Dai Na An Lamadang

In memoriam
ATTY PROF EDGAR CHU BASARES Sr. AB, BSE, MPA, LLb, Phd
1947-2008

Atty Ed Basares is dead. He passed away in his house last night November 6, 2008 after a lingering illness. Let us not talk about how he died; rather let us talk about how he lived. In my moment of grief allow me to share with you small anecdotes of my dad.

It was hard growing up under his shadow. He was an overachiever; an academician, a broadcaster, and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my elementary grades and by the time I did, he was already the school principal. He moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and VP for Administration spanning four decades of teaching. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral including his law course, and a doctorate degree in education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon.

It was hard growing up under his shadow. I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there. During my seminary years he enjoyed the joy and pride of having a seminarian son as any father is, albeit he does not want me to become a priest. He however acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season.

Atty Ed Basares Sr. is a father to his students, he is a teacher to his son. He was my professor in the subject Law on Properties this last semester where always every meeting an oral exam is the only agenda. One day, on the way to school I dropped by his house to borrow a book. He told me “I will asked you about Art. ___.” I said to myself ok ito may leakage. Imagine my shock when during the actual oral exam he asked me instead questions on Art. ___ an entirely different topic. After class he saw me grinning from ear to ear “always be prepared!” he said.

He is a father to his students, sending many of them to school on his account. Even in Manila I would meet some of them grateful for finishing college through my father. Many of his students then and now come and go in his house and he would always welcome them with a smile in his lips and a song on his heart. Many of his students would remember him by his iconic advise of “SARO LANG AN SEKRETO SA PAGTAPOS NOY DAI MAGPUNDO”.

His friends and colleagues remember him for his payting pirit because my dad never gets tired; always on the move and would oftentimes take the cudgel of other people. At one time in 90’s, as a broadcaster, he even volunteered to take into custody a prisoner who wrote dad behind bars confessing he was paid to assassinate my dad and his disobedience caused him his liberty alleging that as a consequence of his disobedience he was framed up and accused as part of the NPAs that raided Irosin town. In his law practice he was branded as the extension office of PAO as many indigents standing accused would run to him and dad never waivered to welcome them rationalizing they deserve the help. Immediately after his amputation he made motions to stand up when told of a client frantically and desperately looking for him for assistance. Our family has grown accustomed to visitors coming in even interrupting his meals or his siesta. We grew up taking the backseat whenever public service beckons.

And today dai na an lamadang. Lamadang was a term he used to described one Police Colonel assigned as Provincial Director in this province whom he lambasted for incompetence and inaction. The Police Colonel, a Tagalog, was so mad at my dad that he asked his staff to research what lamadang means only to find out it was an specie of a fish. The Police Colonel was reassigned, lamadang though stick on to him as a radio monicker. When he led the KBP in this province he initiated a resolution recommending then Col. Fredelino Bautista, who head an army contingent then assigned here, for promotion impressed of the strict discipline the Colonel imposes on his erring men. Col. Bautista was promoted to Brigadier General and before leaving Sorsogon passed by my dad to thank him.

As we spend his remaining days in this mortal wound, we again give him back to the public he loved so much. Join us in his wake as we celebrate his life. As his thousands of students mourn for the loss of a father, I mourn for the loss of my teacher.

Goodbye and good night dad! Res in pacis. And please do not worry I shall see you again soon.
FATHERHOOD
My dad, me and my son

YAYES

(I do not consider myself a writer, yet I am flattered by your comments and encouragement to continue writing. If priesthood is my first love, writing comes second and teaching ranks third……..oh great brown God I hope my wife does not see this! I have promised myself never to write a sad story. I want you to laugh when you read the words I write, perhaps listen to the child inside me as it tries to speak to that little child in you. Today I beg for an exemption.)

I am the son of my father. I am the father of my son.

In nomine padre …………….

My dad is ED BASARES the overachiever: an academician, an administrator, a broadcaster, a politician and a lawyer. He started as a classroom teacher even before I entered my first grade in school, and by the time I did he was already the school principal. He later moved on to become a College Dean, Director for Student Affairs and Vice President for Administration. He capped his scholarly record with two baccalaureate degrees, two masteral (including his Bachelor of Laws) and a doctorate in Education. In his short stint in government service he was a recipient of several Certificates of Merit. In the broadcast industry, he was rated number one radio commentator in the province and earned the monicker from his peers as the DEAN OF BROADCAST MEDIA in Sorsogon. When he entered politics in 1992 he was classified as a sure winner albeit they used a different parameter when counting the votes. He has continued to be present in every electoral process since then and has refused to acknowledge defeat. When I saw him in 1997 after years of absence I was shocked at how old he had become, yet he has refused to fade into retirement. Well, I still have to meet a politician who does not consider himself immortal. My father became a lawyer in 2002 . To date he is practicing his law profession.

