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)
