Internet Newsletter of the Alumni of Lanao Chung Hua School Vol. 3, No. 11, August 9, 1999, Iligan City, Philippines SEARCH FOR ALUMNI ACHIEVERS Criteria for selection under review By Teresita Racines (Batch '67) The criteria for the selection of outstanding LCHS alumni achievers have been drafted. Vy Beng Hong, chairman of the awards committee for the grand homecoming, submitted his program and criteria for approval at the LCHS-AA board meeting held last July 16. They are now being reviewed by the board. Also at the meeting, three directors showed their initiative in helping the reunion committee set their work in motion. LCHS-AA president Arturo Samson, Carlos Dy and Fe Quimbo each paid in advance their registration fee of P1,500 for the grand homecoming. All other alumni are encouraged to register now. LCHS students elect new SG officers By Igdono Caracho (Batch '66) LCHS students recently elected a new set of officers of their Student Government for school year 1999-2000. The new officers are Sharon Sy, president; Kimberly Siao and Sheila Vy, vice presidents; Jane Dale Racines and Cheerine Dy, secretaries; Jerumae Lee, treasurer; Armi Tee, Carrisa Ong, and Rosalyn Sy, social managers; Elbert Eslao, Jefferson Chio, and Jian Leih Racines, sports managers; Farley Ong, Jeremy Ling, Meyhan Ng, and Maria Shahanah Cabili, sergeants at arms.

EDITORIAL STAFF Charles O. Sy, Editor Henry L. Yu, Associate Editor Correspondents: Iligan - Johnny Chen, Alfred Lai II, Teresita Racines, Vinson Ngo, & Roger Suminguit. Cebu - Igdono Caracho. Metro Manila - Marie Janiefer Lee. Canada - Peter Dy & Mike Lee. Australia- Leonardo Tan. 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 51 WEEKS to Grand Homecoming

Another sad news has hit the LCHS alumni community. Jeanne Nacague Te, wife of LCHS-AA director and past president Manuel "Maning" Te (Batch '65), died of cardiac arrest at the age of 50 last July 18 at dawn in Iligan City. Maning and Jeanne have three children, namely Maximilian (Batch '90), 26 years old, a graduate in B.S. Physics with Computer from De La Salle University, Manila; Jennifer (Batch '94), 22 years old, a graduate in B.S. Mathematics from the UP-Cebu; and Jonathan Mark (Batch '96),  20 years old, a student of Computer in Business Applications at the Silliman University, Dumaguete City. Jeanne Te was a daughter of Mr. & Mrs. Simplicio Nacague of Ozamis City.  She and Maning own Good Year Commercial at Mercado St., Iligan City. She was a regular contributor of the Spectrum. She often shared her thoughts and inspirational verses in the Spectrum E-mails section. On one occasion she wrote, "In the past nine years, I have met many struggles in life. Yet I'm thankful to God for giving me this life ... Praise God, Lord Jesus Christ, for giving me a difficult but precious life."

Another great loss to the community
Tue, 20 Jul 1999 06:53:25 -0700

The untimely demise of Jeanne N. Te, beloved wife of Manuel "Maning" Te, is another great loss to our alumni community. She died at the age of 50 years old. She will be laid to rest in the morning of July 23, 1999 at the Iligan Chinese cemetery. We pray for her eternal repose.

Roger Suminguit (Batch '73), Iligan, Philippines, r_suminguit@mailcity.com

To the family of Mr. Dy Sung Kang who passed away last July 2, my condolences.

Arch't. Edmund G. Samson (Batch '76) & family, Cebu, Philippines, edsa@i-cebu.com.ph

We, the bereaved wife, children, grandchildren and relatives of the late Dy Sun Kang, would like to extend our gratitude and thanks to everyone, especially the officers and members of Lanao Fil-Chinese Chamber of Commerce, Iligan Volunteer Fire Brigade, St. Michael Fil-Chinese Catholic Community, LCHS-AA, and the faculty and students of Lanao Chung Hua School, who in one way or another, were there to support us during our time of sorrow.

