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I saw my alma mater today, not intentionally though, as I accompanied my daughter to attend the general assembly of UST scholars. She, a Sto Tomas scholar herself, was to contribute to the program by rendering a few songs.

I was reminiscing, being seated in the Medicine Auditorium, which during my college days was a rare place to be. This afternoon was quite a privilege for me to be there, listening to my daughter cover Norah Jones amidst hundreds of other scholars. That my daughter would be on stage in this auditorium never crossed my mind. I would not have the chance to even think it, as I went through five grueling years of engineering studies.

Batch ’84 of the College of Engineering will be silver jubilarians next year. Twenty-five years it has been indeed when I left the university with a degree in Industrial Engineering. I don’t exactly remember the circumstances when I left it, because I did not join the graduation rites. I have no memories of it. I was not there. I will make sure that my daughter, and all my children, go through this rite of passage. Memories are good to go back to during this season for homecomings.

ust-main-library_blog-copy1Strolling in the campus today made me realize how lucky I was to have attended the university.

The main library was really a pretty sight; I wish the Main Library already stood there when all I wanted to do then was be in a library. The campus has changed so much.

I will be going back there soon when we celebrate our 25th year homecoming next year. I am pretty guilty for not having been very active in the meetings my batchmates are having these days. As a silver jubilarian, I should take responsibility, because we are tasked to put together the event!

Despite my countless absences, my batch mates have expressed support for my very personal project to donate 100 bags to the underprivileged school children in Masbate. In fact, they have given more than 50 bags already! Homecomings are seasons for gift-giving indeed.

Thank you, my dear batch mates.  See you soon.

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