Last weekend was a particularly hectic and emotional one for many people, with college recognition rites and general commencement exercises at the University of the Philippines Diliman. I thought I’d share more of the spirit of the weekend with a two-in-one column, first about graduation gifts in terms of legacies and bridging of generations, and second about a different kind of graduation gift I had for an inaapo (explanations later about this term).
Let me start, though, with some information on why the weekend was so special. For the first time in many years, the College of Social Sciences and Philosophy was able to hold our recognition rites on a Saturday morning, which meant many of the faculty, graduating students and their families were awake early, ready to greet the sun.
Appropriately, the general commencement exercises for the entire UP Diliman campus was on Sunday afternoon. By the time the degrees were officially conferred, it was sunset, which was just as well, providing soothing and welcome relief from the afternoon heat.
Legacies
I got to our recognition rites venue early, making sure I could welcome our keynote speaker, Dr. Francisco (“Dodong”) Nemenzo and his wife, Ana Maria Ronquillo Nemenzo, better known as “Princess” among the ranks of women’s and antipoverty activists.
Besides being a former UP president, Dodong was also the dean of the College of Arts and Sciences back in the 1980s, when the decision was made to split “AS” into three: CSSP, the College of Science, and the College of Arts and Letters (CAL). The split was formalized in 1983, 30 years ago, and our faculty thought it would be appropriate to have Dodong address us on this anniversary.
The choice was fortuitous because among the graduates for the day was Alaya Gabrielle, granddaughter of Dodong and Princess, who got her bachelor’s degree in psychology, magna cum laude. I pointed out the connection between the guest speaker and one of the graduates in my opening remarks, to remind people that graduation rituals are occasions, too, for a bridging of generations, a time to remember, and honor, the legacies of previous generations.
Dodong’s speech drew on his own experiences, with four pieces of simple advice for the graduating students. First, remain a student for life. Second, use your knowledge and skills to humanize the impact of technology, and ensure that technology serves the people, and not merely enhances the profits of a few. Third, in relation to current global developments, hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. Finally, take up the challenge (to reshape the global village). In future columns, I hope to return to other parts of Dodong’s speech.
That morning we had another historic bridging: Amihan Bonifacio Ramolete, who got her PhD in psychology, is the daughter of Dr. Manuel Bonifacio and Dr. Amelia Lapeña Bonifacio, both professor emeriti. Amihan’s father is with our sociology department. Her mother is with the CAL, and also known for her Teatro Mulat, which uses puppetry for education. Amihan carries on the teaching tradition in the family as a faculty member at the CAL.
An unexpected treat for me that morning was running into Dr. Joven Cuanang, chief medical officer of St. Luke’s Medical Center. It turned out that his grandnephew was graduating. When I asked what the name of his grandnephew was, he modestly said: “I think he’s going to speak this morning.” I smiled and asked: “He’s our valedictory speaker, right?” And indeed he was, Joshua Vincent H. Barona, who used doors as a powerful metaphor to talk about transitions in the graduates’ lives.
Joshua Vincent got his bachelor’s degree in psychology summa cum laude, and will be entering medical school in June, together with one of my inaapo, still another graduate of psychology.
Let me explain the term. In other Christian cultures, you only have godparents and godchildren, but in the Philippines, we’ve expanded the system from ninong/ninang and inaanak to new relationships of the kumpare and kumare (co-godparents) and kinakapatid (co-godchildren). So I thought I’d extend it further with an inaapo. Why inaapo? I was her parents’ ninong when they got married.
I’ll give her a pseudonym here, Riza, because she and her parents are terribly modest despite her achievements. Riza graduated magna cum laude, and I’ve lost count of how many medical and law schools accepted her, with offers of scholarships.
Blanket
My graduation gift to Riza was a cotton blanket, and I’m going to share parts of the note I sent her explaining why a blanket instead of a book (which I’ve done through the years and which I still think makes great graduation gifts), or a tablet, or a ticket to Boracay. The note was in Filipino so I’m translating here into English.
Dear Riza,
This blanket comes from an antiques shop. It’s not really that old, but neither is it new. I can tell from the fine craftsmanship, which you rarely see now with new blankets. I first thought it was an inabel weave from the Ilokos, but it turns out it’s from the Cordillera, from the Itneg, with a binakel design.
You’ll find occasional imperfections in the blanket, but these small flaws make the blanket a heritage item, a potential heirloom. Imagine the rhythm that went into the weaving—the women sometimes sing as they operate their back looms—and the occasional slips, maybe while checking on a child or grandchild, or talking to a visitor. Life’s that way, too, especially in our relationships, imperfectly perfect.
There’s a letter dated 1880 from Jose Rizal to his elder brother asking for, of all things, two pillows. Rizal was studying in Manila at that time. I first thought the letter to be rather odd; now why couldn’t he have bought the pillows in Manila? But then I remembered, there’s always something different about getting things from home, from people dear to you.
Knowing you’re entering medical school, and will be living away from home, I thought of a blanket, sent with all my affection. Blankets are more useful than pillows. Besides protecting you from the cold, they provide security, a sense of safety. In more difficult and trying times, and medical school will have many of those, blankets provide comfort, maybe even consolation. I always have an inabel blanket in my car for the kids and have seen how a blanket can transport them into many imaginary worlds, as they snuggle underneath, singing and giggling and whispering secrets.
I should mention Rizal asked for two pillows—one extra, he said, for visitors. Blankets are always big enough to share, so share as you wish, as often as you can. These woven blankets are sturdy, and yet soften with use, and age. I hope the blanket will be passed on to your children or other loved ones, together with stories from your own life about perseverance and strength, as well as gentleness and nurturing.
All love from Lolo Mike