Jane Dy Wang, Cebu, Philippines, hjdywang@i-cebu.com.ph

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

It's a lingering mystery among native Buffalonians how the seeds of the ever deliciously hallucinating Buffalo chicken wings got transplanted in such remote places as the Philippines. It is doubly astounding how lowly parts of a chicken anatomy, when deep-fried and garnished with mumbo jumbo tomato-enriched sauce, can smack greasy satisfaction on everyone's face, even to those die-hard advocates of the anti-cholesterol movement. No souls in Buffalo, New York are certain who really fueled these savory wings to, literally, "fly" into the dinner table as preliminary ticklers to the appetite center (hors d'ouvres) or as major attractions in Grand Chow Central.

From my investigative research, two individuals, Teressa Bellissimo and John Young, are constant recipients of starred mention in most write-ups. The late Mrs. Bellissimo modified her usual usage of chicken wings (soupy stock) after noticing the big waste of meat. She chopped them into halves, sizzled them on the pan and served them piping hot with celery and blue cheese to her son and his buddies. Obviously, with the tasty freebies, her kid's list of neighborhood comrades soon multiplied. Fascinated by this enthusiastic reception to her new-found fame, she marketed her once-upon-a-time family staple snacks in 1963 by opening the Anchor Bar restaurant in downtown Buffalo. It was a stunning hit in town. Up to the present , this establishment is still bustling. It is a good 3-15 minutes brisk walk across our hospital (the wide range is dependent upon my yearning intensity). The close proximity of this landmark eatery to our emergency room signifies less time wasted when a diner's heart starts to skip and tingle from an overdose of these finger-licking munchies or when a stomach requires urgent pumping-out from too much slam-dunks of these heavens. On the other hand, Mr. John Young, a black retiree, positively asserted to have first-person encounter with this wings-concept since his late teens while growing up in a farm in Alabama. In the South, way before the Civil War, this delicacy was an essential component of poor people's diet. The Black Family Dinner Quilt Cookbook mentions "such leftover odds and ends" (pigs feet, intestine; chicken wings, back, feet; organ meat ) as excellent sources of nourishment for hard laborers. Thus, when John migrated to Buffalo in the early sixties, he opened an outlet for Buffalo wings that instantly drew a throng of disciples. Later on, he had to branch out his peddling of this distinct soul food in several sites in Buffalo. He was famous for the magical sauce that he coated on his wings.

At any rate, inhabitants of our chilly region are warmed by the fact that Buffalo is the official birthplace of these spiced featherless propellers, and however or wherever you order your plate of bits and pieces, you have to address them as Buffalo wings or Buffalo chicken wings. In brief, the word Buffalo is always the modifier-escort to these succulent beauties. In my adopted corner of the world, we digest these lardy chewables in buckets (50 wings/bucket), dipped in peppery hot marinate and we claim to be fake vegetarians by cranking the speed of our mastication machines on the sticks of carrots and celery and blue cheese dressing that come packaged in each serving. And with rounds and pitchers of beer to dilute the sludge of lard along our gastrointestinal linings, all we need to arm ourselves for the glorious bloating finale of this gastronomic experience are a self-proclaimed siesta hour, a cool mattress, a bottle of nitroglycerine tablets ... and an easy access to a well staffed Coronary Care Unit.

By Leonardo "Eddie" Tan, Batch '66

My sons could not understand why I was glued to the TV set last weekend viewing the news of John F. Kennedy Jr.'s missing Piper Saratoga airplane. They told me, "Why care? He hasn't done anything great!" Perhaps many of you will think the same as well: That he was just one of those privileged rich Americans with a famous name, who unfortunately ended his life in such a reckless manner. But not to me. For I belong to a generation that grew up under the reign of the Cold War. And the good guys were headed no less by his father, President JFK, whose presidency was dubbed "the American Camelot."

