A Homeless Experience

A couple of weeks ago, some illegal settlers in my community were evicted.  Everything was in order. Court orders, police escorts present, professional demo crews on hand. 

As it turns out, the settlers occupied the land for about five decades.  No rent or taxes paid.  If I owned the property I would be really angry at the situation.

The people knew what was going to happen. They were warned years ago.  They never took it seriously.  About eight hundred families in a single hectare ghetto area evicted, just like that. 

Now Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is real.  Ask any war veteran when they hear sudden gunfire or a burn victim when they see a fireworks display.   

In my own experience, losing a home in that way is painful.   I empathized with the people thrown on the street, in panic, suddenly losing the place they grew up in one fell swoop.  I knew how they felt.  With all the commotion, it's all coming back to me. 

Seeing people spend the night in a crowded, mosquito rich street while their old home is being destroyed by day was downright appalling.  They only had their little valuables with them - small appliances, some clothes.  

It broke my heart.  Memories flood back.  Tears wanted to roll down, again. 

A couple decades past, I lost my place of residence.  One fine day, I received a notice to get out, peacefully.  There was no choice, it was my father's old quarters in a military base.  Even my father ordered me to do the same.  At that younger age, it was shocking and more so challenging.  

Resistance was futile, a lot of guys in camouflage with guns were there, with the cops.  I had a week to round things up and find a place to stay.  Lost a lot stuff. Spent a lot of money.  Saw so much pain and anguish all over.  Along with other people I knew going through the same thing.

That was just the start of my world crumbling down.

Back to where I now live, in the first few nights, I would send some bread, insect repellant, water or a round of drinks for the guys.  They needed drinks to get some sleep - on the cold, damp and dirty street.

Closer to the end of the demolition period, I decided to cook up some noodles and eggs for the remaining displaced families.  With help of my crew, we prepped food for about a hundred.  Friends and neighbors helped out by donating food and cash.  My crew even worked for free.

That night, we sent the food in batches.  The workers that delivered the donations reported how happy the victims were for the unexpected food donation.  They even asked if there was a chef preparing the meals.   It was just me, my special sauces and my heartfelt concern for those that lost everything in a day, like I did, eons ago. We topped the night off by delivering drinking water and distributing lit mosquito coils to make their night more "bearable".  Some neighbors did the same the next day.

I knew that this is just the beginning of a long bittersweet process for the victims.

Things will worsen before it gets any better.   After losing a residence in such circumstances, eventually find a new home will come with strains on finances and emotions.  Then, after the initial trauma, grieving sets in.  Losing a home like that feels that a part of you was "demolished" as well.  The pain is harsh but then again there is no choice.  This is part of moving on.  Time will heal.  

Life must go on.

With what just happened, a lot of thoughts made its way back from those "challenging" times.  Here are just some things I learned: 

1. In your darkest hour, some of those closest to you will not be there for you.  That's life.  Some just won't care for you even when you are down. 
2. You will overstay your welcome in a temporary home sooner than you think. No matter how sincere, your hosts will want you out of their home after a few days.  Relatives or friends. Same thing. Breakfast is tensions filled.  Dinners are quiet.  The "air" smells like resentment.  Your food and bathroom habits will be the subject to their disgust and contention.  Just like that, a person that was once so dear to me lost "the mask" being worn.  All those years, all the kind acts was all a show.  That person was keeping score of it all.  What a scumbag.  Broke contact since. 
3. Most of the sentimental stuff hoarded and gaining dusts at your home will be lost or stolen in such situations.  Those shoes unworn since college, old pieces of China, broken lampshades, scratched up vinyl records, scrap pictures, obsolete or broken furniture or appliances are useless.  Keep stuff that has utility. Minimalize.  
4. People at your office will not care. In my office job at the time, an officemate lost his entire home due to a flash flood.  It was in the news and despite the situation, the President ever so insensitive berated him in front of everyone at the office for showing up late and under dressed to work that Monday.  That guy lost everything.  The President was not fully aware of the situation.  Yet, he kept on bawling people out.  That was a cheap shot.  Looking back, I'm glad I chose to suffer in silence at the office when I became homeless. 
5. No land title, not yours.  You can stay in a place for eons but without the proper paperwork and paid taxes, you can lose your home in a heartbeat.  You can now better understand why legit homeowners are willing to fight to the death for their homes at the mere hint of losing them.

