The Carolinian

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Part of The Carolinian

Title: The Carolinian
Issue Date: Volume XXIV (Issue No. 3) Christmas 1960
Year: 1960
Language: English; Filipino; Spanish
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extracted text: 3I” (Carolinian John 1, 4 In J|im teas life, anti tfjat life teas tfje ligijt of men. (Christmas, I960 • This CAROLINIAN A is really wonderful......... game, accommodating. She has had "dotes" with various campus newspapermen, with different liter ary styles—Maning, the British Accent; Rudy, the barrister-turned-salesman; Junne, the short story writer and poet; and all of them turned out satis factorily. Now, it's yours truly, Baltazarov Quinainski. But a "date" with CAROLINIAN A isn't the holiday that we imagined it would be. We have to spend countless nights with involun tary insomnia—losing a few pounds of flesh until we become animated toothpicks with the profile of a praying mantis while going over those bulky manus cripts. We have to meet with calmness the challenge of scarcity of materials. We have to tackle frantically the everhaunting deadlines, rewriting, retyping and lay-outing. We have to engage in an exasperating chase after some of our Usto companeros in the staff who, getting accustomed to thinking that the editor is joking, be come delinquent. We also have to lose many friends and acquire many enemies because we are bound by the principle that the truth must be dispensed with impartially, no matter who gets hurt. That's doing the CAROLINIANA. Anybody cares to step into our shoes? In this issue, the front cover, done by AC in a unique style, portrays a lighted candle. The bach cover shows the Three Kings, traveling towards the little town of Bethlehem, guided by the light of a bright and steadfast star. They bring ivith them gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh for the new born Messiah. Junne Canizares weaves a tale of the reunion of two lovers in his Renewal in Christmas. The story, which is allegorical, relates how Man renewed his avowals with Faith through the intercession of Bliss. Eduardo Ponce’s Some Rain Must Fall echoes the gnawing reproaches of rvhat might have been tvhich could be anybody’s. Here a spurned lover, Eduardo makes it clear that time can never efface his memory of his dear Yolanda and that he tcill continue to love her "because true love can suffer truly.” The Season of the Big list down all the flying honors USC reaped this year. Of special importance is the capture of San Carlos of the presidential posts of the two most powerful student organizations in this empire province, the CEG and the SCAC. The Opinions Column received quite favorable response from the students this time. Their opinions on the topic what is your ideal man or tvoman are interesting, despite the fact that most of them carry that same shopworn and undescriptive cliches as "kind.” "understanding,” and "devout Catholic.” On the whole, this active participation of the students is a good sign. They are beginning to wake up from their lethargy and cultivate their latent talents on the pages of the "C.” We hope this new enthusiasm will not melt like fallow before the fire. Mga Punto Sa Paniid is absent from the Sinugboanon section. The author has been assigned some place else where the opportunities to make points of observation are more abundant. Linda Talaid who wrote Veils of Rain Clouds the last time made readers raise quizzical eyebrows and ask: Is that one form of a Halandumong Kaagi sa Kinabuhi? By the way, where is Isabel Barreto, the one who wrote Shafts of Light? Many were fascinated by her style. Nelly McFarland was so much "en grossed" in her personality column that she sub mitted her piece at the eleventh hour—and untype written. FLF, where are your repulsive creations?. Of Loneliness and Loveliness depicts the intrica cies of life in pictures and in words. The text is writ ten by Junne, the poet, and the pictures are by BC Cabanatan, the lensman. F. Macasil writes in a humorous vein about the landing of the American forces in his native toivn in Samar. His "My Townsfolk and the Gl's" is a hilarious collection of post liberation anecdotes. You may now proceed to the other pages. Merry Christmas and successful hunting! CARCLINIAM Official Publication of the Students of the University of San Carlos Cebu City, Philippines Vol. XXIV Christmas, 1960 No. 3 £-2 itotiaL 1A/HEN, close upon the heels of one another, two well ■ “ known critics of the administration came to the University for speaking engagements, not a few voices of apprehension were raised. The fact might be interpreted as a leaning on the part of the University towards the op position, it was feared, and in a paternalistic government such as ours, where virtually all bounty emanates from, or is enjoyed with the sanction of, the powers-thatbe, identification with the opposi tion can be dangerous. The fears and apprehensions that we note above lead to several interesting observations, but we here intend to touch only upon that which, to our mind, appears most noteworthy: and it is that many people seem to have lost sight of the fact that a true university is a free market of ideas, and as such, must allow the free discussion of poli tical issues. Discussion is essential to the making of a sound deci sion. The pros and the cons must be known before a wise judgment can be arrived at. This is especially true to things involving the national destiny, which must be handled with extreme caution. Yet, if the largest influential concentration of intelligent and, it is still hoped, principled, men and women — the universities — shirk their complex duty of discussion and judgment and militant action, the determination of the national destiny is left, to a large extent, to the bakya crowds who fall easy preys to demagogues and cheats, who The University As A Free Market Of Political Ideas vote for Congressman So-and-So, because he seems to be very likeable — always generous with his smiles and money— without regard to the fact that Congressman So-and-So attends sessions only once in a blue moon and has inex plicably amassed great fortunes during his tenure. It is criminal to entrust so delicate and dear a thing as the national destiny — the future of our children and of our children's children to irresponsible hands. Yet this is what is happening every time university men and women default in their sacred trust. It is high time that we realized and do something about this. —M. S. G. TABLE OF CONTENTS REGULAR COLUMNS Caroliniana _______________________Balt Quinain_____________ inside front cover Editorial________ ______________M. S. G------------------------------------------------ 1 SHORT STORIES A Renewal _______________________J. Canizares ____________________ 2 Some Rain Must Fall__________ E. Ponce---- -------- 4 POETRY A Page of Harvest .......... — --- .---------------------------------------------- ------- (> The Caroler --------------------------------- J. Canizares -------------- .... 8 MISCELLANEA Chaos on Earth ----- ------------------Let’s Talk It Over -----------------------My Townsfolk ------------------------------Oscar Abella_____________________ Yolanda Villon __________________ The Catholic Action ----------------------C. Gabrillo___________________________ 9 B. Quinain_______________________ 12 F. Macasil____________________________ 17 N. McFarland________________________ 18 E. Talaid ____________________________ 19 P. Isaac_____________________________ 24 REGULAR SECTIONS Opinions-------------News ----------------Sports___________ Wikang Pilipino _. Seccion Casteliana Sinugboanon _____ Inside back cover PICTORIAL__________________________________________________________ 13-14-15-16 iJ/ie Editenia! Sta// MANUEL S. GO Editor JUNNE CANIZARES RODOLFO A. JUSTINIANI FILEMON L. FERNANDEZ B. C. CABANATAN Senior Editors FRANCISCO ROBLES TEODORO BAY Associate Editors Nelson F. Larosa Alfredo Amores Balt V. Quinain Jose Mabugat Junior Associates Chris G. Gabrillo, Pete Montero, Domlnador Almlrante, Renato Rances, Joven Ecarma, Rene Estela Amper, Rodolfo Cor dero, Erlinda M. Talaid, Daisy Mate, Nelly McFarland Staff Writers SIXTO LL. ABAO. JR. Contributing Editor MISS ALEJANDRA FERNANDEZ Adviser REV. WILLIAM CREMERS. SVD Moderator CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 1 • SHORT STORDES .1 3T WAS the afternoon of a fine December 24th day when Bliss dropped in the house to alienate me from Edgar Allan Poe whom I was read ing at leisure. He persuaded me to fly with him into a sociable which he described as a Christ mas party, but I guessed was a mere jam session. “You know very well that I don’t have any training in dan cing,” I said, holding my hand up. “But you will manage. Man!”\ My friend imitated the gesture of \ impatience of a child. “Grrrrr, 1 you’re hard to get with. Man, lis ten: there’s also a barrio fiesta down there. Think of anything local-color in the way of entertain ments, and there you have it.” He proceeded beguiling me by sing ing an old country band song, and , saying bogsing! bogsing! in tween the lyrics; he next wor on his tongue and trie like a gay banjo; an pantomimed eating th roasted pig. This ex him flushed a little. While heWvas s seemed to hear say: “How ver hear it remarked, such thoughts are pass of words. I that any thbhgh called, is out oNu guage. I fancy, rather, difficulty in express\on/ j enced, there which experiences , of deliberateness or of certainly did not mean anXhfcr to my friend; we were fond o ing comiques to each other wh ever we met privately. Only at that very instant I was a bit pen sive. However, my friend had at last my pity, my consent, and indeed I was ready to get dressed, but po liteness told me to wait for the interesting finale of his show: Climbing the Greasy Pole. somewhat pleased, though, to ob serve that although the room seemed too small for us, every body, when the four-man combo played, had always a space to kick in, quaking the body and making Come-here signs by the hands, as if they were the red wings of some fried chickens in the aparador far across the floor. Terpsichore descended upon me, and a voice similar to that of San dra Dee’s was whispering ‘-Dance! Dance!” to me; but I tightly clos ed my eyes at the i(te cause when it comes to this 1$ tic, for sure even the m yond the co t believe perly soeach of lant where headdresses sprang up and down before me. The sound of big hol low logs being rhythmically knock ed, and the noise of sticks came to my ears. “Shake, baby, shake!” one shouted, clapping his hands, and many followed him. I was an gry, especially because I had be come the witch-doctor, and it was my duty to maintain order. I rat tled my wand with the skull and vulture claws on it and said, “Whazzi! Wahzzi! Wahzzi!” “Wah—. What are you saying?” the doll asked me in her very small, very high-pitched, accent. .2. It was nobody’s fault but my own that I was not social enough to enjoy the warmth of the party; I only sat in one inconspicuous corner of the parlour and talked casually with my neighbors. I was Egypt would be stiffness of my __ ____ did not abandon ne yet, so I prac ticed my feet below t’ enthusiastically staffll The exquisite doll beside me quickept her jeweled Arabian s away from peril, hej/companion and pointed/kt me. I saw her sat straight and behaved more aristocratically than before. ng which ly jollity i >rd or mer friend i|s, that one is bound to witt of surprises. I had the to learn this lesson when, tired of\the monotony of hand pulling anti, whirlings, I was about to consign self to the laps of sleep, somethifig^ happened which altered the move t of the dan cers. The combo pl da weird piece, the influence of perhaps too strong over thX dan cers, because now they leap almost to the ceiling if they were stepping on some thumb-tacks. I did not remain long on this unpoetical apprecia tion; my imagination was flung wide open, and the opposite wall faded and was substituted by the awe-inspiring form of Mt. Kili manjaro. Now ostrich feathered amazed at the legs. The muse the table Wahzzi! Wahzzi!” I said “Maybe he is the doll consulted and the two Zhariikari-wari-wah! dy starved,” e>- companion, .... . _ h their glass giggled, covering their pink mouths with their heavily braceleted hands. I called to mind the foreign dishes I read of somewhere, ah’d, humm’d, and recited, “Mousse de foie gras au porto. Paupiettes de Veau a la Grecque. Suppa de pesce. Artichauds a la Barigoule. Aubergines Farcies Italiennes.” For the first time the doll gave friendly, slightly humble mien a\jd shook her turbaned head, logizing, “Sorry, I don’t speak ian.” Alfter the moody African intermy friend walked across the towards me, as one might apAlft ludel flooi , _ proa :h a tribal chieftain to ask his prognostication. ' ’ \ beirn; prepared,” he broke the much delayed news. “The table is .3. After I had partaken of the des sert, I withdrew to the balcony, Page 2 THE CAROLINIAN SMORT STORIES • sensing that to engage myself in conversation with any of the beaus and belles would require much daring since no one who could in troduce me was around. There was a tinseled-and-ribboned Christ mas tree there, softly lighted by a series of tiny fruits of nameless species. The cold mountain wind blew upon the tinkling silver bells of the tree and Santa Claus be neath it, and me. I rubbed my palms against each other and leaned on the rail. An expanse of darkness, lan terns of various sizes, shapes and 3 it CHirtstmo colors, outlines of houses, looming mountains, and an enveloping wide, wide sky of brilliant lumi naries, were before and above me. Bamboo guns blasted at each other somewhere. From the radio in the house nigh came the faint echo of a melody about a little town of Bethlehem. People were walking along the road silently. What a moment! How much grandeur that hour contained about nine hundred-sixty and thousand years ago! My inquisitive soul was hush ed up in a sacrifice of remem brance. For a brief while I was so far from my usual self as not to dis covered that a soul had joined me in the place. But when I returned from my mental excursion into the past, and was about to light a cigarette, I saw her. Then back I went, swept away by the seasons, seasons seizing me not by turns, but simultaneously as though they were a host of moods, scenes and events—and around and around. I was eddied in and out of the hour glass. Yet in all this no dizziness affected me. Rather, it was with thrill and delight that I journeyed. Now I rode on a big, big Ferris Wheel, then on some magic carpet, not in sheer expedition or adven ture, but in pursuit of a meaning of life. But the music created by the seasons was not festive; it was sad, it was the history of a long ing, crying loneliness, of an ab sence that somehow I was at times every keenly sensitive to. Yet delightful, because of the fact, that what was absent was not thoroughly vanished. And when every thing settled, I had truly ar rived ! She was glancing at me in the sweetest dainty way. 0 that immortal smile! It was the same adorable countenance that chal lenged whatever eloquence I had of many a night and day before. Her blouse was plain green. Her right hand was changing the posi tion of a stai- in the Christmas tree, the left hung naturally touch ing one of the big roses embroider ed on her skirt. My eyes dropped further down at her smooth legs, then at her green high-heeled shoes. “Faith!” I uttered her name in a voice full of nostalgia. We advanced towards each other and when we met, I could not even pick up her hands. I melted be fore her divine loveliness, and the occasion. 