The exact date had escaped me now. It could have been the last week of June or the first few days of July in 1987. In those days, talk was ripe about the imminent closure of our school due to a stand-off between management and faculty members asking for wage hike. Everybody was worried. Definitely not the least apprehensive were our batch for we were already in our senior year. We were supposed to graduate that school year and we dreamed about calling ourselves alumni of Cabuyao Institute. After all, in those days, our school was undoubtedly one of the best in Laguna.
Days went by and we saw many of our teachers – joined in the picket line by some faces unfamiliar to them and to us – barricading outside the school premises. Instead of books and lesson plans, they were carrying placards. Instead of discussing lessons in the classrooms, they were chanting their issues and slogans on the busy street – they ate there, never mind if fumes mixed with their food; they slept there, never mind if the sky was their roof. The usual calm disposition did not register on our teachers’ faces anymore. There was anger in their tone and we didn’t know where it was coming from. Or perhaps we knew but we decided to become fence sitters rather than be caught in the crossfire. In those days, we were very young, and pardon our excuse, we didn’t know any better. The panic button had been hardly pressed and we found ourselves running like headless chickens, feeling anxious whether there would be schools that would welcome us notwithstanding that classes had long started.
The gates of our former school never opened again. Luckily, other schools accommodated us. Among the members of our section, we barely had time to say goodbye to each other. One can just imagine how hard it was for friends to be separated by an untoward circumstance. We were put to the test just when we thought high school life was the best. We went on our separate ways, making sure we want to make something out of our lives.
After almost 20 years, 17 members of our section gathered in a get-together recently. In each other, we found what we thought we once lost: Friendship.
That moment brought us back to the happy days of our high school life. We were only 17 but the sound of our laughter seemed to come from 57 people. We started catching up with each other’s life at 3 p.m. and ended at 3 a.m. the following day. Nobody wanted to leave that time. From a place in Cabuyao where we gathered, we transferred to a coffee shop in Sta. Rosa where we drowned ourselves with cups and cups of coffee and tea. Like little kids, we laughed at the silliest jokes and made fun of each other. Like real grownups, we listened to and learned from the inspiring stories of each other.
That gathering taught us one thing: Time or space is immaterial in the field of friendship. Time saw us grow. Distance tested our character. Friendship brought us back to each other. And this same friendship guarantees us that after the reunion, time and distance will play their parts anew but they will never be successful in conquering our spirit to come together again. (In the days to come, we know, as we plan different bonding activities, more members of our class will be part of our reunion.)
Always, always, in a reunion of old friends, you get amused how "nothing" really has changed in one person despite the passing of time. You may have unwanted or elusive fats but those do not change one’s perspective of you. The Bagets days may be a thing of the past in the i-Pod generation, but former classmates will always find the "old" you in your persona, as if you’re facing them with the sleeves of your shirt folded to perfection, ready to dance to the tune of Jo Boxers’ Just Got Lucky and Gary Valenciano’s Growing Up. Ahh, some things really don’t change.
Reuniting with old friends is truly a balm to the soul. One’s success or failure is not put to the test if you’re in the company of real friends. Attending school reunions is like embracing the basics of finding joy, embracing common values, respecting differences, celebrating life.
Taking time to reunite with former classmates is like going back to school once more. Instead of books, we find ourselves sharing our experiences in life where each one of us learns a thing or two. Instead of pens, we put across our message of affection using the ink of our mind. Instead of school bags, we contain our appreciation of each other using a container called the heart.
We once lost one another when our former school closed. We can’t be any happier now that we have found each other again. Together, we’re going back to the school of our lives.
(When was the last time you had a reunion with your former classmates? Please tell me about it at bumbaki@yahoo.com. You may also snail mail me at The Philippine Star c/o Allure Section, Roberto Oca cor. Railroad Streets, Port Area, Manila. Have a blessed Sunday!)