double celebration ini a. san-o daw kaya :-)
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Monday, August 07, 2006
Thursday, August 03, 2006
You're invited!
Kit invites all maelstrom to his youngest's b-day party on sunday 2:30 pm at his house in greenhills garden square condo.
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Repackaging OLPS is ... Repackaging Priesthood!
by Yayes Basares
(this is Yayes' reflection on the the ongoing discussion of "revitalizing olps" over at the olps alumini blog)
What is lost?
The edifice remains, and even if it vanishes if not to be included in NOAH’s ark, it will remain in the heart of every SANO and clergy. You the clergy are its most strong proof, as OLPS existence is defined by its purpose to produce PRIESTS (only God was too selective?). SANO have nothing but memories that somehow in our distant past and during glorious years of our lives we were once there.
The life we lived inside, the character, the language, the manner mirrored the life, the character, the language of every clergy of the diocese. Seminarians merely trudge on the road traveled by Reverend Fathers of the diocese as they tried, albeit unsuccessfully for most, to merit heavens approval of at least nearness if not likeness to what is expected from each of them. People outside tend to look at seminarians as the future Reverend Fathers of their diocese ; future Fr. Butch (Fajardo), Fr. Louie Buenaobra, among others. The respect and admiration seminarians earned is an extension of the respect and admiration of their clergy – their leaders, their shepherds, their bridge to God.
What is lost?
It is regretful to note that the church is busy.
Daily news tell us that these days even the opinion of the church is asked on matters that are purely political in nature. (During the first year of Sorsogon cityhood, one priest was trying to act as mayor while the mayor was trying to act as God’s shepherd.) Church people are dragged in political controversies as some members are queried on giving sanctuary to its perceived enemies. A bishop leads a fight against gambling perhaps unaware that gambling is an inherent trait of every nationality in general and Filipinos in particular, and worst, disregards that economic crises are what drives these people to grab any opportunity for quick income, and much worst neglects to address this. Further, while it condemns gambling, which to the common TAO supplies them food, it rationalizes its acceptance of funds from PAGCOR as necessary to address temporal needs, leaving us hearing this in total awe of its logic and confused of who is talking of what.
The church cannot exist in a vacuum totally secluded in far flung monasteries devoting their time on bended knees and eyes cast on heavens. The church belongs to society and is accountable to it. Yet there is a clear delineating and demarcation line on roles to be played. It is at times when the church cross lines, under the guise of Salvation Theology or misconception of concern for the people, or whatever it is blinded to, that it gets totally distracted and becomes out of context.
If only you will look outside, there is a multitude of people desperately looking for their God, in whatever name they wish to call them. This is evidenced not only on the attendance prayer rallies of Eddie Villanueva and Mike Velarde generates, but on the faces of lost souls on the street (the rugby boys, the corrupt traffic enforcers, the street bully etc … ) You can see them in the news as stories of crimes and scandals are flashed. Heck you can even see them among the rich and the powerful, the educated and prominent, on their stories of failed financial scams.
Yet where are the priests? Do they have time for the dirty and ugly lost souls on the street? If these people suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes they need God it would still be them to carry themselves inside the church to find a priest.
You asked every house in your neighborhood who in the past six months had the time to come and visit bringing God’s word. The Mormons, the Adventist, will surely be in the list, if not topping the list. Where are the priests?
At the comforts of their homes watching people win millions on Laban or Bawi?
(this is Yayes' reflection on the the ongoing discussion of "revitalizing olps" over at the olps alumini blog)
What is lost?
The edifice remains, and even if it vanishes if not to be included in NOAH’s ark, it will remain in the heart of every SANO and clergy. You the clergy are its most strong proof, as OLPS existence is defined by its purpose to produce PRIESTS (only God was too selective?). SANO have nothing but memories that somehow in our distant past and during glorious years of our lives we were once there.
The life we lived inside, the character, the language, the manner mirrored the life, the character, the language of every clergy of the diocese. Seminarians merely trudge on the road traveled by Reverend Fathers of the diocese as they tried, albeit unsuccessfully for most, to merit heavens approval of at least nearness if not likeness to what is expected from each of them. People outside tend to look at seminarians as the future Reverend Fathers of their diocese ; future Fr. Butch (Fajardo), Fr. Louie Buenaobra, among others. The respect and admiration seminarians earned is an extension of the respect and admiration of their clergy – their leaders, their shepherds, their bridge to God.