In those trying times, there are other hurtful things I endured.  I lost way more than just a house and material possessions.  My heart was broken many times long after.  I would not wish that on anyone.   

Never again will I want that to happen in my lifetime, never - in Latin, "Nunquam Iterum".  

Now here are just some of the silver linings I witnessed while in crisis:

1. 
   Some people will be there for you, no matter what. Someone did take me in.  I just left before anything could happen.  Some relatives helped me. Sincerely. It is true, that when the shit hits the fan, some do stay but others just run.
2. Things happen for a reason.  That place I grew up was flooded after just two years.  The damage was great to such a an old structure.  In more than twenty five years of being there, it never happened, the area being on higher ground.  It would have been a double whammy for me to have the house destroyed by flood and get evicted.
3. Keep the faith.  In the darkest of night, a single flame goes a long way. Things will work out by His grace.  Indeed, there is a God with angels helping us in our lowest of the low points. 

Where I now live is an old apartment built by my grandfather in the mid-sixties.  Just a month after being homeless and living couch to couch, the tenant of almost thirty years, vacated the property.  After another month or so of repairs, my relatives told me I could occupy the place for free.  A few years later my father obtained ownership of the place.  He could have gotten another one in the area or even just next door.  That would have meant even more expenses if I moved there but no, he got the place where I was and immediately gave it to me.  It was only then that I started to make home improvements to "jazz up" the crib.   

It is in this place that I will spend my last days.  It has been almost two decades since I moved in.  Ever so grateful, as I wake daily, I give thanks for the "roof over my head'.  

The people displaced in the demolition will somehow manage. It is just such a harrowing experience to endure for anyone.  

So many things I still miss in that place where I spent most of my adolescent and adult life - my childhood friends, the convenience, peace and quiet. 

Sometimes, I still just wanna go home.

Back to the USA!

I first went to the United States in 1996.  It was such a memorable experience starting from my visa denial and eventual approval.  The whirlwind East to West to wherever.  I saw shows on Broadway, shopped, experienced the way of life in the "land of milk and honey".  In my last trip, I remember an American airport worker call me "young man" in one of my airport stops.  Now, pushing fifty (50), I am far from being young.

That was more than two (2) decades past.  Times have changed.

An uncle has been inviting me to visit him, some relatives I have not seen since the last time I was there, some have already gone to the great beyond. 

I finally decided to go.  My tickets are booked. I saddle up to go in a couple of weeks for a month long holiday.

Strange as it may sound, I am really not looking forward to  my upcoming trip. I am actually a bit apprehensive.

In my first visit, I was so excited.  America was unreal to me.  It was like I was going on a set of a US TV series.  I imagined that the girls would be smoking hot, booze would flow, I would party like it was 1999.  In a day or so after walking the streets of San Francisco, getting lost in a place called "Tenderloin", the novelty of the place soon waned.

I visited friends and family.  Most were gracious hosts.  Some were gracious for a while.  Living in the US was no "walk in the park" for many of my compatriots. I learned that an invitation to visit friends and family in the US could be just something they say to be polite during social occasions.  Life there is hard.  They don't have much time to "chill" with guests.

When I wast in New York, I felt really poor while staying in my hosts's upscale place in the city.  It was just a week but let's just say the verbal abuse I received from my then friend made me never to want to stay in New York, ever again.  I also had a cousin that was so nice to me, she let me see the "Phantom of the Opera" live in Broadway.  Years later, my father before his death, told me what a burden I was to that cousin of mine while that time I was with her.  

I also recall walking in Manhattan, out of limos passengers dressed to the nines, just like out of a GQ magazine cover.  I had the elan' of a being in down jacket, thermal underwear and a laid shirt.  I just found out what a down jacket in that trip. 

I guess in my last travel to the US, I got culture shocked.  My expectations were off the mark, like a "Neverland" scenario.  People were different, even my countrymen.  Things were expensive.  Time passed quickly.  Reality set in, in the cold streets of New York, in Ohio and San Francisco.

The trip was not all that bad. I went to San Diego, crossed to Tijuana. I still met up with genuine friends and relatives.  I could see their sincerity in welcoming me for such a short stay. 

My upcoming trip could be my last.  My body isn't as capable as it was in my younger years
The good thing going for my visit is that I won't going around much. Shopping, even partying isn't high on my menu.  I just hope to chill.  I hope to connect with friends and family, one last time.  No expectations are set on this voyage.  I guess turning almost half a century made manage the very little expectations I may have about my vacation.  Definitely, this trip will be much better,meaningful and truly memorable.