1 measured her up again, and sought for words which were too slow in coming. “I don’t know if you can still forgive and accept me,” I whis pered. “Why not, if you need me,” she kindly replied, "as you always should.” I took a deep breath, sighed and received the hands she gave to me. “To forgive is easy for you; but perhaps to accept is dif ferent. I was so afraid that you would say ‘And now that I have forgiven you, I am through with you’. ” “Never shall I use such lan guage.” She squeezed back to com municate her sincereness. “I am always the guilty one! And yet you are all tenderness to me! I know that I shall die if I have to count the times that I for got you. Oh the paradise of hav ing you back to me.” “I shall be yours as long as you want me. You may walk away from me now and then, but I shall ever come at your call. It is writ ten that I shall save you from other arms—from deceivers—, and make you happy.” Inside a gay tune was played again, and the dance was started all over. Now new awareness in habited my mind, and new signi ficances were attached to things by me. For one, I took it that all these rejoicings were held in cele bration of my regained love. And who was to say I was wrong? .4. To discard her for seemingly prettiei- girls would perhaps be not more sinful, more ruinous than to doubt her, to deny altogether her handsome, handsome goodness. Only the greatest of fools would say that she is good for nothing in the presence of bewitching temp tresses that walk in numbers on the earth. Yes, the greatest of fools I had been once; but that would never happen again. For now as I held her so tight in my arms, not even the stars with their strange sheen and flickerings could be made an unimpeachable emblem of my joy present and future if I shall be honorable to her. For now the bloom of life was bestow ed upon me again, when before (Continued on page 9) CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 3 • SHORT STORIES T IS December again, Yolanda. I shall always remember and cherish December because it was December that brought you to me. Memories have kept coming back like haunt ing refrains from some magic lyre, too painful to be treasured, yet too sweet to be altogether cast aside. In my moments of solitude, I often fall victim to day dreaming and find myself living the past once more, danced my heart away with you in a wildly applaud ed number that earned our delegation an award. In a most bewildering fashion, I suddenly found you very dear to me. There were songs we sang, I distinctly recall, which wrapped me up in the rare magic of the occa sion. I felt the tender touch of “Carmelita”, a nostal gia for some “Summer Love” and pledged “My Heart Onto each Qi/e. . . . Some picking up the stray strands of what was once a beau tiful reality. .1. It was a stormy midnight when we left for the City of the Pines to fulfill a rendezvous with three hundred or so strangers on the issue of student leader ship. No, I do not claim to be a student leader, Yolan da. Honestly, I can not consider myself one. But the rest of our group thought I w'as and I had to go if only to give them satisfaction. I was apathetic to the whole thing and I could but care less for whatever it had in store for me. It was like going through a dull chapter of a book which had to be gone through. Life was for me one monotonous passing of moments after another, wherein every hour was an eternity of loneliness. Even as I hoped for romantic Baguio to effect a change in me, I was cynical about the ma terialization of my dreams to solid realities. Too many frustrations had made me indifferent; the world was a shadow for me. .2. You were a vision of loveliness on the night of our first social. I remember you as a misplaced god dess, sitting on a roughly-made wooden bench against a backdrop of the darkness of the night with only the glow from the barbecue bonfire giving illumina tion to the surroundings, hardly encompassing the cir cled group. Somehow, I found it impossible to take my eyes away from you. You exuded a magnetism which I found difficult to repel. It was strange that you and I should come from the same institution, yet hardly knew each other. You never realized, Yolanda, that that night you Page 4 THE CAROLINIAN SHORT STORDES • Belongs To Only You”. But you never knew, Yolanda. How could you? Even now, I don’t think you are aware that I am still singing these songs for you. .3. The sight-seeing tour was one event that 1 looked forward to with much expectation. I had decided to let you know how I felt about you. 1 was determined it was a free day. To my utter surprise, the friend that you promised to be turned out to be a hostile stranger to me. You made me understand I could not tread even on your doorsteps. The world seemed to crumble; I had lost the life that I found only recently. 1 wanted to hate you just so the wound in my heart would not give me so much pain. But I found it impossible. I walked home lonely and unwanted, la menting over the fact that I never had a hand in my Rain Must Fall by EDUARDO PONCE not to let my feelings remain unspoken, not to leave my intentions unfulfilled. The chance came when we made a stop atop a hill that provided a view of the reputed gold mines. You were visibly flattered by my attentions. But the beau ty of Mother Nature’s breast laid bare mocked me when you just laughed... a laughter that thrust a thousand needles into my insides. For it hid a million meanings designed to define emphatically the gap be tween you and me. I wanted to refuse to believe that our situation could be different from that of the sand and the sea. But everytime your laughter rang in my ear, it seemed you were as far as the moon could be. We proceeded to other destinations and I had to content myself without a categorical reply. You told me, Yolanda, when I talked to you again on the eve of our departure for home, that you just wanted to by my friend, and I, yours; you could feel no more than that. And you would rather that I did not spoil our friendship. You liked me, you said, as a friend that is, and you did not want to put me in a false proposition. Never realizing how much of a fool I was, I filled myself with hope that someday maybe, at the proper time and place, I could convince you of the sincerity of my intentions. .4. So, back in school one day, 1 waited for you to come down from your classes to inquire if I may have the privilege of your audience the following day, for creation. You later explained (I don’t know what made you do it) that you were not feeling well that day. You were sorry, so you said, and asked for my understand ing. You claimed to be a nervous wreck, a trouble maker who says and does things without weighing them first, without thinking them over. 1 wanted to believe it, as I wanted to believe you could learn to love me someday. But there are times when by the way you acknowledge my greetings, you make me feel 1 have no right even to claim mere acquaintance with you, and 1 couldn’t help wondering if that nervouswreck affair of yours is nothing but a convenient sub terfuge to provide you immunity from those whom you want to, and do, hurt. .5. Yet, in spite of all, I will always hold you dear, Yolanda. 1 shall be a friend to you as you have asked me to be. It couldn’t be otherwise anyway; a friend is all I’m good for, so it seems. I can neither hate you. It’s just impossible. I’m sure living will be a torture for me: Your nearness will be as that of the wind among the trees, but I shall claim proximity to you only as a tree does to the blue. My only consola tion is that true love is one that can suffer truly. 1 have tried forgetting you, Yolanda, but without success. You are a chapter that is part and parcel of the unfinished book of my life. Time can never have dominion over my memory of you anymore. You, my dear, and those blissful December days, shall always remain treasured in my heart, even as 1 suffer dwel ling in the memory of you. CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 5 • POETRY 4 BALTAZAR SEPE Why are flowers fragrant? Mild and adorable? 1 O why are they enchant - Flowers, flowers, flowers, Ing? Spruce? So kissablc? Pink, while, blue, yellow, red. Behold, madams, misters: How they play, how they spread. They establish nations Along the lakes, on hillsides; They breathe with devotions 2 In trees, for happy brides. You put them on your hair, Or wear them on your breasts; Weave some to garlands fair, For champions, heroes, guests, Dawn’s fingers open them: Splendid in the sunlight: Night’s zephyrs fan them: Gentle in the moonlight. And you, and YOU, and ME. 5 Let us have days of cheers, Let us have hours of glee; Picnics with the flowers. Now it is time to fly To waterfalls and woods; Meadows and mountains high — 3 To floral neighborhoods. Some thrive in water, some, air; 6 Some, homes. Some grow on lands. Some are wild, some need care Of tender, loving hands. O why am I always Seeing some gold clover? Why is my love always 4 Likened to a flower? Flowers, flowers, flowers, My love is a primrose, For all ages, all places. Friendly with the river; Flowers, come all the years A trailing Arbutus, To huts and palaces. In the wind a dancer. Mine’s love is a Witch-hazel, Taciturn, mysterious; Also an Immortelle That yields not to sorrows. An adelpha’s my love, Scarlet as a meaning; Lilac coy as the dove, Yet regnant as a king. “Wait. That charming lady In the third floor above Is tearing a lily.” No, it is not my love. 7 Now my mind is full of Cadena de amor; Now my heart is full of Secreto de amor. Write on a canna petal, Darling, your note to me. I’ll send my pledge immortal Through the Dama de Noche. In that small earthen vase Blooms a bougainvillea. It is for your staircase Near the gumamela. I want the two shall flame Faithfully, side by side: A picture in the frame, I dream for us with pride. Page 6 THE CAROLINIAN POETRY • ^Tcee 9iesigna(i.on. How lovely this tree was last Christmas. All in multi-colors beautiful. .. with tinsels and stars of silver and golden paper. . . glistening with tiny lights . . . But time has killed my beautiful tree and I am sad; But December has come again and a new tree I have— This time, more lovely than ever. I shall not let time kill it again. by MANUEL SATORRE, JR. what if i couldn’t see you again— what if i couldn’t be sitting across a table from you again— what if we share no more jokes nor make plans together again— as long as i know that you miss me and that the days we shared are now a precious part of you as they are of me— l>eloved, i shall not grieve. by AGUSTIN P. MENDOZA philosophy III Vtpdl on. (fie <3fi((s o( (Siimmec J- - i w^telm^y april on the hills of summer— o< iPAfilFo ijp wMethem in regions i know not where. -HL JAL _Z_ 2A- V—JI .s 'bu,! showers are._neyer lost, \ tlipy aCe^rebo/n into^ flowers OF HAKVF^gt arms of dawn. jfetyEy ESTELLA AMPER 1 .X jasniins-evftrl i never thoji would cpjrye write on^-Bof i was Bjsarph flowers that would bloom in the night, there were none. They all bloom only in the sun. but now, jazmins-everlasting have finally sprouted in the garden of time, my hands shall no longer touch the petals of other flowers, from now on, they shall reach for only you. i j^ally love jaimins-^v^rlaeting. night i feef like> idling hileS away, ! pluqk them from ush nearby Ap^fenderly caress ih tbe hollow* lot' my hand. r»ya Jose my loneliness in Jplertt tenderness of XheiXsweeL and virgin whiteness. 'j ^ometimes wonder how far sweeter 'they could be if they could live and love back as much as i love them. . .if they could contain my love forever. . . . but then, when i think of the possible antithesis, i feel they’re better off the way they are. i can always love them with all the intensity my heart can muster without their reproaching, “let’s just be friends, we can never feel more than that to you. . .” by CARMEN QUIJANO CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 7 • POETRY by JUNNE CANIZARES “You know well."’ He putted his forehead, dosing his eyes tightly. “I)o you think I ean stand this going on? This enrolling business of yours!” “Oh, that?” He smiled. “Tay, Tay.” His voice was heavy now. “Give us some little respect. Please, don't put us down.” “Have I done something bad. Lilo? Have I?” “It's not for me to say it's bad or good. Tay. my friends are laughing al my back. They laugh at me because of you.” “You conn1 to that again ...” “Don't you ever know what you are doing? Your voice is funny, you are old! you cannot sing now I .And your guitar, it's off-key! And old Christmas songs! Don't you realize that when you sing, people just don’t listen to you? And if they care, they just drop some five-centavo pieces in your palm and say, ‘That will do, manong'. You make us laughing-stocks!” “I understand you, my son. But there is something beyond all this, all this that you speak of.” “Tay, we shall survive. I'm grown up. 1 have a job. You don't have to spend all your nights at all singing to people for their loose coins, just because it’s Christmas and everybody is supposed to be soft-hearted.” “Lilo, do not say that!” He was shocked. There was anger in his voice, but he calmed himself, before lie could say something hurting. One Christmas long ago, Lilo, when he was that small, got very sick and was about to die. He spoke to the Lord and promised that if He would make his beloved son live, lie would sing praises to Him in all the Decembers of his life. He had already told this to Lilo. but he called it fanatic. It was near dawn, but inside a nipa hut two people were still awake, an old father and his son. “Now let me see HOW MUCH you got.” the son said. “You do not sleep and wait for me again,” the old man said. He paced towards the wall to hang his gone by guitar. Now lie liked to lie on the bamboo bed; but never In-fore had he wanted so much to talk Io his son. “Sleep? No. unless we finish this.” the son said. The old man's heart throbbed fast. Had his son also known what he felt would happen that night? When he slipped the notch of the guitar on the nail, his hands were trembling. “What is it?” be said. “What else can I say. Itay?” be almost shouted. “It's all right, my son, if you leach me more what to do. I'm already much advanced in age. and perhaps, I'm no longer using my reason well.” “I don't mean that, Itay. Okay, okay. We still have the morrow- for this. We’re both tired and impatient. Ix-l's r<-st now.” “(rood day, my son. Be good.” The old man went inside his little room and crawled into the bamboo bed. He lay restfully and watched the stars twinkle through the open window. In the morning, when the stars had gone out. the son found his old man dead. Page 8 THE CAROLINIAN MDSCELLANEA • A RENEWAL IN . . . (Continued from page 3) hoped to taste once more the pur ity of laughter. “How many times had I lost myself, and you found me?” I said. I gathered her hair in a handful, and pressed her head to my breast. I gently stroked her arm. She was lithe, ardent and aromatic. “Now I can brave the cruellest of winds and rains. I can command and be obeyed. For you are here.” “Yes... And it is only your no tice that I demand of you,” she said. Cupping her face in the palms of my hands, I beheld her and her fairness made my soul her tribu tary for enraptured praises. I slowly brought my lips to hers. A shaft of moonlight hit the rail of the balcony and was directed into the artificial pond below; it bounced in several reflections that rang the leaves of the surround ing ferns, as though they were some lyres of ancient Rome. The music in the sala ceased; there was a shuffle of footsteps; then, the leave-taking. Silence next. We leaned on the balcony, and looked out, carefully viewing the portion of the world and hu manity presented to us. After wards, we reconstructed our dreams, reformed our plans, re stored our objects, all for the best. I said my resolutions and prom ises, to which she listened with great understanding. She smiled at me, and I asked myself how the deuce did I live the days when I missed such blessing. A shadow was cast on the balco ny ; we turned around, and saw my forever laughing friend. “Every body has gone to hear the Mass. When shall we go?” he said. “Right now!” we readily an swered. And we gladly walked towards the house of prayer, the three of us—Faith and Man, and Bliss. CHAOS on Earth and HATRED to Men ... ONCE AGAIN Christmas comes and the bland December breeze shall be filled with Christmas carols with this oft-repeated phrase: "Peace on earth to men of goodwill." In these times when the whole humankind is being threatened with possible annihilation from a nuclear war, we cannot help think ing that the message which the angels sang to herald the birth of Christ may sound painfully strange and absurd, sarcastic and ironic. What hopes have this generation and the future generation for peace on earth? What could have the heavenly voices meant by men of goodwill? Has the message of the angels after all come to naught? Christmas comes, yet on the international scene the peoples of the world watch with stifled breaths as the brilliant scientists and great minds work feverishly to perfect the deadliest weapons which would butcher millions and millions of precious human lives at the press of a button. Meanwhile on the national and local scenes we witness our so-called "leaders" cutting each other's throat in their mad scramble for fame and power. Our government officials, "the servants of the people", are recklessly looting the treasury of the nation, unmindful of the widespread poverty, disease and misery among the masses. This Christmas the voices of the angels of the Lord shall become faint and their message shall become unintelligible. We can no longer appreciate the beauty, neither can we unravel the mystery of those lines, for as we look into our hearts, we cannot find the Holy Babe there. Nowhere can we find the Blessed Virgin Mary and the simple carpenter adoring the Holy Child wrapped in swaddling clothes. And nowhere can we see the humble shepherds paying their homage to the Savior. We do not have an inch of space for the Holy Family in our hearts for They are "untouchables." This Christ mas we will also think it absurd to bend our knees to the King of Kings, for His crown is but a wreath of thorns. We, who someday shall scan the infinite spaces and the heavens and exclaim, "There is no God!" will also find it very embarrassing to take lessons in humility from a group of unlettered fishermen. We, in all our conceit and fake "wisdom" shall continue to be confused unless we cease behaving like heathens and infidels. Our only hope for salvation and peace on earth is to live and behave like Christians. And our only hope for goodwill is to be humble be fore the greatness and infiniteness of God. Then and only then can we decipher the meaning and fulfill the message which the angels sang, "Peace on earth to men of goodwill." by CHRIS G. GABRILLO CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 9 • OPBNDONS My Ideal Man must be one who loves me not because of what I have as a woman, but because of what I am. JOSEFINA DE DIOS Secretarial A man who knows how to do house hold chores is my ideal man. I am not implying, however, that when we get married, I will make him my servant. No, not that. I just want to be pre pared. A family cannot be expected to have maids all the time. Supposing I’d be indisposed, with no maid to do the cooking, what would happen? We would starved. ALFIA L. BENITEZ Pre-Med A man who knows how to tackle the intricacies of life without any reproaches for his failures is my ideal man. He must also be one who is industrious and Perla Trinidad Secretarial My ideal man will be one who has the capacity of segregating right from wrong. He must be 5 inches taller than I. He must be diligent in his studies, loving in his acts and sincere in his praises. He must be a devoted Catholic and have a military poise. PERLA TRINIDAD Secretarial When BVQ shot to me the question: H’/ial is your ideal man? I could not help but laugh. I can imagine how pre cocious would I be, a fifteen-year-old girl giving out her opinion on such a controversial topic as an ideal man. But the “friendly persuasion” employed by him got the better of me. I had no choice but to give him inv idea, no mat ter how limited it may be. My ideal man must be tolerable in appearance, kind, understanding, have a steady job, be a devout Catholic. Most of all, he Protacia Tadlip Commerce resourceful. He must be a good provid er, friendly and approachable by his kin and friends. It is not necessary that he be tall, dark and handsome. It is enough that he is acceptable by the cri tical eyes of the public. I mean, I should not be ashamed to go around with him. But most of all, he must have a stable job and unquestionably be a devout Catholic. PROTACIA TADLIP Commerce Josefina de Dios Secretarial A man who is sincere, faithful and true to his words is my ideal man. He must have a job of his own to earn a decent living for our family. He must be a good Catholic. The fear of God will undoubtedly deter him from com mitting acts that are contrary to the accepted norms of conduct of our Cath olic community. But above all, he must be one who knows how to adjust him self to the situation of the times... be it good or bad. LYDIA C. YBANEZ Secretarial Siiireley Tang Commerce II I am not the materialistic type, but at least he must have a job of his own to support a family. He must have good public relations. He must be thoughtful, kind, understanding. It is not necessary that he be a Chinese, for true love knows no bounds. It is enough that he has the same blood that runs through my veins. He must not be a hypocrite. SHIRELEY TANG Commerce My ideal man must be one who knows how to dress simply, but properly. He must be sincere in his words, in thoughts and in deed. He must not be too pos sessive, especially since a woman like me wants a lot of friends. He must not be a show-off, but rather humble and resSerena Penaloza Secretarial pectful so that he will command respect from his fellowmen. It is not necessary that he be rich or poor. It is enough that he has talents and industry to earn a living. Of course, he must be a prac tical Catholic. For isn’t it true that faith can move mountains? SERENA PENALOZA Secretarial (Continued on page 25) Page 10 THE CAROLINIAN OPINIONS • L a*... James Laurel Allego Liberal A rts One who prays kneeling in the front pew... not listening to baritone voices of the male choir... nor gazing at the handsome priest on pulpit or when he turns around at the altar to bless the people, but rather fixes her misty eyes on the Sacred Host; she is my ideal woman. Her modesty must be beyond the ordinary. She must be one who never gnashes her teeth or wags her tongue in anger, but rather must she be the type that crosses her arms in dignified admission to human frailties, not the one who makes flimsy excuses coated with profanities. She must be one who smiles amidst hardships in life. She must be apologetic, too. She must have been reared in a simple nipa hut where the thoughts of ill-gotten wealth and stately mansion are quite remote. JAMES LAUREL ALLEGO Liberal Arts Bonnie N. Camello Liberal Arts As men want the best of wine and songs, so they do of women. My ideal woman should at least be presentable. She need not be pretty... but mind you, should be cute! She should not be the keep-off type but should be accommodat ing to everybody. She need not have the much-sought-after B-bank. I don’t care much about dough anyway. To hook a My Ideal Woman financially well-heeled woman is plain and simple cold-blooded opportunism. BONNIE N. CAMELLO Liberal Arts “My ideal girl? Well, to me, beauty in a girl isn’t everything. I’d prefer an average looking gal who carries her self with poise and dignity, possesses a good percentage of common sense, re sourcefulness and a pound or two of kindness and understanding. She must know how to cook. To top it all, she must be a devout Catholic. I believe, faith is still the unshakable foundation of a happy home. ERDY LITONJUA Commerce My ideal combination woman must be a perfect of Beauty and Brains. She Domingo Q. Chaves, Jil Com merce must be schooled in a well-known Cath olic school. She must be one who has been brought up and molded into a wom an of irreproachable character. She must be one who shuns gossips, nightclub bing. She must be sweet, soft-spoken, shy but friendly. She must be one not spoiled by her success. DOMINGO <?. CHAVES. JR. Commerce My ideal woman must be a normal and an ordinary “kayumanggi" beauty. She must be a devoted Catholic, first of all because religious training will en hance her moral virtues. She must not be one who is always found at parties, jam-sessions and other social gather ings, tut rather one who stays at home. She must be simple not only in her way of dressing, but also in acting and talk ing. She must be obedient, honest and understanding. MARIANO M. LERIN Commerce Mariano M. Lerin Com merce If a woman says that it is very hard to find a “real” man nowadays, per haps I am even more justified in say ing that a “genuine” woman nowadays is a little harder, if not the hardest, to find considering that she is as pliant as the bamboo tree. My ideal woman? Well, (just in case heaven and earth will meet) she must be natural in looks, not artificial. She must not be self advertising. She should not be too much of an eye catcher. She must have dead ly eyes to give the kicks and set my heart in bongo beats. Her hair must not be too short. She must know how to dress properly and be a good con versationalist. RAMON SAN AGUSTIN Ramon San Agustin Law CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 11 • MUSCELLANEA by BALT V. QUINAIN £efs MhK I f U'JSI! DO WE HAVE ROTTEN PROFESSORS? A CAMPUS celebrity has been throwing childish broad sides against San Carlos U and its professors for the plain and flimsy reason that he got failing grades in his classes during the first semester. Offhand, we are not yet prepared to conclude that the student in question failed in his classes because our professors are as rotten as the squashes at the Carbon market. We still have the firm belief that San Carlos does not have the temerity to hire mediocre mentors to educate so called fair hopes of the fatherland. Other wise it will be producing demagogues instead of upright men. However, if the said student has the courage to come out in the open and present facts and evidences that he failed because our professors don't know their onions, then why should he not do it now? This is a democratic country where one should not hesitate to denounce freely the follies of persons like professors. We assure the guy that if he has the dossiers to substantiate his charges we will back him up to the hilt for the ouster of the professors concerned. They have no business staying in USC. They should be fired. We are constrained, however, in the light of the reluctance of the guy to come out openly for his cause, to give weight at the moment to the information given us that the student flunked because he knows nothing in his classes except the four infamous words: I don’t