What is lost?
It is regretful to note that the church is busy.
Daily news tell us that these days even the opinion of the church is asked on matters that are purely political in nature. (During the first year of Sorsogon cityhood, one priest was trying to act as mayor while the mayor was trying to act as God’s shepherd.) Church people are dragged in political controversies as some members are queried on giving sanctuary to its perceived enemies. A bishop leads a fight against gambling perhaps unaware that gambling is an inherent trait of every nationality in general and Filipinos in particular, and worst, disregards that economic crises are what drives these people to grab any opportunity for quick income, and much worst neglects to address this. Further, while it condemns gambling, which to the common TAO supplies them food, it rationalizes its acceptance of funds from PAGCOR as necessary to address temporal needs, leaving us hearing this in total awe of its logic and confused of who is talking of what.
The church cannot exist in a vacuum totally secluded in far flung monasteries devoting their time on bended knees and eyes cast on heavens. The church belongs to society and is accountable to it. Yet there is a clear delineating and demarcation line on roles to be played. It is at times when the church cross lines, under the guise of Salvation Theology or misconception of concern for the people, or whatever it is blinded to, that it gets totally distracted and becomes out of context.
If only you will look outside, there is a multitude of people desperately looking for their God, in whatever name they wish to call them. This is evidenced not only on the attendance prayer rallies of Eddie Villanueva and Mike Velarde generates, but on the faces of lost souls on the street (the rugby boys, the corrupt traffic enforcers, the street bully etc … ) You can see them in the news as stories of crimes and scandals are flashed. Heck you can even see them among the rich and the powerful, the educated and prominent, on their stories of failed financial scams.
Yet where are the priests? Do they have time for the dirty and ugly lost souls on the street? If these people suddenly wakes up in the middle of the night and realizes they need God it would still be them to carry themselves inside the church to find a priest.
You asked every house in your neighborhood who in the past six months had the time to come and visit bringing God’s word. The Mormons, the Adventist, will surely be in the list, if not topping the list. Where are the priests?
At the comforts of their homes watching people win millions on Laban or Bawi?
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Goodies!!!!!
mmmm, here comes the goodies, hehehehe. masiramum ada an laman sadi na cooler a, kitaa baya an ngirit ni rino nan franz!sa masunod ulit mga padi!
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
Saturday, July 15, 2006
More Pics from the June 17-18, 2006 Reunion
June 17, 2006
Gabby, Dave and Rene having a light moment in front of the Visitor's Room while waiting for the mass to start
It's the last thing we'd want ourselves dragged into, but why can't we resist "scandals?"
And they have become a staple in our reunions, huh!
Nice pose, Dave!
Let's take a closer look at Weewee. Looks like he's now in the second movement of the Moonlight Sonata here. Nakaturog daw kamo Franz?
June 18, 2006 Breakfast before breaking up for home.
Gabby, Dave and Rene having a light moment in front of the Visitor's Room while waiting for the mass to start
It's the last thing we'd want ourselves dragged into, but why can't we resist "scandals?"
And they have become a staple in our reunions, huh!
Nice pose, Dave!
Let's take a closer look at Weewee. Looks like he's now in the second movement of the Moonlight Sonata here. Nakaturog daw kamo Franz?
June 18, 2006 Breakfast before breaking up for home.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Get well soon Gabby!
mga padi, gabby is presently hospitalized coz he somehow caught the dengue virus. no word on the state of his condition yet but it seems its not scarely serious yet.
lets pray for his quick recovery. and do text him from time to time --just to lift his spirits up. hospital is a nasty, boring place to be ya know!
and mga padi be on the look out na for dengue rin lalo na sa mga anak natin at medyo mahirap ma-dengue ngayon
some tips on dengue prevention here and here
siya get well fast gabby!
FATHERHOOD
My dad, me and my son
YAYES
(I do not consider myself a writer, yet I am flattered by your comments and encouragement to continue writing. If priesthood is my first love, writing comes second and teaching ranks third……..oh great brown God I hope my wife does not see this! I have promised myself never to write a sad story. I want you to laugh when you read the words I write, perhaps listen to the child inside me as it tries to speak to that little child in you. Today I beg for an exemption.)