There are still a few things I still need to tick on my Bucket List. I hope to accomplish more items on my lists in this journey.    Vegas, here I come!

The Last Decade

it has been a while since my last post....seemed like a decade!

One day I woke up realizing that it has been a decade since a major turning point in my life.

Ten years ago I got evicted from a house I did not own but lived in for most of my life. It sparked an emotional roller coaster for the years to follow.  

You may think that such event was trivial. So I got kicked out of a house.  So what right?   Well, aside from the sentimentality, the emotional attachment to the house, the community, the stress and being homeless, several events stemmed from that "eviction". Pivotal moments came  that impacted my present being.

So much has since that summer day in 2006. The King of Pop and the Purple Prince are gone.  Babies were born. Some moved  on (like my father) to the Great beyond.  Friends settled down, some got out of marriages. New friends were made, some came and went like bus boys in a restaurant. Blessings, trials, opportunities, failures and realizations just popped in.  I was unhappy at the office but had to work for my keep.  

The last decade was mired with life changing episodes.  Some highlights are:

• I manned up by quitting hiding behind a bottle. Been dry as a dessert for seven (7) years to date.  Despite being "dry" I have had the best parties in my life in the last few years. I remember what happened too!
• I got injured,  went under the knife seven (7) times for minor procedures, including a "nose" job (septoplasty).
• After my stint, I did the "jump" from the corporate jungle to a semi entrepreneur environment. I bowed out of the rat race only to be in a more progressive race - personal investments.  Years ago I made that hard decision. I was afraid. I still am.  No regrets.
• Business and other opportunities just came in knocking from nowhere, at the most unlikely of times
• I lost some people like a second mother and walked away from those I considered close "friends", they revealed their true colors. I let them go a long time ago.  
• Some people broke the "sacred" trust I bestowed them. They are jettisoned as well from my being.
• I almost fell for people I could never have, again.  Maybe I will finally learn not to get into this situation again.
• At times by being somewhere I should not have been, I got crucified for by people I thought were tried and true.
• In 2012 I almost died of pneumonia. Had I not gone to the hospital, I would have been gone in about six hours.  That changed the way I look at death.  I could have gone easily with no fanfare whatsoever. 
• I learned many things about myself.  I wrote blogs, poetry, sang songs even "cut an album".

Those were just some of the highlights without getting the reader bored.

I used to dwell a lot on the past and get depressed. I sometimes still do. But instead of regret I now look more at the past blessings. Lessons if you will that at the particular time was like a curse that turned out to at least make me.stronger and dare I say wiser.

The upside to all the brouhaha - being homeless, evicted, making a "leap" from the office is that in my darkest hours, my true friends revealed themselves. Like a flicker of light in a dark room, it was easy to make them out even with just a bit of lume.. Some that I thought cared for me betrayed me with such fervor. Some lied, even cheated. Some that I loved never did love me back and were keeping score of their "kindness and generosity" they extended. It was all a painful lie. It hurt so much.  Still does at times but now far more manageable.  I have accepted a lot of things.

I still miss my old home. Been back a few times. 

I learned so much from my experiences. Instead of complaining about a lot of things I now more often give thanks for many things.  To name a few:. 

• After the being homeless, living couch to couch episode, I am grateful for the roof over.my head. I live in an old apartment. Very decent but in no way posh. Relatively safe and accessible. 
• I never went hungry. I always had food a shirt on my back.  
• Though the numbers dwindled the quality of my friends have far increased. The true ones are all that matters. I never married and had my own family.  Some old friends consider me part of their families, sincerely.
• I wrote lists - To Do, Bucket, Happiest Moments and Blessings.  I update them all the time

Ten years. At times it felt that my soul was practically burned at the stake. There were times when I was on top of the world.  The roller coaster ride continues.  Will I make it to another after this writing? Life goes on, the bus wheels keep running.  Who knows what tomorrow brings?

As I age. As I near the end than the beginning I am grateful for ALL the experiences I have had in my life.  I look forward to the next decade pushing the half century mark.

The future is bright and I gotta wear them shades.  Anything happens..... ...all the time.

Akira Kurososawa Moment

I woke up from a very strange dream.  Actually bizarre is how I would describe it.

I was dressed to my usual Mafioso nines.  The Mafiosi black coat, tie, shirt and shoes is my trademark for formal occasions.  I was in some event in a hotel ballroom.  The venue was full but I did not recognize any faces.  I casually walk past them to the stage with the curtains still drawn down.

