Reunion. I was able to make unhurried conversation with the girls minus the distraction. We had our little oasis in the midst of miso soups and sushi.  

The day‘s Holy Mass was scheduled for 3:00 PM that afternoon prior to the parade. We wanted to rest before the afternoon events so we dropped Annie at Evelyn‘s while the three of us went home to Ting‘s house.

Mama has not seen Ludi since our high school graduation 40 years ago so she, once again, was delighted to see another of my childhood amigas.

As I‘ve mentioned earlier, our parade T-shirts were designed by our resident architect, Maricar. The shirts are cotton red with a collage of our high school graduation pictures printed in front. At the center of the collage was each jubilarian‘s photo, enlarged than the rest. Kudos to Maricar for her creativity. On its own, the shirts had its stories to tell.   

Days before the reunion, I tried to convince my mother to watch the Friday parade and the Saturday morning show. She just smiled. That‘s my mother. She did not mention her litany of age-related complaints: too hot; all that waiting; might feel dizzy. Look, my Mom is 85. She is fairly healthy and fairly fit but still, she is 85. At that age, she can say no without remorse. She‘s had her share of saying yes all her life.

When Ludi, Ines and I went down the staircase dressed in red shirt, white pants, white footwear, matching sling bags, red baseball caps and similar abanicos (fans), my mother could not hide her amusement. The sight of us three finally convinced her to dress up and watch the parade.

“Ma,“ I told her smiling, “Romy will park the car in the Naga Cathedral grounds. He‘ll bring a chair for you, some bottled water and packs of Sky Flakes crackers in case you get hungry. After you‘ve seen my batch walk by, you can ask Romy to drive you home. You don‘t have to stay for the entire parade.“

After I‘ve said that, I realized that we have assumed reverse roles. I am now the mother ensuring the comforts of a child.

When we arrived at the Sta. Isabel, the Holy Mass in the auditorium was in the Communion part. Ludi and I sneaked in and tried to make the most fo what we missed. The priest‘s homily was excellent, I was told later.

After the mass, Dolly our batch‘s parade marshall, directed us to proceed to the back entrance of the compound near the elementary school buildings.

We formed five rows, in the order of height from the smallest to the tallest. We easily found our places; we used to form lines everyday at the quadrangle for the morning flag ceremony. Emita, Marlet, Theresa, Ludi and others were up front. Precy  who grew astounding inches between high school and college found herself among the taller batchmates.      

In front of me at the parade was Nans, beside me was Nerissa and behind me was Raquel. From where I stood in the formation, I could see a sea of red caps and red shirts. Our collective presence was quite strong. We had a stunning size that was not easy to ignore. Probably because of our size, the parade organizers placed our batch at the very front of the parade. We were practically the opening number so to say. We had our own marching band and for batchmates who preferred not to walk the entire length, the Manila Group organizers rented padyak (foot-pedaled tricycle) which followed our group from behind.

The husbands who attended became the reunion photographers and videographers. They digitally recorded the parade in ways that I would always go back to, time and time again, to relive the moments and how if felt during those moments.  

Oh. My. God. We were loud, chatty and in high spirits. When we passed by large crowds, we would wave our fans and smile. When we passed by the Naga Cathedral, I searched for Mama, found her, stepped out of my formation and hugged my lovely, loving and lovable mother. She beamed, like she was not warm nor tired nor dizzy.

Sta. Isabel is famous for its annual homecoming parades. Those who could come out of offices, banks, malls, shops, and restaurants lined the streets of Naga to watch. The parade started in front of Sta. Isabel, then past the Cathedral, the Archbishop‘s Palace, Dabu building, the former Alatco terminal, the Trece Martires, the plaza, Parisian mod shoppe, Oyster Restaurant then turned right to where City Tailoring is located (that‘s the only establishment I could remember in this street since it is owned by a friend‘s family), then right again past the public market, Bichara Theater, the Philippine National Bank, then on to Barlin Street, GSIS building, the Badiola house, de Castro compound, Holy Rosary Minor Seminary and then back to Sta. Isabel‘s portals at the quadrangle.   

Sta. Isabel‘s compound is built like a fortress, patterned after the architectural style of the Spanish colonizers. The original buildings have two levels, all built parallel to the streets, each forming a formidable wall to the North, South, East and West. Inside the compound are the gardens, parade fields, play grounds, kitchens, canteens, a chapel, dormitories and the nuns‘ quarters. During our time, the insides of the compound  were spacious. There were always corners and crannies to hang around with friends or to be alone to cram for the exams. When Sta. Isabel became a university, more buildings sprouted especially for the College of Nursing, which consequently proved to be a very lucrative investment. A hospital in Kingston, England where a friend of mine works (Vic, Nuni‘s cousin, our host in UK), prefers to hire Sta. Isabel‘s nursing graduates over any other school.

During senior high, our classroom was located next to the library. It was that year that I discovered the embracing silence of the library and what its shelves have to offer. That was the start of my insatiable appetite for reading and unquenchable thirst for books.    

Inside the quadrangle after the parade, we squeezed together with other homecoming batches. A male and a female emcee announced each batch‘s arrival .

Disclosure: After 40 years, it is indeed my very first time to return to the portals of Sta. Isabel. Somehow all these years, I did not want to drop by all by myself. The Ruby Reunion was just the right venue.  

My mother would later recount what she saw, the excitement in her voice making her sound ten years younger: the 70-year old jubilarians rode on a float; a younger batch wore flamenco outfits; the Coral Group in black tights and pink feathers; and of course the Ruby jubilarians whose massive size was quite impressive and astounding. Our numbers were quite a statement.  