I am the son of my father. I am the father of my son.
In nomine padre …………….
My dad is ED BASARES the overachiever: an academician, an administrator, a broadcaster, a politician and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my first grade in school, and by the time I did he was already the school principal. He later moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and Vice President for Administration. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral (including his Bachelor of Laws) and a doctorate in Education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon. When he entered politics in 1992 he was classified as a sure winner albeit they used a different parameter when counting the votes. He has continued to be present in every electoral process since then and has refused to acknowledge defeat. When I saw him in 1997 after years of absence I was shocked at how old he had become, yet he has refused to fade into retirement. Well, I still have to meet a politician who does not consider himself immortal. My father became a lawyer in 2002 . To date he is practicing his law profession.
Et fili……..
It was hard growing up under his shadow.
I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there.
I told him I would enter the seminary. He was not surprised. Two instances I remember well of how proud he was during my seminary years--
one when I was assigned to serve an acolyte to the Bishop one Sunday during our summer break, and two when he “gave” me to Fr. Ding Caindec after I became his official acolyte every time Fr Ding would say mass outside the seminary. He never wanted me to become a priest as I am his only son and eldest at that. Yet he acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season. Somehow he attributed my decision to leave the seminary when Fr Ding left for Rome on my second year. To a certain degree he was right for Fr. Ding was more like a second father to me.
When I was in second year college (outside the seminary), knowing I had long turned my back on the norms and values of a seminarian, and while he was station manager of DZMS, he secretly invited Fr Ding, then back from Rome, to say mass and compelled me to attend. I cried a lot at Fr Ding’s shoulder.
My dad is a strict disciplinarian and hard on his children, hardest on me. Sometimes I suspect I was his favorite whipping bag. He is a distant father. It is easy for him to shower praises on his students against whom I pale in comparison, albeit he spends most of his nights wondering if he has made me wrong or what in heavens name a curse has fallen upon me.
While sometimes I envied some of his students it was easy for me to understand: ED BASARES is a father to his students, a teacher to his son. And I grew up looking for a father.
It was always a love-hate relationship between us as he perpetually tried to control me during the times I was uncontrollable and stubbornly refused to do so at times I needed it most. He is never satisfied with what I can do yet secretly confides to his friends his amazement with the little things I have managed to do.
These days everytime I go home, I spend all my time with my kids playing with them after school and I would see him secretly watching, perhaps wondering why. But by all means he is a doting lolo.
ED BASARES will always be ED BASARES. He has fought his battle and emerged victorious from it, all by himself as he grew up an orphan. He has carved his destiny and earned the respect of others with no one beside him and with nothing but pure guts and determination.
et mi fili
My son was born in 1995. I had always wanted a son. For five years he was my only child. To date he is about to enter his adolescence period. And I fear so much that he would commit the same mistakes I did. My only wish and prayer for my son is for him to live a different life from mine. So I refused to cast a shadow on him and gave him a different name. At bedtime and away from the ears of his mom he would tell me stories about his girl classmates and, oh God here it goes. Four occasions my son would never miss--my birthday, his birthday, his siblings birthday, and his mom’s birthday.
I know I will never verbally have the chance to tell my dad I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF HIM. It is my hope that just being a father to my own son would speak louder than words.
For the son comes from the father.
In some instances the rock speaks because it is silent, the sand moves because it is still.
The sad story shall continue on and on. Until like my dad, in his career path, it will arrive…..
………….at a time which is not a time,
………….at a place which is not a place.
My dad, me and my son
YAYES
(I do not consider myself a writer, yet I am flattered by your comments and encouragement to continue writing. If priesthood is my first love, writing comes second and teaching ranks third……..oh great brown God I hope my wife does not see this! I have promised myself never to write a sad story. I want you to laugh when you read the words I write, perhaps listen to the child inside me as it tries to speak to that little child in you. Today I beg for an exemption.)
I am the son of my father. I am the father of my son.
In nomine padre …………….
