We sang No mas amor que el tuyo with fervor, once at the Villamor clubhouse on our first Sunday get-together, and a second time at the UP Executive House after dinner two Mondays ago. There the lyrics were flashed onscreen, but most of us didn’t need that, since we knew the words by heart — at least the first verse: “No mas amor que el tuyo/ O corazon divino/ En pueblo Filipino/ Te da su corazon/ En templos y en hogares/ Te invoque nuestra lengua/ Tu reinaras sin mengua/ de Aparri hasta Jolo...”

No need for any translation for this song that may sound like a political campaign jingle in M.L. Quezon’s time. We knew more or less what it meant, that we were paying tribute to the divine heart, as religious Filipinos. We did so at least weekly in our adolescence and early youth that spanned the Fifties, learning only much later that the lyrics came from a poem written by turn-of-the-century Filipino poet Manuel Bernabe.

We graduated from elementary school in 1956, thence high school in 1960. We were Bedans or Bedistas, sworn to uphold fealty to the venerable St. Bede. We were herded frequently to the most beautiful chapel we ever knew, since called the Church of Our Lady of Montserrat, to gaze reverentially at the glittering altar and at the magnificently frescoed ceiling as we lifted our voices free, in worship.

On Feb. 6, our old beloved Mendiola campus welcomed us for the annual Homecoming Day, with the HS Class of 1985, silver jubilarians, playing host, and us, of the San Beda College HS Class of 1960, as the specially feted golden jubilarians.

Five classes of roughly 45 students each — sections 4-40 to 4-44, parted ways in March of 1960. Of the over 200 batchmates, nearly 40 percent may have gone on and left us. We’ve traced about 120 living Bedistas de los Sesenta, about a third of these staying abroad. We had hoped to re-assemble at least 50 for our Golden Jubilee of 2010. We are happy to have surpassed that number.

At least 15 came home for our grand reunion — from California, New York, Madrid and then some. On Jan. 31 we went back to our lovely church to hear Mass and sing O Niño Dios: “O Niño Dios de Praga rey clemente/ ... Solo de ti de gracia rica fuente/ Dimana, dimana todo bien.”

Then we joined the yearly procession in honor of the Infant Jesus of Prague. The silver jubilarians of HS 1985 had the honor of drawing the elegantly bedecked carroza of Sto. Niño de Praga — with cauliflower heads and dark green fronds festooning the carriage. Behind it were the top brass, so to speak: Abbot Bruno Marin, visiting from Rome, president of the Order of Saint Benedict worldwide, flanked by Rt. Rev. Tarciso Ma. H. Narciso, OSB, abbot chancellor of SBC and abbot of the Abbey of Our Lady of Montserrat, and Rev. Fr. Mateo J. De Jesus, OSB, rector-president of SBC Manila. And behind them were about 60 of us golden jubilarians, in assorted red T-shirts and waving long red staffs that had been handed us. No, they weren’t for fending off the horde that usually surged from the streets to escort the Sto. Niño. Church bells pealed and fireworks shot up towards the clear blue sky. An Ati-atihan contingent led off the long march, up Mendiola and left to Tuberias of the old San Beda Subdivision where regular sporting duels

then called “square” were fought in high school days, principally on 1st Street. On its corner now had been placed a wooden bench, where sat laughing (at us game troopers) the gimpy (except when he’s dancing or putting on the green) Dr. Boy Hilvano and Boy Tuico from Madrid, behind a Sto. Niño image perched on roadside.

Some of us broke off from the procession to demand cold bottles of Coke from the malingering pair. Jess Lindayag cheerily reunited with some old ladies still living in the subdivision; maybe one of them had been his senior prom date. And if Nito “iNiot” Abad of Connecticut hadn’t missed his connecting flight in Guam, he would have arranged for a merienda break at his old place on 1st St. as had been planned.

We waded on past the small bridge and turned an acute right to Dr. Jose P. Laurel St., inched past St. Jude Church and back to the corner of the former Aviles and Mendiola, where we avoided a certain palace by turning right to Arlegui and on to P. Casal corner Legarda.

Taking video footage for historic documentation, I raced up ahead to be surprised by a marching band made up of colorfully clad majorettes swinging their batons and xylophonists tinkling along with a cheery version of That’s All I Want From You (“A sunny day/ with hopes up to the sky/ a kiss and no goodbye/ that’s all I want from you// A little love/ that slowly grows and grows/ not one that comes and goes/ that’s all I want from you...”). I just had to report this to our head honcho, SBC Alumni president Lino “LotKu” Dionisio — how I found it quaint and clearly a message of support from someone dear who had loved that song, and passed away two years ago.  

