Internet Newsletter of the Alumni of Lanao Chung Hua School Vol. 3, No. 6, June 14, 1999, Iligan City, Philippines BACK TO SCHOOL LCHS registers 248 enrollees By Igdono Caracho (Batch '66) Enrollment at LCHS registered a total of 248 as students trooped back to school last June 7. This year's enrollment marked a slight decrease compared to last year's 295 students. Tuition fee for the whole school year is P9,760 for primary; P10,380, elementary; and P12,520, high school. Regular class hours are: In - 7:30 a.m.; Out - 11:30 a.m.; In - 1:30 p.m.; Out - 4:20 p.m. Chinese classes: 7:15 a.m. to 9:15 a.m. New teachers at LCHS By Igdono Caracho (Batch '66) LCHS has several new faces in its faculty staff for school year 1999-2000. The new Chinese teachers are: Juanito Lim, of Iloilo City, for Grade I; Damiana Young, of Cagayan de Oro, Grade II; Lita Que, from mainland China, Grade V; Wendy Que, from mainland China, Nursery; and Sandra Bunda, for English 2nd year high school. The principals are William Payonan (Chinese department), and Elizabeth David (English department). New alumni in Sydney By Leonardo Tan (Batch '66) Pablo "King" Lee, former branch manager of Producers Bank, and later Far East Bank in Iligan City, has recently transferred residence to Sydney, Australia, with his family. The Lees arrived in Sydney last May 30. Pablo's two sons, Gary and Kim, both studied at LCHS for a few years. Kim came to Sydney with his parents while Gary is still in the Philippines pursuing his aspiration to become a Catholic priest.

EDITORIAL STAFF Charles O. Sy, Editor Henry L. Yu, Associate Editor Correspondents: Iligan - Johnny Chen, Alfred Lai II, Teresita Racines & Vinson Ngo. Cebu - Igdono Caracho. Metro Manila - Marie Janiefer Lee. Canada - Peter Dy & Mikee Lee. Australia - Leonardo Tann. U.S.A. - Ernesto Yu, Alex Rodriguez, & Aurora Tansiokhian Founded Aug. 1, 1968. Published fortnightly since its revival on April 15, 1997. Distributed free to LCHS alumni, friends and supporters worldwide. Postal address: LCHS Alumni Association, Lanao Chung Hua School, Pala-o, Iligan City, Philippines. Website: http://www.iligan.com/~lchs/alumni/ For subscription, contact: Johnny Chen, Tel. No. (063) 221-3883. E-mail: johnchen@iligan.com For submission of manuscripts, E-mail: charlesy@cnms.net 59 WEEKS before Grand Reunion

LCHS alumna Carina Dy-Carlos (Batch '91) will exchange "I do's" with Wilmon Yu on June 19, 1999 at 2:00 p.m. at the Corpus Christi Parish Church, Tubod, Iligan City. The bride is the daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Carlos C. Dy. The groom is the son of Mrs. Mary Sia Yu, of Manila. The principal sponsors are Gen. Roberto Lastimoso, Benjohnson Siao, Bebencio Palang, William Dy, Mary Dy, Vicenta Oliva, Linda Lily Tan, Ireena Dy, and Ong Chiok Hung. Reception will be held at the Jose Deleste Hall, Cheradel Suites, Iligan City. A post-nuptial reception will also be held at the Jade Garden Chinese Restaurant, Makati City on June 21.

