Waco has been our home for more than a decade now since I uprooted my family from Asia. Great things have happened since then. This blog will be our link to friends and hopefully, fellow educators.
Daisy- she of those black expressive eyes and very modest ways- and I were married in an austere ceremony officiated by a friend, the Rev. Fr. Ramon Ma. Navarro on the 26th of May, 1982 at St. Vincent Ferrer Church in the town of Angadanan in the northeastern province of Isabela, Philippines.
She and I graduated from the same secondary school but were not in attendance at the same period since I am seven years her senior. Then several years later, we were at the same teacher-training college when I was a senior and she was a freshman. We saw each other at show choir and dance troupe rehearsals and performances.
After graduating from college, I landed a teaching job as a third-grade teacher at a big elementary school in town. A couple of years later, Daisy was among six would-be teachers assigned for internship at my classroom. I worked well with the student teachers, assisting them in all aspects of their off-campus experiences. Daisy was the most organized in the group. She prepared her lessons well and executed them successfully.
I was moved to a primary school in a rustic barrio, and taught there for more than two years. The transfer was very discouraging, but as time went by, I learned to like the place, the people, the school children. I taught a combined class of 3rd and 4th graders and another teacher handled the other combination class of 1st and 2nd graders.
Soon Daisy finished her teaching degree and got her initial teaching stint at the very same school I was. We lived in the same boarding house, owned by the barrio captain, the head of the village. It was the safest thing to do at the time, since there were leftist insurgents in the rural areas. She cooked our meals while I fetched water from a pump well. As time passed, I was slowly beginning to fall for her.
She must not have been aware of it, but she was giving herself away day by day. We drew much closer to each other. Friends started to ask what the real score between us was. They doubted that there was nothing special going on. I asked myself: Could there be something that could be spelled L-O-V-E between us? Had there been a singing vibratory attraction which made itself known without words spoken? I wanted to believe there was. Yet I was afraid that she was treating me as a big brother and that she was confident that she would be treated as a sister in return. I feared that telling her my feelings for her would ruin our smooth friendship. Then there was the fear of being rejected.
I wanted more than friendship. I wanted a more intimate relationship. How could I let her know that I loved her without making her think that I was taking advantage of her trusting closeness to me? What I needed were the opportune time and the right way.
Daisy moved to the central school in the town proper without her knowing that I cared about her, that I loved her. I was almost 30, and I was certain that I was in love with her. There have been a few women before, but I had never felt this way before. I had found the woman I would spend the rest of my life with and the would-be mother of my children. A year after she left the barrio school, I was moved to the central school where she was, to fill in a vacancy. We were together again at the same school.
It was the age of whirlwind romances, but there I was, not having the courage to speak up for myself. Every time I tried to tell her of my feelings for her, I felt a big lump in my throat. I was not good with spoken words, so I had to put it down in writing to start. What were love letters for?
On weekends, I would visit Daisy at her home. Filipino culture dictated that it was an honorable thing to do - visit the lady one is courting at her own home and get to know her family. Or get yourself known (or scrutinized) by the family. I lived in the town, and I had to walk a few kilometers and cross the Cagayan River, the country's longest, to get to her home in Macalauat. One had to cross the river by boat or by bamboo raft. It was practical for every family to have a boat of its own. On those days when there was no way to get across, I had to call out for someone to row a boat from the other side of the river. A family member or a relative, if not Daisy herself, would come to get me across.
I almost left my job when I was offered to supervise student teachers at the state university where I got my teaching degree. Before my scheduled move, the teachers in the school where we were now both teaching, organized a send-off social. We both were asked to sing. Daisy sang "Yesterday..." to which I countered, " Lady, are you crying? Do the tears belong to me?.." The offer of employment in the university fell through, so I stayed. What could have happened had I left? Could our story have ended differently?
It did not take very long before she agreed to enter into a relationship for the very first time. It might be hard to believe, but at 22, Daisy had never been involved before. She understood that behind the cheerful happy-go-lucky image I was projecting was a lonely soul longing for someone to call him her own.
Despite the lack of preparedness for a wedding, I proposed. Following Filipino tradition, I had to formally ask Daisy's hand in marriage. When I did, her parents shed tears, and asked if we could set the date in December to allow her older sister, Levie, who, at the time was employed overseas, to attend. The date Daisy and I set was May 26, 1982. I assured her parents that they were not losing a daughter, and that they were gaining a son-in-law. Her brother asked her if she knew what she was getting into. And why the haste? Did we do something that we were not supposed to have done, he wondered. In the Filipino culture, a man and a woman have to be married if they broke the moral mores prematurely.
Both families met to agree on the date and make plans. Since both of my parents had passed on, my party was composed of my two brothers, two sisters, and a few relatives. Traditionally, the parents of the bride would ask the groom for dowry, a sizeable amount of money for start-up money for the newlyweds. In addition the groom would be asked if he owned a parcel of land, a "carabao", water buffalo, and farming implements. In my case, Daisy's uncle, her family spokesperson, suggested that there was no need for me to produce the traditional requisites since I was gainfully employed - my job was my "plow" in making a living. I would not need any farm implements because I would not be farming anyway.
It was customary to have the Filipino groom's family to spend for the wedding. Since I had been without parents, Daisy and I shared in the expenses. She bought her own inexpensive ready-to-wear wedding gown. We spent our joint fund to purchase our 10k wedding bands, and spent the rest in the rental for the bridesmaids gowns and accessories. Several pigs were slaughtered, one of which was lechon, a whole pig roasted over live coal, which was donated by a friend who was working in Saudi Arabia. Cavans of rice, several ducks and chickens, the wedding cake, and the church decorations were donated by friends and relatives. Fr. Monch, my parish priest friend, waived the church fees and provided a soloist. My older brother, endowed with culinary abilities, led in the cooking the menu of the day.
