Vol. 8, No. 7, July 5, 2004

Spectrum columnist Marie Janiefer Lee (Batch '87) was in Taipeh and Kinmen last June 19 to 29 together with her mother Fe "Guat Ching" Quimbo.  While in Taipeh, Janiefer visited the Rotary Club of Taipeh at which she, as president-elect of the Rotary Club of Mandaluyong, delivered a talk before a crowd of 200 Rotarians.

Just returned home to Cebu from a Mediterranean cruise aboard a luxury liner across London, Venice, Rome, Barcelona, Monte Carlo and other famous and exotic lands were Alfredo "Chu Tek" Sy (Batch '56), in photo at left, and Rosie "Bian-Bian" Siao-Sy (Batch '59), in photo at center.  Spectrum also received word, although still unconfirmed as yet, that LCHS school director Henry Siao (Batch '56) and Norma Wee-Siao were together with Chu Tek and Rosie on the Mediterranean holiday cruise. Also taking a quick unscheduled trip to Iligan last week was Marcy Sy-Go (Batch '67) who came home with her husband from the U.S.A. for the funeral of her mother who passed away last June 21.  Marcy's eldest brother Felipe "Hong Chin" Sy (Batch '56), who now lives in Canada, also flew in for the wake.

Just last July 3, Mike Lee (Batch '66), in photo at right, and his wife Nancy Lee left their home base in Edmonton, Canada to fly to Detroit, U.S.A. to attend a relative's wedding where Mike will have a get-together with his nephews Alfred Lai II (Batch '89) and Bryan Bruce Lai (Batch '64) and niece Diana Grace Sy (Batch '99) who are now based in Chicago.  From there Mike and Nancy will proceed to Montreal before returning home to Edmonton on July 11.  LCHS-AA First Vice President Suniel Lim (Batch '66) was in Cebu last July 3 where he attended the Cebu Food Expo 2004 at the Waterfront Cebu City Hotel along with his wife Corrie Lim and sister Marilou Lim-Bordalba (Batch '72).

Alumni who have eye problem can now have one more eye specialist they can easily run to.  Dr. Janice Lim, eldest daughter of Helen Ngo-Lim (Batch '68), has opened her new clinic on the 5th floor of the Cebu Medical Arts Center, Cebu City.  Janice Lim is an ophthalmologist.  She finished her medical studies at the University of Santo Tomas and has extensive practice in Manila before returning home to Cebu to open her new clinic.

Go Po Suan (Mrs. Sy Kon Tin), 91

Go Po Suan (widow of the late Sy Kon Tin) died of a lingering illness, last June 21, at the Cagayan de Oro Medical Center, Cagayan de Oro City. She was 91 years old.  She was laid to rest at the Iligan Chinese Cemetery last June 27.  Her family owns the Iligan State Shoe Store on Quezon Ave., Iligan. She is survived by her children Percy Sy, Felipe "Hong Chin" Sy (Batch '56), Sy Bian Bian, Virna "Kwan-Kwan" Sy-Oh (Batch '62), Marcy Sy-Go (Batch '67), and Constantino "Jonas" Sy (Batch '68). We request our pious readers to pray for the eternal repose of her soul.

Alberto Rodriguez, 58

Alberto "Boy" Rodriguez (Batch '64) died of cancer of the liver at 1:00 a.m. last June 27, in Iligan City.  He was 58 years old.  He is survived by his wife Norma, and children Ruel, Rodrigo, Mary Rose, and Mary Grace.  Among his sisters and brothers are Teresita Rodriguez-Tan, Eddie Rodriguez (Batch '62), Jaime Rodriguez (Batch '65), Alexander Rodriguez (Batch '65), and Elynor "Gingging" Rodriguez-Rocha.  He was laid to rest on July 1, 2004 in Iligan City.  We request our pious readers to pray for the eternal repose of his soul.

New grandparents

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 04:26:56 +0000
Dear Peter and Tita: Congratulations to the brand new Lolo and Lola -- Lo Pete and La Tit. May God guide you in these new roles of yours.
--Henry L. Yu (Batch '69), Cebu, Philippines, email: hvty@skyinet.net

Changed address

Fri, 25 Jun 2004 01:50:30 -0700 (PDT)
I have been receiving your newsletter since year 2000.  I thank you for sending it regularly.  It seems like old times because I have known many of the alumni after having taught in this school for twelve years.  Because of the many spams that will get in the mails please direct your newsletter to my new email address: bern1802@yahoo.com.  Thank you and more power.
--Ms. Bernardita S. Aberion, email: bern1802@yahoo.com