The quadrangle during that parade day was set up with a stage, banners, flower arrangements, food tents and dining pavilions. Later, the Coral jubilarians would celebrate their reunion at the quadrangle complete with a live band.

Otherwise, on a regular day, the quadrangle is like a European courtyard bordered to the left by the chapel, to the right by the library, at the back the dormitories and in front the classrooms. I mean, that was the set-up during my time. During first year high, our classroom was next to the chapel on the second floor.

In front of the classrooms is a pair of winding stairs, each step is rounded instead of flat. One slip on this rounded step and you would fall flat on your nose if you are lucky or on your butts, if you are not. We were not allowed to use the winding stairs. The iron grate doors remained closed. Instead, we used the stairs next to the library entrance. Legend has it that a nun fell down from the winding stairs, had a brain hemorrhage and passed away. The story was never officially documented nor was it unofficially denied. Aside from the dead nun, there were other legends that were told over and over again, from one semester to the next and passed on by seniors to the  freshmen for generations of colegialas to come. Among them was the sound of a typewriter from the library in the middle of the night or the sight of a woman in white who walks the hallways at night. Again, these were never confirmed nor validated. The spook only added excitement to us excitable teenagers ready to hear anything extraordinary.

In July 2009, during a work-related conference in San Antonio, Texas, I sat next to a tallish woman during one of our lunch functions. She was so tall, the idea that she could be a Filipina did not cross my mind. It turned out that she is one, and that she is from Naga and that she studied at the Sta. Isabel. (This is the part where everyone would say: small world.) During the course of our conversation, we talked about how it was to grow up in Naga, about everyone knowing just about everyone and how that could be both a blessing and a burden. We also talked about our Alma Mater, about how strict and conservative the nuns were during her time and would I know if they have become a little bit liberal by now? And naturally, like a river finding its ocean, the talk flowed towards the quadrangle‘s winding stairs.     

“I was there,“ she said.

“What?“ I asked.

“I was there when the nun fell, became unconscious and finally died. It was during our morning flag ceremony and prayers.“

So the legend is not a legend after all. And I had to meet another colegiala who works in Hawaii to validate the truth. At long last, after almost four decades.

* * *

After the parade, the Ruby batch regrouped in the auditorium once more for our final stage rehearsal. We probably feed off each other‘s energies for how could we dance intensively for another hour after a 2-hour parade under a scorching Philippine sun? But that is what we did. The Manila Group organizers provided snacks of sago drinks and turon (or was it empanada?) I was too tired to remember. All I wanted to do was to put my feet up on the rows of chairs in front of me.

The evening event for that day, February 12, 2010 was dinner and dance at Lolo‘s Bar. My high school clique called the CLIDE M (later changed to CLIJE M) decided to go home after the rehearsal and change to party clothes.

The name CLIDE M stands for Christine, Ludi, Ines, Dolly, Edna and Molly. A year later, when Dolly moved to another class, she was replaced by Jo, hence CLIJE M. For this homecoming however, all seven of us had our reunion within the reunion. Molly gave each one of us a silver pinky ring to mark the event. Dolly gave us chunky necklaces made in Davao. Jo gave us cultured pearl necklaces with matching bracelets. I gave each one a gift bag with presents inside. So there. If we missed birthdays and Christmases all these years, the Ruby reunion provided us the chance to make-up for it.

So what paths did my high school best friends take? These are my bragging rights: Christine (Tuts) is a practicing dentist in Arizona and a volunteer of Sta. Isabel‘s medical and dental mission. Ludi is a nurse in California and is currently diversifying into another medical field. Ines is the head of an NGO called Arugaan and an international resource person and advocate of breast feeding. Dolly is a staffer in the Office of the President in Malacanang. Molly is a physician-lawyer based in Baguio who still finds time to teach criminal law. Jo is a nurse and a dean of a university in Naga. Me? I  write essays the world doesn‘t need while waiting to retire from my procurement official position so I can write more essays that the world will not read. So there, that‘s my high school barkada.    

The dinner and dance‘s emcee was Erlinda. A live band performed music from the ‘70s. The young and good-looking dance instructors from the previous night were there doing their best to cajole one more dance out of our tired bones.

My sister Ting came with her husband Bong. My nephews Frankie and Nonong came with their wives Tintin and Ning. It was fun. We all danced. We all laughed.

We played games like name that tune. In one instance, when the band played a very familiar song, and we all knew the answer, Ines stood up, grabbed the microphone and answered with a totally different title. She brought the house down. Juliet was very good with the song titles, especially the ones that were difficult to guess.

Another game was to compare the high school photo with the current looks. A number of jubilarians were called to the stage. The object of the game was to find out who changed the least since high school. The judge picked out to make the decision was the oldest guest that night. Someone in my table said: ”I’m not sure if this Grandpa can still see clearly.” That brought our table down. 

I  live for these moments: listening to ‘70s music, laughter, fun, food, family and friends, but man, as the night wore on, my batteries started running low.

Juliet was in charge of the entrance tickets and when I went out once to get an incoming call from my husband, she was dozing off. And I could sympathize with that. I was tired too. Tired but happy. No, that is an understatement. I was exhausted and yet very, very happy.  

Thank you Manila Group organizers led by Ems. (If I mention any more names, I will surely miss one.) Your hard work and accomplishments are now recorded in the annals of CSI HS ’70 history.

©Edna Weisser

26 June 2010           

 Go To " Reunion Afterglow"  Part 1

 Go To " Reunion Afterglow"  Part 2

 Go To " Reunion Afterglow"  Part 3     

 Go To " Reunion Afterglow"  Part 4