Rain, rain, go away (?)
Wed, 02 Jun 1999 16:00:17 +0800

It may be summer in some other parts of the world but June here in the Philippines is the official beginning of the rainy season.  I know lots of people hate the rain because it might ruin those new pair of shoes or splash mud on that newly washed car. But have you tried watching your surroundings after a rain? Isn't it that the air seems a lot fresher? Have you noticed how the leaves on that big old tree in your backyard seem to glisten? Aren't the grass a bit greener? The sky a bit bluer? It seems that after a rain the whole world around seems cleansed. It's as if God, the master painter up there, cleans the whole place up before painting a splendid picture for the unhurried souls to see.  So the next time it rains, say: rain, rain go away. Not because you want to play but because you want to see the picture made for you and me. --Marie Janiefer Q. Lee (Batch '87), Makati, Philippines, karplus@abc.net.ph

Tribute to departed alumni

Regarding the search for outstanding alumni, I think the selection should be done by categories, such as those who excel in their field of business, government service, profession, academe, and others. Perhaps it will also help to give due recognition to other achievers as well, as proposed by Roderick Ngo. However, in the May 31 issue of the Spectrum, Leonardo Tan suggested that we limit the awards to only 5 outstanding alumni as giving recognition to many would be time consuming and costly. Well, he is right. I welcome it. But we have to draw some guidelines. Posthumous awards are also appropriate for those who are gone yet deserving of the honor. There are lots of them, such as the late Eduardo Cabayao (Batong), Rosilio Rolando (Grade VI grad), Ernesto Chiu Jr., to cite a few. Or we can also give mass recognition to them with a solemn tribute in memoriam at the grand reunion. A brief prayer may be in order where names of departed alumni will be read coupled with a strike of our old school bell. Is this viable?  One thing I have observed about the Spectrum: It now comes with more pages. I hope more alumni will contribute more articles as well as paid line ads to keep this newsletter going. --Roger Suminguit  (Batch '73), Iligan, Philippines, r_suminguit@mailcity.com

As the grand affair approaches, it seems to me that a lot of things have been brought up into light - comments, suggestions, and responses from fellow concerned LCHS alumni. This is indeed a good sign that you care being alumni of the same school which made all of us what we are today. I have a few more comments and suggestions:

1. Venue for the grand ball - a hotel which can accommodate some 400-500 attendees, sit-down dinner, in semi formal wear.
2. Venue for the welcome dinner - LCHS gym, buffet dinner, in our original LCHS school uniform.
3. Registration fee - P500 per alumni. But as early as now, we should start soliciting contributions and sponsors specially from those abroad, and from some of our local well-off alumni.
4. Meals - there should be only 2 regular meals to be served; one for the welcome dinner on the first day; and one for the grand ball on the last day. All the rest (breakfast, lunch) will be by individual classes or personal invitations.
5. Medical mission - There's no need to have one as there are already so many free clinics being sponsored by different civic and medical organizations. The true essence of a reunion is getting together once again for fun with classmates and schoolmates whom we haven't seen for ages.
6. Booth and exhibits - I am in favor of Loloy Tan's suggestion of having just one big room or area where all the exhibits & memorabilia will be displayed. But we have to post the batch year on the wall corresponding to the class we belong. We can even have a contest for the oldest souvenir item (class cards in the 50s, songhits, autographs, etc.).
7. Souvenir program - there has to be one where we feature a list of all the alumni by batches, some old photos, list of alumni achievers, etc.
8. Most outstanding alumni - I am not in favor of this award. With this grand reunion being a once-in-a-lifetime affair, we should not come up with such, unless it's going to be a yearly affair. Just a list of the alumni with their achievements entitled "The Achievers through the Years."
9. City tour - optional, on personal account.

Looking forward to a great time of real fellowship and camaraderie - just like the good old days of Pepe & Pilar, Ba-wow-wow, and Bantay! --Henry L. Yu (Batch '69), M.D., Cebu, Philippines

The following batch listing is supplied by the Reunion Steering Committee based on available school records and other individual resources. If you notice any names missing, please bring them to the attention of the Steering Committee or the Spectrum.