know, Sir. Teehee! WHAT, DELINQUENT PROFESSORS? WE hare been under the impression that San Carlos has the most disciplined professors in the matter of punctuality. But we are afraid that that impression might take a beating. We have been receiving “tips” that there are professors in this sanctum-sanctorum who start their classes very late and dismiss the same very early. The school administration should look into this. This will throw a bad reflection on the in tegrity of USC. Students will be prone to have a loiv regard of mentors of this kind. We sug gest that a check-up should be made. How about it, Father Oehler? WHY THE DELAY AT THE CASHIER'S OFFICE THE COMMON complaint of some students during the enrolment period is the delay at the Cashier's office. They said that they were stranded in that office for a considerable length of time, waiting for their receipts to be punched by the receipting machine. Inquiries revealed that the Cashier's office has only one such machine. And it is indeed an unpleasant sight to see Miss Ybanez sweating it out alone fighting the receipts flying thick and fast to her table to be officially punched. It is quite apparent that the young lady can hardly cope with the situation without the necessity of delay. She should be helped. We don’t think that the USC administration will not give attention to this. We refuse to believe that it will be reluctant to provide another machine of the same kind. If it could provide facilities to other departments, there is no reason why it cannot do the same to the Cashier's office, which, we venture to say, is the most important of all the offices because it handles money. So, we are passing the buck to Tatay Hoerdemann, How about it, Tatay Ernesto? THE "C" AND THE UGLY TONGUES Ugly tongues are continually wagging that the Carolinian is a monopoly of the staff mem bers. The articles appearing therein are mostly written by them. For the information of the uninformed, we would like to make it clear here that the Caro linian is of the students, by the students, for the students of Uncle Charles. It is never for the staff. If it appears that the articles are mostly written by the members of the staff, it is not because they have that principle of what are we in power for but rather it is because nobody out side of the staff cares to join the staff or write for the “C”. /Is a matter of fact, the staff has been time and again calling the attention of the students to chip in their shares of the “C” by sending in their sensible articles, essays, short stories, poems, etcetera. So far, the response has not been encouraging. It seems the plea for aid fell on deaf ears. Can the staff be blamed if it takes the burden and f ills up the space to beat the dea'dline in order to have the Carolinian come out on time? Can it be blamed for not waiting for an aid which may never come at all? And here come the ugly tongues wagging about nothing. Despite, however, the glaring indifference manifested by some students, we still hazard the guess that they criticize because they don’t know how to write or are just too lazy to tvrite to cor rect the so called anomaly of monopoly. To criticize an anomaly is not enough. The critics should do something other than talking. Why don’t they write and remedy the alleged anomaly? (Continued on page 24) Page 12 THE CAROLINIAN ,„v ’’ Here I am, filled with poignant poetry, forlorn, weleoming in advance your return. Suddenly nearness is transformed into flowers, or you move away from me and put these flowers between us. Suddenly anxiety wraps me, binds me — I wish it kills me, as you move on away, and the flowers themselves are hazed. Helplessly I cry, requesting you to wait for a while. Why is life so shifting that our laughter now, no matter how sweet it is, is not an assurance that al the next moment we shan't cry? Why must be there tears always, even in loves as true, as poemful. as tender as mine? Why? Life is an enchantment enchanting me; a puzzle puzzling me. (8) comforter once you have befriended it. It conducts you to things profound, ethereal, reflective. I run into the river at sunset to share a gentle experience of death with the sun, an eternal lover. I toss a rose into the river; the river smiles, carrying it to you. Blit silence is a great In the highways anil by-ways roads and cross-roads of mind, longings, desires, and travel like lights, capricious, earnest, flexible, inflexible. They overlap with each other; centralize; tangle; untangle One frees itself completely. One is involved again. One gets lost. Yet 1 am never tired of my reason ing; I never despair. To me this existence is never worthless even if I have to walk on thorns, even if I have to cry more. For even in my darkest nights there are always you, hopes, meanings, like jewels reaching for me through the still water. MISCELLANEA • a sort of unpleasantness in our ears, we need not be disturbed by it, because our townsfolk have paid off old scores with these whites. Indeed, the word Pinoy is not pleasant to hear. There is balut pinoy, a nutritive duck’s egg, all right, but we don’t want to be associated with ducks, which are for swallowing everything. We might be misunderstood to be do ing the same. Our folk, in happy retaliation, call the American ser viceman Mika (from Americano). They coined the name when the GIs landed in our east Visayan province in the early days of the Liberation. When these Mikas set foot on our soil, the natives knew nothing about them, so that when they sighted a huge ship anchored a distance from the shore they were stirred and grew apprehensive. They thought those on board the ship were another batch of Japs. The rumor spread. All the people grew apprehensive. Convinced and united to fight the foreigners off, my townsfolk sharpened bolos and bamboo spears. With bolos in their hands or slung from their waists, they boarded bancas and rowed to the ship. What they found were not the brutal Nippons but big hunks of Americans. Brandishing and cutting the air with the sharp bolos, the natives challenged them to fight but the GIs just laughed My Townsfolk and the GI’s by FRANCISCO MACASIL at them and at their primitive fighting implements. Americans high up on deck and others peering through portholes just hurled down pieces of cleaning rags soak ed in grease and crude oil, hitting some men below. The Americans gestured to show that they and the natives were friends. A native in one of the boats understood, talked to his co-freedom fighters and accepted the offer of friend ship. They quickly calmed down. They even exchanged their bolos with GI rations and much-needed clothing. They sailed back to their homes sans the bolos and spears. A few weeks later the Ameri cans set up stations at strategic points, there were no clashes, for the Japs had been annihilated weeks before when a swarm of Mustangs dropped bombs on Jap anese installations and ships. The Americans made friends with the natives and spoke the dialect a lit tle. Now, too, our folk could speak English, but limited to begging for things only. Everyone was handy with: “Joe, give me candy,” “Joe, chocolate. ” A teen-age girl once begged: “Joe, shoot me,” meaning she wanted her picture taken. (Everybody then called the Americans Joe.) You know what the Liberation days were like. Business was booming. A bootblack could rake in fifty pesos a day; a barber could make twice the amount. Those with the Mickey Mouse mo ney exchanged it for US dollars; souvenirs like sea shells and native handicraft work were worth twen ty pesos and up. Even those who started from scratch made a for tune during those days. Articles could be bought from the GIs for a song, or had for the asking, if one knew the right thing to say. The natives who had not gone to school started learning to speak English because it was a sine qua non. The most useful men in our town were those who could speak the king’s language. Speaking English became a craze. There was an ambitious but in articulate young man from a town in the north. He had slippers made of abaca fibers and he approached a fatigue-clad burly GI cleaning his shoes inside his tent. “Joe,” he called, “will you exchange my chinels,” raising the pair of slip pers in his right hand, “with your makinils that sounds tak-ta-daktak?” He was after the typewrit er on the husky GI’s table. The American forces not only gave us back freedom but also re introduced the American way of (Continued on pane 18) CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 17 • MDSCELLANEA P E R S o N A L I T Y Oscar Abella Oscar Nacua Abella is a name that might very well be the synonym of self-confidence. This was the impression he made on us right from the very I first question we fired at him. His answers came in squarely with nary a trace of false humility. Talking about his life, loves and ideals without hesitation and without bothering to put on false fronts and pretenses, Oscar presented a picture of a modest campus figure after our own hearts. Perhaps a born politician, Oscar has always been in the middle of campus politics. The fire of leadership ever burns in his heart. He has always been leading his class from the intermediate grades, through high school and pre sently in college. Leadership has its entailing price though: he has to mix a lot of extra-curricular activities with his books. Wonderfully enough, he has always been acquitting himself creditably in both. Oscar loves books. Steinbeck and Hemingway rank high on his list. He [ likes Loring and Gardner, too, but not much; a few of their works is as far as he will go. Possessed of a critical literary eye, he has noted the stereotyped pattern of Loring's and Gardner's works. "Read one of them," he says, "and you've read them all". He likes books that probe deep into the human mind and heart. A battle of wits never fails to fascinate Oscar. As a matter of fact he I finds himself not infrequently involved in them. He has won several laurels as orator and debater. His love for polemics was the prime mover that drove him into the arms of the law profession. I Mature beyond his years, he understands and has a lively awareness of | the state and welfare of his country. While he is a rabid admirer of the late Don Claro Mayo Recto, he would not close his eves to the errors in some of the radical views of the "eternal oppositionist". Oscar idealizes President-elect John F. Kennedy and bears a strong dislike for some of our political moguls. He looks at Philippine life beyond the ordinary sphere of a mere student. Oscar is a self-made man — and that is because he wanted to make him self. To achieve his goal of individual independence, he had to undergo hard ships and sacrifices. He has worked at a number of jobs ranging all the way from miner to teller. But all his sacrifices paid off. He is now enjoying the bliss of freedom — he is free from the shackles and domination of anybody but himself. Knowing Oscar's life and experiences is like reading a Pulitzer prize winner. For his is a life that is lived not by ordinary men. Obviously, Oscar realizes this. He confided to us that his great obsession was to write a book based on his unique experiences which he would give as a gift to whoever might be his better half... Oscar has a long way to go yet to the success and glory he dreams to reach. But however long that might be, we are sure, it's just a matter of time. — N. McFarland MY TOWNSFOLK . . . life, which struck deep roots in our folk’s way of thinking, mode of dressing and social customs. For instance, anyone who wants to get off a jeepney or bus says, “Hulit!” This is the murdered version of “Hold it.” There were a lot of friendly Americans. An ex-serviceman now in California sent his friend gifts just recently. Their friend ship developed when the father of his Filipino pal saved the ex-ser viceman and his companions when their barge was sunk by an early morning storm off the island of Homonhon. In the letter, the GI recalled how the father had saved them six hours after their boat went down. He once more express ed his gratitude for the hospital ity shown him and his companions by the Filipino family. The Ame rican enclosed a photograph of his family one of his youngest son and a teen-age daughter. What we villagers remember most vividly was an incident in volving a GI. Whenever his story is told hearers bend and choke with laughter. When this was nar rated in a tuba session by Momoy Boroka, the village master story teller, a boy laughed and laughed so much that he dropped to the floor, breathless. The other listen ers had to revive him by artificial respiration. It was a GI who had a close friend, our neighbor. I knew him well because he was popular among us villagers. He was Joe Drinkwater, a native of Texas. On Saturdays he would go to our neighbor’s house. Sometimes he would sleep there and eat with the Filipino family. One weekend he went to the house. Three noto rious boys in the neighborhood wanted to find an answer to their curiosity. They wanted to know whether the tongue of Americans, like the Filipinos’, feels the sharp sting of the local-grown pepper. With the pepper pulverized in a stone mortar, they set out for the house where the American was staying. Through small holes in the wall, they peered into the room. They found the household asleep, includ ing Jose who was lying on a bench by the open window. They picked him as their victim because his mouth was open in sleep. Slowly the ringleader tiptoed up the lad der, slipped through the half-clos ed door and with the powdered pepper in his hand he bent for ward to reach the open mouth of Page 18 THE CAROLINIAN MDSCELLANEA • YOLANDA VILLON (Continued from page 17) Joe Drinkwater while his feet re mained at the threshold, in readi- I ness to get out fast. The trio got away quickly and they all clamber ed up a slender coconut tree with the swiftness of scared lizards. I They stayed at a point where they could see the GI through the open I window. I Our house, only a few paces j from our neighbor’s, was a little ; taller and from the window I could | see the GI open and close his mouth, rise to his feet and spew forth the biting pepper. Writh ing with pain, he jumped up and | down so many times that the cor- 1 ner post of the house sank two