I climb the stage, go under the curtains and in there was a sound technician in a fedora hat and a formal suit as well.  He was tweaking some control board.  I stayed with him, looked at what he was doing.  He repeatedly asked me “Sir, are you ready”?  It seemed liked I was being primed for some performance. 

A very classy lady, older than I broke the curtains and asked for some music to be played.  Something “happy” was what she asked for, with a very happy smile.  The technician agreed and she left.

After some time the curtains opened and there I was.  The audience was a mere crowd of about 20.  There could have been more.  They all raised their glasses and cheered me.  The were raising their glasses to congratulate me.  I was happy.  I came down from the stage and posed for photographs with the crowd.  They had no faces.  I left the ballroom.

As I passed in the lobby, I saw some relatives and friends in various parts of the hotel - at the cafe', at the bar.  Those that I came across kept congratulating me.  I was smiling but had a feeling of what was happening.

It was my wedding reception.

As I passed the lobby I felt I was going to my hotel room.  Suddenly this fear was growing in me.  Where was my bride?  The other question was WHO was my bride?  I began to sweat.  Anxiety was building up.  I make my way to the rooms on stairs…..

I woke.  The room was darker than usual for day.  The skies were gray because of the passing storm. It was colder than usual.  Unaware of the time, I realized it was past lunch on a Saturday.

I still lay in bed looking at the ceiling.  Wondering what was real. My hands felt sweaty.  It seemed so real.  Bizarre.

Dreams are said to be representative of one’s subconscious.  They are what they are.  Could be a summary of experiences. A flashback.  Could forebode something.  It could also be a just a dream.

I lay there staring at the ceiling after realizing what I had woken up to.  Details were still fresh.  The feeling was there.  I still try to ascertain which was real-me on the bed or the hotel thing?  I just had an Akira Kurososawa like moment......

Before I rise, I ask myself, what are dreams made of?  

As I write this, mushy music plays in harmony with the dark skies and falling rain.  I ask myself again what are dreams made of?

The LSGH '87 Boys Got Outta Town!

What a trip!

The view from 300 meters up in the sky.

Dolphins yonder!

I just came home from a day at the beach with my High School classmates in Anilao, Batangas, South of Manila.

Cold Saporrro for breakfast!

This is the first out of town trip I have had with my High School buds in awhile.  Actually, i have not been out with other sets of friends for quite some time, period.

Our host and chef!

After months of planning, the stage was set.  My classmate Peter reserved his rest house in the one of the richest dive spots in the country.  We were ready.

We got there at about 1100H, after almost three hours of driving.  Quite quick considering it was a holiday Friday.  The party was starting for couple of classmates that arrived earlier and  as early 1000H Captain Morgan Rum and Mountain Dew was for breakfast.

Blue Steel!

Fun, fun, fun!

Buddy's Ribs Chef & owner Dong DlR!

One by one the others came.  The food was being readied.  Fish caught the same day were hitting the charcoal.  Exotic Sevilla & Sons sausages,  Brontosaurus patties from Brothers Burgers, a top burger joint, ribs from Chubby's Rib Shack made its way as well courtesy of classmates in the food business.  Another highlight was the Chicken Pork Adobo ala Yam.  Nobody knew Lorex could cook!

Butanding! 

The Scotch, vodka and beer were flowing like a river.

Sup homes?

This was just the start of a great day.

The sun was up.  the wind blew.  We stayed in one place most of the time.  Classic, old school '80's and '90's funk blared, from Sting  to Milli Vanilli to the Backstreet Boys.  We saw schools of dolphins also frolicking with the reggae we were playing by that time.

Perfect.

By mid-day food enough for seventy (70) famished men was on the table, the grill was on full steam ahead.  Men's food....mostly MEAT was ready to be devoured!  The Lorex Yam adobo wa all gone.

#1 of 40 Burgers

Nineteen strong, that is how many we were out of a class of 400.   To say that the food was too much was an understatement.  Those that could not make it sent even more food.

LSGH 1987!!!!!

The "Good" Boys

Party on! We stayed at the beach the whole day.  The wind blew our way.  It was hot but breezy, the company made it not just bearable but extremely enjoyable.  Dong DlR even brought his toy, a  drone to take pics of us from up in the air offering us a more majestic view of where we were.

Diet?

Beber mas!