BATCH 1972:  Cecilia Bernardo; Conchita Cabanlit; Pokin Chan; Josefina Chua; Arlene Co; Anderson Dy; Luzvelo Dy; Robert Dychutee; Betty Go; Methelde Go; Roberto Lagrosas; Betty Lee; Marilou Lim; Linda Ong; Leonila Rosario; Lily Soy; Reynaldo Suminguit; Glenda Sy; Larry Sy (Handumon); Eloisa Tamaño; Carlos Tan; Prudencio Tan; Jackson Wong; Remedios Wong Ling; and Gregorio Yu.

BATCH 1973:  Angelina Andaguig; Rene Bernardo; Ningning Chiu; Victoria Chiu; Chong Bing Chiu; Elaine Co; Orlando Gonzales; Paz Khu; Gloria Lee; Maria Isabel Lee; Evelynia Ortiz; Celina Portugaliza; Gil Portugaliza; Gloria Quilat; Lea Quilat; Jorge Racines Jr.; Jovencio Samson; Victoria Sim; Victor Sim; Rogelio Suminguit; Romeo Suminguit; Stevenson Tan; Antonio Tiu; Anastacio Uy; Joseph Wong; and Rosita Yee.

BATCH 1974:  Stephen Ang; Crescencia Chua; Edelino Dagondon; Kelly Dy; David Dy; Jane Dy; Anita Espiritu; Tita Go; Samuel Lee; Mary Grace Lee; Edgar Lim; Susan Ngo; Shirley Portugaliza; Elynnor Portugaliza; Helton Sua; Farley Sy; Miguela Sy; Evangeline Tan; Nida Te; and Nelson Uy.   (To be continued)

By Ernesto L. Yu, M.D., Batch '65

My dad was a clear-cut variety of a gentleman of few words: When nagged with questions that rightfully deserve a plain yes or no feedback, he habitually countered in his trademark monosyllable responses. He was a strict disciple of sound philosophical thinking, having designed the courses of his life along the moral reflection and throbbing meditation sanity of Buddhist monks.

I recall, as a drooling kid steaming with curiosities, begging him in uncontained boyish delight for a reason as to why a flower blooms with obsessive water-soaking and why it steadily chokes under insulting heat. "Son," he growled in his typical preachy tone, "pay attention to your senses." By all honesty, I never bothered to decipher the bundled significance of this English translation to his Chinese remark, except for the mere fact that, a conclusion stewed from basic logic sprouting from my simple mind, dying is a natural consequence of being alive.

Pay attention to your senses. Such lovely, motivating phrase of wisdom frothing out from the mouth of my old man who had distinguished himself, during his 75-year stint on this earth, as a contributing poet to our national Chinese daily. Every occasion my kiddie inquisitiveness cornered him, his generous impulse never failed to rev up my mental engine with sparkling entrees of food for thought. It was not until now, after pocketing medals and sour notes from life's trial and error, that I grappled with reality and realized that in all my breathing hours I have amassed a personal peace from being sensitive to my birth senses (sight, hearing, smell, touch, taste). Sprinkling this sentiment into my initial bewilderment on botanical spirits: I spotted and caressed a gorgeous bunch of nature's best, dazzled my nostrils with the whiff of perfumy bouquet, heed the partying bees cuddle gingerly the delicate threads of buds and nibbled on the petals’ enchanting dewdrops.

Pay attention to your senses: Exhibit a compassion to console a downed soul who longingly yearns for ears to whisper to for it is through being an attentive listener that you evolve into a soothing presence; Kick back and roll with the punches whenever you get toasted with what seems to be an unrelentless string of unlucky breaks because rainbows oftentimes glitter after a shower; Bless every plus that is in your estate and learn to acknowledge and cherish each trickle of small fame;  Never deprive yourself of Everests to conquer, set your target on the moon for even if you misfired, you'd still be thumping with the stars; Respect everyone's worth, especially the underdogs, because we all have cycles to rotate around; If it feels like Rome is tumbling around you, never translate that day into one big ball of stress because the pendulum always swings back. We are licensed to stain and blot our borrowed lives. Why mold an ugly dent when you can smooth a plate? Why litter more mess when you have the mighty tools to scan beyond chaos? Why dwell on self-absorption when you can never be an island without paying homage to your senses?