Looking for Charina Dy-Carlos

Thu, 10 Jun 2004 14:55:09 +1000
Does anybody know the contact details of Charina Dy-Carlos? I miss my long lost classmate.  Regards.
--Josefina "Datdat" Guiritan (Batch '84), Makati, Philippines, email: Josefina.Guiritan@ph.nestle.com

Thu, 01 Jul 2004 16:00:33
I saw the picture of the new Cebu-Talisay coastal road featured in your "Candid Camera" (Spectrum, June 21, 2004 issue).  For us channel crossers between Cebu and Negros Oriental, it's a blessing.  We used that new route instead of going through Talisay, Tabunok, and Pardo and we saved thirty minutes of traveling time on our trip to Cebu City.  On our return, we made it to Bato, Samboan on time even though we left Cebu behind our usual time of departure.
--Emma Yap-Matiao (Batch '66), Dumaguete, Philippines, via SMS, cell +639173141417

Condolences for Sy family

Tue, 22 Jun 2004 04:03:51 +0000
Our heartfelt sympathy for the family of the late Mrs. Sy Kon Tin. Our prayers for the eternal repose of her soul.
--Henry Lim Yu and family, Cebu, Philippines, email: hvty@skyinet.net

Condolences for Rodriguez family

Sun, 27 Jun 2004 12:32:07 -0700
It is with great sadness that we convey our deepest condolence to Boy's family; his brothers and sisters. Our thoughts and prayers are with them at this most difficult time.  Boy has been a good family friend and he will be missed.
--Peter Dy, Tita Dy and family, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, email: pdy@telusplanet.net

Thank you
Fri, 02 Jul 2004 14:06:15 +0000
To all our friends:  Our thanks to everyone who have shared the grief with us in the early demise of Alberto "Boy" Rodriguez. We can't thank you enough for your presence, words of comfort, help, and most of all prayers for his eternal rest. May he rest in peace.
Sincerely.
--Teresita, Eddie, Jaime, Alex, Gingging, Norma Rodriguez & family; e-mail: alpacino_8@hotmail.com

Charles O. Sy, Batch '67

Facing the gazebo at the old Iligan plaza, there once was the Rizal Monument, where a full-size statue of a dignified Jose Rizal stood atop a huge pedestal set within a small rotunda (in photo, website edition).

Rizal Monument.  Second to the gazebo (which we all called the kiosk), this was where we spent a great part of our playtime at the park.  The pedestal upon which our hero stood was a four-sided structure, each side of which was layered with thick slab of white marble.  The front panel bore the inscription: Jose P. Rizal, Patriota y Martir, Por El Pueblo de Iligan, Lanao. Which gives us a fairly accurate hint that the monument was erected during the Spanish colonial period, or shortly thereafter.

It was a magnificent structure, a fitting tribute to the martyrdom of the boy from Calamba, Laguna.  Little wonder, therefore, that the monument also became the ideal site for boys like us to act out our own brand of heroics.  Our afternoons at the park were never complete without a game or two of catch-me-if-you-can around the structure.  The fun involved clambering up the monument and chasing down each other around the narrow ledge of the pedestal.  It was quite a hazard.  Once in a while, a few of us were bound to trip and fall, and bring home a few slight bruises on an arm or a leg.  But what the heck!  We were playing with our national hero. How else could we be bound for glory if we trooped home unscathed?

The Fountain.  Another fixture of the old plaza was the fountain facing the rear part of the kiosk.  Surrounding this fountain was a pond adorned with water lilies. When they were in bloom, the water lilies were sights to behold. Dotting the pond were figurines of herons (or were they flamingos?) and frogs, each one set on top of a concrete base.  On Sundays, or week nights, the fountain teemed with promenaders around it.  Some just lazing around.  Others found comfort by lounging on the pavement of its rim.  There was a time when visitors, desirous to make a wish come true, threw coins into the fountain. Stalking right behind them, however, was a band of boys who would just as promptly hop into the pond to retrieve and pocket the coins as soon as the visitors turned their back. The magic of the fountain really worked wonders to make a wish come true.  The boys' wish, not the visitors'.

At certain  hours when the fountain was less populated, this virtual oasis in the park became the setting for us to match raw guts with juvenile derring-do. We chased each other down by clinging perilously to the ledge of the fountain's inner rim.  The daredevils among us evaded the reach of the pursuer by leapfrogging across the pond to the base of the fountain.  Which was no mean feat.  A few of those who tried to follow suit often  landed short of the distance and plunged instead right into the pond with a resounding splash.  The frogs in the pond could only laugh at our display of human clumsiness with their croaks of amusement.

