+ Follow AMOR PALMA Tag
Array
(
[results] => Array
(
[0] => Array
(
[ArticleID] => 369436
[Title] => Gingoog Institute Class ’56
[Summary] =>
For many years, when time allowed it, I hied back to my hometown of Gingoog City, but only stayed home to enjoy the company of my siblings – Nene, Gingging, Tenten and Greg. My last trip there three weeks ago was highlighted by an unplanned reunion of sorts with some of my former classmates in Gingoog Institute (High School Class ’56).
[DatePublished] => 2006-11-18 00:00:00
[ColumnID] => 134209
[Focus] => 0
[AuthorID] => 1804859
[AuthorName] => Domini M. Torrevillas
[SectionName] => Opinion
[SectionUrl] => opinion
[URL] =>
)
[1] => Array
(
[ArticleID] => 250946
[Title] => Gingoog
[Summary] => In my golden years, I think of the Gingoog of my childhood, and memories rush back like the rainwater swiftly rushing down the canals which, would you believe, was good enough to do our laundry in. One of the best things about being alive after the half-century mark is remembering vignettes – of days of innocence, of escapades after school hours, of walking through the town on horse-driven tartanillas, of going to dances with our fathers and being asked to dance by the boys whose private lives we secretly wondered about. They were days spent without thought of tomorrow.
[DatePublished] => 2004-05-22 00:00:00
[ColumnID] => 134209
[Focus] => 0
[AuthorID] => 1804859
[AuthorName] => Domini M. Torrevillas
[SectionName] => Opinion
[SectionUrl] => opinion
[URL] =>
)
)
)
AMOR PALMA
Array
(
[results] => Array
(
[0] => Array
(
[ArticleID] => 369436
[Title] => Gingoog Institute Class ’56
[Summary] =>
For many years, when time allowed it, I hied back to my hometown of Gingoog City, but only stayed home to enjoy the company of my siblings – Nene, Gingging, Tenten and Greg. My last trip there three weeks ago was highlighted by an unplanned reunion of sorts with some of my former classmates in Gingoog Institute (High School Class ’56).
[DatePublished] => 2006-11-18 00:00:00
[ColumnID] => 134209
[Focus] => 0
[AuthorID] => 1804859
[AuthorName] => Domini M. Torrevillas
[SectionName] => Opinion
[SectionUrl] => opinion
[URL] =>
)
[1] => Array
(
[ArticleID] => 250946
[Title] => Gingoog
[Summary] => In my golden years, I think of the Gingoog of my childhood, and memories rush back like the rainwater swiftly rushing down the canals which, would you believe, was good enough to do our laundry in. One of the best things about being alive after the half-century mark is remembering vignettes – of days of innocence, of escapades after school hours, of walking through the town on horse-driven tartanillas, of going to dances with our fathers and being asked to dance by the boys whose private lives we secretly wondered about. They were days spent without thought of tomorrow.
[DatePublished] => 2004-05-22 00:00:00
[ColumnID] => 134209
[Focus] => 0
[AuthorID] => 1804859
[AuthorName] => Domini M. Torrevillas
[SectionName] => Opinion
[SectionUrl] => opinion
[URL] =>
)
)
)
abtest