Dad, it was disheartening that I didn't save hundreds little moments with your mind - the eloquent responses that conveyed so much weight and glow  that quelled gnawing doubts. Though we didn't exchange formal farewells when cancer abruptly extinguished your candle and though you missed the anguished sobs I dedicated to your ultimate grip on dear life, I preserve an engaging chronicle of those charmed hours, chirps of laughters and tears, reassuring hand holding. Yet, I still wish that I could feel your warmth, touch your hands, smell your tenderness, hear your inner force, and see the love in your face for one more time. I terribly feel the pain that you will never be with me and will just have to go on fighting with just the good old traces of the past.

Pay attention to your senses. I got it, dad. Ditto with your grandsons.

By Leonardo "Eddie" Tan, Batch '66

Ever since the NATO's accidental bombing of the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade, China has always been in the limelight as far as news is concerned here in Australia. Let's forget about the outdated map of Belgrade being used by the NATO forces. Nor shall we deal with the alleged Chinese espionage on US highly classified defense technologies.

For the past few weeks, Australia has again been the favorite destination of boat people from southern part of China, especially Fujian province. Almost every week, a boat engaged in the illegal trade of human cargo is caught by the Australian authorities, particularly the Royal Australian Navy. These boat people paid some Chinese entrepreneurs some amount ranging from 20,000 to 30,000 US dollars per family. Then they had to suffer a few months travel on the uncomfortable seas with living conditions so subhuman. Why the sudden influx of boat people again? Investigation reveals that these unscrupulous human cargo traders spread rumors in China that there are so many jobs here in Australia, particularly in Sydney, because of the Olympic Games of 2000. That we need more people here and would tolerate illegal migrants and that amnesty will be granted to them at the end of the year as Australia becomes a republic! Now they are all being detained at some faraway detention centers awaiting deportation.

But the wheel of justice here in Australia turns very slowly. There are some detainees here who are already on their fourth year awaiting final decision from the courts. Lawyers from human rights groups are always there to defend these boat people with the intention of turning them into refugees, which then are entitled to due process of law and appeal to the mercy and the sense of fairness of the freedom loving people of Australia.

Our local "60 Minutes" program last week featured a Chinese woman who was in such predicament. While being detained in a camp-like center, she fell in love with a Chinaman. So 9 months later, she delivered a healthy baby girl. On her third year at the camp, she became pregnant again. With China's one-child policy, she now had a very strong case to be granted refugee status as her second child would be a clear and present danger once she would be deported to China. On her 8th month of pregnancy, she and her 2-year old daughter were forcibly deported back with economy class one-way air fare. Few days after arriving Canton, her pregnancy was aborted by the government. It was a boy. Now the Australian government is under attacked by human rights group. Two years ago, the official position of the Australian government was to recognize and respect China's one-child policy. Otherwise, Australia could not afford to be a Chinese maternity ward and thereby increase its population suddenly by a hundred million!

Last week was the 10th anniversary of the incident at Tian An Men Square. Where thousands of dissident students occupied the 100-acre ceremonial plaza and erected a giant statue they called "Goddess of Freedom" under the gaze of the huge portrait of the founder of PRC - Mao Tze Tung hanging above the main gate of the Forbidden City. I don't know how many students were killed at the Gate of Heavenly Peace. What I know was that there was a big rally at the heart of Sydney days after the event at Beijing. And I was there. I saw students burning their Chinese passports and denouncing their own government. I was there just as an observer. I did not side with the students nor was I critical of the Chinese government. I remember a Chinese lady trying her best addressing the big crowd of not only Chinese but as well as the Anglo-Saxon members of our society. She was struggling with her English but was understandable enough. Then a white Australian man with blond hair was the next guy behind the microphone. And I just could not believe what I heard. He spoke perfect Mandarin! Maybe an alumnus of Peking University.

