Laong nila an taga Tago kuno para-away pero hanugay. Mamingawuni naman ganahani mandahap-dahap nan notisya. Naman ini na pabyon inhimo para kita na mga Tagon-on magkasinusihay, magka-binayluay nan mga gilaong, nan notisya, nan kaayuhan.
In today's movie guide of the Philippine Daily Inquirer, I saw this---
Suddenly it was 1979. In a room at the ground floor of Purisima School, I stood before my classmates from Third Year-Section Jade, doing an oral book report. I couldn’t remember if our teacher was wearing a white habit (Sr. Cecilia, SPC?) or a green uniform (Junelie Penuliar?); all I could remember was that she leaned against the window, on the side facing the road.
It was our first time to do an oral book report and everybody was scared. When our teacher made my classmates draw lots, I was puzzled: Why was I being excluded? Then to my horror, she handpicked me to be the first reporter. Before dismissing us that day, she gave me a book. “Read this,†she said, “and tell your classmates about it next meeting.â€Â
It was Friday. The book was “Password to Lark Spur Lane,†a hardbound Nancy Drew Mystery written by Carolyn Keene.
I wanted to self destruct, but instead, I crossed my fingers.
This was during the height of Komiks mania, and like Judy and Analyn, I was hooked by the stories of Mars Ravelo, Rico Bello Omagap, Carlo Caparas, Pablo Gomez, Gilda Olvidado, Nerissa Cabral, and Vincent Benjamin Kua, Jr. What made the addiction more acute was that these stories were given color and texture by Mar Santana, like this one---
or by Hal Santiago, like this one---
or by Nestor Malgapo, like this one---
or by my favorite Celerio Brothers, Louie and Joey, like this one---
Except for the Bible which we read in Church during Sunday School and only for a few verses, I hadn’t read anything before that was totally devoid of pictures. “Stories in Parade†and “Doorways to Reading,†at least, had a picture of the wind and the sun bearing down on a man with a cloak, and another showing a man who stole the salt producing device that went out of control and thus made the sea salty up to this day.
Receiving a difficult mission that afternoon, I didn’t linger in school, as was my wont. I went home in a hurry and willed myself to read the book in my room. That evening, Mama had to drag me out after our helper made eight trips upstairs to tell me dinner was ready.
By Sunday afternoon, I was rereading the scenes that earlier had made my heart race. On Monday, I made a captive audience of my classmates. (On hindsight now, I think I was the only one who made the oral report because the rest of my classmates chickened out [don’t know with Laiden] that our teacher had to call everything off.)
Because it was like eons ago, I can't remember the plot of "Password to Lark Spur Lane," and all I got now are snippets: a mysterious carrier pigeon falling out of the sky into where Nancy was tending her prized delphinium; the cryptic message, actually the password that was tied to the left leg of the pigeon, that read, "Bluebells are now Singing Horses;" the summer house called Sylvan Lake; the evil Dr. Bull; and Nancy doing a rescue operations with the help of Bess and George.
For the rest of the remaining months of that schoolyear, I raided the library for Nancy Drew Mystery Stories, sometimes cutting classes and hiding myself behind dusty shelves that almost reached the ceiling. Years later I would know that there was no Hardy Boys books in the library because the SPC sisters banned them.
One of these days I might ransack the library of Purisima School to see if the Nancy Drew books are still there. Because, you know, it would be nice to look at the borrower’s card and see how my signature looked like 25 years ago.
For all that’s been said, Carolyn Keene’s “Password to Lark Spur Lane†will always have a special place in my heart because it was the first full length novella I had read. And I will forever be grateful to Nancy Drew for making me realize that tucked in between the pages of a book is a world so beautiful, where possibilities are bound only by one’s glorious imagination.
Can’t wait to meet my heroine!
Last edited by kampanaryo_spy on Wed Sep 05, 2007 9:02 am, edited 7 times in total.
"Most claims of originality are testimony to ignorance and most claims of magic are testimony to hubris." -James March-
Thank you. You unwittingly gave me a window of opportunity to atone for my sin. This is a public confession so I must do it right.
The St. Louis Academy's (Tigao) library was almost the same size as Purisimas'. I had a habit of bringing home a book from there and Tatay would return it back when “we†were done with it.
Fast forward to early 70’s, I carried the habit with me. I took it upon myself that since I was living in the dorm, (over the fence, across the street and again over the fence extension of the library) I could take a book out and return it the following day without signing anything. I don't know how but I was able to get away with it.
There was one book covered with dark blue cloth with gold print on it. It was an “American†book of short stories. I was fascinated with the story about the “country mouse and the city mouseâ€Â. I took the book to the dorm then brought it home with me that weekend. I CONVENIENTLY “forgot†to bring it back. There were so many short stories told on the book that I decided to keep it.
Yes, I'm sorry....I’m guilty! I’ve stolen a book from Purisima’s Library and if I’m not mistaken the book was “The AESOP for childrenâ€Â.
K-Spy, it’s so long ago, do you think the school can still sue me? I must find way to make amend with our beloved alma mater.
Last edited by Alibangbang on Tue Sep 04, 2007 5:53 am, edited 2 times in total.
"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those that matter... don't mind and those that mind... don't matter." Dr. Suess
i believe pilferage, like rape, doesn't prescribe, and so you're a fugitive!
just don't be surprised if somebody handcuffs you at the airport next time you go home.
or maybe, just maybe, we can have you extradited
This is a public confession so I must do it right. 
