A Batch Reunion in 1998

Batch reunions almost always bring back happy memories. But not all.

The hurriedly-assembled reunion last October 30, 1998 was no exception. Imagine. It had been 22 years since entrance day, when some of us first met in the hallowed grounds of the seminary. It had been 18 years since high school graduation, when some of us left the group to pursue college education outside. And, it had been 14 years since college graduation, when some of us finally went on our individual, separate ways.

Even the oft-repeated phrase in our school days still rang true that day: "Tempus Fugit". Looking back, we realize that indeed time flies so fast!

For wasn’t it only yesterday when we, neophytes, tried to hide our muffled sobs on our first night away from our families?

Wasn’t it only yesterday when our class adopted the weird-sounding name, Baboga, and formed a credit cooperative (Baboga Sinking Fund) to help seminarians in need, and then closed shop as majority of the borrowers defaulted on their obligation?

Wasn’t it only yesterday when we literally rolled on the ground laughing when the late Quiao made several failed attempts to hit the right note during a solo part in our Christmas presentation?

Wasn’t it only yesterday when tears trickled down our eyes as JunTabs carrying his personal belongings that morning after breakfast hugged the gates of IHMS for the last time and then started to walk towards the junction, leaving our batch and his dreams of missionary life for good.

Many things have happened in between, as the reunion showed. Of the 42 or so that started in high school, only 25 persisted until graduation. Only 11 chose to remain for college, out of which only 4 made it to college graduation in IHMS. There were three who joined the batch midway in college. Of the total that started in High School, only 3 made it to the priesthood: Soc, Oloy and Glenn. From the batch, two have died already--Cecil and Leodegario. One remained missing, Ramonito. Several have figured prominently in the political arena, notable of which is Rene who is the incumbent governor of Bohol.

We may have followed different paths, navigated our own troughs and crests, and came out triumphant over our own adversities. What ever became of us--whether we admit it or not--we can trace our success or failure to a common root--a "seedbox" where were were molded into what we are now.

Some may have been stunted while others may have thrived well under the formation. There were painful experiences. But it is the same "seedbox" that formed all of us. This mold made us.

So, what better time then to reminisce and share with each one the fruits of our formation than during the reunion? And what better time to decide to share with others the benefits we gained from our beloved AYEYCHEMES than during the reunion and in the future reunions that we have planned. Your active participation therefore, batchmates, is important.

Join our batch reunion!  (nox arcamo)

One Fine Rainy Friday

October 30, 1998. It was past nine in the morning as the multi cab I rented negotiated the familiar pot-holed roads of Taloto. The seminary mused under sleepy overcast skies, like I did before a familiar figure distracted my reverie. It was Jun Tabs who hurriedly asked to be excused to attend to a family obligation but promised to be back immediately. He was checking the premises for cur batch reunion. And he was gone before we could talk further.

 Fortunately, I was not the only brooding, sentimental soul that day, for sitting quietly under the mushroom-shaped waiting shed, near the main gate, was another solitary figure. It was AlPats--the other half of the dynamic duo for whom the famous CesPat coliseum was named after. He must have been the first to arrive among the attendees--proving once more the adage that indeed “those from the farthest are always the earliest." Actually that was only half true since he came not so far away, from Sikatuna.

 The pleasantries I exchanged with AlPats was cut short as Baloy together with his family drove in from Cortes. The three of us then huddled like PBA referees in front of the high school building, trying to reach back through time with stories from each of our different worlds. The casual his and hellos then gave way to excited recollections of the seminary and people that we knew.

 In my heart I heard the bell pealing as it used to hang in one of the windows fronting the Rector’s office. The section of the Refectory and the study halls ... they are different from what it used to be. The place we once called home had undergone a facelift. Even the Talisay tree near the flagpole put on a display of sturdy branches that extended not sideways but upwards as if in supplication. Likewise, under the kaimito and eucalyptus, the well-kept zoo--which merely complemented the diverse pack of animals that roamed corridors and sometimes prayed in chapels--had underwent its own transformation. More diverse animals now occupied the cages. A new baby crocodile had taken the place of the old lady crocodile who lived for many years in a deep concrete cage at the back of the canteen. That crocodile, accordingly, died a few years ago. Indeed many things were altered, but the essence and our feeling of being at home persisted...