And so it happened on Wednesday, the 26th of May, 1982 - the ceremony that bound us together as husband and wife. The reception which was held at the Marcos home in the barrio was very well attended by family and friends, including the folks from the barrio where we both taught, who brought presents that included a furniture set made of rare Philippine mahogany - a round table with matching stools.#
Two days after the end of the spring semester, I flew to San Jose, California, on the invitation of my old buddy, to spend a week in California before I went back to school for the summer term. I flew from Cedar Rapids Municipal Airport on an America West flight at 7:10 in the morning with brief stops at Des Moines, Iowa, Phoenix, and Las Vegas.
Carlos Respicio and his grilfriend, Myrna, met me at San Jose Municipal Airport. I flew in on the day of Carlos's uncle's interment. He died of cardiac arrest the day before. The couple had to leave the cemetery at once to be at the airport at the time of my arrival. A fellowship was being held at the Respicio home on Conti Court.
Although everyone was in mourning, my friend's parents and sisters were very pleased to see me. Maryknol was now married and she had a cute daughter. Hazeline had grown into a woman. I met former Pisbakal natives who knew my mother-in-law.
The past week had been a tiring and sleepless one for the Respicio family, but a couple days later, everyone was back to work, except Carlos who decided to take a few days off. He wanted me to get the best of my short visit to California.
GOLDEN CITY of the GOLDEN WEST
One windy afternoon, Carlos, Myrna, and I took off to San Francisco, passing by the University of California Berkeley Campus and Stanford University. We crossed the Oakland Bay Bridge, simply called Bay Bridge. The 8.5-mile ( 13.6765 km.) long bridge connects the isolated peninsula city of San Francisco with communities across the bay. It is double-decked to accommodate the continuous traffic flow.
Surrounded on three sides by the ocean, San Francisco is about seven miles long and seven miles wide, studded with hills of magnificent view, where quaint cable cars toil up and down impossibly steep inclines. Introduced in 1863, cable cars replaced horsedrawn cars, a difficult mode of travel in the city's steep hills. Today San Francisco is the only city in the world to have an operating cable car system. These antique cable cars are now designated national historic landmark.
Carlos drove his black Camaro Z28 up and down the steep streets until we got to the world-famous Golden Gate Bridge. Built where they said it could not be done, the Golden Gate Bridge is one of the world's greatest man-made wonders. The towers rise 756 feet above the water. From the San Francisco side, Alcatraz could be seen as a tiny speck on the bay. First a lighthouse and a fortress, Alcatraz became famous as a federal prison called "The Rock". It is said that no prisoner had ever escaped alive from Alcatraz because of the frigid temperature of the water around it. It had been the setting of movies. Today it is a tourist attraction.
We crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and drove up the mountains on the other side. From there we got a breathtaking view of the city and the bridge bathed by the hues of the setting sun. From there, we headed back to the city and drove down Lombard Street. Highlighted by red brick and colorful flowers, the rakish and twisted road earned the tag the "Crookedest Street in the World." I had a picture taken at the foot of the zigzag road.
Next, we strolled along Ghirardelli Square, which used to be a chocolate factory. It had been transformed into a shopping center overlooking the Maritime Historical Park and Aquatic Park. The complex had shops, theaters, restaurants, decorative plazas, and art galleries. I had a fun sketch of my face done by a sidewalk artist while Carlos and Myrna watched.
The Fisherman's Wharf of San Francisco is the embarking and landing point of San Francisco's many fishermen. Located on Taylor Street at the Embarcadero, it is famous for its fresh fish, fine dining, and festive atmosphere. We had dinner at No. 9 Fisherman's Grotto, owned and operated by M. Geraldi and Sons. The restaurant was born 50 years ago and continued to be family owned and operated. Recipes were created by the fishermen themselves, using the freshest vegetables and seafood of the finest quality. I had Salmon Grilled for $12.25 per serving. During our meal, a waiter offered to take our picture. When he learned that we were Filipinos, he stated that he liked the new Philippine president Corazon Aquino. He made it known that he followed the People Power revolution.
Capping the San Francisco visit was a stroll along Broadway Street with its glittering neon lights and marquees in the theater row of live shows. We bumped into a Filipino guy working at Big Al's. We did not see any show. We went back to San Jose that night passing through the San Mateo Bridge.
The 17-MILE DRIVE
The next day, Carlos and Myrna took me to a ride through the 17-Mile Drive. This drive goes through Del Monte Forest, a private community known for its natural scenic beauty. It had been attracting visitors since the 1890s when horsedrawn coaches made daily excursions carrying guests from the original Del Monte Hotel in Monterey.
The 17-Mile Drive and other roadways in Del Monte Forest are privately owned, and the right to pass is by permission. The admission fee was $7.00 at the main gate. Traffic regulations are strictly enforced. No overnight camping is permitted, but picnicking is allowed in designated areas. Hunting and feeding of wildlife is prohibited.
We drove through pine forests and groves of Monterey cypress and along a coastline of singular beauty. I saw deer throughout the forest, and sea lions, seals, and otters in the water and on the rocks offshore. There are 26 points of interest along the 17-mile drive, but we stopped and took pictures only in such places as I have described below.
Shepherd's Knoll Vista Point offered a magnificent panoramic view of historic Monterey Bay and San Gabilan Mountains beyond.
Huckleberry Hill, named for its abundance of native huckleberry bushes, was an area of unusual botanical interest where Monterey pine, Bishop pine, and Gowen cypress coexist with a number of native shrubs. It is one of the highest points in Del Monte Forest.
