One Big Hug
What do you say to a former classmate whom you have not seen in 40 years? Nothing.
You just open your arms for a big hug.
That was how it was, on July 28, when more than a hundred former classmates celebrated their Ruby Anniversary since graduating from grade school. One by one, they came; walking, limping, bouncing, strutting, sashaying down the covered walk leading to the school chapel. It was hard enough recognizing faces from a distance. It was tougher reading faces from the past. The years of separation had been too many and too long. The eagle-eyes had lost their focus.
But one could feel the electricity and the chemistry mixing “dangerously” as one. All it needed was a spark — a good, tight hug to bring those volatile elements together in one deafening explosion of laughter and expletives.
They were back. They were home. They were the Blue Eagles of the Ateneo Grade School Class of ‘67.
Sonny Mendoza, student council president at the time, was the “Official Hugger.” Fondly called Papa Bear in primary school because of his hulk and height, Sonny was the perfect cure for Alzheimer’s. But there were others.
Joel Celestial made sure that everybody remembered everybody by providing IDs that bore the Grade 7 picture of the person wearing it. Gerry Aquino produced a 4-CD memorabilia of songs from the Sixties. Butch Halagueña and Noli Ignacio took charge of the T-shirts. Toby Dayrit brought in their former teachers, and even a choir for the Mass. Dave Rivera, the class bloodhound, along with Louie General, took care of tracking down long-lost classmates. Jun Bayot, flying in from
The Reverend Father Rodolfo Malasmas SJ, their Headmaster, was equally game. Despite his advancing age, Fr. Malasmas found the energy to exchange anecdotes, banters and to celebrate Mass for the group. His words of wisdom left some pondering; others, repentant; and many, rejuvenated from their journey through life.
Blue Eagles from across the great pond would not be deprived of the moment.
Lito Ancajas and his family, architect George Ilagan, Dindo Goco, Jun Bayot, Pancho Escaler, Ferdie Garrido, Jimmy Requiestas, Robert Farolan, Noel Canivel, Ric Coreces, Ebet Caluag, Raul Teehankee and Michael Garrido flew in for the memories as well. Even Joebert Cocjin and Jimmy Coscolluela, contented in their Boracay sand castles (and who donated free hotel accommodations in Boracay as raffle prizes), would not be denied. Butch Meily, caught in the enthusiasm of it all, eagerly shouldered the grand prize.
If that afternoon of July 28 was meant for a welcome hug, the evening was a time for embracing the moment. Under the canopy of an enormous tent — that brought back images of the Arabian nights, and kept a heavy downpour at a distance — the moment glowed in amber hues from candles on the dinner tables, and from capiz lamps that hung from above.
The heavy thuds from the rain beating down on the tent could not drown out the chatter and the boisterous laughter. Mix those with ice-cold beer, French wine and double shots of scotch and you have a party that swung from happy to euphoric.
You would see long-lost friends angling for a picture together. Former rivals laughing at each other’s past pettiness. Class hooligans recounting their ordeals. Class bullies looking much smaller now than then. Class clowns still at it. And happily-retired teachers, once again, enduring boyish rowdiness.
Many of them came to hug their boys: former Grade 7 head teacher Hilario Marasigan, Grade 5 teacher Patria Arañas (who still graced the event despite losing her husband to cancer a week before), Grade 2 teacher Anita Rilloraza, Prep teacher Remedios Eusebio, Grade 6 head teacher Mariano Singson and Grade 7 teacher Alberto Guanzon who traveled all the way from Pampanga just to see for himself if he had created any Frankenstein. There were none. And he enjoyed the party with a clear conscience.
It was also a moment for silence. For classmates who had passed on. For classmates who still could not be found. For friends who were missed.
It was a moment for the family. Wives and children entering the once-sacred ground of machismo.
It was a moment for childishness. Men drenching their Ballys and Ferragamos in water-soaked grass in playful abandon.
After 40 years, everybody suddenly remembered. It was a moment not to be lost again.
(You may e-mail me at [email protected])
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