Congrats to Dr. Henry Yu!
Fri, 05 Jun 1998 23:08:00 -0700

I would like to extend my congratulations and best wishes to Dr. Henry Yu on his induction as Cebu Medical Society president.  What an accomplishment! He serves as a good role model for present and future alumni.

Aurora H. Tansiokhian, M.D. (Batch '58), Bunn Hill, New York, U.S.A.
atanust65@pol.net
 

Dateline Buffalo

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

Dub it an utterly atypical index of "social journalism."  Or plainly, an unconventional mechanism to scribble family updates to remote pals of my "Pepe and Pilar" days.  Regrettably, to employ my decaying penmanship would inevitably signify suffocating you with a stern dose of disappointment and migraine in deciphering my hieroglyphics, which is tantamount to cerebral suicide.  Hence, the rationale behind this typewritten end-product.  Besides, Spectrum is a medium of prints and fonts, not a science of nauseating calligraphy.

Last month, 22-year old Dominic, our foremost and perennial inspiration to keep on grinding with our day jobs against all odds, snatched a passing handshake with the head honcho of Hamilton College, as a requisite to obtaining a crisp diploma of his undergraduate dreams.  This small, private Liberal Arts school, nestled in the quaint town of Clinton, NY, is ranked nationally in the top 25 (before his graduation, of course!), both in academics and tuition (farewell college bills-ransom).  His stunning Asian-Caucasian dearest friend from New York City braved the 250 miles car sickness just to plant a fresh, congratulatory hug on his rugged anatomy.  I highlight her unwavering devotion out of sheer jealousy.  As an anesthesiologist, all the glamorous female specimens I bump into in the operating rooms either become flaccid from the stressful privilege of gluing their blue eyes on my masked face or they melt into sonorous sleep way before I conclude my opening statement.  For the dog days of summer, Dom will handle the role of a camp counselor for learning-disabled kids in New Hampshire and then, "drifts with the tide."  Meaning: any income-producing destiny dealing with amoeba, chlorophyll and graphic illustrations (BS Bio, minor in fine arts) will be, we cross our fingers, immensely pursued.  And, like any elders who just resurfaced from a debilitating financial trauma for funding parental scholarship, we can only wish that there is no such thing as deja vu.

Sean, our middle pride, is married to a computer course this semestral break.  In between mastering the rudiments of web technology and e-mailing his distant heartthrob with thwarted yearnings, he moonlights in one of our local chain stores, absorbing the rough and tumble of a part-timer's 9-5 lifestyle at subterranean salary .  As a senior this fall at the College of the Holy Cross, a Jesuit-managed institution in Worcester, MA, he ceaselessly nags his emotion whether to resubmit to us his "grandiose game plan" to drive one of our cars to school or consider our offer to preserve his name unscratched in our will.  Christopher, our last Mohican, is at a crossroad: he just wrapped up his high school studies and is getting antsy stretching his umbilical cord, to join the freshman class at Syracuse University this September.  Like a wandering butterfly, he cheers his blessings one day at a time.  Doubtlessly, his fortune should tilt on the positive scale next week when the moneyed guests pour their wallets in his semi-formal graduation party.  As the youngest in our tribe, I'm pretty sure it will be a tear-jerker episode to ultimately watch him spreads his wings for his inaugural solo flight, without our communist (Not that! This!) eyes.  What makes it doubly tingling is the fact that his departure will post a job opportunity that Verna and I adamantly decline to shoulder: sustaining the welfare of our vertebrates-boarders, tropical fishes and iguana.

In simple calculus, come autumn, we will inherit an "empty nest": wrinkling benefactors of a bank-subsidized residential building with more elbow rooms than elbows; sipping iced tea with aspirin amidst the muted rumblings of our adopted critters; complicating our insane fondness of comfort foods with bountiful reloads while being engrossed in the bestseller "Dieting in the Next Millennium"; rewinding the nostalgic scene of our three boys zapping ghosts and goblins with Nintendo beams ... and before our hushed teardrops mature into melancholy silence, we touch and caress them with the phone.  Thus, if luck lands you around the vicinity of Buffalo and Niagara Falls, please give us the honor to be hosts.  Our family has standardized the art of glorifying the past and the habit of making the bit players in those reruns feel at home. One basic plea: give us a whole afternoon notice to "normalize" our place, and to regroup the littered fixtures and transplanted debris in our no-fly zone.

Incidentally,  if you ever entertain the disturbing ambition to camp in our site for more than a week, give us a ring just the same.  This way, we can be forewarned when to skip out of town!
 

Joke from the Internet: Chinese Waiter & the Titanic

Mr. Ginsberg, a World War II veteran, walks into a Chinese restaurant and sits down. As soon as the Chinese waiter comes up, Mr. Ginsberg slaps him across the face.
"What was that for?!" cries the outraged waiter.
"That was for Pearl Harbor!" replies Mr. Ginsberg.
"But I'm Chinese. Pearl Harbor was attacked by the Japanese!"
"Chinese, Japanese -- it's all the same 'Nese'!"
Mr. Gingsberg orders his meal and is grudgingly served by the waiter.  When he is through, he hands the waiter his credit card. Upon seeing that his name is "Ginsberg", the waiter slaps him across the face.
"What was that for?!"  shouts Mr. Ginsberg.
"That was for the Titanic!"
"But I had nothing to do with the Titanic. It was sunk by an iceberg!"
"Ginsberg, Iceberg -- it's all the same 'Berg'!" replied the Chinese waiter.
 

