IOWA CITY, GOODBYE

Time to leave 619 East Burlington Avenue Apartment No. 4. In a few moments I shall be off in a Greyhound, once more along Interstate 80 to Chicago, and to Des Plaines.

After almost sixteen months, I am leaving The University of Iowa which has made me a better person through a rewarding educational experience.  I am leaving the city which had been  a home to me for more than a year.

The charming and fond memories of Iowa City: the fireworks at City Park on the Fourth of July; Englert 1: the movie Platoon; Old Capitol, a national historic landmark; the UI Museum of Natural History with its small Philippine collection from the St. Louis World Fair; the Sunday afternoon concerts at Hancher Auditorium; the morning workouts at Field House; watching the bands at Union Field and browsing the crafts bazaar during Riverfest, the university's annual spring celebration; the wonderful changes of the seasons: the tulips in the spring, the long summer days strolling the Old pedestrian mall, the autumn leaves at Pentacrest and Coralville Lake, and the falling snow on my way home from school in the winter; the small gatherings with fellow Filipinos; Homecoming; Hawkeye athletics; commencement at Carver Hawkeye Arena.

Enough of these memories. I must hasten on to the bus depot and catch the bus to the Windy City. And after O'Hare - home.  Where is home? That house near the banks of the mighty Cagayan River in the eastern part of Macalauat in Angadanan, Isabela. A Russian writer named Prishvin said, "Home is where you found your happiness.."  I think I know where that is, at least for myself.  I will reveal this much: it has something to do with that river, those cornfields, those peaceful nights, and of course, Daisy and Chester Alan.

Macalauat, I am coming home.

" We travel together, passengers on a little spaceship dependent on its vulnerable reserves of air and soil; all committed for our safety to its security and peace; preserved from annihilation only by the care, the work, and I will say, the love we give our fragile craft."  ----- A. Stevenson

(The writer was a PRODED Teacher Fellowship Program scholar sent from the Philippines to The University of Iowa to obtain a master's degree in educational administration from February, 1986 through May, 1987. He left behind his wife and three year old son, Chester.)