Spanish Bay was where Juan Portola camped in 1769 on his land expedition from Baja California to try to locate Monterey Bay. Thinking he had failed, he returned to San Diego, and it was not until his second expedition that he recognized Monterey Bay.
The Restless Sea, directly off Point Joe, is one of the few places in the world where ocean currents meet. This unusual turbulence, present even on the calmest of days, results from the changes in these currents.
Point Joe. From the earliest sailing days to the present, mariners have mistaken Point Joe for the entrance to Monterey Bay and have shipwrecked on the rocks.
Seal and Bird Rocks are the homes of countless shoreline birds such as gulls and cormorants, and offshore herds of sea lions and the smaller seals.
Cypress Point Lookout affords the finest view of the Pacific coastline on the 17-Mile Drive. Here I saw many sea lions on the offshore rocks and seals and sea otters close to shore.
Crocker Grove is a 13-acre (5.2611-hectare) reserve of native pines and cypress. The grove contains the largest and oldest Monterey cypress in existence.
The Lone Cypress, clinging to nearly bare rock, is one of California's most familiar landmarks, a tourist attraction.
The rocks and surfs along portions of the 17-mile Drive can be hazardous to life and safety. The ocean itself is very cold with a strong undertow along the surfline.
MONTEREY BAY AQUARIUM
We exited from the 17-Mile Drive and proceeded to Monterey to visit the Monterey Bay Aquarium which carlos and Myrna were to see for the first time, too. We got lost on the way, but finally found our way to Cannery Row more than an hour before closing time.
Opened on October 20, 1984, the Monterey Bay Aquarium array of galleries and exhibits offer a dramatic view of Monterey Bay, one of the world's richest marine regions. Each exhibit holds a different world - Kelp Forest, Marine Mammal Gallery, Sea Otter Exhibit, Octopus and Kin Gallery, Monterey Bay Habitat galleries, Aviary, and Touch Pools.
In the Habitat Gallery, jellyfish and mackerel school thrive despite the presence of sharks. The sharks are too well fed, so they don't bother. Seven-gill sharks and spiny dogfish never stop swimming: they need water streaming past their gills to breathe. Because research showed that sharks in circular tanks expend too much energy navigating the curves, the aquarium built an hourglass-shaped tank with turnarounds at each end. The 90-foot straightway give the sharks a long glide path for resting and breathing.
To make the bay's animals feel at home, the aquarium's lifeblood - fresh seawater from the bay - flows through the exhibits, pumped in at more than 2,000 gallons per minute. Huge pressure sand filters turn the bays cloudy water clear. Then for a few hours each night, unfiltered water is pumped in, feeding those creatures that filter food from it. By morning, the filters resume.
Hermit crab, shore crab, and other animals in the tide pools have man-made waves to meet their needs. A reservoir upstairs fills every 40 seconds, then sends the water crashing down to the tide pools below.
Seals live near the deck of the aquarium on the rocks nearby. Life-sized models of whales and dolphins float overhead, representing the marine mammals that pass through the bay.
Learning goes on through the aquarium every minute of the day. While one group of school children gazes up at whales, another stands marveling at the kelp forest. Holding a crab in hand, stroking a new blade of kelp, watching a brittle star wiggle, examining sea star tubefeet - children as well as adults learn lessons about sea life at the touch pools.
After visiting Monterey Bay Aquarium, the doors opened up a new world to me: the world of Monterey Bay. On the way back to San Jose, we stopped by Sta. Cruz. The beach was empty and the water cold, but there were people strolling the boardwalk. We lingered on the Sta. Cruz fisherman's wharf where we got a good view of the beach and the boardwalk which would be bustling with so much energy when the weather warmed up.
LICK OBSERVATORY
California Highway 130 leaves the Santa Clara Valley and climbs into the Diablo Range east of San Jose. On a Sunday morning, Carlos drove his Camaro Z28 along winding roads and around oak-covered slopes for 18 miles to get to the peak called Mt. Hamilton. He was taking a Filipino Canadian guest and me to the Lick Observatory of the University of California Sta. Cruz.
Mount Hamilton, at over 4,200 feet, is the highest peak in the Northern Diablo Range. A panoramic view of San Jose can be seen from here. Lick Observatory was named after James Lick whose donation brought it into being. The main building had an attendant on duty showing the 36-inch refracting telescope, an original gift of James Lick, and giving as short talk about the observatory and its history. There were numerous photographic exhibits in the hallway of the main building.
The original gift of James Lick, the 36-inch refractor, is no longer the dominant telescope on Mount Hamilton, but it is still regularly used for research. The 120-inch Shane telescope is Mount Hamilton's largest telescope and one of the most productive telescope in the world. Astronomers use it every clear night of the year for conducting research on astronomy. The visitor's gallery of the Shane 120-inch telescope is open to the public.
COYOTE LAKE
Maryknol's husband, Julius, was to celebrate his birthday on May 24th. Instead of the usual party at home, it was decided that we go on a picnic at Coyote Lake. Aside from the family, a few relatives from San Francisco came over. We feasted on chicken and pork ribs barbecue and beer. Maryknol and I sang along with the sing-slong system she bought for her husband.
We went boating. Learning how to drive the boat was not difficult at all. Then Carlos and I tried to learn to water ski. The day before my California getaway ended, Carlos and I, together with the Filipino Canadian, went back to Coyote Lake. This time, I gave water skiing a try. After several attempts, I could stand on the water, but could not go farther than two meters. I gave up when I could not stand the cold water any more. That was the end of my attempt at doing something so challenging.
Carlos was determined. He did not give up until he finally was able to go farther than ten meters. I realized that it was not as easy as we see it.