The Shed.  Situated on the west end of the old Iligan plaza facing the Iligan police headquarters was another structure:  A pavilion of sorts that served more as a waiting shed than anything else ornate.  Here was where we sought shelter after play.  The shed's twin columns provided the perfect places on which to lay our back for a much needed breather.  This cozy nook in the park often came alive when people gathered in late afternoons for a variety of board games like chess, dama, or cards, games that we regarded then as too sedentary for our seemingly inexhaustible energy.

Shoeshine Boys.  Perhaps about the only stationary activity in this section of the park that caught our fancy was the shoeshine business.  It was here that we picked up our lesson in shining shoes by watching the shoeshine boys perform their trade every afternoon.  The exercise so fascinated us that we soon found ourselves fashioning our own shoeshine paraphernalia at home complete with shoeshine box, shoe brush, shoe polish, worn out t-shirt cloth, and "Venus" coloring powder. Though we never exactly ventured out of the house to ply our newfound trade, we were content to have our entire household as captive market.

Such were the episodes we shared together at the old plaza.  It's ironic that for such a landmark that withstood the great earthquake of 1953 and survived the big fire of 1957,  it took only a mere act of man in 1965 to vanish it from the face of the earth.

Tragedy in the Park.  I remember the day they tore down the plaza.  I was walking home with classmate Rudy Co after a movie at the Century Theater.  Demolition work on the kiosk was in progress.  The work was performed manually with workers chipping away at the massive structure piece by piece with ball hammer and crowbar. As we were about to cross over to the plaza along what was then Washington Street, a concrete column of the kiosk suddenly toppled over and pinned down a worker chipping the base of another column. Two other workers rushed forward to lift the column.  But their efforts were in vain.  The column was huge and too heavy to budge.  We saw the felled worker cough a few times until blood oozed from his mouth and nose.  His face turned bluish as he lay still until he perished shortly thereafter.  We stood there facing the grim spectacle, stunned, speechless and shattered by the impact of the morbid turn of events. I went for days nursing a lost appetite.

The freak accident marked a tragic end to a park that had bestowed so much joys on the community through the years.  That it had to conclude its existence with a casualty is indeed unfortunate.  What is even more tragic is that, in the ultimate analysis, it is the city of Iligan that is the bigger casualty with the loss of a such a historic and treasurable landmark.

Leonardo Tan, Batch '66

So after all the post election dramas, we have at last a duly elected President. And the 14th President of the Philippines had just broken a political tradition and an international protocol by having her inauguration in Cebu City, the Queen City of the South.

I don’t have any problem with Cebu City. Although I had stayed longer time in Manila than in Cebu City, yet the later is closer to my heart.  It could be that Cebu is closer to our Iligan and maybe the Cebuano language just makes me feel more at ease and at home.

However, I don’t think it was right for the inauguration of the new President and Vice President to be administered in Cebu City.  It is my strong belief that such important political ceremony should only be done in the nation’s capital. And the nation’s capital is not only the symbol of the nation but more importantly where the seat of the national government is. It is where all the foreign ambassadors reside and where we find their embassies.  That is why during war times, when the nation’s capital is in imminent danger of falling into the hands of the enemy, the head of state should declare the temporary transfer of the capital to other safe places. Otherwise, once the capital falls, surrender immediately follows.

And I am more aghast for the main reason why the inauguration was done in Cebu City. Simply for the President’s gratefulness for getting the one million votes majority from the Cebuano people. This very act alone for me was in very bad taste. It's tantamount to still playing with politics. Not a good start for the new administration. The new president could express her gratefulness to the Cebuano people in many other ways. In fact, she already made a few trips to Cebu after the election for this very purpose.

Once elected, the President becomes the leader of the entire Filipino people. No other place should be considered for their inauguration but the nation’s capital. And if they see it fit to express their gratitude, they should address it to the entire Filipino people and not just to the Cebuanos.

On the other hand, if there is a move to transfer the capital from Metro Manila to Cebu City, I will be the first one to support it. I think to call Cebu City as the Queen City of the South is nowadays a misnomer. Remember Mindanao is still part of the Philippines and it is farther south than Cebu.  That title may be conferred to Davao City these days.  Cebu would be an advantage to be designated as the new capital considering that it almost has all the amenities of Manila but not its gargantuan ills.  And most importantly, Cebu is geographically right in the center of our archipelagic country. A very strategic location.  She should then be called “The Heart of the Nation.”  Then it would be the right place for a presidential inauguration.