John John, as he was fondly called as a child, was a great bonus to the young President-elect as he arrived in this world in late November of 1960. From that moment on the life of Junior was always on the spotlight for the world to see. He practically spent his first few years in the White House and made the Oval Office his playground with the huge president's desk as his favorite place of refuge. Remember that famous picture? And who will forget that immortal scene when the grieving nation mourned the assassination of its leader, and his only son, then 3 years old, bravely made that salute as his father's coffin passed by? It was an image profound enough to break the hardest of hearts.

For a while, his famous and elegant mother, the late Jacqueline Bouvier Kennedy Onassis seemed to have succeeded in shielding her 2 children from the limelight of media to give them as much normal life as possible. But our generation did not forget him. He came back as a young man who flunked the bar exam twice but endowed with a dashing look that was enough to take every young lady's breath away. Many were excited when he delivered a speech a few years ago at the Democratic Party's National Convention as perhaps a signal of Junior's entry to politics. Maybe we were seeing the sequel of Camelot. But no, there will never be any sequel.

JFK Jr. may have not accomplished much in his short life. But in his death, he reminded us how fleeting our time is in this mortal world.  Let me share this little meditation I learned as I sought for perfection in life:

Thou, Oh God! knowest our downsitting and our uprising, and standest our thoughts afar off. Shield and defend us from the evil intentions of our enemies, and support us under the trials and afflictions which we are destined to endure while traveling through this vale of tears. Man that is born of woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth as a flower and is cut down; he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not. Seeing that his days are determined, the number of his months is with Thee; Thous hast appointed his bounds that he can not pass; turn from him, that he may rest till he shall accomplish his day. For there is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof will not cease. But man dieth and wasteth away; yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth and drieth up, so man lieth down, and riseth not up till the heavens shall be no more. Yet, Oh Lord! have compassion on the children of Thy creation; administer them comfort in time of trouble; and save them with an everlasting salvation. Amen.

By Marie Janiefer Q. Lee, Batch '87

An e-mail I received from our good friend, Rene Tio in Cagayan de Oro, comes with this quote: "A woman marries a man expecting he will change; a man marries a woman expecting that she won't change."

The phrase fascinates me because it has a ring of truth to it, though I could only speak from a woman's point of view. This must be why there seems so many "odd" couples out there, like when an intelligent and successful woman married an undergraduate, under-achiever young man; or a timid and God-fearing woman who ends up marrying a palahubog or a barumbado.

Whenever I hear these types of "mismatched" stories, I often wonder what made that particular woman decide to marry that particular man who doesn't seem "good" enough for her.  Was it witchcraft or some sort of gayuma?  It just baffles me until I came up with this theory: That maybe this must have been influenced by those romance novels that women of all ages get addicted to at some point in their lives.  I would be a hypocrite if I say that I haven't touched one of those novels in my lifetime and I'm sure my classmates whom I borrowed those books from back in high school will hold a protest rally outside my door.  Yes, I had my share of those romance novels in my "younger" days.

Those books usually depict the "leading man" as some sort of a "beast," an arrogant and domineering man, sometimes even a rogue.  This man then meets a simple village girl whom he falls madly in love with.  Only the beauty and the virtue of this girl would change this man from a "beast" into a perfect gentleman.  Having been brainwashed by those kinds of stories with "they lived happily ever after" or "they walked hand in hand into the sunset" at the end makes every woman want to get her own "beast" to tame.  Her own mountain to conquer.  Her own cross to bear (?).

Well, I just have one thing to say to all our sisters out there, just like the softdrink ad that says "magpaka-totoo ka sister!"  Be realistic and don't try to live "by the book."  If there's something you don't like about the guy you're supposed to say "I do" to, either grab your bags while you still can, or if those faults are "acceptable" to you then try to live with them and accept them. But never expect to change him because you'll just end up in tears. Take it from me, girl!

