OLPS Alumni

here's a nice writeup from Gibbs of B87.

BY GIBBS CADIZ

The death itself was a major body blow, but I had no idea the logistics it required would be a burden quite as heavy.

The one thing that sustained me during the first few days, when I had to arrange everything from the casket to the burial ground to the legal paperwork to the funeral mass to getting the rest of my family home, was the support of relatives and friends. Especially friends. I got by with the tremendous, unstinting support of my childhood buddies, those who've stayed behind and built their lives in the province, and who knew my father, were even friends with him.

Specifically, my former seminary classmates, a couple of them priests now, the rest married, who never left my side and took on the extra chores of chasing the required documentation from the hospital to the city hall to the parish office, freeing me to stay by my father's side and receive visitors while I worked the phones frantically to get the rest of the family to surmount the freak floods and rains that repeatedly derailed their travel plans.

continue reading this fine, fine piece of writing over at the B87 blog. lotsa new pix too!...

Remember the legendary english teacher Ms. Resurreccion and the equally legendary required english lit topic --Beowulf? Here's Gibbs' entertaining writeup about them... (i hope ms. rexy is doing fine these days, any news about her?)

Aha, so it's pronounced “BAY-wulf.” All these years my high school classmates and I have pronounced it “BEE-wulf,” like how were taught in English literature. The release of the movie should prompt us to consider holding one of our usual reunions just so we could officially adopt the proper pronunciation of the name.

You see, “Beowulf” isn't just a story to us. Mention the word, and it brings back a lot of happy memories. We're silly sentimental SOBs like that.

We learned about Beowulf and Grendel and Grendel's monster mother not from Neil Gaiman, but in traditional high school English literature. I'm not sure if students today are still taught this old English epic poem. Our teacher was Mrs. Resurreccion, a white-haired, motherly, tiny bird of a lady, all 4'11" of her (perhaps even shorter).

continue reading gibbs' writeup here...

By Gibbs Cadiz (B87)

"We ask you this through Christ our Lord, amen."

Time for First Reading. The boy, shy and nervous, walks towards the lectern. It's his first time to do the reading, a task he'd avoid at any cost if he could. But there is no way around it. As a junior in this high school seminary, he and his classmates have to take their turn on the altar, before a mass of other boys ready to jeer, heckle and remember any fumble he'd make for years to come. Freshmen and sophomores act as acolytes during daily mass, juniors and seniors serve as readers. None gets a pass, and now it's his turn.

He swallows hard, then opens his mouth. "The first reading is taken from the book of the Prophet Ezekiel." Can that strained, high-pitched voice be his? Did I pronounce it right, Ee-zee-kiel? His throat feels parched, sandy. His white polo shirt and black pants seem terribly hot, and he can feel his armpits steaming up.

He plows on. The lines are a blur. He tries to go faster, but then remembers the priest's admonition. It's the Word of God, give it respect, read it slowly! So he enunciates his words, never looking up from the book, determined not to get distracted by the funny looks on his classmates' faces.

Last two lines, yes!

Finished. The end. Wow, he's done it. Read right up to the last period without a hitch. Success! Must breathe easily now, wrap it up, wrap it up. A pause, then one more thing left to say: "This is the Word of the Lord."

And his mouth says: "This is the end of the world."

A second of shock, then pandemonium in the chapel. Even the priest starts giggling. He looks up, startled, realizes what he has just said, then stares horrified at the laughing mob. Nothing to do now but trudge back to his pew, face all crimson, his future flashing before his eyes. He'll never outlive this, he knows. From this day forward, at least among his peers, he's toast.

Our 25-strong high school seminary batch is celebrating its 20th anniversary this year. Since our graduation in March 1987, four have become priests, many more have gotten hitched, a few now live abroad, and one has passed away. But we remain extraordinarily close to one another, and have enlarged the friendship to include the wives and kids. All first-borns in the circle automatically get a ninong in the other 24. Getting gifts on Christmas and birthdays is another story. When we hold reunions, which is often and irrespective of a quorum, we always end up killing ourselves with the same old stories. God willing, we'll never stop laughing. The anecdote above is a perennial. Yep, it's a true story.