The Cebu event was a great success and it was well covered be the international media.  I saw some of the footage of the inauguration through our local TV station. I think we have to thank former administrator Paul Bremer of Iraq for returning that country’s sovereignty to its people two days earlier and thereby not sharing the limelight with the big event of the Philippines on June 30.

Many were caught surprised by the Iraq handover.  It was so swift and without any pomp and ceremonies.  A new university graduate receiving a diploma has more pomp and dignity.  People were expecting something like the Hong Kong event in 1997 with a very dignified and respectable ceremony plus all the proper protocols.  The comparison was of course unfair.  The Hong Kong one was a real thing that ended the British rule of almost a century while the Iraqi one was just purely symbolic from an occupying force of 15 or so months to its handpicked Iraqi leaders.  Symbolic in the sense that this sovereignty does not have firepower of their own.  They still rely on the 140,000 American solders plus a few thousand British and some token forces from a few countries in the coalition to maintain a semblance of peace.  Mao Tse-Tung was a very pragmatic leader who once said, “Political power grows out of the barrel of a gun."

We were classmates in Chinese classes during our elementary years. He was a very cheerful young man. I will always remember his nose as being red most of the times. In his desire to have a sculptured sharp nose, he would sometimes clipped his nose while sleeping. We were good friends and we spent times together like playing basketball after recess time during Saturday classes till past our lunch time.  And we usually end up at Soy’s cariendera at the public market for a bowl of rice and the very delicious sampaina with a bottle of coke.

I was therefore shocked sometime last year when I learned that he tried to end his life. I was happy to learn that he survived that stupidity but saddened that it had affected his eyesight. I thought I must visit and see him during my next homecoming to Iligan.

But it would not happen now. For he is now in a better place. Good bye, my friend.

Getting old
Forwarded by Joe Macmang, Los Angeles, Calif., U.S.A.

Aging: Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.

You know you are getting old when everything either dries up or leaks.

Old age is when former classmates are so gray and wrinkled and bald, they don't recognize you.

If you don't learn to laugh at trouble, you won't have anything to laugh at when you are old.

First you forget names, then you forget faces. Then you forget to pull up your zipper. It's worse when you forget to pull it down.

Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft.  Today, it's called golf.

This past weekend, I visited a friend in the hospital who was dying of pancreatic cancer. It's a sad and uncomfortable sight to see knowing that it's a final goodbye and his demise seemed to have announced its ugly presence like an evil spirit floating inside the room. He had a tube in every orifice of his body aside from the intravenous catheters whose tubes were dangling from his neck, chest and arms as if he was being strangled and sucked out dry of blood by tentacles from one of those machines in the movie Matrix. He presented with a small bowel obstruction that by some bad karma could not be removed let alone bypassed because when the surgeon was about to open his abdomen, he had a heart attack and heart failure followed by renal failure so that he had to also undergo dialysis.

My friend just came back from a vacation in India in March of this year and started vomiting. At first it was thought to be food poisoning, but the vomiting persisted and the subsequent endoscopy revealed his duodenum being obstructed by a tumor. Biopsy confirmed the cancer, and other tests showed the tumor to have spread to the surrounding organs and to his liver. Except for family and relatives, he did not want to let anyone else know until the last few days of his life when he asked his wife to call and let me know. Having the hunch that it could be our last goodbye, my wife and I immediately went to visit him. At least he was still able to recognize us but barely because he was already delirious. He was never able to eat or drink since the symptoms started and he passed away a couple of days after our visit.

He was 65 years old, but nowadays when people are living longer, 65 is still young, or at least not that old. He retired about 5 years ago and since he retired, he called me in my office at least once a month just to chat. He never expected his life to be ended so soon and so devastatingly fast by a catastrophic illness. But then, none of us do when we are feeling alright. In just a little more than two months, he was gone to where no one has come back ... yet.

Do you know that over 10,000 people a day are told that their condition is terminal? That's a day, not a month or a year - over 400 people every hour just in the U.S. alone. The most common testimony from those who were told the stark truth that their life will soon end is this: "All the things I've taken for granted, like my health, my family, and my friends, have suddenly become all important to me. Everything else is trivial."

But it shouldn't take a death sentence for us to stop taking the really important things in life for granted. So what about a friend we've planned to communicate or to see and hang out with for a day or so but keep putting it off year after year? What about the regular physical exercise we've kept promising ourselves but haven't started yet? What about a son or a daughter we profess to love but haven't uttered the words, always taking for granted that they know, and yet never listen to and try to understand their own choices in life that we are against? "All these things can wait," we say to ourselves. But can time wait? Can fate be commanded to stop our life from where it is suddenly and unexpectedly going?