With all the troubles in our world today, perhaps the Gate of Heavenly Peace is not found in this world. I hope and pray that the souls of those students who perished at that famous square have finally found heavenly peace as the reached the Pearly Gates. Amen.

By Henry L. Yu, M.D., Batch '69

The summer vacation is over. It's back to school, as evidenced by the stores' "Back to School" sales promo, with us going to the bookstores to buy all those notebooks, folders, brown envelopes, pencils, and other requirements, and of course, the feelings of excitement from among our children, who, after a two-month summer break, are looking forward to seeing their classmates and teachers anew, feeling refreshed and energized, some gaining weight and adjusting to another school year of cerebral calisthenics that they must have forgotten after those off-school periods.

My two daughters (Hazel Valerie, grade five; and Hannah Victoria, grade two) are no exceptions to the bunch of students who are feeling excited to get back to Sacred Heart School for Girls.

June 7, 1999 - the first day of classes - proved to be a smorgasbord of tell tales, of sharing summer escapade and other things which are part and parcel of being the students that they are. In their faces, I see a reflection of my very own student days at LCHS thirty something years ago.

June 7, 1964 - it was the first day of classes at LCHS. I was in grade five under Miss Josefina Demetrio. Along with my classmates, we were a bunch of nonchalant and noisy kids flaunting summer adventures of fun and frolic. The first day was nothing but a time of seemingly endless talking about this and that, of the things we did last summer, of the places we had been to, of the many fiestas we attended, the games we played, the things we bought, etc. The feelings of being young and innocent were just tremendously exhilarating, when our world revolved around "those school boy days of telling tales and biting nails," of being proud to own new school uniforms with matching new pair of Ang Tibay shoes, school bag, pencil box, and toys which we brought with us to school to show to our classmates.

Miss Demetrio was a petite lady teacher always seen wearing dark colored eyelet dress with matching hand bag, teased hairdo, and polished nails. While we graders enjoyed recess period when we munched our favorite maruya or tira-tira, the high schoolers had fun playing volleyball or basketball, signing autographs, sharing photos of Amalia-Susan, Nora-Vilma, and all the rest of the Sampaguita Stars of '66. The popular movies then were: "To Sir with Love," "The Sound of Music," etc. The songs were "To You From Me," "There's Always Me," "From Moment to Moment," and a lot of the Beatles hits. There was also Jose Mari and the Electromaniacs, so with Eddie Mesa and the Hijacks. The popular dances were Limbo Rock, Elephant Walk, Twist, and Jerk which we immensely enjoyed during jam sessions. There was Song Cavalcade songhits, Graphic magazine, Kislap, Liwayway, the Philippine Herald, and other reading materials like the Junior Illustrated Classic comics, Wakasan, etc. The top 4 movie houses were King, Queen, Century, and Premier. Chippy, Royco Noodle Soup, watusi, etc. were then newly introduced in the market and it took us no end digging these stuffs.

Looking back, school days circa Y2K are no different from those of our era. We all had a grand and exciting time during the first day of classes and the rest of the school year of periodical tests, home works, and school projects. The only difference is the availability of high tech amenities like cellphone, beeper, remote colored TV, brick game, computer, etc. With the passing of time comes the modernization or modifications of the things we once enjoyed being students of the 60s. Life's cycles have made us parents of the new generation students. Some of us may be too lenient or strict towards our children now, and that's because we only want the best for them. After all, they will soon be the professionals who will be working, earning, and saving for their own future.

So, it's back to school! And along with it our roles as "school bus," tutors, run-errand, crying shoulders, disciplinarians, advisers, being parents offering unconditional love to our kids. Whether in or out of school, we will always be there for them today, tomorrow, and for the rest of their lives. Being parents is a lifetime commitment - for richer or for poorer, in sickness or in health, till death do us part...

