Spectrum's Updates on Plane Crash
Wed, 04 Feb 1998 18:39:34 +1100

Once again you have demonstrated how important the Spectrum has become especially for us who are scattered in the four corners of the globe.  As soon as I arrived home that early evening of Feb. 2, I switched on the cable network and was listenning to Asia Business News channel when suddenly news about a missing aircraft from Manila bound for C de Oro came on. The report was just sketchy. CNN, BBC, SkyNews and all our local stations were all the same.  Just sketchy news roundup and no details.  But thanks to the Spectrum, we had all the details. Congratulations.

Leonardo "Loloy" Tan (Batch '66), Sydney, Australia
edtan@bigpond.com

Kudos to the Yus
Sat, 31 Jan 1998 14:17:53 -0500

My warm applause to the Yus, namely Ernie (Dateline Buffalo), Henry (Sentimental Journey), and now Christopher Yu.  I can still remember the kids Ernie and Henry or Boy as we grew up together being neighbors and close friends. The father was a contributor to Kong Li Po Chinese newspaper and must be somebody because it was not easy then to have one's article published in the nationally circulated paper. As it turned out, the kids got their precious gift in writing. I remember when Ernie used to bring his Islaw magazine filled with jokes and we often read it together with Alberto Bernardo and laugh all day long. Now, Henry comes with his ABC in the past and what a memory having to recall all those names which are buried way probably deep into my corpus callosum because it's hard to extract them. To the Yus I salute! Hurrah!

Alexander S. Rodriguez, M.D.  (Batch '65), Florida, U.S.A.
gates1@juno.com
 

Dateline Buffalo

By Ernesto L. Yu, M.D., Batch 1965 Ernstyu49@aol.com

There is a ragbag of sacred chapters in our tarnished past that reinvents itself when remnants of its documented literary tidbits that jog smiles and coo the psyche (love letters, diaries) thaw out.  Filtered through the dustbin of rosy memories, we enthuse breathlessly in sheer enchantment over the twitching doses of yesterdays’ sappy sentiments.  The quirky truth is while our in-a-blur-of-time-passed fondness for unrestrained hyperbole and picks of nouns and modifiers to mummify these colorful marvels of nostalgic bosh are nape-tingling that knock our socks off, the ferment of these historical tone poems and soothing symphonies for the senses maneuver us along channels of sunsets and moonlights that drift languidly for hours.  This Valentine’s day, when silence resonates as quite as a thought, I unveil an intriguing peep at my cardiac lullabies that previously seasoned the Spectrum in the summer of 1969.  See if my steamy hormonal stew of emotional nakedness, thwarted yearnings and joyful quiver scribbled 29 years ago make tender references to segments of your own adolescent flight to "the heart is a lonely hunter" era; and mesmerize your circuitry to sample the exquisite moments of romantic air of silly sweetness.

picture yourself in a densely populated corner in the library engrossing arduously volumes of reference books.  suddenly, a familiar echo of footsteps, a sound that is a consoling melody when you are ensnared in the bars of emptiness, blasts off your concentration.  The next thing I know, i'm already swaying with you in the realm of dreams.

not a petal of a rose did i receive last year's valentine day.  thus you can just visualize how your card ironed out the wrinkles on my face.  to say the least, i seemed to be hurling pebbles into the limped stream and making rainbows out of their splashes.  yesterday, i  missed you only four times: morning, afternoon , evening and in between (please don't raise your two fingers, i know i have whispered this before.  oh well, distance is not a huge blockade that can suppress my imagination from attaining your town (not barrio, you corrected).  after all, wherever you are, whatever you do ... i will always think about you.  do i miss you?  don't make "the obvious clear"...

witnessing you inside the lahug-bound jeepney in the afternoon of my departure was a tear-provoking moment.  every meter your vehicle paced away, i could sense the murmurs aired in my ears via heart’s dictates.  like you, i wonder how many more farewells are we going to exchange.  when i spun  "softly as i leave you", i never meant it.  how could i when you tender me a magic caress that evaporates solitude into naught ... a firm shelter against loneliness?  if i must depart, beloved, only my body and not the affection rooted in my heart.