Nineteen of us sat, drank, bonded, caught up, laughed, choked, passed out.  The biggest bottle of Jose Cuervo was no match for Martin A.

All that happened from 1000H to 0600H the next day.  It was just so much to hang with each other.  Some slept early and rejoined the crowd by the cabana.  Some stayed the whole time.  

Man, this is what I miss.  Being with the guys I grew up with.   The guys I shared so much history with.  The same guys that are so much part of me.  Hang ups and insecurities were checked in far, far away.

I was truly home.

I led the prayers before meals.  It was like how we did when we were in school. It turns out that going to a Catholic does rub off on you a bit somehow.  I always thank God I went to La Salle Green Hills and finished in 1987.

In the course of the marathon, the food still overflowed, the beer was cold, the BBQ was hot and the friendship was TRUE!  It was so much fun to see my old buds, catch up and just hang with my old La Salle crew again.

Scrumptious Sevilla Sausages

Chubby's ribs

In between the pandemonium.  We managed to discuss things we would like to do for our class.  Charity projects, scholarships, supporting classmates running for office, visits to old teachers were just some of the "serious" stuff that we discussed.  It was also a productive meeting amid all the fun.  After all these years, we were still "Men for Others . 

TEQUILA!

Time flew.  It zoomed.  Sunset came.  The Sun rose.  We were still at the Cabana.  Dolphins swam by many times.  Early the next day we rested for a few hours and woke to a brunch for champions.  More meat, fish and too much soda.  The beer was still cold but we had our fill.  Amazingly some Scotch remained untouched.  

It was time to go.

On the road back i was with a classmate that I have not been with for a while.  We caught up more.  We got lost.  Missed exits but it was all good.  We blamed Waze.....

Look at the blood red sky!

The sun was setting.  In the horizon I looked.  Something dawned in me.  I thought "Dang, that was a great time!".  I almost did not go to this one but at the last minute I figured I should.   We only live once and we will be dead much longer.   At our age anything can happen and this could be my last time with my buds - I certainly hope not.

Thank God for giving me such a wonderful bunch of friends.  I look forward to our next escapade in Nasugbu, hosted by another classmate Munding.

I can almost already smell the roasted calf.....

Memories of Green & The Coolest Chicks on Earth

What are cool chicks?  These are the kinda girls that guys like to hang with, dig their humor, hip, smart and of course pretty.  The ultimate cool chick example of back in the day would be Cindy Crawford. Bodaciously beautiful, foxy with an Engineering degree.

And we come back to St. Scholastica's College (SSC) of Manila, Class of 1987.

Prior to our 25th HS Anniversary I wrote a piece about high school freshman memories with SSC '87. Years later, it was unearthed again on Google by an old SSC friend. By  coincidence I shared the same post with another SSC friend while on a business trip.  

Memories of Green

Coincidence? I don't believe in coincidences anymore.  A classmate thought it was a good idea to scribble another one. So here goes.....

Sophomore year was a blur to me because I hit the books being on probation. I had to study..... A lot of things were going on in LSGH.  Some nitwit teacher got kicked out because of extortion charges - cash; booze and even a live peacock.

The next great adventures with SSC I recall was in junior year. 3-S was our sister class. We had interaction set with them at where else? In SSC! 

I recall that being in another notorious class (I wondered why always I ended up with the fun Motley Crue.... ), LSGH 3-J!  The notorious bunch that made teachers walk out, made rushing for the bell from Gate 9 like an Olympic event, the same guys that were busy cramming for Chem in the morning at Greenhills...with beer, to the tune of Rico Mambo.

3-J in Baguio

It is hard to imagine that our batch produced productive members of society. Some became professionals like an architect, dentist, a few became politicians, soldiers, pro bodyguards, many turned to be entrepreneurs and some just became good at what they do.  One even got into exotic dancing for a bit.  If you knew us  back in the day, at the time I am writing about, you would not even dream that adolescent retards like us would amount to anything someday.

Preparing for the activity, our Adviser Alma Rose and the Guidance Counselor Ms. Grace reminded us on our etiquette - basic stuff like brushing teeth, not farting in front of the girls. Y'know, the very basics.

Off we went.  LSGH 3-J in full force led by the likes of Dene H., Rey E., Big Mike D., Mel Lara, the Sarasolas, Noric, Donray, Rey E., Joey U., Lorex Yam, Jun A. and a very healthy Lloyd Dizon to name a few, paving the way to the concrete jungles of Leon Guinto, Manila. Across DLSU where most of us wanted to go in a year or so. 

