A Summer to Remember

Summer was starting. The temperature was beginning to rise. Most schools were already done with their commencement exercises. But the humidity and heat of the afternoon could not dampen the eagerness of the party of five to order 1 beer grande each at Rose Restaurant along CPG Avenue. For after all it was probably our last time to be together. We just had their college graduation the day before.

Therer were six of us, survivors of the Baboga Class, McAbs, MarJals, Ingents, Nox, and myself. Only Oloy was not around that afternoon.

There was much emotion, heightened by the spirit of the beer we gulped like water. Our lively discussion was interrupted several times mostly by boisterous laughter, as each one would recall funny experiences in the seminary. First round of beer, second round…third round. It was too much perhaps, but not to the five of us who would be parting on our separate ways.

The clock seemed to tick faster than usual. But no one was minding it. It was like eternity as each one reminisced the old days. The more we talked, the faster time seemed to move. One o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock, four o’clock, four thirty…Mario had to bid goodbye or else he could not catch the last trip to San Miguel. Each one was teary-eyed as Nox offered a toast. I felt something hollow in the stomach as Mario walked towards the entrance door of the restaurant. There was a short silence, followed by laughter. We couldn't understand our ambivalent feelings.

Not long enough, it was my turn say goodbye for I had to catch the last trip to Sevilla. I left Rose Restaurant bringing with me unforgettable memories of our life together in the seminary.

That one afternoon happened in 1984. And true enough it was our last time to be together, the six of us who were remnants of Baboga Class. It was indeed a summer to remember. Since then we followed different directions in life. Sadly though, not much have been heard of the others. Only some sketchy second hand information. A newsletter like this may be a good one to keep in touch. Not only for the six, but also for the 42 original Baboga members that started in 1976.

As we grow older we become interested in recalling the past. We want to tell the story of our lives. Maybe we want to say that we have lived life to the full. But as we tell our own stories we cannot help but also tell each other’s stories because each of us has become a part of our individual lives. Maybe another round of beer is needed; perhaps not a grande anymore but just few bottles to arouse the consciousness to tell and retell our own stories. We need to make another afternoon of remembering and someday be remembered! (soc mesiona)