inches deeper into the earth. The household was awakened. Joe, ; thinking that one of them must have pulled the joke on him, look- , ed for the head of the family, Pckto. His face red, teeth gnash ing and his fist clenched, he un buttoned his shirt, gestured with his fists, ready to pounce upon Pekto’s face. Pekto backed away and unsheathed a bolo near him, its blade shining. Without a word the GI leaped through the window to the ground and ran for his life from the pursuing Pekto armed with a very long bolo. The boys clinging to the tree roared with laughter. The GI, following a grassy trail, vanished among the tall grasses from the sight of Pekto. The following morning, Pekto, together with sixteen neighbors and my uncle, jacked up the cor ner of the house. Nothing more happened that day. ' The next day two GIs brought • news to the village that Joe Drink water was the object of a hunt for not showing up in the camp the previous day. The news traveled fast and it reached Pekto. He grew apprehensive. But he was confi dent that he had not done any harm. Barefoot and wearing a buri hat he tracked down the path which the GI had taken. He leaped over a coconut trunk thrown across the path, but stopped to ve rify a sound like that of splash ing water. He got near an aban doned, mossy well and he saw a man’s head. Joe Drinkwater was struggling up in the water, weak and cold. The three boys who were around at the time joined Pekto in fish ing out Joe Drinkwater, panting for breath, his tongue sticking out. Back in the States, Joe must have told his fellow Americans about us, the village folk. CHRISTMAS, 1960 p E R S o N A L I T Y "When you sit with a nice girl for two hours you think it's only a minute. But when you sit on a hot slove for a minute, you think it's two hours. That's relativity." — Albert Einstein. That is how one feels when he talks with Yolanda A. Villon, for this young lady is truly, intrinsically lovable. Bedimpled, charming, amiable and radiant best describe her. She is gracious in nature and in her gentle will. Born in Lucban, Quezon, this debutante is the eldest in the family of seven. Her younger sister and brothers look up to her as a sister anyone would love to have. A consistent scholar since grade school, Yolly is her parents' pride and joy. She first studied in Marikina, Rizal, transferred later to Ligao, Albay and then to Lucban, Quezon. She was in the third grade when they moved to Cebu. Being a stranger to this place, she had to hop from one school to another until finally she came to this University and made it her Alma Mater. She graduated from the intermediate and secondary courses, valedictorian. Now in the last year of her pre-medicine course, she still tops her class. This future doctor hopes to finish her course at the University of the Philippines and has made the University of Santo Tomas her second choice. When not with her books, she attends to her various extra-curricular acti vities. Deeply religious and virtuous, she has been a Sodality Prefect in high school and in college, secretary of the Legion of Mary, member of the Student Catholic Action Planning Board and at present Instructress to the aspirants of the Sodalily. A prolific writer, she was the Tagalog editor of the Junior Caro linian. Gifted with a pleasing voice and the ability to speak fluent and flaw less English, Yolly is also a declaimer, orator and actress, and former president of the Dramatics' Club. She is also a Kappa Lambda Sigma Sorority member. At home, she keeps a treasury of gold medals. In spite of this litany of achievements, Yolly has remained what she is— naive, unaffected, despite beauty and brains. She loves good books, especially books of poetry, music, and true friends. Bishop Fulton Sheen is her favorite author. Can she cook? She loves to and is trying to learn although she admits she gets burned once in a while. What does the future hold for Yolly? Only the Creator Himself knows the answer but perhaps we can guess by quoting this: "Speaking of the future, Yolly dreams of a quiet and simple wedding. It takes a man with sterling qualities to let her give up her career and be a devoted house wife to her husband and mother of their children." Such is Yolanda Villon, the most youthful yet wonderful friend a man can have, the perfect example of Filipina simplicity that is priceless these days, the personality you admire at a glance. by E. Talaid Page 19 • NEWS TtS# in . THE SEASON Vice-President Macapagal shaking hands with admirers. (Photo Credit: P. T. Cs ) The last trimester of the year 1960 ushered in a lot of BIGS—big people, big events, herculean undertakings, etc... — all for dear old Charlie. Even as two bigs in the United States, Sen. John F. Kennedy and Vice Pres ident Richard Nixon fought tooth and nail for the US Presidency, USC’s Council prexy Sixto LI. Abao, Jr. cata pulted himself to the topmost position of the Student Councils Association of Cebu. Backed bv the council presidents of CSJ, USP, CNS and CCC, Pres. Abao sailed on smooth waters to the SCAC Presidency. Com), and Rep. Jose Barrameda (PC, Educ). The President plans to award certificates of merit to these outstand ing representatives at the end of the year. The BSE Seniors’ annual big came on Sept. 18 when the future Maestros and maestras sponsored their fourteenth dec lamation contest. The following romped off with the first, second and third prizes respectively: Miss Norma Ricafort who dared prophesy “You Will Come Back!”; Miss Nelly McFarland who told an anecdote on “Botany and I”; and Mr. Leandro Quintana who dwelt on “The Tell-Tale Heart”. Causing a lot of quizzical eyebrow raising, was the USC SCA which held a two-day symposium on Love. We over heard this interesting bit of tete-a-tete: What’s the SCA really for? It’s a hunt ing ground... For what? We wonder ed. And more so when the SCA was robbed of fifty pesos cash intended for the flood victims. It was believed to be an inside job. Cicero and Demosthenes clashed on the abolition of capital punishment last October 2nd through their respective debating clubs in the College of Liberal Arts. Because of the performance of some of the panel members, Cicero and Demosthenes must have turned over in their graves. But on the whole, the debate was more than a good start. The USC administration risked in curring present Nacionalista administra tion when it gave the go-signal to two convocations featuring two avowedly anti-administration men, Vice President Diosdado “Gift of God” Macapagal the “foremost oppositionist” in the Philip pines today and Manila’s Mayor Arsenio “Arsenic” Lacson, one of the most contro versial and colorful figures of contempo rary time. Both put to task the Garcia administration for its failure to live up to the trust reposed in it by the people and decried the moral disintegration and putrefaction in our government. But The USC Supreme Student Council of which Mr. Abao is president, meanwhile, adopted something big: A Students’ Day Act declaring a particular day of the school year as a day for exclusive stud ent festivities. If teachers, who are paid to teach, take a day off every year (Rec tor-Faculty Day) to relax from class room activity, why don’t the students who bear the brunt of paying them, and still do the hard work of studying?—it was argued. At the time of this writ ing, President Abao and his assistants were blue-printing plans for a two-day affair scheduled for Dec. 17 and 18. Another big which nearly outbigged the SSC’s Students’ Day was the selec tion by a new big organization in the campus, the USC Press Club, of twelve outstanding solons of the SSC Congress. Selected in the order of their prominence were: Rep. Filemon L. Fernandez (CYP, Law), Rep. Pompey Labaria (CYP, Law), Rep. Oscar Abella (CYP, Law), Rep. Panfilo lyog (Ind., Law), Rep. Carmen Bondoc (PC, Educ), Rep. Delano Tecson (CYP, Law), Rep. Teodoro Alcuitas (CYP, Eng’g), Rep. Romeo Maraya (CYP, Eng’g), Rep. Erdulfo Litonjua (CYP, Com), Rep. Domingo Sajulga (CYP, Com), Rep. Roberto Baniel (CYP, The President with two of the twelve outstanding solons taking a "break" at Carmen Beach. (Photo Credit: U. C. Cabanutan) Page 20 THE CAROLINIAN NEWS • OF THE BIG Mayor Arsenio Lacson and a portion of the crowd he wowed. while the “Gift of God”, as Fr. Rector fondly called the Vice President, drew applauses by back-slapping and rabblerousing, “Arsenic” held his audience captive by his masterful use of the king’s language, ranging all the from lofty rhetoric to downright sarcasm. While he spoke of the same thing that has almost become daily food for thought for the Filipino people — governmental graft and corruption — he spoke of it in a most spellbinding manner, patent only to him, fiery and punctuated by vitriol and ridicule. Both speakers clim axed their speeches with separate appeals to the youth to take more active interest in the government — by joining the “crusades” undertaken by the speakers. The two convocations were sponsored by the Portia Club and the Sigma Sigma and Delta Eta fraternities of the College of Law. The PE classes, too, had their share of the season’s big. Desiring to impart knowledge about folklore and customs of other peoples to others, they held a folk dance festival last October 2, at the groundfloor of the Archb. Reyes building featuring the following num bers: Benguet, Binasuan, Bakya, Kalanati, Kandingan, Kuratsa, Boholana. Dutch Couple, La Jota Cagayana. I.anceros de Negros, Highland Fling Sapa‘ya. Tapew and Tinikling. Kudos for the artistic undertaking went to Misses Lolita Bomban, Neclta Page, Erllnda Togonon, Corazon Sarmien to Leticia Astrlllero. In the world of sports, pugilist An selmo Briones, a USC Commerce student and 1957 National featherweight cham pion of the Jaycees-sponsored Diamond Gloves boxing tournament, went step by step to the stars. First, he knocked out Boy Chiong of Tagbilaran, Bohol to an nex the East Visayan title, in one mi nute and fifteen seconds of the first round, bettering Flash Elordc’s knock out of Harold Gomes in their return bout by five seconds. He then rocked West Visayan champion Aquilino Nepal to sleep with a solid right to the jaw in one minute and twenty-eight seconds of the first round to win the regional cham pionship crown for the entire Visayas. Three bigs have joined the USC faculty. Mr. Patrick McGinnis of Zanesville, Ohio, has joined the English faculty as as Fulbright lecturer. He teaches Eng lish as a second language. Mr. McGinnis is a graduate of Brown University with a Master’s degree in linguistics. He has The P.E. Donee Festival taught English in US, China and Thai land. Fr. James Skerry, too, a stimma cum laude graduate from UST in the Master course, has joined the English faculty. Fr. Skerry, of Irish descent, hails from Brighton, Massachusetts. He was or dained in Techny, Illinois and was teach ing at Christ the King Seminary in Manila for the past six years. English is his major subject. Dr. Concepcion Rodil arrived Novem ber 3 from the Catholic University of America where she took her Doctorate degree. Her subject of major study was guidance while her two minor studies were psychology and social work. On her return to the Philippines, she visited seven countries of Europe to study cul tural and educational trends. Dr. Rodil teaches guidance in the Graduate School and in the College of Education. Incidentally, the Guidance Department of the Graduate School is offering this semester four guidance subjects, viz., Principles of Guidance, Techniques of Counseling, Clinical Psychology and Personality and Character, under Dr. Rodil, Fr. King, Mrs. Espiritu and Fr. Goertx, respectively. The USC Supreme Student Council sponsored its first annual literary con test for December 10th. Cash prizes and medals were at stake. At the time of this writing, the Committee on Jour nalism was yet drafting the notices, however. To encourage scholarship, the Student Council plans to honor students with certificates of awards. President Abao has slated the giving of the awards for the Students’ Day. Carolinian Editor Manuel S. Go cap tured the Presidency of the Cebu Col lege Editors Guild. Immediately upon his election, Mr. Go declared the CCEG independence from the CEG of the Philippines. USC ROTC Corps Commander Roque Cervantes, meanwhile, secured for him self the Supreme Commandership of the Supreme Sword Fraternity, an organ ized brotherhood of ROTC officers from the different schools in Cebu City. CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 21 • SPORTS USC WARRIORS TROUNCED UV LANCERS, 87-74: The USC Green and Gold Warriors resurrected its vaunted caliber as they halted the UV Lancers winning streak by unhorsing the latter, 87-74 to neces sitate a pennant showdown for the 1960 CCAA cage crown. The rough and tumble affair before the largest crowd this season was mar red by a fists winging incident between sparkplug Eduardo Cabahug of the Lan cers and Ace forward Maximo Pizarras of the Warriors after a wild scramble for the ball at the early stage of the second half. Both went to the showers for the misdemeanor. Determined to come out the victor in this either-you-or-I encounter, both teams started with their first stringers. After tip-off it was evident that Coach Dodong Aquino had cooked up a new va riation. Canizares carried the ball down to the front court and called the play with a weave and screen offensive pat tern. Pizarras drew the first blood with a quartercourt jumpshot. Baz, countered with a long heave to level the score 2-all. The Warriors precision play kept them on the initiative as the Lan cers matched them shot for shot with a blistering fastbreak counter-attack. Aquino sued for time to align his de fense and after three minutes of play, the Warriors built up a 7-point lead with skipper Reynes booming with his tricky manipulation from under. Galdo, the hottest Warrior that night drove and layed up, Pizarras jumped and Pal mares layed up from the sides again stretching the lead 25-12. The Lancers recovered their bearings however as Eddie and Boy Cabahug combined mag nificently to tie the score 32-all, 35-all and 37 all. Macoy grabbed the driver’s seat for the Warriors with a last sec ond twist shot, 39-37. Second half hostilities commenced with Eddie Cabahug stalemating the