A few months before my son Alec turned two, his vocabulary was limited to the names of people around the house, including a few common words like eat, water, bye and hello. One day, while he was watching TV, I asked him, "Alec, where is the …?" at the same time mimicking myself using a remote control. Then he looked at me and answered, "Mama, remote?" pointing to the remote control half hidden under the pillow. I laughed and realized that my son was telling me something: He is not just a baby who seems not to know anything but someone who can understand but just couldn't express things in ways comprehensible to us.

This does not only happen to little children because sometimes parents still tend to treat the grownup children as kids. I remember when I was still in college, every time my mother sent me off at the pier for Cebu, reminders like "eat well," "spend your allowance wisely," "study hard," and "stay away from drugs" wouldn't be missed. Even when I was already working, every time I would go to work, my mother would always remind me to eat properly and not just buy anything from the canteen. Silently I would say, "Ma, I am old enough to know."

But look what happens now, I think I am also doing the same. As people used to say, we will always be little children to our parents, regardless of how old we have grown. For them we will always be their little boys and girls.

(Editor's Notes: Marie Josiefel Q. Ello, Batch '83, is the eldest daughter of Fe Dy Quimbo. She is the sister of Spectrum correspondent Marie Janiefer Lee. Josiefel works with the Mindanao Systems Operations of the National Power Corp., Iligan City.)

A homecoming is a retreat to a time long gone.  A rediscovery of treasured moments. A rebirth of cherished dreams.

I look forward to a homecoming not for the pomposity of ceremonies but for the simplicity of memories. Not for the prospect of blazing new trails but for the promise of tracing old tracks.  I attend a homecoming not for the newness of one's possessions, but for the oldness of little things I once held dear. I take a homecoming to heart not to bask in the salutations of fresh encounters but to wallow in the joy of seeing old familiar faces.

When I take part in a homecoming I shall not be shackled to a chair only to ogle at the usual grind of hackneyed programs and stereotyped presentations. Such indulgences, often long in mediocrity and short in artistry, are a dime a dozen where I live today. I come to a homecoming to roam free in wild abandon among past allies. To touch base with old foes with past hatchets to bury. To rub elbows with school mates with ancient secrets to share.  These stuffs are hard to come by among the new company I keep.

I price a homecoming as I would a pair of shoes - the fit lies in its familiarity, the comfort in its age. I care for neither rhetoric nor accolades in a homecoming grand ball. These formalities come and go in conventions and inductions that come my way more often than I care to imagine. Neither would ballroom dance and sing-along jousts perk up my adrenaline. Such trivialities I can have for a whistle in my usual nocturnal routines. Even less will I throw my hat into corny parlor games that are run-of-the-mill in Christmas parties year after year. Neither do I fancy seeing toddlers executing clumsy dances and parroting throaty songs. These are sole reserves for their own parents' self-adulations that are better confined to family reunions.

On the other hand, I would not have any second thoughts were I to listen to former classmates belting out songs of the "Cascades" and the "Monkees," and other such monkeys of my time and age. Neither will I turn my back to an old flame dancing to the beat of old-fashioned love songs that summon remnants of bygone fascinations. I shall bear no qualms to come forward for an elbow match with an ex-teacher, even if his arm muscles have started to sag. I shall not hesitate for a moment to join a contest of patintero, jolen, or ta-kian with my old gangs, even if their knees can now hardly bend. Or even a round of ping-pong with my high school buddies, even if their reflexes are now an hour slower.

The scenario that I hope to find in coming home to my alma mater is not the litany of contrived programs that restricts my circulation and limits my interaction with old friends to only hushed glances and hurried hellos. Programs and ceremonies I have more than enough in my professional and social pursuits.  But the company of old friends in an ambiance free of protocol is a rarity I may never get to savor again for another decade.

Even if only these are what will be in store, betcha by golly wow, this homecoming should be one hell of a party to die for.