VISITING FRIENDS
While in San Jose, I called Roy Mari, a friend at PNC, who was now residing on Peach Court. I had his address, but not a telephone number, so I scanned the directory. His name was not listed in the book, but his brother's was. Roy came to meet me on Conti Court. We had not seen each other for ten years after our heydays at the Philippine Normal College in Alicia, Isabela. He invited me to their place. He was at the time living with his mother (who served as municipal councilor in Alicia, Isabela for many years) and his brother Nonoy. They were delighted to see me again.
I spent the night at Roy's. We reminisced those years in college and talked about how our lives had been the past ten years. Roy took me to a Sunday church service where I met Jim Andaya and his sister. Jim was the musical director of the church choir. Roy is the brother of Mrs. Adelaida Mari Andaya who was my college professor and principal sponsor at my wedding.
Other townmates I met in California were Engr. Alejandro Coloma who was a big name at the National Irrigation Administration (NIA) and Eddie Balico. I chanced on Engr. Coloma the night we went to Eddie Balico's new home at Hercules during the Memorial Day weekend. The former NIA bigwig was now residing with his family in San Francisco where he was employed. He drove a Mercedes Benz.
Eddie Balico and his wife (who I met for the first time) gave me a warm welcome. They were hosting a Memorial Day weekend party so there were Filipinos, most of whom from Pisbakal. The mahjong table was busy. I played "Pepito", a variant of poker, with Engr. Coloma, Eddie, and Carlos. When he could not get a seat at the mahjong table, Julius joined us in the card game. It was a game among relatives, so we had a bet of a dollar up to $5 only. "You realize that you're betting twenty pesos," they would remind me every time I put a dollar down on the table. Carlos and I won against Engr. Coloma. Just got a minute tip of what he had.
TWO WEDDINGS
I attended two different weddings in San Jose in a week. One was a "commercial wedding" - marriage for convenience, as they call it now- at the municipal court; the other was a pompous garden wedding at a Greek restaurant. The first bride was "married" to an engineer from Manila. I witnessed the civil ceremony at the San Jose Municipal Hall. It was a quickie - it was done in ten minutes.
The man in the first wedding came to the United States as a tourist. He had a good job as an engineer in Manila, but he envisioned a brighter economic future for his family in the U.S. He had two children left temporarily back home. His wife was in the U.S., too, and had herself a marriage-for-convenience arranged earlier. The couple got a divorce here. The objective was to pay a U.S. citizen who would agree to enter into a no-strings-attached arrangement; meaning the parties would not actually live together as married couples. After the wedding, a petition would be filed to legalize the alien spouse's stay due to marriage. After obtaining legal status, they would get a divorce and end up with each other again.
I was told that many Filipinos, especially those who were out of status, had resorted to this procedure in order to legalize their status. It was called marriage for convenience. Should I get into such arrangement? This opportunity to be here was indeed rare. Many Filipinos would do anything just to be able to enter the United States and much more, live here permanently. The fact that I was already here made it easier for me. But I had a commitment with PRODED which sent me here. Had I decided to stay, how would my wife and young son take it?
I could pay back the government eventually. I could start fresh here. On the other hand, my wife and son would have to wait for only God knows how long before I could petition for them. There was a prospect for a bright future for Chester. Everything sounded wonderful, or so it seemed. But I was not convinced. Not only because of the enormous amount I would have to pay back , but more important, because of the uncertainty of the length of time I would be separated from my family in the process of waiting.
Looking back now, I know I will do what I did then. I hated myself for not having the gut to take risks, to venture into such a challenging decision to make. But deep in me, I knew that living in this country with all its comforts and opportunities was never an ambition of mine. My wife and I were contented with our simple life together. We both had been through the hard life, and simple things were enough to give us joy in life. We were contented with the way things were. What we both were interested in was advancement in the career path we chose to follow. There were the usual financial difficulties, but we always found ways to survive together. The tendency to love a simple life came from our rural upbringing.
The garden wedding, the second one I attended, was a pompous one. The ceremony was brief (not a Catholic service) and simple, but the atmosphere was wonderful and the setting was very appropriate. At the reception hall, I was seated among family members next to Carlos and Myrna. Most of Myrna's relatives kept asking Carlos when their turn would be. We had a hearty meal, and champagne flowed throughout the reception.
A part of the celebration reminded me of the traditional "pagala" in our local Ilocano weddings. The newlyweds started the dance. Men of all ages took turns dancing with the bride, while the girls and women danced alternately with the groom. Even the young relatives went to the dance floor to dance with the bride or the groom. When Carlos and Myrna's turn came, I wanted to take a picture of him dancing with the bride. But the camera was empty. He made sure of that before going to the dance floor. He anticipated that I might be tempted to take a snapshot of him and the bride. He did not want people speculating that he had gotten married. "Who would not be convinced that I was the groom in the wedding?" he asked after the dance. He was looking every inch like a groom in his double-breasted black suit.
I never thought of dancing at all, but Carlos and Myrna encouraged me to go to the dance floor with one of Myrna's gorgeous cousins. Most of the ladies around were of Mexican parentage and certainly were very pretty. They reminded me of the young Gonzales actresses of Philippine movies. Carlos and I agreed that these young ladies could give any Filipino actress a run for her money.
An exclusive celebration was to be held later in the evening by the bride's immediate family at another room in the same Greek restaurant. Myrna wanted to take me to the party to watch a featured belly dancer, but I said that I would rather rest. Neither of them was interested in staying for the party, so went home after the main reception.
