Miss Uy is one of seven teachers throughout the country selected to receive the prestigious award in fitting ceremonies held on Sept. 26, 1997 at the Federation of Filipino Chinese Chambers of Commerce club house, Metro Manila.

The accompanying photo is scanned from the United Daily News featuring the awardees. The caption, liberally translated, reads: "Perfecta Uy, Lanao Chung Hua School, a graduate of the Cebu Eastern College. She is cited for her sense of duty and responsibility; exemplary dedication to the teaching profession; life-long service in Chinese education; and tireless pursuit of excellence as an educator. She excels in applying a practical approach of addressing the individual needs of her students. Her effective use of the Amoy dialect to communicate with her students has contributed in large measure to her students' language proficiency. She applies Roman phonetics to raise the level of comprehension among her students in the elementary grades and spends her spare time tutoring no less than ten students for free from different classes every day, year after year."

Perfecta Uy, who hails from Ozamis City, has been teaching at LCHS since the mid-60s up to the present. (The accompanying photo may be viewed separately with a standard graphic software by clicking on the attachment line or icon at the bottom of the message window.)

Henry Dy Wins Golf Tourney
By Igdono U. Caracho (Batch '66)

Henry Dy won the championship (Class-A) in the Iligan Open Golf Tournament held as part of the Iligan fiesta festivities last Sept. 27-28. He chalked up a net score of 69, handicap 11.

Peter Dy placed runner-up in Class-D with a net score of 65, handicap 29. In the raffle draws, Arturo Samson won the grand prize of one unit Samsung 21" color TV set.

Claro Tan Passes Away

Claro Tan, a.k.a. Tan Khai Lok or Boy Misamis, LCHS Class '70, passed away at the age of 46 last Sept. 30, 2:30 a.m., at the Chong Hua Hospital, Cebu City. He is survived by his wife, Delina, and two daughters aged 4 years and 2 years old.
 

Mr. Lee had a unique style of courtship. He once courted a pretty Chinese neighbor. For two weeks, instead of roses, he kept sending her siomai and hopia. When she finally asked him why, he answered, "Because I want to siomai love for you. Hopia like it!"
 

Extrapolated from blind math, Buffalo is roughly 18 hours away from Iligan airport. Bundled in this equation are the bruising moments in plane connections-delays, and the Custom/Immigration "friendly" chats. This assumes, of course, your pilots' intelligence and nearsightedness don't categorize a deadly mountainous terrain under Seconday landing field. An alternate route would be via Cebu's finest sea transport, cruising by the Pacific Ocean.

Regrettably, this option is synonymous to committing suicide in slow motion.

If luck lands you along the vicinity of Buffalo and Niagara Falls, just mention my name and the fact that we are of similar breed.

And anticipate an extensive evaluation of your psychological profile.

Brainwashed by Spectrum's microchips data, I picture the present Iligan as a city sporting a vibrant urban renewal: modern edifices choking every empty acre, gourmet restaurants sprouting in a dime-a-dozen pattern, magically prestine beaches in tantalizing perfection, and a swarm of bold and uncompromising freedom fighters (jeepney drivers) who are genetically rigid in their exercise of the Right of Way.

Gosh, I need to savor the ambiance of my old town, to infuse thrill back in my system.

It is disheartening to note that the old LCHS campus is nothing but a landscape addressed in past tense. For former "insiders" like me who have been snared in a new habitat, life would have been a drag if not for the litany of heart-pounding narrative featured in Henry Yu's Sentimental Journey. This sincere gratitude is not aired just because we evolved from the same genetic pool; his column is a potent stimulus for daydreaming of the ancient, stress-free days. Period.

Now, brod, how about a generous sprinkle of something superlative about my own box?
 

After graduating from the elementary in both Chinese and English instructions, it was now time to move on to the challenges of High School. We occupied the two-storey high school building close to the kindergarten section and the faculty mess hall. For most of the young men, it was also time to bid good-bye to short pants and be introduced to long pants.

In front of the creme-colored high school building was a giant mango tree which was said to be haunted. Its large trunk had an image of a human face with a pair of eyes and a mouth. And beside it, almost grazing the trunk, grew a tall coconut tree which only produced fresh coconut wine (tuba). From time to time, I watched Mr. Tan Dih Hong bring out his tin cup as soon as the pilot (mananaka) came down with the wine. The mango tree was always a source of trouble between teachers and students, especially when it was fruit season. The students all shared a common yearning for the mangoes and would try every means to get them by slingshot, hitting them with a twig or by climbing the tree which were all prohibited by the school as they were dangerous. Some elder students, however, climbed the tree for a different purpose: to have a vantage view of the interior of the bedrooms occupied by lady teachers. They were training to be paparazzi. But without cameras, they were simply peeping toms. For the record, I was afraid of heights.

The balcony on the second floor was always full of students especially during rainy days when the boys and girls had nowhere to go. It was a scene reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet.

My start in High School coincided with the time when my family moved from Ilaya to our new residence in front of LCHS. It was very convenient for me: I started having afternoon siestas with the school bell as my alarm clock. Often, I would outrun my teachers in reaching our classroom.

In Chinese instruction, we were fortunate to be under teachers who came from China and who only spoke Mandarin. As their students, we were forced to speak the language. In my case, I improved and devised my own sign language.