score once again with a trapeze shot. Boy Cabahug jumped, Rojas waylaid his guard to score successively with a driving lay-up shot 45-39. Galdo and Canizares broke the rally with a jump shot at the shaded area and an under goal boom 45-43. E. Cabahug jumped from the sides, Reynes feinted and lay ed up and Galdo charitied twice to level the score 47-all. Tempers flared up at this stage of the game as Baz missed a jumpshot. Pizarras recovered the ball and sand wiched, he tried to free himself with a pivot and then drove into Cabahug’s swinging arms. Pizarras was hurt, cock ed his fist, Cabahug retaliated and there was the whistle ending a brilliant per formance of the duo that evening. With the disqualification, the Lancers were not on their ownself again. Gui llermo Baz, the Chile veteran, bullied himself around with all sorts of tricks. Page 22 ON THIS SIDE Karatl? Judo? Nope, none of the sort. It's plain basketball —Guillermo Bas version. Bas of UV is "famous" internationally for his spitting antics (Chile), and pinches of the "thing" below the belt. Galdo and Palmares caught fire and stormed the hoops of the beleaguered Lancers with much consistency. Rojas and Boy Cabahug countered with cattered shots and USC led 68-58 three minutes before guntime. The rampag ing Galdo played brilliantly with num erous interceptions to his credit which ended with a field goal. There was no stopping from thereon as Galdo, Rey nes and Palmares kept on scoring at will to finish the game 87-74. IN THE MINOR LEAGUES OF THE CCAA: The USC jersey-clad shinbusters and the UV Greenshirts deadlocked at one game apiece and a game tied in a two team three out of five series for the CCAA senior football tourney. UV came CCAA's Player of the Year and winner of the current year's "Sportsmanship Award" living up to his honors. In sportsmanlike fashion, he caresses USC's Macoy (In foreground). formance. At the third game of the out true to form in the role as favorites in the initial game, as they swamped their rivals 4-0. With star player Nilo Alazas in the starting line-up USC shaded UV 1-0 in the thrilling encount er. The first half ended in a scoreless deadlock, thanks to the superb goal tend ing of Jose Sotelo, Jr. At least four breath-taking saves were made in the first half as Solito of the Green Booters outran his guards for dangerous at tempts. Inside right Aloysius Tolok turned in the only marker of the day as he surprised the handful of specta tors with his powerful 15 yard blast at the 35th minute of the second period. Anito Trinidad, an Asian gamer switch ed to the defense to finish the day with a magnificent display of all around perSports ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? SPORTS • The USC-UV tussle for the current year's CCAA basketball crown regaled the spectators with a special kind of basketball which Includes karatl, |udo, wrestling, etc. * The photographer of this mag, P. T. Uy, caught several Interesting shots of UV's eagers banging away on the hapless USC • spheroid artists. by JOVEN A. ECARMA series, both teams tried to score but their respected defenses were impene trable. Corner kicks and penalty kicks ended up for nothing as the ball went out of bounds. After regulation play at 0-11, a problem cropped up as to whether an extension should be made or half points be awarded to both teams. As agreed earlier the dual tour ney is a three wins out of five games series so that the last two games shall be played first before the tie can be re solved by a replay. In Baseball, the USC nine bowed to the strong Maritima Seafarers 11-2. Experience triumphed over youth as the old foggies shone brightly that day by driving seven runs at the first inning. At the second outing the USC swatters Visiting teams beware! USC's Palmares In extreme agony after UV's Vlolango (No. 13) dipped his fingers Into his eyes. drove in 4 runs in seven innings as they outhit the Cluka nine 4-3. The CNS schoolboys came in as their next victim when the Golden Sox increased their hitting output 7-3 and insured for them selves a berth in the final round of championship play. In the Cebu Swimming Open, the USC team captured 1 first place, 2 second places and 1 third place as they churn ed the Miramar pool to give the USC Golden Sharks a fine performance. Ri cardo Escarda won the 100 meter free style event, A. Garces and Ben Marti nez trailed the winners coming in sec ond in the 100 meter butterfly and back stroke events. George Chiong turned in the only third place in 400 meter free style. INTRAMURAL SPORTSCOPE In Basketball: Engineering A Green shirts emerged as the new champion when they clobbered the yellowshirted Finance quintet 78-48. Vengeance was their battlecry as the “A’s” outshot, outhustled and completely outclassed their erstwhile conquerors from start to finish. The "powerplant” eagers displayed their wares as real champions except for a minor rhubarb stirred by an erring player visibly irk ed by the referee’s decision at the end of the game. Labitan, Yap and Tan pro vided the scoring punch for the victors as they punctured the hoops from all angles, in spite of the pressing man for man defense put up by the jersey-clad charges of Coach Manolo Baz. In Volleyball: The Secretarial belles were proclaimed crown wearers this year when they swept all opposition in the only skirted league of the intramu ral season. The games became a battle of stinging shrills as the ball either slipped from butterfingered hands or as the protagonists waited starry-eyed for the ball to come down after a “way-up high” service, and miss the baseline by inches. Altogether the referees had mix ed emotions whether to call it “in or out” as more often than not they were met by pleading eyes and loud protests from the other side. No doubt it was the best attended league of the intra murals as the fans (mostly boys) watch ed wide-eyed as skirts danced up and down and blouses were torn loose when shapely bodies wriggled to meet the ball. It was such a spectacle that it became a lure to sweat-soaked PE students. So don’t miss the second semester games, folks! In Table Tennis (Pingpong): Slim and handsome Emilio Villahermosa tucked in the men’s singles crown as he decisively trounced Bugarin of the Engr. Department. Emma Seno’s soft but sure returns paid dividends as she crowned herself women’s singles cham pion. In Chess: Recently crowned Patria Champion Oscar Abuzo, a senior student of the “institute of law” and reigning PRISAA secondary champion Benjamin Macapaz were heralded as co-champions as they stalemated with 4% points apiece after 6 rounds of play. “Run silent, run deep” Seigfredo Nadela came in as runner-up when he stunned cam pus chess enthusiasts with a swift but calculated win over Benjamin Macapaz. USC-UV RETURN CLASSIC: The Warriors blew up a 15-point mar gin midway in the first half, then held on a 4-point lead until the last five min utes of play and succumbed to the Lan cers fastbreak attack in the home stretch, 69-65, before the eyes of 5,000 howling fans in the winner-take-all championship classic. Except for the revenge victory and the appearance of a young and talented benchmentor, piloting the Lancers, the much awaited battle of giants had the same trend as the first encounter. USC kept on the initiative, spurted to a com fortable lead, then their scoring potency sputtered, never to recover their bear ings again. There was no change in UV’s blistering fastbreak attack except for the omnipresence of spark plug Eddie Cabahug who made a yeoman job in both offense and defense and the “masterful substitution” of Coach Jose “Dodong” Gullas to keep the scoring punch on his team on the go throughout. These were the highlights: Both teams had their best combination on the floor. As usual Canizares, the tallest eager in the league, beat the Lancer center at the opening jump ball. The well-oiled machine of Coach Dodong Aquino drew the first blood as Julian Macoy scored (Continued on page 25) CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 23 • MDSCELLANEA fl/w C&ilwlic (rfcihn F R O N T by P. ISAAC 1 HE SEMESTR AL vacation (usually the coup de grace? lor the various school organizations that are already moribund at this time ol the year) has gone by and the second semester is upon us. The dying enthusiasm and interest of the members of most of the clubs, organizations, and associations have taken their toll. Gone is the burning eagerness, gone is the zeal that characterized the earlier days, as a matter of fact, gone are most of the clubs, organiza tions, etc. themselves. To the chagrin of our president, Mr. Vergara, the Student Catholic Action seemed to be proving no ex ception to the general rule. Alarmed, he acted quickly. Calling for the reorganization and revamp of the unit and cell leaders (some of whom have been character ized by—shall we say—slight indifference to SCA functions) and calling for co-operation of all SCA'ns, he managed to stir up—more or less—the leaders (and even some officers) from the sluggish apathy that had befallen them. Barely one week after classes had started, the SCA'ns attended a Missa Recitata. That same day, a seminar opened the training of SCA leaders. Among the items on the agenda of the SCA for the rest of the year are the following: 1) a benefit show, "The Song of Sister Maria" and (we hope) "High-Time", 2) Bingo on the coming Students' Day 3) plans for the annual retreat 4) several cultural events, among them the pro jected "Drama through the Ages" (the pet pro ject of Sister Nelly McFarland); a literary-musical program, chairmanned by Brother Pete Montero, and a symposium; chairman: Sister Lorna Rodriguez, 5) the traditional Christmas caroling 6) plans for a souvenior SCA magazine. Among other things, the second semester found the SCA with a new Spiritual Director. Many other duties had prompted Fr. Hoeppener to relinquish this post. His successor is Fr. James Skerry. In the first week of classes, this writer with some moral support from Brother Pete Montero and our president interviewed Fr. Skerry. Well, it wasn't exactly that way. Actually Brother Pete and Brother Nick did most of the interviewing and I supplied the moral support and took down notes. Our new Spiritual Director came to the SCA Room looking, for all the world, like a silver-haired teen-ager and speaking in a New Eng land accent with just the hint of an Irish brogue. Fr. Skerry was born in Boston, Massachusetts (the elected U.S. president's birthplace) on June 16, 1928, the second in a family of four brothers and one sister. All boys in the family studied in the seminary, but at present only Fr. Skerry is a priest. However, his younger brother recently took his vows. Fr. Skerry was or dained at St. Mary's, Techny in 1955. Originally as signed to Indonesia, but unable to get a visa to that country, Fr. Skerry was reassigned to the Philippines as a missionary. However he stayed on in Christ the King Seminary, teaching English and History, as well as doing parish work in the Immaculate Conception parish in Quezon City. At the same time, he studied in the University of Santo Tomas "on and off for three years". He finished his M.A. in English in that Uni versity just last semester. In San Carlos he is teaching English and Ethics besides being the SCA spiritual adviser. Fr. Skerry expressed interest in the religious aspect of the SCA and asked questions about the re ligious life of Carolinian students. Being new in this school, and his being the first time in the SCA, Fr. Skerry said he had to definite plans yet and that he wanted to observe "how you do things around here." THE CCAA IS DETERIORATING The current cage series of the Cebu Collegiate Athletic Association have been turned into a boxing bout where players figure in fist fights and into a "cock fight" in a "cockpit" where betting is rampant. If the CCAA were organized as a valid excuse to make tough guys instead of disciplined basketball play ers or gamblers out of upright citizens, then it is ad visable that it be dissolved. It seems unethical for school authorities to tolerate the breaking of bones among players of contesting teams or gambling among the kibitzers. It is a blow to the CCAA which is composed of educated men to produce social problems through basketball games. Let's Talk It Over (Continued from page 12) CAROLERS: BE CHRISTIAN THIS TIME Christmas is here again. And caroling which is one of the indispensable fads of the season zvill dominate once again the Yzz'etide air. We are hoping that this season will not be made a good excuse for a smalltime racket. We anticipate our wish that carolers be a little bit Christian this time. They should not scrounge for charity both in kind or in cash at the most zznholy hours of the night. We think it would be too much for the tagbalay to be squeezed of their cash and be deprived at the same time of their sleep. If that’s not plain robbery, what is it? Page 24 THE CAROLINIAN MY IDEAL MAN (Continued from page 10) The stay-at-home and carefree type is not my ideal man. What then is my man? Well, he must be one who is re sponsible and quite intelligent to under stand me. He must be the Adonis type with a crew cut. He must be a good cage player and exemplary student. He must know how to dress properly. He must have a well-modulated voice and be a good dancer to boot. And lastly, he must be a devoted Catholic. ROSA C. GARCIA BSHE I It has been well said that to have an ideal come to reality is a remote pos sibility because it is beyond the reach of man. But I believe that despite that, one can still wish for an ideal, like say, a man. Well, my ideal man must be handsome, learned, wealthy, well-be haved, understanding, humble and above all a practical Catholic. I give much emphasis on religion because it leads to virtue and to doing things acceptable to God, government and society. SEGUNDA AL. MEDILLO BSEED-HE II My ideal man must have the courage and genius of Dr. Jose Rizal. He must have the honesty of Abraham Lincoln. He must have the wit of Bishop Fulton Sheen and the soothing voice of Frank Sinatra. He need not necessarily look like Rock Hudson or Romeo Vasquez but at least, he must be neat, gentle in his ways and speech, thoughtful, under standing and free of any vice. But most of all, he must be a very good