FILIPINO MOVIES
California has everything Filipino. I spent the rest of my vacation watching Filipino movies. We would rent Tagalog movies from one of the Filipino video stores in San Jose, and would watch with Myrna in the evening. Surprisingly, she had developed a special liking for Tagalog movies. She did not understand the dialogs, but she understood the plot through the action. She said whe would be carried away by Sharon Cuneta's dramatic scenes. She thought Eddie Garcia was really a fine Filipino actor.
I left San Jose on the tenth day of my vacation via America West. Carlos and Myrna saw me off at the airport. I changed flight in Phoenix, the home of America West. The flight to Cedar Rapids (via Des Moines, IA), was delayed for almost two hours. From the Cedar Rapids airport, I took a limousine to Iowa City.
Things began to get better when letters came pouring in from my wife, Daisy, relatives, and friends. Occasionally, I also got taped messages from her and Chester. As soon as we got a phone service at North Governor, I got calls from my family regularly.
It was tough being back to school as a full-time student. Three of the courses I was taking were less demanding than my course in American public school law, Legal Aspects of Educational Administration. In the course, we had to read, analyze, and discuss in class landmark case decisions, such as Brown vs. Board of Education. It was very interesting, in fact, the most interesting course I had on my first semester in graduate school.
Despite all the voluminous reading assignments and course requirements to work on, I found time to relax. I went to Riverfest '86 celebration. Riverfest was an annual spring celebration at the University of Iowa. It was a day of sun. music, and fun as I watched the concert at Union Field where four bands played alternately for eight straight hours.
There were other sideshows, such as karate and fencing demos, while the scrooge warehouse went on by the banks of the Iowa River. Food tents served international cuisine. And yes, there was beer for sale.
On one weekend, I attended a dinner with Friends of International Students hosted by Hong Cuc, a Vietnamese graduate student.
I saw the world famous Mantovani Orchestra on concert at the Hancher Auditorium. Our landlady, Joan Liffring-Zug had previously bought the tickets, but would not be able to go, so she gave the tickets to us. It was my first taste of a concert of an internationally-acclaimed musical company.
No matter how busy I was, I took the time to communicate regularly with my wife and son. Getting letters and voice tapes from them gave me the strength to go on. At the end of the spring semester, I had two A's and two B's which were not bad at all for a beginner like me.
Despite the very small number of Filipino students at the University of Iowa, we participated in the International Festival on April 12, 1986 at the Main Lounge of the Iowa Memorial Union. There was an international art and cultural exhibit from noon to six. All the international student organizations were expected to participate.
UI Filipino students did not have any official organization. Aside from my fellow PRODED fellows, we did not know other Filipino students except Clodualdo del Mundo, Jr. (Film Studies) and Lemuel Torrevillas (Theatre Arts). We had heard of names like George Aquino and Eric Pangilinan, but we never had the chance to meet them. We wanted to participate, so we had to come up with a name for our group. I thought of calling our unofficial group SAMAHANG PINOY. It sounded okay to everyone, so we adopted the name.
With Marina Espiritu coordinating our participation, we were able to put up a Philippine exhibit out of anything Filipino that we could take hold of. Effie Hall was very kind to lend items from her own collection, including and "anito" statuette and a bamboo flute from the Mt. Province. Rowena and Dreena added variety to the exhibit with their personal contributions.
As regard to our participation in the cultural show, we thought of presenting a folk dance, but no one would dare try to dance opposite me. It was unanimously decided that we do a rendition of "Bayan Ko". We succeeded in persuading Doy del Mundo and wife Deng (Dreena), and Rowena Torrevillas to join us. Effie Hall came to the rehearsals, but did not make it to the actual performance. We used a minus-one tape. Lemuel Torrevillas took care of the technical aspect. I was assigned the opening solo part. On the instrumental portion before the chorus repetition, Rowena would narrate an English translation of the song.
There was an international dinner before the cultural show in which every international student organization shared a native dish. We did not have a Filipino dish, since no one among us did not have the time to cook. Our simple participation became our concern.
The first portion of the cultural show was an international costume parade in which Evelyn, Marina, and I were among the models. Evelyn wore a cream embroidered mestiza gown, while Marina modeled a sequinned kimona with a long skirt in floral prints. I wore a hand-embroidered Barong Tagalog with a Roman collar. After the show, Doy and I had a good laugh when I told him that I wore the Barong Tagalog on my wedding day.
because we were not there," referring Ours was the second number in the main cultural program. After a folk dance exhibited by Indonesian students, were finally on center stage before an international audience: Doy and Deng in jusi Barong Tagalog, too. Rowena was wearing a cream chiffon dress. Her daughter, Roema, was on stage with us. Rowena gave a short introduction to our song. She ended it with, " We are singing this song for our people because we were not there," referring to the recent People Power revolution in the Philippines which put Corazon Aquino in the presidency.
MEETING SCIENCE MENTORS
On the first week of April, 1986, I received na invitation from the Stanley Foundation to a dinner and meeting with other teachers throughout the world about science teaching. It was to be held at Hotel Muscatine in Muscatine, Iowa.
Marina Espiritu and I attended the gathering on April 26th. We went to Muscatine with Dr. Edward Pizzini and Dr. Daniel Sheldon, members of UI science education faculty. We passed through wide open farms before reaching Muscatine. The great Mississippi River suns along the borders of Iowa and Illinois. We arrived early se we strolled by the river. A barge transporting corn grains passed by.
Attending the dinner were UI Science Education faculty and international graduate students, science teachers of Muscatine Community College, Muscatine High School, and Central and West Middle Schools. Cocktails were served before the dinner.
CHICAGO is considered the heart of the American heartland. it is the capital of mid-America. The trucks and the cars and the airplanes come funneling through this major city each day.