But among these teachers, Mr. Tung, who was fondly referred to as "Superman", will always be an outstanding character. He taught us Chinese History, and straight from day one, he taught us to memorize the twelve dynasties. He never failed to include this question in all the quizzes and periodical examinations. If you didn't study, at least you knew one question. Until now, after so many years, I can still recite the twelve dynasties with confidence! (Continued next issue)
 

What I have become today, I owe it to some people who, in one way or the other, have contributed something to my memories of childhood. People who have etched an indelible mark in my life - as a toddler, as a grader, as a high schooler. Many of the best times in my life were spent in Iligan City, and along with these beautiful times were the people whom I consider simply unforgettable. So, for this issue and succeeding ones, I will be featuring some PEOPLE AND EVENTS as they make a random flashback in my five-plus-forty-year-old memory bank of the glorious past...

As the familiar lines of an equally familiar song put it, "Let's start from the very beginning, a very good place to start. When you read you begin with ABC, when you sing you begin with Do-Re-Mi..."

April 3, 1956 (Tuesday) - I celebrated my 4th birthday in our Iligan house located at #63 Washington St. with neighborhood friends like the Rodriguez brothers (Eddie Gonge, Boy Miguel, Jaime and Alex) and their eldest sister (Sita). They're the children of Noy Miguel and Nang Mameng of the famous Miguel Fish Trading. Their store was located just adjacent to ours. I remember Nang Mameng and my mother who were the best of friends in the tradition of "love your neighbors." They would go to the movies together and would cry a river at Rosa Mia's "Kalbaryo Ni Inang" or those Tagalog tearjerker movies produced by Sampaguita Pictures or LVN or Premier. While the oldies went for that kind of stuff, we kids would delight and fantasize on Captain Barbell, Principe Amante, Darna, Ben Hur, Tarzan, Mandrake, and Phantom. Movies then were mostly in black and white, double programs, showing in non-airconditioned theatres like King, Queen (owned by the Bagatans) and Century (owned by the Gaites). Orchestra fee was pegged at 0.25 while the balcony was priced at 0.50. A bottle of Coke with matching maruya (fried banana) would cost 0.25. That was already a complete snack for us. Junk foods (like chippy, potato chips, etc) were non-existent. Oh, how we delighted on tira-tira, flying kiss caramel, penato, Og-Nut chocolate, and other sweeties.

I remember my first classmates in kindergarten, among them: Jimmy Ling, Antonio Te, Santiago Ong, Rene Tio, Timmy Tan, etc. Jimmy was of course my neighbor-playmate-classmate-best friend. I'll remember him that way even now that he's gone. Antonio or Boy Tin Lu Sing was the chubby kid with the know-it-all attitude. Santiago or Ching Guan was the talkative one who used to bring us a lot of news (good or bad, it was still news). Rene was the silent type who would just watch people talked, moved, or did things. Timmy was that crew-cut guy who didn't speak much Bisaya (Tagalog kasi eh!). Ah, I also remember a classmate named Benito Tiu. He was that guy with so thick a hair, loaded with Tancho pomade. Then there's Castor Lim who was already that tall for his age. Benny Kao Hok was frail-looking who, together with Julius Racines, Segundo and Edmund Velasco, would form a quartet in bringing to class some delights of that era, like tirador, playing cards, those Chinese writing pads which they fashioned into game sheets for tic-tac-toe, and other inventions of the "young scientists" of our class. Beng Hong Vy was also tall, lanky, and frail-looking with his smooth skin so transparent you can see those blood vessels. Oh, how we marveled at making houses out of cardboards, then watching them burning in our backyard. (Must be the arsonists in us. Hehehe!) The other week I played this stuff with my kids and I remembered Beng Hong! There's Richard Lim or Hong Tok, who excelled in Arithmetic that we considered him our Math wizard. Of course, who can ever forget Rodolfo Yu or Chichay. I don't know where people got that nickname for him. Ah, I think it was because of his Chinese name which was Sae Chay.
 

Of the many facets of the old LCHS campus, the school auditorium easily stood out as the most durable in the memories of those who had at one time or another spent their school days there.

The former LCHS auditorium was not just a venue for graduation rites and school programs. There was a lot more than met the eye. The auditorium had played host to a thousand and one activities of all sorts. Within its walls are perpetually enshrined memories of one's youth, its excesses as well as its exuberance, its trials and its triumphs, its dreams and its debacles.

More than a site for rituals and ceremonies, the auditorium also served as an arena for indoor athletics, a playground for fun and frolic, and a launching pad for our innumerable childish mischiefs.

Juvenile Ingenuity. At once majestic and dignified by yesterday's standards, the auditorium remained a stark testimonial to the ingenuity of its students. Its concrete flooring, segmented with prominent grooves by the square meter, served well for many of our childhood games, like patintero and takingking for the girls during class recess. Among the boys, on the concrete pavement were played games of rubber band. Only God knew how much dust particles sneaked into our respiratory tract as we leisurely knelt and blew rubber bands on the pavement across the grooves that served as finish lines.

Recess time would also find the auditorium abuzz with students engaged in games of table tennis, chess, Chinese checker, dama, and scrabble. Of these games, table tennis was the most widely played. Those who wanted to beat the rest in playtime made it a point to rush to school right after lunch, prompting unknowing parents to gush with pride at theirs sons' sudden enthusiasm for school.

Basement Drama. The centerpiece of the auditorium was the main stage. On it one witnessed songs being sung, dances performed, speeches delivered, awards and diplomas distributed, and dramas staged. Yet underneath this same stage one also got initiated to another drama of adolescent experiences. The stage's basement that stored school junks was also home to a few naughty students who would sneaked inside during dance rehearsals. There between cracks on the stage floor they trained their sights for a posterior view of the dancers. Drawn by this new attraction, I once sneaked in with this ragtag group and once inside was promptly attacked by a swarm of cockroaches before I could even catch a glimpse of life on stage. It was apparent they couldn't stand the competition. (Continued next issue)