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

My memories of Iligan, circa 1960s, would not be complete without mentioning significant people who were once a part of my growing up years back in our hometown, specifically the Dys - Dy Sun Kang and his family, whose store was located two store spaces from our grocery along Washington st. (now Aguinaldo st.). The popular Dy Cham Shoe Store was where we went to shop and buy our shoes (Angtibay, Alex, etc. You name it, they had it!), which, according to Rene Tio (Batch '70), were sold to us at a discount, courtesy of the amiable Kanga.

More than anything else, the Dys were our immediate neighbors and close family friends, my mama being Kelly's ninang. I remember that particular morning in 1959 at the St. Michael's Cathedral when Kelly was baptized with me tagging along with my mama for the baptismal rites.  I was in my favorite collarless "Guitar" t-shirt and short khaki pants, white socks and black shoes, in grade one at 7 years old.

Photo taken at the baptism  of Kelly Dy in 1959 at the St.  Michael's Cathedral. Among those in photo, l-r: Father of  Sun Kang; Sun Chi; mother of Sun Kang holding Kelly; Pasing; Henry; and Sun Kang.

The sisters of Kanga were likewise close to us: There were Bebe (who used to be our Chinese teacher); Gong-ngi (who was my sister Mila's classmate and best friend along with Tining and Poyang); Siote (who was the classmate of my brother Ernie); Sun Lay (who was a year ahead of us in LCHS); Chiok Hian (who was my classmate since grade I to high school). There were also Inday (who now owns a store in Cebu, distributor of 3D brand of home appliances); and his only brother Sun Chi, who used to play with us too.

All of them have once been part of my childhood days in Iligan. After all these many years, I really wonder how they are now. Like me, they must have also grown up physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. They must have also obtained some traces of aging. But no matter what, no matter where they are now, the memories of these people I hold dear simply because they have contributed some pleasant episodes in my once young life. In fact, it is one of the reasons why I'm looking forward to our Grand Reunion with much excitement deep within. Renewing friendships, reliving the past, and feeling young again - all these I anticipate during the grand homecoming affair. Likewise with my other friends, schoolmates, classmates, and teachers. Really exciting to see you all once again. Wonder if those places we used to frequent during our youth are still there. All I know is: The memories will always be there - of the youthful adventures we once shared with friends, neighbors and loved ones.

Dy Sun Kang has gone ahead of us. I fervently pray that God will grant him eternal rest in his keeping. For a man who has done a lot as pioneering director of the LCHS-AA, an active civic leader, the author of the LCHS Alumni Scholarship Fund, one of the prime movers of the Lanao Filipino Chinese Volunteer Fire Brigade (along with an equally dear friend Jimmy Ling who has also gone ahead of us), a big brother to us kids of the 60s, a faithful husband, a good father, and a friend, we thank God for sending and lending you in our life. We thank you for the beautiful memories.

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 1981:  Evelyn Acedo; Rosemarie Chiu; Ching Ling Chiu Jr.; Renato Chua; Lyndon Co; Noel Lai; Liza Lee; Alexander Lee; Fanny Lim; Edgar Romualdez; Johnson Samson; Anna Concepcion Sy; Grace Sy; Luna Sy; Ramil Te; and Angie Uy.

BATCH 1982:  Joy Grace Boniao; James Booc; Joel Chiu; Jose Chu; Eleanor Co; Nancy Dagondon; Leo Dagondon; Theresa Decamotan; Susan Delorino; Crestensien Fernandez; Frances Lee; Robert Lueong; Maribel Mecina; Francisca Monterola; Lyndon Ngo; Melba Riveral; Philip Steven So; Maria Luisa Soy; Maria Theresa Soy; Jessica Sy; Peterson Chio Sy; and Yuri Taongan. (To be continued)

Do you believe in hilot?  In the Philippines, small children who have fever are often brought to the manghihilot because of what old folks would often attribute as "napi-ang."