The week-long spring break in all colleges and universities in the whole of US is the time to get away from it all. This is the time when students flock to warmer vacation destinations, such as the beaches of Daytona and Fort Lauderdale in Florida and South Padre Island in Texas. The weather is just beginning to warm up, and the water might not be warm for swimming, but college students spend the week partying, drinking, and just having fun.
I did not have any plans for spring break in 1986. I got an invitation from an old buddy way from high school to spend the week with his family at their Hanover Park home an hour drive from downtown Chicago. We were seeing each other for the first time in many years.
MANUEL C. MAMURI, High School Buddy
Manuel and I went to the same small community high school together where he graduated top of the class and I second. We enrolled in the school at the same time, our junior year. He moved from the high school department of St. Ferdinand College, a prestigious private Catholic school in the capital town of Ilagan in Isabela. He was a Mathematician of the Year in his freshman year there. I had come from Manuel A. Roxas High School in Manila, but returned to my hometown. I quit school for two years, waiting for the opportunity to go back and finish high school. Coming from college preparatory background, I was told that I would have to take "back subjects" if I were to enroll at the Angadanan Vocational High School. So we looked at other options. My mother and I went to visit the Our Lady of the Pillar Institution (OLPI) in Cauayan, Isabela. I was to live with a distant relative if I enrolled there. I finally decided not to go. Then Angadanan Community High School opened a third year class. This was what I was waiting for. I was older than my classmates; actually my sister's classmates in elementary school became my classmates at the community high school. That was how Manuel Mamuri and I met.
We started as rivals in everything - academic, leadership, popularity, extra-curricular activities. Being the son of a teacher and the principal in-charge of the high school, Manuel was popular, very confident, and outspoken. His friends were the sons of prominent people in town who have decided to put their children in this community high school. At the end of our junior year, he finished top of the class, and I trailed in second place. During the awards program, as my name was called, I could hear it from a distance. I was not there to receive my awards ribbon. In silent protest of the result, I decided to not show up. The people whoknew me understood the reason why I was not there. Those who did not were left with speculations. I really did not care what others had to say.
During my senior year, Manuel and I were still the competitors that we were. People love the underdog: I was elected the leader of nearly all the school organizations, except the Math Club and Chesscrabble Club which he led. Remarkably, I won Student Body Government president and became the first editor-in-chief of our school paper. Manuel and his friends befriended me. They found out that I enjoyed singing, so we formed a singing group, The Trailblazers, aptly called since we would be the first graduates of our school, we were actually blazing the trail for those who would come after us. The love for singing bonded us together. We had our singing jams for hours on weekends. We projected a wholesome image of the youth by excelling academically and being actively involved in extra-curricular activities. He ran track and I was the catcher in the baseball team. Our singing group performed in school functions. Manuel and I became close friends. He would invite me for dinner at his home. Then the quest for academic honors was pushed in the background. I still did not back down from doing my best in class, but I really did not care any more if I would be valedictorian or salutatorian.
After high school graduation in 1971, Manuel Mamuri, Ramon Tagorda, and Marciano Abarca, Jr. left for the city to pursue college education. I stayed behind for my parents could not afford to send me on through college. I still had Ulysses Agpaoa around who was now in his senior year. He was the guitarist in our singing group. I made use of my ability to draw by accepting drawing and poster making jobs for teachers and students. The fees were minimal, but were enough to buy myself clothing. The job kept me busy the whole year. Uly and I still had the usual singing and drinking (Beer Grande) sprees while the others were gone.
Whenever my friends would come home for breaks from school, they would come to see me. I truly enjoyed their friendship. Although I was not in the same socio-economic status as theirs, they counted me as their friend. Their parents would entrust them to me, since I was the oldest among us. We were a group of men who just loved one another's company, spending countless hours singing together over a few bottles of San Miguel beer.
The school year that followed, I was offered a full academic scholarship at the Philippine Normal College Region 2 Branch in Alicia, Isabela under the Gov. Faustino N. Dy Scholarship program. I was recommended by Mr. Cesar T. Taguba, Sr., then the Principla II of Angadanan Central School, and Mr. Antonio Alingog, District Supervisor. Mrs. Adelaida Mari Andaya, a professor at the teacher's college had a lot to do in my getting the scholarship grant. She was one of the professors who started on the first year of operation of the college branch.
For several times, Manuel took me to Manila to enable me to spend time with friends, including Ulysses Agpaoa who was now enrolled in pre-med courses at the University of Sto. Tomas. We had the usual drinking sprees, and we always enjoyed singing the same old songs we sang way back in high school. At times we would go to the movies, or hop into the folk houses to listen to live folk singers over a few bottles of cold San Miguel beer. There was never a dull moment. Ulysses plucking the guitar, Ramon and his humorous antics, Manuel singing harmony with Marciano and me.
Manuel got married and started a family of his own before he was able to complete his degree in business administration with major in accounting. He did not run away from responsibility. He combined marriage with his studies. His plunging into marriage was viewed by many as premature, but it was the real thing for him. There were problems at the start, but he thought it was the most sensible thing to do. Now, after what he and his wife had been through, he could look back and safely say that it was really meant to be. It has been said that behind a man's success is a woman. The woman in Manuel's life is the former Antonia Turingan, a native of Echague, Isabela. She had become his partner in bringing about the kind of good life they now enjoy. They really complement each other. They lay out plans together, sometimes argue, but they always end up agreeing with each other after carefully weighing their points.
On the night of my arrival in Hanover Park, Aurora and Corazon Mamuri, Manuel's younger sisters drove from Chicago to come and meet me. They were so excited that they could not wait for the next morning. We had lengthy exchange of stories; I, providing news about our hometown.