just yesterday, we trudged in a swan’s grace toward the redemptorist church.  on our course, i formulated an analogy of our future: six years of marching together on life's tracks, beset by manifold impediments in med school; nevertheless, in the final scene, we land gleefully in the chapel as eternal pair.  you commented on my being optimistic then, remember?

though your nlt telegram only contained 25 consuming words, it somehow motivated me to a 30-minute recollection: the slow drag (your term for sweet dances) we did last arts ball, the merienda at bejar’s with the lettermen warbling "put your head on my shoulder", the muted poetry of your gazes.  as usual, my reminiscence climaxed into my being half-dead. honestly, i'm elated to learn that, in spite of our remoteness, we are mutually dating and connecting in dreams.

i don't know what syndrome I'm having these days: i’m restless, thinking of you, counting my share of inspiring days had i've been with you. really, it is awfully different to breathe without the shadow of your smile.  in your absence, there is loveliness without love.

here is my parting words: be charming, be amiable, my prayers are always with thee.  how much do i love you? is there a word more than forever?

Sentimental Journey

By Henry L. Yu, M.D., Batch 1969

I and some concerned friends drove a Nissan Patrol 4X4 up to the nearest camp of the crash site, at the foot of Mt. Sumagaya last Feb. 5 to distribute foodstuff, aid contributed by members the Chinese Christian singing group that went to Cebu last November.  This is the mountain where the Cebu Pacific Air Flight 387, with 104 people on board, crashed somewhere at the back side, out of our view.

The mountain is awesome, with thick clouds shrouding its peak most of the time; and the lush forest, in such a vast area covering, is a rare sight in the Philippines.  Facing it, still another mountain, Mt. Balatukan stands even taller and mightier.  What a sight just standing at the campsite, surrounded by these beauteous mountains, and their presence can really shake a person's senses. It is cool up there even on a bright sunny day. Some say since the place is higher in altitude than Baguio, the climate is cooler and freezing at night.

Along the way to the nearest point of Mt. Sumagaya are three big camp grounds, which get bigger everyday.  These are the staging points to different routes going up the mountain.  At least two of the camp grounds have makeshift helipads.  The camps have become mini-community in itself with gensets giving them limited power for their communication equipment and some lights.  There are tents of the Red Cross as well as different rescue groups from CdeO, Gingoog City, Butuan City, Davao City, and I heard also from Marawi City; tents of some families of the victims, who prefer to be nearer to their loved ones and want to hear the latest news of the rescue effort; tents of the military personnel, some have to stay and sleep in their vehicles, etc. It has become a virtual city.

The travel up there to Mt. Sumagaya was well worth it, cruising on rugged and narrow roads, zigzag along the hills and mountains, with one side of the road vulnerable to landslides, the other side teetering on the shoulder of a deep ravine, and as far as 2 and a half hours each way by 4X4 vehicle ride. I haven't known that our country side and mountains are as beautiful as say a ride to Japan's Mt. Fuji.  And being in touch with people at the campsite made me feel emotional of the plight of human frailties.  Such a touching experience!

After four days of rescue operations, the suspected plane crash impact point has not yet been reached!  Though the weather is cooperating, the dense forest and cloud coverings are making both people and equipment movements difficult to reach the impact point.  Mt. Sumagaya is also called Mt. Lumot by the natives, because of its ever present moisture and thick vegetation in the forest ground, fertile habitat for leech and snakes.  Some rescuers complained they have nowhere to sleep at night in the forest interior, but to sleep upright, finding supports only with the tree's huge roots interwinding with their tired bodies.  Chances of finding survivors seem bleak but never hopeless.  As of yesterday Feb. 5, only 11 bodies were seen and accounted for, but none have been bought down yet, nor any of the passengers' personal items, nor any of the plane's broken parts. The tedious rescue work will continue lasting who knows when.  For the families of the victims, it would be more difficult with each passing day.