We were good to go. Shoes shined. Plain white undershirts without underarm holes. Some even wore their brand new then trendy, synthetic leather, fungus breeding Bla-blas. Petroleum jelly on the head was so first year. The "wet" dandruff causing Dippity Do gel and fire hazard styling mousse look was all the rage for hair of 1985.

We ventured where the traffic was heavy, the roads were tight, to a school that was older than ours.  As I aged, I imagine how terrified our teachers must have been to have us behaving like a congress of baboons as we invaded SSC.  I think it was Ben Pablo or Joey U. that brought a gallon of that cologne Drakkar that we all shared right before leaving La Salle. The bus trip reminded me of a psychiatric ward in transit. You get the picture.

As mentioned in my previous post, I knew quite a few from 3S and SSC in general. Cherie, Freida, Steph among others. The rest like Irene Y., the future SSC Student Council president and others that I cannot recall anymore. (Hey its been three decades....)

And then it happened. We landed in St. Scholastica's, a female dominated school.  No men's room in plain sight. We met 3-S. We surprised ourselves by trying to be gentlemen that we were trying to be trained to be. Behaved. Polite. Speaking in modulated voices a couple of octaves lower than usual. We were black belts in the La Salle martial art of "Por ma-do".

Nobody farted, yet.  

I also remember that the Scholastica's nun was fairly young and kinda groovy. She seemed relaxed about us meeting her class. We were unusually behaved.

We had icebreakers, some games and we all hit it off. None were torpedo. Lorex Yam was leading the attack ala Spartan. We all spoke Greenhills English pare, ala Lorex.


Then there was that "getting to know you" game. I remember this is where I lost it. It was about describing yourself using the letters of your name. So the future SSC Student Council President/Valedictorian smart girl used $10,000 words like superfragalocious and other words like, uh, like umm, you know... the fancy, hyperbolic speed, space age types of words. She was a walking dictionary. We were just lexicons...of love.

My classmate Jojo (not his real name) then took his turn and described himself confidently and said something  like "I am Jojo,  J for jolly, O for Obedient, J for very Jolly l and O for very OK."  I was floored. Completely lost in belly up laughter. My flammable mousse riddled hair was disturbed. I had to retouch it later on. Jojo had too much "Drakkar".

The whole day went smoothly.  Our class kept in touch. Crushes were born.  Crashes came after.  Notes were sent to SSC and they wrote back. In fact, I was in charge of writing the "official" post interaction class note to thank 3-S for such a great time.
That note had our signatures. Right before signing and sealing for delivery I checked it again. Beside a classmate's John Hancock was a scribbled arrow in another classmate's  penmanship that led to a caption in all caps BOLD that read "Ang Batang Ututin".  I could not make changes to the note anymore due to time constraints so off it went to the concrete jungle world of SSC in Leon Guinto.  Cheggy has long reformed since. Munding recovered from that gastric prank, eventually. 

Someone farted after all, par avion. 

We ended up crashing the SSC HS Dance later that year. I remember  hooking up with 3S and the rest of SSC friends there and getting down to some Thompson Twins, those two nut jobs being Head over Heels and tripping to that Brit Hippie singing about installing microwave ovens and wanting MTV.  

What a blast. I remember hitching a ride back somewhere with Lorex and some other classmates and I am sure we did not go home. Was that place called Moviola, Spongecola or .....

That was just some highlights of junior year, the same year Marty McFly rode that DeLorean from, 1985.

Senior Year came and I resolved to hang with as much classmates in our last year. That was also a great excuse to crash soirees and parties with ALL girl schools.  On weekends I ended up losing the funeral parlor uniform and hanging with whatever class would invite me for parties or just hanging out. That was most of 1986 for me.

Most of the time I ended up with SSC parties. There was also this one soiree with SSC at Ińaki's place in San Juan that was another rockin' event. I met even more friends there like Bambi B.. When Ińaki came home, 28 years later I visited the place again and it felt like that day, simply nostalgic!

Aside from my native  4-D, my class was the entire LSGH '87!  Why, even the nerd patrol invited me sometimes.  Often it was Ińaki Jose, Vince A., Raffy Intac,  Harvey B. among others. 

4-D Class Night, Antipolo, nice shorts Asis!