I remember when we were small, we used to live with my grandfather in his store near the market. Every time I got feverish, or had a cough, my mother would bring me to an old woman selling banana inside the market for hilot. She used coconut oil to perform his hilot and voila!no more fever after a couple of hours. I could not remember ever going to the doctor when I was small; it was always to the "suking manghihilot."

Once my son had a fever, I brought him to his pediatrician for check-up. Yet despite the medications given, the fever persisted on and off for days. My office mate suggested a manghihilot.  Well, I thought it had done wonders for me before, so I might as well try it again. We went to see one. After my son was given his hilot treatment, he perspired a lot and fell asleep on our way home. When I arrived home from work in the afternoon he was already up and about, jumping and running around the house, fully charged as if he didn't fall ill a few hours ago.

A suking manghihilot appears to be very much a part of a Filipino family. We always seem to know a few. On another occasion, my son had a cough and was slightly feverish, so I brought him to our suking manghihilot. Unfortunately, she was not around, so I asked the neighbors if they knew of some manghihilot around. As expected, yes ... quiet a number of them. When I asked for direction to the nearest manghihilot, she said she knew of one who was good with children. He was a shoe repair man with his stall at the sidewalk of Gaisano Superstore. True enough, when we saw him at his stall, he was performing hilot on a little boy. So again, my son had his taste of the shoe repair man's healing touch.

Doctors disagree with the manghihilot. But I guess it is in this aspect where tradition can do wonders when medicines can't.

I recently recovered from our bodega a vintage bicycle that has long been consigned to the dustbin of history. It was the bicycle my father bought for me when I was in high school at LCHS.

The bike is a blue "Sonnet" semi-racer with nickel plated fenders. Though the nickel plating has since faded, the paint on its frame remains intact. The exterior tires have become unusable but, amazingly, their interior tubes are intact. The bike still bears the Dymo Labelmaker tape that I put on it to mark its date of purchase from Tan Lam Glass Palace: Aug. 9, 1965. Other than the discoloration, all other parts of the bike remain operational. The pedal brake still works. The KSM hard-leather seat is as sturdy as ever. After replacing the exterior tires plus a good dose of reoiling, I gave the bike a test drive and it still ran!  My high school iron horse, now 34 years old, is back in service!

My recent rediscovery brings back memories of a time when the bicycle was the chief means of transportation for many LCHS students. It was not so much a status symbol as it was an extension of our identity in school. Everybody somehow recognized which unit belonged to whom.  Bikes in those days were elaborately decorated. Some were adorned with pennants, rear view mirrors and headlights. Others came with cushioned back seats, air horns, battery horns, metal ringers, and an assortment of fancy accessories.

I got my own bike pretty late. I was already in third year high school when my father bought me my own bike. I remember among the first few students to have a bike of their own were Loloy Tan and Ernie Yu. Many of us learned to bike using their units. They were generous enough to lend us their small-sized "Eastern" bikes for our practice during class recess.  Another popular brand of bike was "Columbia," with huge balloon tires. Among those who owned this type of bike were Joe Booc, Robert Co, Igdono Caracho, Lee Kee Siang, Dionesio Chiu, Nicomedes Debalucos, and Apache Debalucos. Joe Booc was skillful with his bike and often regaled us with his antics at the school basketball court. Among his tricks was to maneuver his bike to run on its own from one end of the court to the other.  His was a class act unmatched by other campus ace riders.

What remains largely unforgettable, however, was our attachment to the bike. The bike was the wings that propelled us to soar within reach of our adolescent dreams. It afforded us unlimited liberty to roam around the city and its suburbs. The bike transported us to distant places like Bayug and Timoga.  But the most frequent stopover of our cruises, however, was St. Michael's College, where a brief chat with  its coeds was sufficient to bring us to high heavens.

Those were the days when the bike was our single most valuable possession. Today I have found my lost long love. It is old and a little cranky. But it still takes me places.  I now have other newer means of transportation that can bring me to even farther places in comfort and style. Yet whenever I hanker for a trip down memory lane, my heart knows which one to take that can bring me there.