Among LCHS alumni who have dedicated their career to education, a few have made excellent marks through the years.  One of them is Rodolfo P. Yu (Batch '69). He is now the Senior Staff Assistant of the Office of the Chancellor of MSU-IIT, where he is also an English professor with the rank of Professor VI.

Despite a hectic work load, Rodolfo also teaches Research and Technical Writing at the MSU-IIT graduate school. He is the founder, coach, and trainor of the MSU-IIT Noble Debating Society (MINDS).  He brought prestige to the university when he led the debating team to Singapore in May 1997 to take part in debates among 56 debating teams representing various universities in Asia. The team was adjudged Best Debating Team in 3 out of 7 rounds; and Best Speaker in 5 out of 7 rounds.  Rodolfo was trainor of the team and also an adjudicator in the debates.

He obtained his A.B. English at the Velez College in Cebu City in 1973,  and his M.A. in Teaching English as a Second Language (TESL) at the St. Michael's College in 1977.  He was the first M.A. TESL graduate of SMC.  He is also a member of the Iligan Toastmasters Club and was first runner-up in the Toastmasters national Humorous Speech Contest in 1985.  This alumnus doesn't only excel in speeches, he is also the national singing champion of the Toastmasters District in 1988.
 

 I am now sixty-six years old.  All  my life I have encountered both success and failure.  The following is my personal account of significant events that transpired in the past 66 years of my existence.

Childhood in China.    My ancestral home is Chu San, Quemoy, China.  My parents were engaged in agriculture, which was sufficient to sustain our family economically.  I began schooling at the age of seven.  Our teacher was Mr. Chian Tek, who was sickly and smoked opium.  I didn't take my schooling seriously and at the age of 8, I quit school. A year later, I returned to school and studied at a temple under the tutorship of Mr. Chian How.  This went on until our teacher left for abroad.  By then I was already 15 years old.

Subsequently, I transferred to a school funded by a wealthy merchant, Mr. Chian Ming.  The school was initially conceived to educate the merchant's own children.   It later expanded and opened its doors to the public.

Quest for Greener Pastures.   In the course of my studies, my mind frequently drifted to an idea nurtured by my father.  To have a better life, he said, one must go overseas to pursue greener pastures.  And so in the year 1889, when I was 18 years old, I tagged along with a family friend, Mr. Te Un Tian, and a certain Mr. Go to sail to the Philippine Islands.  We took a steamboat, named "Southern Born", bound for Manila.  There we stayed in one of the firms of Mr. Sycip for a week, then took another steamboat "Menoa" to proceed to Cebu.

While in Cebu, I worked in a firm where my uncle Kin Tin was the manager.  I was assigned as a bookkeeper in the municipality of Sibonga.  As a novice, I knew nothing about accounting and there was no one I could run to for help.  So I retrieved some old files and learned from them.

Journey to Iligan.   In April 1890, I received a letter from my elder brother Koc Chuan.  He wanted me to join him in Iligan as they needed more personnel in their shop.  So the following month, I resigned from my job at Sibonga and took the steamship "Bais" to journey to Iligan.

A few months after my arrival in Iligan, in the month of August, a band of Moros stormed the neighboring town of Manticao while the townsfolk were celebrating a solemn Mass.  The whole town was looted and plundered.  About 105 residents were abducted.  They were later sold away as wives and slaves.  We also learned from those who escaped from their captors that the Moros, headed by their chieftains, Amay Pakpak and Amay Kamoranto, were massing their men for a surprise assault on Iligan.

Invasion of Iligan.  The report of the Moro plot to attack Iligan frightened the people, who immediately sought help from the governor of Cayagan.  At the same time, the cabesa of Iligan lost no time in gathering the townsfolk to plan and prepare to defend themselves.  The people promptly rushed out to set up makeshift ramparts fashioned from coconut trunks.  The wall covered a mile long stretching across Tambakan to Sandoval.  There were nine openings that served as entry and exit points.  Each opening was guarded by 9 cabesas and cannons were set up on the parapets above each door.  Subsequently, Manila sent over 40 soldiers to reinforce the defense of Iligan.  They surveyed the terrain and checked crucial passages for setting up a fortified defense.

In the afternoon of Jan. 4, 1891, the Moros finally launched their invasion, approaching the ramparts from three sides. There were so many of them, all rushing towards us on foot and brandishing bolos.  Fortunately, Iligan was ready by this time.  Cannons were fired and the bombardments halted the attack of the marauders.  The Moros retreated, regrouped and then attacked again.  This was repeated about ten times over but they never succeeded in penetrating the Iligan defense.  We were all scared stiff by the fury of the attackers but when we saw that they were unable to get past the walls, we managed to heave a sigh of relief. (Continued next issue)

(EDITORS' NOTE:  The author, Sy Hock Yian, was the grandfather of Charles and Nelson Sy. The foregoing article is an excerpt of his memoirs written in 1937, entitled "Looking Back at Sixty Six", published in the book of the Sy Clan Family Tree.)