Catholic. DOLORES NACUA Pre-Nursing My ideal man must be religious both at home and outside. He must be edu cated and intelligent in order that he can hold his head high and nobody throws his weight against him. He must be a disciplinarian to establish peace and order in the home. And lastly, he must be a good provider. A family can not live on love alone. ERLINDA R. CLAPANO Liberal Arts A chivalric and gentle guy is my ideal. He need not be an Adonis type, but at least he must have the physi que to withstand the fury of a typhoon. Re must be sincere in his ways, friend ly, considerate and forgiving as to faults. He must be a little bit taller than I am so that I can wear high heeled shoes. And to top them all, he must be a good Catholic who frequents the communion rails. AIDA PEAAFLOR Secretarial I am not putting standards to the man I will marry but to a certain ex tent I wish I will meet one who has the qualities of an ideal man. He need not be handsome. It is enough that he is presentable. He need not be neces sarily rich, but he must have a stable job to support a family. He must be brilliant in his field. He must be a devout Catholic and have a strong love for family and home. He must be re sourceful and knows the dignity of la bor. He must have a sense of humor and understanding for all possible an gles of life. MILAGROS E. CAMILON Commerce II Flordeus Tumaliwan Liberal Arts Frankly, I am too young to give my opinion about my ideal man. Neverthe less, I believe there is nothing wrong for a young girl like me to be curious about the “what” of my ideal man. In the first place, I am a woman who can not escape from the clutches of ideals. Really, if my reason will give way to my emotion, my ideal man must be one who likes and loves me without reserva tion. His likes and dislikes must be in conformity with my own. He must be educated, intelligent and responsible. FLORDELIS TUMALIWAN Liberal Arts My ideal man? Well, he must be soft-spoken, sincere, kind and broad minded. It is not necessary that he be a TDH type, for physical features will wither away by the sincere test of time. What is important is that he be tender in his manners, soft in his voice and most of all cheerful and can make our company lively. CARIDAD BELLO Education Republic of the Philippines Dept, of Public Works and Communications Bureau of Posts Manila SWORN STATEMENT (Required by Act 2580) The undersigned. MANUEL S. GO, editor of The CAROLINIAN, published six times English. Spanish. Tagalog and Visayan (Cebuano) at the Universit: having been duly sworn in accordanc —-u:~ managcment of San Carlos, C Business Manager SUBSCRIBED AND SWORN to before Cebu City, the affiant exhibiting his issued at Cebu City on Jan. 26, 1960. University of San Carlos, Cebu City None mended (Sgd.) MANUEL me this ninth day of November, 1960 at Residence Certificate No. A-1878686 (Sgd.) FULVIO C. PELAEZ Notary Public Catholic Trade School. 1916 University of San Carlos. Cebu Ci an daily, total number of copi dated March. 196 than paid subscribers Total .............. Act 2580 requires that this Sworn Statement be filed with the Bureau of Posts on April 1 and October 1 of each year. NOTE: This form is exempt from the payment of documentary stamp tax. Doc. No. 388: Bk No. XV: Page 12: Series of 1960 On This Side • • • (Continued from page 23) from under after a weave and screen Play. U.V. fitted the same role as they trailed on a Macoy-Reynes-Palmares on slaught on the Lancer hoops 19-11, after 10 minutes of scintillating basketball. Benchmentor Gullas sued for time but it didn’t do them any good as the War riors boomed with 4 baskets in a row 27-11 after. After a second time out the Lancers nibbled the lead 30-17 as Eddie Cabahug and Ponce returned fire. Skipper Reynes with 2 personal fowls was recalled to the bench and a “bear ing” on the machine lost, the Warriors slumped in its production. The Caba hug scoring twins completed numerous fast break plays but still the Warriors hang on the lead 36-32, at half time. The fabulous U.V. trail was the over all picture in the second half as the Lancers matched the Warriors on scattered bas kets, until the last five minutes of play when the Cabahug duo triple-slammed to level the score 50-all. The fans were on their feet as the either-you-or-I bat tle went into its climax. Galdo, on a lay-up shot and Macoy on a quarter jump fought back after another stale mate, 52-all. The score reversed thrice after U.V. snatched the lead 55-54; 5655; 57-56 at the 4-minute mark. Macoy stalemated the count for the last time 59-all on a charity conversion. Baz, a court demon, scored successively on lay up shots and it turned out to be the hardest blow on the hapless Warriors and time ran out to close the game 69-65. The dream game of the season turn ed out to be a lively classic as in a detective show where the “eye” (Lan cers) keeps on trailing the culprit (Warriors), collar him and beat him to the draw at the end. CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 25 ILiPINO ABI ng bisperas ng Pasko. Ang himpapawid ay napapalamutihan ng mga tugtugin at awitin. Hindi mabilang ang dami ng mga taong naglipana sa mga lansangan. Ang masasayang sigawan ng mga bata, ang walang hum pay na putok ng rebentador, at ang mga halakhakang maririnig sa mga umpukan ay larawan ng kasayahan ng gabing ito. Ang mga bagay na ito, subali’t, ay hindi alintana ni Crisendo. Minabuti pa niyang palipasin ang gabing ito sa kanyang silid sa piling ni Lina at ng kanyang mga alaala. Sa pagkakaupo’y matagal na pinagmasdan ni Crisendo ang larawang nakabitin sa ulunan ng kanyang silid. Sa kanyang mga mata’y namamalisbis ang mga patak ng luhang tila baga hindi niya maapula. Ang nakalarawan ay isang babaing may likas na kagandahan. Maamo ang kanyang mga mata. Sa kanyang mga labi’y nakaguhit ang isang ngiting nagpapahiwatig ng kabaitan. Ito si Lina, ang tanging kaulayaw ni Crisendo sa kanyang silid. Si Lina ay isa nang pag-aari ng lumipas. Isang liwanag na biglang sinakmal ng dilim at pumanaw upang di na muling sumikat pa, liban sa gunita. Iyan ang dahilan kung bakit laging nais ni Crisendong papanumbalikin sa gunita ang nagdaang kahapon, naroroon si Lina at ang kanyang pagmamahal. Ang mga sandali sa piling ni Lina ay pinakamaligaya sa buhay ni Crisendo. Si Lina ay isang babaing uliran sa ka baitan at pagkamaunawain. Para sa kanya ay siya ang pinakadakilang babae sa balat ng lupa. Parang kaniya ang daigdig sa piling ni Lina. Naguumapaw sa kanyang dibdib ang kaligayahan. Wala na siyang mahihiling pa. Hindi niya inakalang sandaling ligaya lamang ang nilasap niya, hang gang sa bawiin ng Maykapal ang bu hay ni Lina at naiwan siyang ulila sa daigdig. Malagim na gabi ang bisperas ng Pasko para kay Crisendo. Hindi mawawaglit sa kanyang isipan na sa ga bing ito, dalawampo at lima nang taon ang nakalilipas, nagsimula ang pagkalugami ng kanyang mga pangarap. Wa lang hindi masaya noong gabing yaon sa kanilang tahanan, tanda pa niya. Walang patid ang pagpapatugtug ng mga tugtugin at awitin. Sa masasa yang mukha ng mga panauhing nagdiriwang doon ay walang nag-akalang isang malungkot na tagpo ang nakatakdang maganap. Ipinagdiriwang noon ang unang anibersariyo ng pag-iisangdibdib nina Crisendo at Lina. Nang sumahimpapawid ang himig ng awiting Anniversary Sony ay pumagitna sa bulwagan sina Crisendo at Lina upang sumayaw. Sa kanila napabaling ang tingin ng mga panauhin at sa mga mata nila ay mababasa ang lubos na paghanga. Bagay na bagay sila. Wa lang maipipintas sa kanilang pakikisama sa tao. Ulirang mag-asawa, ang bukang-bibig ng kanilang mga kaibigan. —Maligaya ka ba, Lina?, ang masuyong tanong ni Crisendo. —Maligayang-maligaya, mahal ko, at ikaw? —Hindi maipahihiwatig ng salita ang kaligayahan ko, Lina. Ang masasabi ko’y kung hindi ka dumating sa aking buhay ay hindi ko matiyak kung anong kapalaran ang kasasadlakan ko. Kung lumigaya man ako’y hindi magiging kasing-ligaya ng buhay sa piling mo. —Ganyan din ang nadarama ko, Cris. Mula ngayon ay ang Anniversary Sony ang magiging awit ng ating pagmamahalan, payag ka ba? —Aba, oo, Lina, paborito ko ang awi ting iyan, lalo na’t nagpapagunita sa maluwalhating araw nang tayo’y ikasal. Katulad ng isinasaad ng awit na iyan ay mabituin ang langit nang tayo’y humarap sa dambana, liban na lamang sa ilang talang kumikislap sa iyong mga mata. Hindi ba? —Cris, hindi nagbabago ang katamisan ng iyong dila. at —Hinding-hindi magbabago, sapagka’t mahal kita. —At kung hindi mo na ako mahal, magbabago na ba? —Hindi mangyayari iyon, sumpa man. —Husto na ang mga sumpa. Manumpa ka o hindi ay mahal ka sa akin at mamahalin kailan pa man. —Wala akong alinlangan, Lina—Pipisilin sana ni Crisendo ang baba ng kabiyak, nguni’t naudlot siya nang maalaalang sa kanila nakatingin ang mga panauhin. —Tayo muna sandali sa hardin at lumanghap ng sariwang hangin—ang yaya ni Lina. —Kayo po ang masusunod inyong kamahalan—ang pabirong tugon ni Cri sendo. Pagkatapos matugtog ang Anniversa ry Sony ay humingi sila ng paumanhin at nagtungo sa hardin. Mayumigmig ang dampulay ng sariwang hangin sa mabulaklak na hardin ng kanilang ta hanan. Magkahawak ang kamay silang nagpasyal sa loob ng bakuran. Sa init ng kanilang mga kamay ay nadama nilang sila’y walang kasing-ligaya. —Oh, maganda at mabituin ang la ngit, Cris! —Tulad noong tayo’y ikasal, Lina. Tila ipinagdiriwang ng kalangitan ang araw ng ating kasal, mahal ko... Magsasalita pa sana si Lina, datapwa’t isang batang lalaki ang naghagis ng isang paketing rebentador sa loob ng kanilang bakuran. Naghari ang nakatutulig na mga putok. Pagkatapos ng putukan ay nagsalita si Lina, subali’t ang himig ng kanyang salita’y ikinakaba ng dibdib ni Crisendo. —T-tayo na sa taas, Cris, biglang sumakit ang dibdib ko, e.............. —Bakit Lina, natulig ka marahil sa putukan, ano? —H .. .hindi, talagang masakit ang... dib... Biglang napayakap ng buong higpit si Lina sa asawa at sa ilang kisap-mata’y nawalan ng malay-tao. Dagling sinakmal ng pagkasindak ang buong katauhan ni Crisendo. Binuhat niya sa kanyang mga bisig ang lupaypay na katawan ni Lina. Naramdaman niyang hirap na hirap sa paghinga ang minamahal na kabiyak.—Diyos ko, huwag mo pong itulot na may mangyari sa kanya — ang dalanging inulit-ulit niya. Nang ilapag niya sa kama si Lina ay lalo pang nagimbal ang kanyang ka tauhan. May sariwang dugong dumadaloy sa dibdib ni Lina. May sugat si Lina! Hindi niya maunawaan ang nangyari.—Diyos ko, huwag mo pong itu lot. ... Patakbong tinungo niya ang bulwagan upang magpatawag ng manggagamot. Nang mabatid ng mga panauhin ang nangyari ay nahawing bigla ang ka sayahan sa kanilang mga mukha at itinitig kay Crisendo ang mga matang lipos ng pagkasindak. Halos lahat ay sumunod kay Crisendo patungo sa silid na kinahihigaan ni Lina. Tumambad sa kanilang paningin ang walang kulay na mukha ni Lina at ang kanyang duguang dibdib.—Huwag mo pong itulot na mapahamak siya—ang pahiwatig ng kani lang mga mata. X antisint Ilang saglit pa ay dumating ang manggagamot. Pinulsuhan niya si Lina. Sa kanya napabaling ang tingin ng lahat. Nang iiling niya ang kanyang ulo ay tila isang matulis na sibat ang tumimo sa puso ni Crisendo.—Hindi totoo ito, hindi... Hindi siya makapaniwala sa katotohanan. At dahil sa isang libo’t isang kapaitan at hapdi ng katotohanang bumungad sa kanyang mga mata ay nawalan siya ng ulirat. Walong araw ang lumipas bago nanumbalik sa dating kaisipan si Crisendo. Nang inagkamalay siya ay wala na si Lina. Tatlong araw at tatlong gabing ibinurol at pinagpuyatan ang katawan ni Lina at pagkatapos ay inilibing sa kabila ng kaalaman ni Crisendo. Anong saklap na paghihiwalay! Hindi naglaon at nabatid ni Crisendo na isang punlo ang kumitil sa buhay ni Lina. Walang nakaulinig sa putok da hilan sa putukan ng mga rebentador. Kung sino ang pumaslang kay Lina ay wala pang pinaghihinalaan. Walang nalalamang kaaway sina Lina at Cri sendo. Isinumpa ni Crisendong ipaghiganti ang nasawing kabiyak. Magkahalong hinanakit at puot ang naghari sa kan yang dibdib.—Bakit kami ginanito... Wala kaming kaaway... Bakit? Oh, Lina buti pang ako ang pinatay nila. Kawawa ka mahal ko. Makagaganti rin tayo. Isinusumpa ko. Page 26 THE CAROLINIAN WIKANG FILIPINO • Isang buwan ang lumipas, samantalang nagbabasa siya sa kanyang silid:— Mr. Santos, may liham po para sa inyo—ang narinig niyang wika ng kan yang utusang si Bito. Sandaling natigilan siya sa nilalaman ng liham. Crisendo: Sinasabi ko nang hindi kayo magsasama ng matagal. Walang lagda ang liham, nguni’t pa rang kumislap sa kanyang balintatao ang may sulat nito. Biglang sumilakbo ang kanyang puot. Alam na niya kung sino ang may kagagawan ng pagkamatay ni Lina. —Papatayin ko siya. Ro berto, papatayin kita, ngayon ding araw na ito. Ang humadlang sa akin ay pa patayin ko rin. Ilang sandali pa sa tahanan ni Ro berto. —Teban, naririyan ba si Ro berto? —Nahihiga po marahil, Mr. Santos. Pasok po kayo. —Nais kong makausap siya tungkol sa isang mahalagang bagay. —Magaling pa po ay tumuloy kayo sa taas. Tila may karamdaman po si Mang Roberto. Dalawang araw na pong hindi lumalabas sa kanyang Si’ Roberto ang may kagagawan ng lahat nang ito—ang matibay na pawala ni Crisendo. Si Roberto, ang kanyang batang kapatid. Mula sa kanilang kamusmusan ay nagmahalan sila. Subali’t, ang pagmamahalang ito’y unti-unting lumamig nang sila’y matutuong umibig. Bakit? Iisang babae ang kanilang napusuan—si Lina. Naging masugid na magkaagaw sila sa kanyang puso. Kapwa sila tangi kay Lina, nguni’t iisa ang kanyang puso at ito’y ibinigay niya kay Crisendo. Tanda pa ni Crisendo ang mga ka tagang binitiwan ni Roberto pagkatapos ng kasal nila ni Lina.—Hindi mo ba ako babatiin, Belting—ang tanong niya sa kapatid. Kuwento ni TEODORO A. BAY —Hindi ako bumabati sa isang ka away, Kuya. Malamang na hindi kayo magsasama ng matagal—ang may pagbabantang sagot ni Roberto. Hindi kayo magsasama ng matagal— ang mga katagang ito’y hindi pinansin ni Crisendo noong mga sandaling yaon. Inakala niyang yaon ay isa lamang sa mga pagbabanta ni Roberto na kalimita’y nasasambit nito kung sinusumpong ng galit o pagkamuhi. Datapwa’t nagkaroon ng kahulugan ang mga katagang ito. Tinutoo ni Roberto ang kanyang pagbabanta. Matibay ang paniniwala ni ya.