My dear niece, Dana, graduates from Ateneo de Naga University on March 28, making me privy to the long rehearsals and tedious preparation that went into the ceremony.
When at last I saw the invite to the ceremony, I realized this was not the small school – or college – I recall with fondness. The number of graduating students the past years by my standard is big. My next question to my niece was: what time will the ceremony be over. We had varied estimates: one at 11pm and another at 9pm. Dana was so busy the whole week and even days before that I did not have time to share with her my memory of a fun graduation with people numbering some hundreds. The ceremony was simple and sweet.
Did we have a Baccalaureate Mass? We did. It happened on the same day and afforded the male graduates to parade with their bell bottoms and the women to show off their non-stockinged legs. Being natural was fashionable then. We had great togas then, courtesy of the office of Mr. Salvador Calandria. If you were lucky, you could get those with velvet linings and girth that made you feel you were Orson Welles in all his gravitas.
After the Baccalaureate Mass, there was breakfast. I do not know when it started and when it ended, but when we graduated, everything for breakfast was prepared by the juniors. A sort of tribute to the seniors who were leaving the school.
Ateneo de Naga then – high school as well as college – was noted and appreciated for the graduation ceremonies that were finished at about 7pm. While the other universities were into politicians, my school opted for its own – alumni who were accomplished, former Jesuits whose presence rekindled warm memories among alumni, and sometimes, a favorite mentor or priest. But we had fiery speeches in graduation, sterling elocutions that were talked about by many and around the city.
One of the most memorable speeches I ever heard was one from Fr. James Reuter. He enumerated the many things that separate the Atenean from the other graduates. He cited the possibility of growth outside. He talked about the many graduates who were offered jobs, great jobs and attractive salaries. He narrated the stories about his former students who were sought after by many companies. In top positions already, they were still pirated by companies who upped their salaries and perks. At the end of this long litany of inspiring tales and encouraging lores, the good Jesuit then asked in that velvet voice with just the right amount of grit: My dear Ateneans, are you for sale?
Well, most of us, thank God, were never for sale.
My generation was not keen about having politicians for graduation speakers. We were at the tail end of the hippie movement, when it was the ideology to be close to earth, to be at ease with the ordinary. During our graduation, we voted to have Fr. Jack Phelan who delivered a very short speech about an eagle who was born among chickens and never acted like them. The eagle at his best could act like an arrogant rooster, but he never went beyond that. He did not soar because he never thought flight was his gift. He never preyed on small animals because he never believed in his capacity to be a great fowl. He died thinking he was a rooster. We didn’t know when the speech ended. We just saw Fr. Jack move away from the lectern. That speech never really ended. Sometimes, we – my generation, at least – are caught ill at ease: are we mighty eagles or chicken. Or, are we eagles growing old among chicken thinking we are like them.
Strange times and strange weather. As I was writing this, I could hear the rumbling from the skies. Will it rain? I miss Mr. Calandria (Cadi to those who loved him) and his Gym Brigade. These were Section B students who were trained to carry the wooden (no monobloc then) chairs from one site to another in a flash and arrange them at a new location. We did not fear rains then, because from their lair, the boys called the Gym Brigade could rush out and reorganize a graduation ceremony from one place to another place.
Those were the days. We remember them. You, Dana and your generation would have your own memories, too. For you to remember.