 Approaching the canteen, which was once our popular hang out, we met Stephen and his family. Then, the others started to arrive one after the other: Roy Amora, who grew twice or probably thrice his normal size in high school; Nick Castro, still with his usual antics and penchant for dramatic entrances; and, of course, the veritable (or should it be honorable?) Rene, our incumbent Governor. Our initial hesitation towards Rene betrays a quandary on whether to be formal and diplomatic or to be our old wisecracking selves Perhaps it was a natural reaction from us in front of a former colleague who rose up to occupy the highest position of the province. A sense of pride for having a Provincial Governor coming from our class pervaded all throughout our meeting. What used to be senseless jokes thrown here and there this time became fond recollections of people and events. Rene was spared from the jokes this time--probably for two reasons, 3 few classmates ventured to speak out: he was present and he had 3 bodyguard. True enough, those who were absent bore the brunt of the cruel jokes. (Ask JunTabs, Oloy.)

 Later, came Arnold with his beautiful wife who, we were informed later, was celebrating her birthday that same day. With his son, Cecil arrived, then JunTabs with his wife.

 The group then proceeded towards the Elijah Hermitage, a multi- Purpose structure built near the grotto, on the same wooded spot we used to frequent during those covert chicken-hunting expeditions, yes the same hunted spot we used point to neophytes as the source of those frightful, spine-chilling midnight scream.

 I led the group in the Thanksgiving Mass, which we offered also for the eternal repose of

the souls of our two classmates: Cecil who drowned and died a hero while saving his girlfriend and Quiao who was stabbed and died a violent death.

 Midway through the mass, Nox came in--yes, just in time for the kiss of peace. After the Mass, we had our photo and talking sessions, undecided on how to feed the wives and children. It was already noon time. There were plenty of small talks and laughter, but no food. (Translation: Daghang pagkaon walay istorya.)

 Several camera flashed later, Loel and his son came, followed shortly by Eric (in his new hairdo) together with his wife, Ringkoy came from work in Greenwich Pizza just in time for the start of a brief discussion led once again by JunTabs whom Rene fondly accused of being “hari-harion".

 Other than the usual exchange of “sigurado” and “ako’ng bahala” were brilliant ideas from the group. Three items were agreed upon: 1.) to support financially a seminarian; 2.) to have a Christmas party on December 26; and 3.) 10 have another class reunion next year and every year thence. Again, with assurances of "sigurado" and “ako'ng bahala” regarding the plan, we trooped to the Bohol Tropics for lunch.

 The gathering was for me not only a class reunion but a family reunion. “Lami-a man mo!", was the spontaneous reaction of Atty Inting, also an IHMS alumnus, when he saw us seated around a long table.

 While waiting for the food to be served, Liklik with his brother arrived. Then Ringkoy and Nox who went home to fetch their wives came back to join us. Rene hurriedly left for an important appointment, but not before paying for all the drinks and food. It was a sumptuous meal all right, but it was only Reluya who was prepared for the notoriously hard meat. He brought with him his own razor-sharp knife. (Lesson learned: Next time, bring your own sharpened knife if you plan to order meat at the Tropics.)

 A total of 15 classmates attended the reunion, not bad statistically for the first ever BABOGA class reunion. But too bad, not everyone could make it. One consolation for those who attended was the fact that they were spared from the jokes.

 (Paging the other members of the class: Oloy, MarJals, Batchoy, Do, Jess, Ram, Ondoy, Ikeng, Alcala, Besas, Raul, McIgors, Glenn, Samuel, and others I cannot recall.)

 The day did not end at Bohol Tropics. Drinking continued at Nox's residence in J. A. Clarin St. It was the first death anniversary of Nong Pedro, his father. At around 4 PM, as the drizzling stopped, I said mass for the family at the Dampas cemetery.

 The rest of the gang then proceeded to Am Cespon's residence near the NIA office. It was his wife's birthday. And so, until the clock struck midnight truth did reign, as the saying goes: "In Vino Veritas”.

 It was midnight when we parted ways. And to echo Cecil’s repeated expression, we said “Hasta la Vista!” (Soc Mesiona)