—Isa siyang tampalasan. Isang halimaw na dapat durugin ng aking mga kamay. Roberto, hindi ko akalaing ako nga pala ang papatay sa iyo. Hindi mo ako masisisi. Ikaw ang nagbunsod sa akin upang gawin ko ito. Papatayin kita kahit ako mabilanggo, makaganti lamang ako. Kumatok siya sa pinto. Walang tumugon.—Natutulog marahil. Marahang binuksan niya ang pinto at humakbang patungo sa loob, datapwa’t napatatda siya... Isang malagim na katotohanan ang bumungad sa kanyang paningin. Nakahandusay sa sahig si Roberto at isang balaraw ang nakatarak sa kan yang likod. Sariwa pa ang dugong dumadaloy sa kanyang likod. Hindi natupad ang paghihiganti ni Crisendo, ngu ni’t sino kaya ang pumatay sa kanya? Lumamig na unti-unti ang nag-aapoy na puot niya sa kapatid. Nais niyang humalakhak sapagka’t wala na ang pu maslang kay Lina, nguni’t naghari ang pagkahabag niya sa kapatid. Si Ro berto ay kapatid niya. Iisang dugo ang nananalaytay sa kanilang mga ugat. Ang kapatid ay kapatid. Marahang hinugot niya ang balaraw na nakatarak sa likod ng kapatid at ito’y itinaas. —Kapatid ko, ang balaraw ring ito ang ipapatay ko sa pumatay sa iyo. Dali-dali niyang nilisan ang silid ni Roberto. Hindi niya nakita si Teban. Walang sino mang naiwan sa buong bahay maliban sa bangkay ni Roberto. Nang sapitin niya ang kanyang taha nan ay dalawang salungat na puot ang muling naghari sa kanyang puso. Puot kay Roberto na pumatay kay Lina at puot sa pumatay kay Roberto na kan yang kapatid. Dinukot niya sa bulsa ang liham na natanggap niya nang umagang yaon. ...hindi kayo magsasama ng matagal—Itong-ito ang mga pagbabanta ni Roberto nang ikasal sila ni Lina. Nguni’t,—hindi sulat ni Roberto ang liham na ito—. Tanda niya ang sulat ng kapatid at tiyak niyang hindi siya ang sumulat nito. Di-kawasa.—Mr. Crisendo Santos sa ngalan ng batas ay dinarakip namin kayo sa salang pagpatay sa inyong ka patid na si Roberto Santos.—Nang ibaling niya ang kanyang paningin sa pin to ay tatlong matitipunong pulis ang kanyang nakita. —Nagkakamali kayo mga ginoo. Umalis kayo lito. Huwag ninyo akong pakialaman. Ipaghihiganti ko ang aking kaapihan. Ipaghihiganti ko si Lina at ang aking kapatid. Wala akong kasalanan. Wala...! —Sa harap na po ng hukom kayo magpaliwanag, Mr. Santos. —Humakbang ito at pinusasan si Crisendo. —Kanino ang duguang balaraw na ito?—ang usisa ng isa sa mga pulis habang binubunot ang balaraw na na katarak sa mesa. —Iyan ang ipinangpatay kay Roberto, at iyan ang gagamitin ko sa paghihigantl—. —Malalaman kung sino ang salarin, Mr. Santos. Sa hukuman kayo magpa liwanag. Nahatulang mabilanggo habang bu hay si Crisendo, sa salang pagpatay sa kanyang kapatid, isang kasalanang hin di siya ang gumanap bagama’t kanyang pinagtangkaan. Siya lamang ang nalalaman ni Teban na pumasok sa silid ni Roberto at sa kanyang kamay natagpuan ang ipinatay na balaraw. Ang mga katibayang ito ay hindi niya nasalungat upang pawalang-sala ang sarili. Ha los hindi niya mabata ang kaapihang dinanas niya sa harap ng batas. Isinumpa niya sa sariling maghihiganti pa rin siya sa sandaling makalabas siya sa bilangguan. Dahilan sa mabuting ugaling ipinakita niya sa bilangguan ay pinalaya siya pagkatapos ng dalwampong taon. Taglay pa rin niya ang nasang maghiganti, subali’t wala na ang nagniningas na puot sa kanyang puso. Pinilit niyang buhayin itong muli, nguni’t sadyang hindi na pumasok sa kanyang puso ang damdaming dati-rati’y naghahari sa kanyang katauhan. Tila wala na silakas upang mapuot pa. Ang dating puot niya ay para bagang natangay na ng agos ng panahon at di na muling uukilkil pa sa kanyang isipan. Puti nang lahat ang kanyang buhok at kupis na ang dati’y matipuno niyang ka tawan. Kung minsan ay naiisip niyang tanging kamatayan lamang ang makapagdudulot sa kanya na tunay na kaginhawahan. Ilang araw pa lamang siyang nakalalabas sa bilangguan nang makatanggap siya ng isang liham galing kay Vic tor, ang matandang kapatid ni Lina, na ayon kay Bito ay namatay 11a, samantalang siya’y nasa bilangguan. Halos hindi siya makapaniwala sa nilalaman ng liham. —Diyos ko, bakit siya ang napili ng tadhana upang gumawa ng ganoon... —ang may hinanakit na bulong sa sarili. ...hindi na ako magtatagal, Crisen do. Sinamantala ko ang pagkakataong ito upang ipabatid sa iyong ako ang dahilan ng lahat mong kasawian. Oo, ako, ako ang kumitil sa buhay ni Lina. Hindi ko siya tunay na kapatid. Ampon lamang ako ng kanyang mga magulang. Dahilan sa nasa kong ako la mang ang magmana ng kayamanan ng kanyang mga magulang ay inalis ko siya saaking landas. Nagtagumpay ako, subali’t sa dakong huli’y natalastas kong hindi lamang kayamanan ang makapagpapaligaya sa tao. Ang sino mang mapag-imbot ay laging nagsisisi sa bandang huli. —Ako ang nagpapatay kay Roberto, sapagka’t nalaman niyang ako ang pu matay kay Lina. Sinulatan kita at ginamit ko ang pagbabanta ni Roberto na narinig ko, nang kayo’y ikasal ni Lina. ... hindi kayo magsasama ng matagal— Tinangka mong patayin siya, nguni’t patay na nang iyong datnan, at tulad ng aking binalak, ikaw ang naparatangang pumatay sa iyong kapatid. —Ang lahat nang nito’y nangyari da hilan sa aking kasakiman. Noong kabataan ko ay hindi ko inakalang magsisisi ako, nguni’t ako’y nagkamali. Napakabigat ng aking nagawa upang ihingi ng kapatawaran, gayon pa ma’y humihingi ako ng tawad sa iyo, Crisendo. Baka sakaling ang kapatawarang igagawad mo’y makapagpapagaan sa parusang ipapataw sa akin ng Diyos. Patawad, Crisendo, patawad. Malayang dumaloy ang sariwang luha sa mga mata ni Crisendo. Wala na siyang puot ni bahagyang pagkamuhi. Ang hapdi na lamang ng malagim na katotohanang nabuksan sa kanyang kaisipan ang naghari sa kanyang puso. —Ang Diyos na Maykapal ay nakapagpapatawad... Ako ay isa kanyang mga kinapal... Oo, Victor, pinatatawad kita. Pagpalain ka nawa ng Diyos—ang taimtim na dalanging nasambit ng kanyang mga labi. Pinahid ni Crisendo ang mga luhang dumaloy sa kanyang mga mata. Naisubsub niya ang sarili sa paggunita sa nakaraang mga araw at hindi niya nalamang malapit na palang mag-umaga, hanggang sa tumilaok ang mga manok. —Pasko nga pala ngayon—ang nawika sa sarili. —Magsisimba ako alangalang kay Lina, kay Roberto at kay Ku ya Victor. Ilang saglit pa’y tumayo siya at hu makbang patungo sa bintana. Itinunghay niya ang kanyang mukha sa mabi tuin pang kalangitan at nadama niya sa kanyang puso ang kapangyarihan at kaluwalhatian ng Diyos. Nang mga sandaling yaon ay napaglimi niyang ang paghihiganting kinimkim niya sa kan yang puso ay humantong sa pagpapatawad at ang pagmamahal niya kay Lina ay lalo pang nag-alab. Oo nga’t nabubunay sila sa dalawang magkalayo at magkaibang daigdig, nguni’t lagi ni yang bubuhayin ang kanilang pagmamahalan, sa daigdig ng mga alaala. Nagsisimula nang umalingawngaw ang tunog ng mga kampana nang si ya’y manaog upang sumangguni sa Diyos sa kanyang mahal na dambana. CHRISTMAS, 1960 Page 27 SECCDON CASTELLANA SEftOR MIGUEL FLORES Editor la jSatn&ali La |ustlcia dlvina, Hermanada con amor Nos salv6 de la calda Nos alivld del dolor. Dlvina (ustlcla es, Enviar a este mundo. De entre miles seres El mismo ser divlno. Luego, ha nacido El For su amor hada nos. Para hacer fadl La entrada en los delos. Con el fin de mostrarnos La dignldad humana, Se hlzo hombre Jesus De la Virgen Marla. Que beneflcio grondel Que misterlo grandiose! Que El Creador incarnado Fue; una dicha Inefable. Pero, que hlzo el hombre, Redbldo este don 7 Pronto qnebranfo la ley Sin pensar de su accidn. SI el amor con amor se paga, Per que el amer celeste Se paga con vida mala For el Ingrate hombre? Porque el pecader peca Sin pensar de la efensa. Aun Le ama macho A pesar de su calda. El Salvador Prometido I VIERAS morir, en campos de batalla, millares de hombres, esto no seria porque el hombre se hace de carne y hues o solo, sino tambien porque recibio el castigo original a causa del pecado de nuestros primeros padres. Por esta maldicidn, la muerte es una “conditio sine qua non” de la naturaleza humana. Por eso, no nos extraiian la muerte de todos los descendientes de Adan e Eva, las enfermedades de diferentes clases que aflijen el cuerpo humano, los infortunios de la vida, las guerras entre naciones, la dificultad en buscar el pan cotidiano, el alimento primordial para la conservacion de la existencia del ser racional en este mundo, la discordia entre familias y las demas calamidades que habian existido y continuarian existiendo mientras que viva el hombre. Por el Senor MIGUEL FLORES A.B. IV Por que el ser racional No comprende al Senor, Slendo Jesus come tai, Y no obra 41 con tlmor7 Porque 41 es muy debll. Segun la Blblia, La vida es dificll. Peca 41 cada dla. La mlseria humana es, Un sehal de castigo, Del Infado divlno Y de maldlcldn nuestra. Despues de la tempestad, Vienen la paz el orden. Gracias ya se conceden, De su inflnita bondad. Todo esto manlflesta, Cuanto Jesus nos ama Libres nos hace obrar Para probar a qulen ellja. Para reconocer blen, Nuestra gratltud Hagamos un Belen En el alma nuestra vll. Limpiemos nuestras almas, Y las llagas ya curadas; Causadas por nuestra maldad; Se recibiese la potestad. Ha naddo EL NINO JESUS AMOR DIVINO; Nuestra fe, nuestra vida, Que dicha, quegrada! Asi como a estos males debe haber un gran remedio, asi tambien tiene que existir uno que sepa remedial- nuestra suerte. Este seria el unico consuelo en tiempos de prueba, nuestra esperanza en tiempos de desesperacion y uno que sepa guiarnos desde el umbral de la caida hasta el camino de la salvacidn. Porque todos nosotros sabemos, que desde la caida de nuestros primeros padres, Dios les castigo, echandoles fuera del paraiso. Se hicieron esclavos del poder infernal, pero, El no les habia dejado abandonados a su desgraciada suerte. Por un acto de su propia misericordia, determino redimir al hombre del dafio eterno. Luego, el tronco muerto del primer pecador fue vivificado por la sabiduria divina y por su compasion hacia el ser mas escogido entre los seres de la creacion. lQue dicha inefable!; Que beneficio tan grande, que con su bondad compasiva, nos hizo amable al Creador! No es verdad, que no necesita al hombre para que sea feliz El? Pero, por que sin disminucion de su bienaventuranza, quiso resuscitarle de la muerte eterna? Por que nos ama mucho Nuestro Redentor. Este amor se manifesto en el hecho de que el hombre, despues de haber caido, hubiera sido destinado, para siempre, al caldero de Pedro Botero o sea al fuego preparado, desde tiempo eterno, mas alia del otro mundo. Paz y gozo deberian estar en el cora zon del hombre! Porque, por medio de la union hypostatica entre el ser divino con el humano, la inmensidad del amor divino hacia el ser que participa de su esencia divina se hace manifiesta. Alegres cantemos el cantico de amor porque hemos recibido el don infinite—la En carnacion del Hijo de Dios. Este Verbo Encarnado vino en el mundo para hacemos felices, pacificos, amantes del reino de Dios; para librarnos de la mancha del pecado original; para hacerno libres dela desdicha causada por nuestra ingratitud. De hecho y de derecho, el redentor que nos tenia prometido Dios, vino en este terreno effmero. Ha nacido de la virgen, escogida de entre las mujeres puras, santas, y virtuosas. Que Dios Padre el Espiritu Santo la escogiesen como madre de la Segunda Persona de la Santisima Trinidad, es un privilegio singular para un ser bajo y parecido a un gozano y hecho del polvo de la tierra. La venida, pues, del Salvador de la raza pervertida, es, segun el sentido cristiano de la palabra, la pascua. Grande es este dia, glorioso es este tiempo para el mun do cristiano y se recordaria, sin cesar, la reconciliacion entre la naturaleza divi na y la humana. Que debemos hacer, pues, durante la conmemoracidn de su venida? Prepare mos su habitacion en nuestro corazon. Tenemos que ser felices y gozosos. Esta felicidad, para ser verdadera, debe consistir en la comunicacion entre el Crea dor y su ser creado. La felicidad que el mundo da, no es una felicidad, por la razon de que, esta llena de tonterias y faltas graves contra el Divino Legislador. La felicidad cristiana consiste en la vida santa que uno debe llevar. La felicidad del mundo pagano se mezela de porquerias y uno no debe seguir lo fin ito y lomudable. Alegr4monos porque ha nacido el Prin cipe de la Paz! Page 28 THE CAROLINIAN &Jditoiqa.lL: SDNUGBOANON 4Waato ilaija ang iBasfco ? Ang kabugnaw ug katigmi sa bulan sa Disyembre maoy usa sa buhing timailhan sa Pasko—ang dakung pangilin nga pagasaulogon sa tibuok kristohanong lumulopyo. Ang tanan kono maglipay ug magmaya ning maong panahon. Ang tanan kono magsukliay sa maayong kabubut-on. Ang mga pagdumot ug kasina, ang gibungsod nga mga dautang hunahuna, ihiklin ug ilubong sa kalimot kay lagi Pasko—Adlaw sa pagkatawo sa atong Manunubos. Matud pa sa mga katigulangan, ang pagsaulog kono sa Pasko isikad sa labing matarung ug malinis ug nga dili inalisngawan sa mga kabubut-ong nag-aso sa mga panagbingkil-bingkil, bahad, panimalus ug uban pang mga ngil-ad nga laraw. Kay ang maong higayon gihimo agig pagdumdum o pagbanhaw sa pagkatawo sa atong Manunubos nga hubo kaayo niadtong gabiing mamingaw didto sa pasungan sa mga baka, ang pagsaulog kono niini hubiton gayud sa diwa nga labing balaanon ug langitnon. Sa laing pagkasulti, ang pagsaulog sa Pasko kinuha ug inambit gayud sa mga langitnong diwa ug katuyoan. Apan ning atong panahon karon nga kanunayng gihulga sa mga kasamok gumikan sa panagsukliay sa mga mainitong pulong sa mga dagkung lider, ning atong panahon nga nagalumba sa pagpamuhat ug mga hinagiban alang sa kapukanan kanatong tanan, mahimo kahang balaanon, malinis ug tinuod ang atong pagsaulog sa Pasko? Dinhi sa atong nasud nga nagalamoy sa kanunay ang kalisud ug kapit-os sa panginabuhi, sa mga palitonon nga hilabihang kamahal, sa kahugaw sa atong pamunoan gumikan sa pagwaldas-waldas sa salapi sa nanagdala sa atong kagamhanan kay nahubog sa ilang bugtong katuyoan sa pagpakadto, maato kaha ang lunsayng diwa sa Pasko? Ang tubag sa maong pangutana anaa da kanimo, kaniya ug kanako. Rene M. Rances Sa pagkatawo Sa iHaniuuibos ni: ELMO B. SITOY AYA ang kalibutan, ang katawhan, ang kinaiyahan. Ang tanan manag-awit hinubit ang kabus apan balaanong pagkatawo sa atong Manunubos. Nanagsayaw ang tanang kasingkasing, dinuyogan sa alimyon sa mga bulak, turning taghoy sa han gin, hawot nga honi sa kalanggaman. Sa kalimot gilubong ang panagbingkilay, mipatigbabaw ang kalinaw, gihugpong ang tanang pagbati — lunsay nga pagbati aron ihalad sa Diyosnong Bata sa CHRISTMAS, 1960