But then, isn’t politics supposed to be a "strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles?" This, in sum, could have been the reason behind what Myrna Castillo laments as the unfortunate injection of a highly discordant political note in what was meant to be an evening of music, nostalgia and fun.
Myrna, who was part of the appreciative audience, was very vocal about the highly politicized atmosphere that invaded the presentation close to the end of the show, and assailed the sensibilities of the greater part of the audience.
The concert was conceptualized by the Eagle H.S. ’55 Foundation, Inc. and aptly dubbed "On Wings of Song… One Big Flight!" It was presented by the class principally, I suppose, in celebration of the fact that most of them are still around, 50 years after.
But other than what could have been an understandable "flight of fancy," there was an ennobling purpose behind the affair, which was to raise funds for Ateneo teachers and for an orphanage, the Jesus Loves the Little Children Foundation, Inc. From this, it could be gleaned that oneness with their fellowmen was one of the motivations behind the presentation of the concert.
Speaking of songs, oneness with humanity was also an underlying theme in the poem, "Song of Myself," written by Walt Whitman as can be seen in the following lines:
"I celebrate myself and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you."
Whitman was a noted 19th century American poet and journalist who, in his life, had sought to "elevate, enlarge, purify, deepen and make happy the attributes of the body and soul of a man," which ideal is also at the very core of a Jesuit education. An interesting trivia about the man is that he had also edited a Brooklyn newspaper called The Daily Eagle. Could it have also been coincidental that being "a man for others" was the lifelong vocation of Jesuit founder St. Ignatius de Loyola?
And so, I am told, the HS Class ’55 Ateneans "celebrated themselves and sang themselves." They were the main feature of the presentation that was directed by Angie Magbanua, dishing out a medley of Sinatra songs, Broadway hits and several Tagalog selections.
Evoking memories of yesteryears, Myrna says, was the part of the concert that featured the flawless annotations of the celebrated Jo San Diego, ensconced on a make-believe DZMT announcer’s booth and reliving her role as "The Midnight Madonna" and favorite deejay of that period, as she provided the relevant backgrounders on the songs performed by the golden jubilarians.
Myrna tells me that the members of the class acquitted themselves quite admirably. Presumably nobody came to the concert with great expectations, and I understand that whatever the audience may have failed to get was more than made up for by the special guests – the ever elegant Pilita Corrales, the sultry Verni Varga of the 5-star hotel entertainment circuit, and dusky-voiced Jaya, a diva in her own right.
There were the grandchildren of the Ateneans, and little, spunky Julia Abueva, all of nine years, but already performing like a star, as if music and singing were gifted to her as a birthright.
Among the "stout-hearted" men who performed quite creditably were Makati Rep. Butz Aquino, complete with sideburns and an all-white outfit, who belted out Elvis Presley’s "Teddy Bear," Rey Guevara who gave his own rendition of the Italian piece, "O Sole Mio," and PR practitioner Reli German who, together with Jaya, sang "You Don’t Send Me Flowers Anymore," among his several numbers.
In short, Class ’55 intended it to be a time when, as Whitman said, "I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass."
Myrna tells me that even as nostalgia and pure, clean fun filled the spacious Meralco Theater and elicited a pleasant feeling all around, people were rudely jarred back to the consciousness of politics as a reality that they could not escape, after all.
Toward the end of the concert, who would suddenly materialize on the stage but good, old Willie Nepomuceno in his worn-out role as Erap. Even that would have been excusable though, as the evening’s surprise number.
What turned everything sour was the prepared speech of the former president, read out by his son, Senator Jinggoy, as the representative of his father who was barred by the Sandiganbayan from joining his classmates in the pakulo.
Predictably, the speech contained barbs directed at you-know-who. In that speech, Erap once again recited the sins of the present dispensation and, in a highly sarcastic manner, intoned that "Ateneo did not teach me how to cheat, how to lie and how to steal."
That pointless peroration, Myrna says, was completely tasteless, utterly vulgar and completely out of pale and out of synch with the affair as an evening of music, nostalgia and fun. I am informed that at that point, a good number of people in the audience, including Father Joaquin Bernas, stood up and walked out of the theater.
Myrna deplores the intrusion of politics into an affair that was obviously conceptualized as a family event, presented in the spirit of fun and togetherness, which was to be completely non-partisan, apolitical even.
I wonder, will this unfortunate matter turn the Ateneo H.S. Class ’55 into a wounded eagle, clip its wings and prevent it from further soaring to greater heights? If only for their unity’s sake, I certainly hope not.
To the surprise of many, the position of secretary was given to then Executive Secretary Bert Romulo. I have no grudge against Mr. Romulo, whom I mentioned in a column several years ago as good vice-presidentiable material as his name had not been tainted by any personal or political scandal. As a feminist, though, I very much liked the idea of having Delia as the first female Foreign Affairs secretary.
Only last week was Delia told she could now proceed to Germany. While waiting, she was tasked to perform the duties of Presidential Adviser for Multilateral Cooperation and on Minerals Development.
Last Sunday, Delia gave a kaffee und kuchen (merienda) at her residence in Ayala Alabang to say farewell to friends. Coffee, wine and juices and pastries were served, followed by sausages and an authentically German potato salad prepared by Delia’s husband, Hans, a German whom Delia met in Geneva in the ’60s.
Well-wishers included the German ambassador, Axel Weishaupt, the famous novelist Frank Sionil Jose and his wife Tessie, former Tourism Secretary Mina Gabor, Indian Ambassador Navrekha Sharma, Swiss Ambassador Lise Fevre, Chit and Anna Sobrepena, John and Easter Sallee and their lovely daughter Samantha, Marcus Roces, Millie Reyes, and my constant companion, Saeed A. Daof.