My dad is ED BASARES the overachiever: an academician, an administrator, a broadcaster, a politician and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my first grade in school, and by the time I did he was already the school principal. He later moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and Vice President for Administration. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral (including his Bachelor of Laws) and a doctorate in Education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon. When he entered politics in 1992 he was classified as a sure winner albeit they used a different parameter when counting the votes. He has continued to be present in every electoral process since then and has refused to acknowledge defeat. When I saw him in 1997 after years of absence I was shocked at how old he had become, yet he has refused to fade into retirement. Well, I still have to meet a politician who does not consider himself immortal. My father became a lawyer in 2002 . To date he is practicing his law profession.
Et fili……..
It was hard growing up under his shadow.
I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there.
I told him I would enter the seminary. He was not surprised. Two instances I remember well of how proud he was during my seminary years--
one when I was assigned to serve an acolyte to the Bishop one Sunday during our summer break, and two when he “gave” me to Fr. Ding Caindec after I became his official acolyte every time Fr Ding would say mass outside the seminary. He never wanted me to become a priest as I am his only son and eldest at that. Yet he acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season. Somehow he attributed my decision to leave the seminary when Fr Ding left for Rome on my second year. To a certain degree he was right for Fr. Ding was more like a second father to me.
When I was in second year college (outside the seminary), knowing I had long turned my back on the norms and values of a seminarian, and while he was station manager of DZMS, he secretly invited Fr Ding, then back from Rome, to say mass and compelled me to attend. I cried a lot at Fr Ding’s shoulder.
My dad is a strict disciplinarian and hard on his children, hardest on me. Sometimes I suspect I was his favorite whipping bag. He is a distant father. It is easy for him to shower praises on his students against whom I pale in comparison, albeit he spends most of his nights wondering if he has made me wrong or what in heavens name a curse has fallen upon me.
While sometimes I envied some of his students it was easy for me to understand: ED BASARES is a father to his students, a teacher to his son. And I grew up looking for a father.
It was always a love-hate relationship between us as he perpetually tried to control me during the times I was uncontrollable and stubbornly refused to do so at times I needed it most. He is never satisfied with what I can do yet secretly confides to his friends his amazement with the little things I have managed to do.
These days everytime I go home, I spend all my time with my kids playing with them after school and I would see him secretly watching, perhaps wondering why. But by all means he is a doting lolo.
ED BASARES will always be ED BASARES. He has fought his battle and emerged victorious from it, all by himself as he grew up an orphan. He has carved his destiny and earned the respect of others with no one beside him and with nothing but pure guts and determination.
et mi fili
My son was born in 1995. I had always wanted a son. For five years he was my only child. To date he is about to enter his adolescence period. And I fear so much that he would commit the same mistakes I did. My only wish and prayer for my son is for him to live a different life from mine. So I refused to cast a shadow on him and gave him a different name. At bedtime and away from the ears of his mom he would tell me stories about his girl classmates and, oh God here it goes. Four occasions my son would never miss--my birthday, his birthday, his siblings birthday, and his mom’s birthday.
I know I will never verbally have the chance to tell my dad I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF HIM. It is my hope that just being a father to my own son would speak louder than words.
For the son comes from the father.
In some instances the rock speaks because it is silent, the sand moves because it is still.
The sad story shall continue on and on. Until like my dad, in his career path, it will arrive…..
………….at a time which is not a time,
………….at a place which is not a place.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
June 17-18, 2006 Reunion Pictures
Was this the first meeting between Val and Dave after 20 years or so?Val couldn't help giving Dave a big hug upon the latter's arrival at our "home away from home." Dave chose to sleep in his home at San Roque on the night the Manila Contingent arrived since he was tasked with fetching Tyrone at the Legazpi Airport early the next morning. A last-minute change of plan, however, saw Tivo picking up Tyrone on his way from Naga to Sorsogon.
Garanghawan in the morning of June 17, 2006, just before breakfast. Franz who arrived days before the reunion and stayed with relatives in Casiguran came by his lonesome.[Funny that Jason and Franz, who arrived within an hour of each other, seemed to have forgotten that one was only a text away and they could have given each other a helping hand in the hauling of the half-sack of rice, the 5 kilos of Alimusan and the crabs that Jason brought from Casiguran. Pero, masiramon an alimusan, Padi Jason. Magdara ka uli next reunion.]