We would crash SSC parties at Cris Abad Santos', Irene Y's and Margot C's places in the area near SSC by Singalong across Demy's place.  I also remember being stuffed at Dina Marie Santos' house. For some reason her place was like my own home. Overflowing with grade A grub! There were even times that we all crashed in the girl's living rooms until dawn way after Stargazin'.  That was eons ago.

Singer and SACB Pres

Senior year at LSGH. Soirees. The school fairs. A great play we produced. We beat San Beda in double overtime. I tore the late Coach Tatang Mendoza's pants when I carried him after that victory.  I hosted GALS and SSC sang "Ang St. Scho ay narito na.....", Going stag at the ball. Stargazer. Isis, ZigZag, Rumours - the song and the club. The nasal Euro-disco sound of Mike Francis with Gilbert Montagne', Shake! Body Body Dancer. Mixed tapes.  School. Friends. So many friends. So much memories. Life was and still is good.

Before the age of the internet, when we were in college, when regular mail took months, I lost touch with most of LSGH and SSC friends. I guess it's just part of it.  We all went our ways. I would bump into classmates or SSC friends here and there, at parties, bars or clubs but that was it.  I went to school with some of them. Some I actually had a chance to work with. Some classmates dated, some even married, unmarried and are still married to SSC '87 batch mates. 

SSC batchmates also became great in their respective fields. Lawyers, Physicians, great wives and mothers.  Like some of my classmates (wink, wink) some got into high fashion (Aaay!),  Last I heard, Cherie' still models while being a global venture capitalist. Some got in various lines of business, one even became a fuel magnate, many became entrepreneurs, some excelled in sports. Why one even flew jet planes and another flew Harleys. One is a fashion icon cum footwear mogul that sponsors polo matches every year and I get to go even if I don't play polo, pare (I only used to play water polo with my sea horse Lucio before he died.). All of them remains pretty to this day though.

Tennis star/Golf Pro

About a decade ago I hosted a few LSGH parties at my place. It was a start of our "coming home".  More years passed. Eventually I reconnected with some SSC friends as well . 

A Lotta LOVE!

Leading to 2012, our 25th year, there was a resurgence of reunions.  One of them was the joint Golf Tourney "Kulasa at Lasalista", a resounding success even to a non-golfer like moi'. The preparation meetings were parties in itself.  It was great to see Maya, Paola. Mel and the rest after so very long.


Strange. With SSC '87 friends I feel that years can pass without being in touch and when we do meet or touch base it's like we met yesterday.  The last friend I talked to was for like 5 hours over the phone and she was overseas.  That was like after 15 years of not hearing from each other. I just don't experience that with the few other female friends I have, only with SSC.

Party at Harvey's..look at Deck. 

Some still regularly invite me to parties  that I strive to go to because the company is always great and the food is also totally awesome.  Food and superb company is my kryptonite.

Walang Kupas!

Often I wonder why SSC '87 were really cool chicks. They always seemed so easy to talk to. No frills. True. They dug guy jokes, even the gross ones and yet they still had that elegant feminine flair.

Timeless...

Was it because they were the first bunch of girls I met? Was it because they did have "style" and still had their feet on the ground? Was it because they were fun and so easy to make friends with?  

Maybe it was because they were part of my youth,
my magical youth.

Longest Drive!

Walang Kupas. That was the SSC '87 slogan for their 25th.  Like Coco Chanel once said "Fashions fade, but style is eternal."  

SSC '87:  Timeless. Cool chicks, with style and attitude to boot!.  They will never fade. Walang Kupas, for sure. 

The Pilot and the Artiste'

In the same year Marty McFly rode that DeLorean to, the year 2015 this is pretty much my last retro piece on my high school. Someday soon maybe I can write about newer memories as we approach our 30th year and beyond.
As of this writing I am in Mindoro. Hosted by Irene Y., another old SSC friend for potential business opportunities. This is proof that friendship does lasts.

As I come closer to the end from the beginning, as the creaks in my body begin to need WD 40, as the hair falls, I still wonder what lies ahead.

So TRUE!!!!!!

I never married, don't think I ever will. I would be honored though to grow old, watch a lot of sunsets together with one from St.Scho, '87, coolest chicks in the world, since my youth, way, way before 1987.

Kulasa at Lasalista 1987 Wang Chung tonight!

"In my mind's eye, one little boy one little man, funny how, time flies. ...." -Smith/Orzabal, 1985

Check my other posts!
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The Bodyguard
The Visit
NINAK!