Et fili……..

It was hard growing up under his shadow.
I was only in grade four when he required me to learn journalism as he imposed on me to read and re-write the news from the newspapers. Reading was a habit he instilled upon me that no book or magazine from his library was missed. Yet he left me alone to learn. No grade in the line of seven was acceptable to him as he monitored mine every grading period. Bad English for him was and is a mortal sin. I finished my elementary grades with honors and he was there.

I told him I would enter the seminary. He was not surprised. Two instances I remember well of how proud he was during my seminary years--
one when I was assigned to serve an acolyte to the Bishop one Sunday during our summer break, and two when he “gave” me to Fr. Ding Caindec after I became his official acolyte every time Fr Ding would say mass outside the seminary. He never wanted me to become a priest as I am his only son and eldest at that. Yet he acknowledged my identity and duties then as a seminarian as he allowed me to spend days in the parish especially during the Lenten season. Somehow he attributed my decision to leave the seminary when Fr Ding left for Rome on my second year. To a certain degree he was right for Fr. Ding was more like a second father to me.

When I was in second year college (outside the seminary), knowing I had long turned my back on the norms and values of a seminarian, and while he was station manager of DZMS, he secretly invited Fr Ding, then back from Rome, to say mass and compelled me to attend. I cried a lot at Fr Ding’s shoulder.

My dad is a strict disciplinarian and hard on his children, hardest on me. Sometimes I suspect I was his favorite whipping bag. He is a distant father. It is easy for him to shower praises on his students against whom I pale in comparison, albeit he spends most of his nights wondering if he has made me wrong or what in heavens name a curse has fallen upon me.

While sometimes I envied some of his students it was easy for me to understand: ED BASARES is a father to his students, a teacher to his son. And I grew up looking for a father.

It was always a love-hate relationship between us as he perpetually tried to control me during the times I was uncontrollable and stubbornly refused to do so at times I needed it most. He is never satisfied with what I can do yet secretly confides to his friends his amazement with the little things I have managed to do.

These days everytime I go home, I spend all my time with my kids playing with them after school and I would see him secretly watching, perhaps wondering why. But by all means he is a doting lolo.

ED BASARES will always be ED BASARES. He has fought his battle and emerged victorious from it, all by himself as he grew up an orphan. He has carved his destiny and earned the respect of others with no one beside him and with nothing but pure guts and determination.

et mi fili

My son was born in 1995. I had always wanted a son. For five years he was my only child. To date he is about to enter his adolescence period. And I fear so much that he would commit the same mistakes I did. My only wish and prayer for my son is for him to live a different life from mine. So I refused to cast a shadow on him and gave him a different name. At bedtime and away from the ears of his mom he would tell me stories about his girl classmates and, oh God here it goes. Four occasions my son would never miss--my birthday, his birthday, his siblings birthday, and his mom’s birthday.

I know I will never verbally have the chance to tell my dad I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF HIM. It is my hope that just being a father to my own son would speak louder than words.
For the son comes from the father.

In some instances the rock speaks because it is silent, the sand moves because it is still.
The sad story shall continue on and on. Until like my dad, in his career path, it will arrive…..
………….at a time which is not a time,
………….at a place which is not a place.

Happy Birthday Fr. Peewee!

peewee, naghuhulat lang kami san pasalubong mo :-)























THE GRACE OF PEEWEE


Yayes Basares

Hey, relax classmate. I am not talking about Grace Dimaunahan or Grace Dimagulangan; I am not talking about anybody else's Grace. It's your birthday and I am talking about your grace: your priesthood.

We have always been proud of your priesthood as we are proud of you as MAELSTROM's one and only one priest.

No, you are not a square peg in a hole in our company. Beneath the jest and the jokes is our admiration for you.

And, believe me, you serve as the most tangible link to our past because looking at you we see each of ourselves then hoping to be what you are now.

You can never have sons and daughters as we have, perhaps will miss the joy of fatherhood as you see your son on his first walk and little by little dislodge you as the only authority in the house. On the other hand, you will be spared from the pains of watching over your son overnight as you wait for that fever to break. You will be spared from the daily pressure of living and caring for a family and will perhaps miss the joy of your sons smile on his first bike. You will miss the rush of early morning in sending your son to school and the anxiety of waiting for him in the afternoon. You cannot marry, literally that is. For in your chosen field of endeavor you are to walk a carved path designed by the Divine Father sacrificing personal joys and pleasures demanding celibacy so that you can give everything in you in service.