Rene, who lives in a nearby subdivision, showed up at almost the same time.
I have no idea what came upon Rino and Gabby. What were the scarves for? (he he he)
UCPB Bank Account
Mga Padi,
Reminder lang. Please deposit your share capital contributions to the the bank account above before July 15, 2006.
Junie
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Tyrone's plane
rino emailed these cellphone pix when they checked out tyrone's plane at the legazpi airport
the original pix was dark and blurry and after some adjustments in photoshop out came jason hehehe feeling piloto dito. bagay man gayud padi. magpaturo ka kan tyrone :-)
tyrone's recently acquired cessna
Monday, June 26, 2006
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Welcome Home, Victor Andrew A. Montaño
Finally, we have established contact with our long-lost classmate. Let's drink to this!
Here's the email he sent me on Saturday, June 24, 2006
Junie,
Am I eligible for the start up business venture that batch 86 are planning to organize. If I am eligible, how do I join and how can I deposit the required amount of investment. I am out of the country and out of touch from our class for many years. But Fr. Gerry initiated the contact and now I can follow events from the net.
Victor Andrew
Here's the email he sent me on Saturday, June 24, 2006
Junie,
Am I eligible for the start up business venture that batch 86 are planning to organize. If I am eligible, how do I join and how can I deposit the required amount of investment. I am out of the country and out of touch from our class for many years. But Fr. Gerry initiated the contact and now I can follow events from the net.
Victor Andrew
STAND TALL STAND PROUD MONS. PAX
yayes
Our seminary before was run like a well oiled machine; precise and on the dot in every scheduled activity. The Father Rector, Mons. Pax, herded his flock and made them follow a strict regimen day in and day out giving emphasis on punctuality. The moment we rose until the time we retired we already knew what to follow, how to do things, and where to do them.
His authority on our lives was not confined within its walls for even as we went home we were required to serve the parish.
To our young minds then, discipline and order was a fearsome image. We sulked in corners whenever Mons. Pax made his rounds with that patented clinking of keys as he walked down the corridor; always fearful of what mistake we might have made or what he might find in us. There was fear in hearing his booming voice, his sharp stare was enough to make us toe the line. Order and discipline was Mons. Pax's daily menu. He became the personification of authority every one at our age loved to hate.
Obedience from a young mind is borne out of fear for its penalty but no mind remains young forever the moment it realizes wisdom. The time when wisdom takes over has come. The young men who loved to hate order and discipline grew up and rose from the immaturity and selfishness characteristic of its age to awaken in a deep sense of gratitude and sincere admiration of Mons. Pax.
His passion for order and discipline is well served for its purpose. It is admirable how he made us felt the pride. There was pride in the uniform, there was pride in our language, there was pride in our acts, there was pride in our identity.
For one, we only went home once a month then spending much of our time during weekends at the study hall and in housecleaning. And when we went home at the end of the month, we spent much time serving the parish.
Every Saturday Mons. Pax never absented himself from his routine round. The seminary must be spotlessly cleaned as he inspected every nook and corner. Everybody had his own assignment to clean, his own area of responsibility. It was our home, its cleanliness was our responsibility was the standing dictum. It was where we learned to accept responsibility in a communal spirit. Home visit was at the end of the month and before we left the Rector saw to it to instill in our minds that we were going out not for vacation. The community was an extension of our lives, we were to report to our respective parishes and serve. There was always a reminder on how we were expected to behave outside. The moment we left we carry our identity with us with dignity and pride.
Second, enrollment during our time was never a problem as the number of freshmen to go in had to be trimmed down based on the available facilities. Mons. Pax sales pitch on vocation campaigns was simple: GUSTO MO MAGING GWAPO ENTER OLPS! Gwapo each and every seminarian became because like raw materials we were cut into refined pieces of jewel. From the haircut to the clothes we wore, the words and manner we spoke, all bore the distinct identity of being seminarians that every parent in the community shared the pride of having a son in the seminary.