The next morning, we visited their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Cenon Mamuri, Sr., who lived on North Troy in Chicago. They were very pleased to see me. They were amused to see two old high school buddies reunited after long years. They were happy for me for having given the opportunity to pursue graduate studies in the U.S. at the Philippine government's expense. They thought about the possibilities of staying permanently in the country. They came out with a few suggestions, such as getting into an arranged marriage-for-convenience with a U.S. citizen. None of those did not merit any consideration.
HOLY HILL
Far from the busy city in the heart of Wisconsin's countryside, Holy Hill rises heavenward. Its lofty spires seem to pierce the sky as you suddenly come upon one of the most beloved and familiar landmarks in all America.
Manuel took his family and me to Holy Hill in Hubertus, Wisconsin, for the Palm Sunday Mass in 1986. We took his Chevy Van 20 which was equipped with a stereo and TV which entertained the kids, Jay and Suzette. It was quite a long drive, and somewhere along the highway, we were stopped by the state police for speeding.
Holy Hill received its name when the early settlers erected the first cross on its summit and built a log cabin chapel there more than one hundred years ago. They cross may still be seen in a glass case in the vestibule of the lower church. From those humble beginnings came the gradual, laborious, yet blessed development to the present magnificent House of God, dedicated to "Mary, Help of Christians."
Francois Soubrio, a native of France, was known as the hermit of Holy Hill. A local farmer discovered his presence sometime between 1862 and 1864.' After a time of mutual suspicion between Soubrio and the area farmers, a friendship developed as the result of growing openness between them. The farmers then began to assist Soubrio by giving him food and other necessities. Eventually they banded together to build a small cabin for him.
There are two accounts about Soubrio's mysterious presence at Holy Hill. In the older account (1889), a narrative written about Holy Hill by W. A. Armstrong, the hermit is said to have come in penance for the murder of someone he loved. o" Armstrong's narrative also says that the hermit was miraculously healed of a partial paralysis after spending the night in prayer on the hill's summit. In J. M. LeCount's history of Holy Hill he is described as a religious eccentric. Although the accounts differ in their opinion of Soubrio's personality, both accounts agree that he was a man of great inner pain who sought comfort in God.
Before coming to Holy Hill, Soubrio traveled extensively. His travels eventually brought him to Quebec, Canada, where he worked as an assistant to a retired professor. While working in the professor's library, Soubrio found an old French diary and a parchment map (dated 1676). The map showed the Wisconsin - Lake Michigan area and the route used to reach a very high cone-shaped hill in southeastern Wisconsin. Soubrio's attention was drawn to the entry in which the author described his journey to the hill's summit where he erected a stone altar, raised a cross (margin notes on the map indicated a cross) and dedicated the place in the name of Mary as holy ground forever. Studying these documents created a deep longing within Soubrio to come to the holy site. Many assumed the documents belonged to Fr. Jacques Marquette.
A pilgrimage to Holy Hill was never complete without a visit to the gift store with its wide selection of religious items on display. Corazon bought me a wall decor depicting the Virgin Mary. Aurora bought a small bottle of Holy Water, and Antonia purchased some souvenir postcards for me.
Having been to the highest located church in the state of Wisconsin and the most popular place for pilgrimage in the United States (at least, during that time) was a very exhilirating experience for me.
CHICAGO EXPERIENCE
Manuel took a day off and drove his daughter and me to the Loop. First, we went to the Sears Tower, the world's tallest building at the time. At 1,454 feet and 110 stories, it is more than a hundred feet higher than New York's twin-towered World Trade Center and more than 200 feet higher than the once predominant Empire State Building. Antonia, Manuel's wife, who was then working in an insurance firm in one of the uppermost floors, took us to where she worked and then accompanied us to the lobby. At the lobby was the mural "Universe" created by Alexander Calder (1898-1976), considered America's greatest sculptor.
"Universe" is composed of a number of elements: the spine, which has pennants colored in black, blue, red, and yellow; three flowers in colors red, yellow, and black; a black pendulum; a sun of black, red, and orange; and a black helix. Each of the pieces, with the exception of the pendulum which swings at a natural frequency, turns at its own rate of speed which varies from 4 revolutions per minute (rpm) for the spine and sun to 15 rpm for the helix. The composition is 55 feet wide and 33 feet high and weighs a total of 16,174 pounds.
At the Visitors Center was a photo gallery of Chicago attractions that have made the windy city famous. An entertaining fast-paced multi-image show would take a visitor on a fascinating excursion of Chicago. There were also architectural exhibits and a 9-foot "working" model of the Sears Tower that told about the world's tallest building.
Then a nonstop ride to the Skydeck Observatory would take visitors to 1,353 feet above street level which was higher than any rooftop in the world. There I saw the panoramic view of Chicago, its famous skyline of skyscrapers, the magnificent shoreline of Lake Michigan, and a horizon that takes in four states.
Northeast of the Sears Tower soars the white marble Standard Oil Building, called "Big Stan". It is 1, 136 feet high. Looming above the near northside's Magnificent Mile shopping mecca is the huge black pylon of the 100-story 1,127 feet high John Hancock Center, or "Big John".
Nestled at the foot of these megabuildings, and looking hardly bigger than a child's toy castle, is the famed Old Water Tower, survivor to the great 1871 Chicago fire.
The Great Chicago Fire
The summer of 1871 was very dry, leaving the ground parched and the wooden city vulnerable. On Sunday evening, October 8, 1871, just after nine o'clock, a fire broke out in the barn behind the home of Patrick and Catherine O'Leary at 13 DeKoven Street. How the fire started is still unknown today, but anO'Leary cow often gets the credit.