You cannot amass millions in terms of fat bank accounts or a fleet of cars or a palatial house. Yet you will not have to work hard to gain power and prestige, clout and influence to gain respect of society. Your priesthood alone already demands respect and prestige.

You will not have a family of your own, yet you will be a father to many. You cannot amass wealth yet your riches cannot be measured.

Such is your grace. Such is Peewee’s grace.

Happy birthday, classmate, and we look forward for more birthdays of Rev. Father Philip Aurelius Renovalles.

ORA STUDE ET LABORA (The pride of every SANO)

by Yayes Basares

During the wake of Nono’s mom, we were able to talk to Mayor Roque Sr. Glad to note the good mayor is still up and trim, vibrant and still as handsome as he was before. He asked us this question?

“So how does it feel being a sano? What if you did not come from OLPS and instead say came from a high profile reputable and distinguished school, would you still feel the same pride you have now of being a sano?”

ORA
Yes our voice were too low to reach the gates of heaven that when God prepared the list of who shall serve Him in the ministry we were thought to be absent, but we prayed. The rituals and doctrines practiced and professed continue to guide us. The daily meditation and weekly benediction taught us reverence, the monthly retreat made us value silence in communion with God, the daily rosary and mass built in us the walls of Troy that many sect tried in vain to penetrate, the confessions and counseling made us realize that the runner has to stumble sometimes necessary to redirect its focus for the long run, and the novena taught us devotion and loyalty.

Yes during the roll call we were absent, but never astray!

STUDE
We were prepared well. The mind honed razor sharp to conquer and did conquer; in arts, education, medicine, public service, law, business, music,….. Success came in varying levels. For some can be measured by well lit mansions, a fleet of cars, a fat bank account, for others none of these but with a feeling of contentment in the company of their own families and/or in the exercise of their professions.

We did not grow up merely as intellectuals, we grew up as educated men. For OLPS taught us not to let academics interfere with our education. Along side the wealth most earned came the values of civility, of compassion for others less fortunate, the selflessness in rendering service, the fair play in personal and business transactions, the fortitude to stand up in every failure.

LABORA
We learned to value work no matter how menial. Inside OLPS we scrub lavatories, polished and mop floors and cut grass. We learned to accept responsibility in a communal spirit. We realized we cannot simply drive down the roads and say to hell with the barbarians killing themselves on the country sides. Many of us today in exalted positions at one time or another perspired, cried and literally drag his body to work.

Yes, Mayor Roque Sr. sir, there is pride in being a SANO. And yes you are correct in saying that the fact that we are SANO tend to put limitations on our acts and ways to conform with the values of OLPS, like children thinking of how our acts and lives would affect family reputation, that we sometimes negate ourselves with the little luxuries and pleasures of life because we are SANO.

And yes mayor, Roque Jr is SANO. He may be more handsome than you now but be assured that such is an improvement of the father.

MAELSTROM

BY YAYES BASARES

We were 29 when we entered OLPS way back in 1982 – about a thousand hairs ago. Only one became a priest. Some left early, others almost made it. Some (may) have shed tears, for others a feeling of frustration, still others resignation.

I left early and carried the mark of an ex-seminarian like a stigma attached to an identity of failure. I tried, in vain, to go back. Truth to tell, every single soul who entered the portals of OLPS and stayed there for at least a year carried with him in his heart the burning desire of becoming a priest. I am no exception.

Nothing outside could offer the same feeling of joy and happiness OLPS did. There was always a void space inside, an empty feeling. Joy and happiness inside OLPS was joy and happiness rooted in faith. It was this joy and happiness from where MAELSTROM was born.

Now in the midst of my agony of dwindling hairs and early manifestation of memory gap (Jesus H. Christ) I could no longer recall the names of all the girls I have loved before (hehehe) nor the names and faces of all my classmates in high school and college, but MAELSTROM remains embedded.

For MAELSTROM is special. It speaks of bonding in diversity; of respect and concern, of friendship between distance; of family through ages.

I am proud I am MAELSTROM. I am proud I am SANO.

I told my son, “when you finish your elementary please enter OLPS. By that time you need not call me daddy, call me SANO.”

My son smiles back. As always in his most mischievous manner. God help me!