Third, we spent much of our weekends studying. We had two hours study period in the morning, another two hours in the afternoon, and two hours again in the evening. Once in making his rounds during study period he caught one lazy soul excusing himself with "I'm done with my assignment." Mons Pax was quick to answer: "KAY NANO, MADUNONG KA NA?" Knowledge as he always emphasized is an infinite world to conquer.
As the Chinese proverb says it: If you want to be remembered do either of these three; plant a tree, write a book, father a son. Mons. Pax will always be remembered by his seminarians. He planted trees in our hearts and minds some of which already bore fruit. He has written a book whose pages are written in the lives of his seminarians filled with the wisdom of his words. He has fathered us all with his brand of discipline and order that we carry the pride of sharing them to our children.
In my first article here I declared I wanted my son to enter OLPS. I am still finding it hard to convince him, so I told him, "OK, son, we wait until Mons Pax returns to the seminary."
Take your bow Monsignor Pax, we are grateful for the discipline.
Our seminary before was run like a well oiled machine; precise and on the dot in every scheduled activity. The Father Rector, Mons. Pax, herded his flock and made them follow a strict regimen day in and day out giving emphasis on punctuality. The moment we rose until the time we retired we already knew what to follow, how to do things, and where to do them.
His authority on our lives was not confined within its walls for even as we went home we were required to serve the parish.
To our young minds then, discipline and order was a fearsome image. We sulked in corners whenever Mons. Pax made his rounds with that patented clinking of keys as he walked down the corridor; always fearful of what mistake we might have made or what he might find in us. There was fear in hearing his booming voice, his sharp stare was enough to make us toe the line. Order and discipline was Mons. Pax's daily menu. He became the personification of authority every one at our age loved to hate.
Obedience from a young mind is borne out of fear for its penalty but no mind remains young forever the moment it realizes wisdom. The time when wisdom takes over has come. The young men who loved to hate order and discipline grew up and rose from the immaturity and selfishness characteristic of its age to awaken in a deep sense of gratitude and sincere admiration of Mons. Pax.
His passion for order and discipline is well served for its purpose. It is admirable how he made us felt the pride. There was pride in the uniform, there was pride in our language, there was pride in our acts, there was pride in our identity.
For one, we only went home once a month then spending much of our time during weekends at the study hall and in housecleaning. And when we went home at the end of the month, we spent much time serving the parish.
Every Saturday Mons. Pax never absented himself from his routine round. The seminary must be spotlessly cleaned as he inspected every nook and corner. Everybody had his own assignment to clean, his own area of responsibility. It was our home, its cleanliness was our responsibility was the standing dictum. It was where we learned to accept responsibility in a communal spirit. Home visit was at the end of the month and before we left the Rector saw to it to instill in our minds that we were going out not for vacation. The community was an extension of our lives, we were to report to our respective parishes and serve. There was always a reminder on how we were expected to behave outside. The moment we left we carry our identity with us with dignity and pride.
Second, enrollment during our time was never a problem as the number of freshmen to go in had to be trimmed down based on the available facilities. Mons. Pax sales pitch on vocation campaigns was simple: GUSTO MO MAGING GWAPO ENTER OLPS! Gwapo each and every seminarian became because like raw materials we were cut into refined pieces of jewel. From the haircut to the clothes we wore, the words and manner we spoke, all bore the distinct identity of being seminarians that every parent in the community shared the pride of having a son in the seminary.
Third, we spent much of our weekends studying. We had two hours study period in the morning, another two hours in the afternoon, and two hours again in the evening. Once in making his rounds during study period he caught one lazy soul excusing himself with "I'm done with my assignment." Mons Pax was quick to answer: "KAY NANO, MADUNONG KA NA?" Knowledge as he always emphasized is an infinite world to conquer.
As the Chinese proverb says it: If you want to be remembered do either of these three; plant a tree, write a book, father a son. Mons. Pax will always be remembered by his seminarians. He planted trees in our hearts and minds some of which already bore fruit. He has written a book whose pages are written in the lives of his seminarians filled with the wisdom of his words. He has fathered us all with his brand of discipline and order that we carry the pride of sharing them to our children.
In my first article here I declared I wanted my son to enter OLPS. I am still finding it hard to convince him, so I told him, "OK, son, we wait until Mons Pax returns to the seminary."
Take your bow Monsignor Pax, we are grateful for the discipline.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
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