The firefighters, exhausted from fighting a large fire the day before, were first sent to the wrong neighborhood. When they finally arrived at the O'Leary's, they found the fire raging out of control. The blaze quickly spread east and north. Wooden houses, commercial and industrial buildings, and private mansions were all consumed in the blaze.
After two days, rain began to fall. On the morning of October 10, 1871, the fire died out, leaving complete devastation in the heart of the city. At least 300 people were dead, 100,000 people were homeless, and $200 million worth of property was destroyed. The entire central business district of Chicago was leveled. The fire was one of the most spectacular events of the nineteenth century, and it is recognized as a major milestone in the city's history.
We went to the glamorous congestion of the Loop, Chicago's super-bustling downtown, darkly roofed by the L, the elevated railway - longtime city symbol defined by its tracks. Tremendous buildings and plazas graced by monumental sculptures gave an almost dizzying sense of size and shape. Exclusive boutiques and high-end department stores such as SAKS Fifth Avenue flank Michigan Avenue's "Magnificent Mile".
Chicago faces Lake Michigan with arms stretched wide, reserving most of its magnificent 29-mile lakefront fro gracious parks and great museums and stately buildings. We stopped by the lake, watched people fishing, and fed the birds on the lakeshore.
Going back to the Loop, we drove past Marina City. Marina City's lower 20 floors housed parking spaces, restaurants, a supermarket, and a basement marina on the Chicago River. Above these, pie-slice apartments soar another 40 stories.
I came to know the other members of the Mamuri family better, most of whom did not really know me or did not know much about me before. They were all glad for the rare opportunity to be sent to the United States for free. They played host to me one time or another. I spent a few nights in the North Albay home of Jessie and Evelyn Mamuri-Balauag. They gave me a colorful sheet set and canned goods to take back to Iowa.
Myrna Mamuri and husband Rey Gadia hosted a dinner at their home in Skokie. The food was ordered from "Ing's" which catered to Filipinos who loved Chinese cuisine. On another instance, Mila Mamuri treated us to a steak dinner at Ponderosa Steak House. In the company were Cenon Mamuri, Jr., his wife and their two kids, the Balauags with their two daughters, Heidi Mamuri, and I.
One day Jessielyn, fondly called Tweet-Tweet, Evelyn's daughter who was a University of Illinois student, drove her mother and me to downtown Chicago. Her mother had to see her ear doctor. At lunchtime, we went to the CNA building where Manuel, Myrna, and Heidi worked. We had lunch at "Pago-Pago", a Chinese restaurant.
When Garling and Zenaida Andaya-Fontillas learned that I was in town, they took me mout mto dinner at The Pinnacle, Chicago's only revolving rooftop restaurant at the Holiday Inn along Lake Shore Drive. The Pinnacle provided an elegant dining atmosphere complete with candlelights, a piano player, and a breathtaking view of Chicago at night.
ZENAIDA ANDAYA-FONTILLAS. Zeny was a classmate of mine in grade school. We used to be dancing partners in annual folk/foreign dance competitions among elementary schools during the town fiesta. In most cases, the Central School would emerged the winner. We both finished 6th grade in 1964, with both of us in the honor roll. Although we were not really close, at one time,when she was a college student, we formed an amateur singing group, the Tonemates, which performed at community socials, the most memorable of which was a welcome party for the incoming GSIS branch manager in Cauayan. It was held at the F.L. Dy Memorial Coliseum. We represented our town of Angadanan.
She worked as a nurse in Manila, then migrated to the United States and worked in Chicago. We didn't hear from each other for a long time until she came home for her wedding. She and Garling wanted me to sing on their wedding ceremony. How could I say No to an old friend? Together with Estrella Quilling, Ulysses Agpaoa on his guita, and Mrs. Joy Pajarillo on the organ, I provided the vocals of the wedding ceremony music.
Besides the dinners, I was also taken to the shopping malls. Antonia bought two pairs of jogging suits and a pair of Nike tennis shoes at Marshalls. Aurora (Puring) bought a pair of shoes at Florsheim and a pair of Levis at Gap in Woodfield Mall, the largest in the Chicago area. Corazon got me a shirt and a set of bed linen.
On Good Friday, Manuel, Rey , and I went to a goat farm Kenosha, Wisconsin. The farm had a slaughter house. A buyer could pick a live goat, then it would slaughtered right there. Manuel and Rey chose one worth $40.00. The lifeless goat was hung, then its hair burned with a blowtorch. There were other buyers, mostly Greeks or Mexicans. Since they discarded the internal organs, Rey cleaned the parts needed for "pinapaitan" while I held the water hose. We almost took all the internal organs which were meant to be thrown away, anyway. But not for us! On our way home we stopped by the University of Wisconsin Parkside. Although the Catholic Church forbids consuming meat on Good Friday, we had goat meat that night. Manuel and I sang the same old songs we used to sing 16 years ago. We were still good at it.
My spring getaway was completed with disco-hopping from Marriott's GAMBITS at O'Hare to NAVARONE, and then finally to SALLY'S STAGE where we drank and danced until closing time. I was in the company of Manuel and his wife, Puring and Jun Buban, Corazon and her friend Oscar, and Ramon Panganiban, the brother of Filipino singer Adrian Panganiban. Sally's Stage was frequented by many Filipino disco lovers in the Chicago area.
I had a truly enjoyable week. I took the trip back to Iowa City with a lot of stuff. Mila sent mea four-inch black and white TV with AM-FM radio. Mrs. Mamuri, Manuel's mom, gave me a towel and toiletries, and food items from Antonia. Mila prepared pork adobo for me, too.
I was invited back to spend my next break in Chicago. I would go back several times later.