We have just observed the Buddhist equivalent of a Catholic funeral High Mass on the 49th day after the passing away of my dear mother-in-law.  It is called Kung Tiek, a solemn two-hour ritual to hasten the journey of a departed parent towards nirvana, or heaven, as we know it.  Of course, there is a break of about thirty minutes because the devotees cannot really withstand the kneeling, bowing and continuous chanting of the prayers.  Break time is in addition to the two hours of ritual.

The last time I participated in a Kung Tiek was almost ten years ago, when my father-in-law died.  There was only one monk then.  This time, we had been lucky that six female monks were visiting the Cebu Bubbhist temple for a special occasion.  They assisted the saffron robed monk in prayer chanting and in the sounding off of the membrane and wooden drums, the quaint bell and the ceramic vessel.  Each tone signified the time for us to prostrate ourselves three times, to stand or to bow while standing.

The sons are on individual kneeling pads.  The eldest stays at the center, carrying a big lighted joss stick.  The grandsons and male relatives occupy the front row, right side.  Daughters and daughters-in-law are across, on the left side.  Only the eldest son can offer a lighted joss stick at the altar, after the monk-celebrant's lighted joss offering.  Woe indeed is she or he who does not have a son to carry on this tradition!

The daughters offer five kinds of fresh fruits at all the altars of the temple.  My sisters-in-law brought baskets of apples, pineapples, Valencia oranges, sugar apples (atis) and mangoes.  The sons undertake the cost of the ceremonies: a sit-down vegetarian lunch (No rituals are performed towards sundown!) for the devotees partaking in the ritual, a sizeable donation to the temple (This depends on the social status of the family of the deceased.), and the cost of the rest of the altar offerings: peh pao (resembles siopao with sweet bean paste as filling), ti chang (a sweet sticky delicacy wrapped in lotus leaves), red ampao, chay pao (what looks like a big tikoy with vegetable filling) and two kinds of mamon (steamed buns) -- one is bland, while the other is sweet.  Flowers and candies are also offered, which the devotees will take with them after the ritual.

We started at 9:15 and ended at 12 noon, in time for the six-course vegetarian meal prepared by the temple's kitchen staff.  After lunch, we distributed the altar offerings among those who attended.  The family members apportioned what was left among ourselves before we proceeded to the cemetery to burn gold and silver paper money with Mama's name printed on them.  This was to ensure that needed souls would not claim our Mama Diu Eng offerings for themselves.

There is a Chinese belief that when a soul is not offered sufficient prayers by surviving relatives nor given a proper funeral, the soul will appropriate for itself the burnt money offerings for other souls.  Even in the afterlife, there are still anomalies done.  How do you like that?

Those who could not read the Chinese characters in the chant book during Kung Tiek were told to repeat: lam bo/o mee to hoot, in time with the brown-robed female monks with shaven pates.  It is a Buddhist mantra chanted while clicking the rosary beads.  It can be hypnotic when one has been kneeling for an hour, enveloped by high-pitched voices raised in singsong incantations.

For an instant, I discerned that religion can be euphoric to people who don't understand the doctrines and rituals.  Religion can also be automatically practiced, just like those of us who go through the one-two-three of worship yet are incapable of explaining the significance of the actions.

Since I was unfamiliar with the proceedings, I asked a lot of questions to those who would listen.  A kind elderly lady explained the meanings of the characters on the wall, as well as the parallelism between Buddhism and Christianity.  Buddhists believe there are several ways to go to heaven (or nirvana -- the state of eternal bliss).  The Christian way is but one of them.  No religion, they believe, can claim exclusivity to eternal life.  Doing good deeds in this life ensures a better life in the next reincarnation until nirvana is attained.

As Christians, we always say:  You can't take it with you, on wealth vis a vis inevitable mortality.  In Buddhism, when a parent dies, the children make sure that he/she will not be an  impoverished soul in the afterlife.  Favorite dresses and things are burned together with the paper money, so these can be carried along to the other world.  Paper houses, paper cars (depicting the brands used when still alive), paper suitcases, even replicas of buildings owned by the deceased are also burned.

The Kung Tiek is certainly expensive but it ensures a safe journey of the beloved parent.  Some tradition-bound families buy natural pearls -- the bigger and the more lustrous the better -- when parents are still alive in preparation for this.  As part of the funeral rites, these pearls are inserted in all orifices (mouth, ears, butt) to prevent evil spirits from entering the body of the dear departed.

All these rituals and beliefs revolve around filial devotion.  It warms this heart to have actively partaken in this ennobling tradition.