Then on Legarda past the Tanduay fire station, as the San Sebastian Church spires came to sight, again I had to break off to look at a roadside stand peddling cheap basketball jerseys. Alas, no Cavaliers No. 23, so that I had to settle for a couple of ersatz vintage editions of Jordan and Jaworski (Toyota No. 7). 

I caught up with our contingent just as the carroza went back up Mendiola past Chino Roces’ statue. And from there most of us decided to break off in search of cars and a quick get-away from over-parked Mendiola.

Our common destination was the Villamor clubhouse off SLEX, where for the past three years, courtesy of Gen. Tuti Ebuen, us locals and occasional BalikBedans had been meeting and carousing in the long lead-up to February 2010.

The headcount at this fellowship night was encouraging. Over dinner and drinks, and eventual camaraderie with D.I.’s, the roaring celebration got off to a heady start. Pasalubongs from our Stateside bros certainly enhanced the affair. 

Some were personal tokens of friendship; these guys had hosted some of us who had managed to pay them a visit. Straight from the airport, iNiot Abad finally made it. He had taken an e-mailed request seriously and quickly handed me Levi’s denims and a golf shirt.

Other gifts included three packs of Juan Valdez “Volcan” whole coffee beans from Delfin “Tonts” Amorsolo; a Vodka Monopolowa bottle from Vienna from Ting Aguilar, who agreed that while he was from LA, the Cavs should beat the Lakers in June for their first rings; Macallan 12 single malt whisky from Ruben Alfonso; a carton of Lucky Strike unfiltered from Bobby Muldong; a carton of Camel unfiltered from Boy Huerto (except that it was “policed” or intercepted by “Mayor” Jun Diangco, thus halved); and special Turrones de alicante, jamon serrano and Conde Duque queso from Boy Tuico de Madrid.

Dr. Bobby Barretto had something for everyone, admittedly saved up over months as Eli Lilly giveaways. Raffled off in continuous rounds were beribboned packets of Cialis and in 5mg, 10mg and 20mg dosages. No, they weren’t for the hired dancers. Fred Quijano from the Big Apple raffled off NY Giants and NY Jets jackets and caps. The overjoyed winners included Henry “Hoy Gising!” Yao and Ed “The Penguin” Lim.

Other BalikBedistas were Pastor Boy Gozum, Vito Reyes, Lody Sunga, Bolet Baltazar, Tony Lansangan, and Ronnie Galang, while Fr. Vince Jazminez was expected to pop up any time soon to conduct a Mass for our dear departed classmates.

The names of those who had gone ahead were read the following evening at the UP Executive House, causing us all to fall silent. That Monday the fellowship dinner was hosted by five Bedan doctors: UP Manila Chancellor Dr. Mon Arcadio, Dr. Lewy Pasion, Dr. Baet Valenzuela, Dr. Boy Hilvano and Dr. Boy Pineda. Now they’re known as the Oblation Five, following their surprise number that night. 

Remarks were given by our Prez LotKu Dionisio and two-time valedictorian Vic Alfonso, while the Jubilee Message came from Rep. Rod Valencia, who subsequently distributed Wellness brochures instead of the demanded share in something called pork barrel.

Sonny Vistan reiterated his invitation for a final fellowship night a day after Homecoming Day, which he hosted at Manila Golf & Country Club. And “Li’l Injun” Jun Diangco just had to reprise his war-whoops dance as we reverted to our “Umpa Umpa” yell.

As far as my senior-moment memory goes, in attendance thus far, apart from those already namedropped, have been Ding Reyes, Tuti Vergel de Dios, Frankie Casal, “Pistol” Pete Martinez, Bert Martinez, Boy Santillan, Roy Agustin, Bong Obligacion, Mon Villamar, Melvyn Martin, Ding Wenceslao, Tony Raymundo, Mandy Lorenzo “of Air Force One,” Boy Gueco (who distributed hand-made rosaries), Aru Gallaga, Ross Bautista, Boy Gella, Joey Tianco, Jun Liwanag, Joe Castillo, Tito Orosa, Mariano Dajoyag, and our ever hardworking class secretary Jun Lao. 

We’d done our Beda Go Go Go’s, The Red and The White, and From Mendiola to the Battlefield victory song in preparation for when we take the stage on Homecoming Day, in white long-sleeved shirts with red tie and khaki pants. And I’m sure we would have sung with even greater fervor, as we faced our dear Benedictine fathers and fellow Bedans one more time, our old hymn that was phased out years ago, but which we still cherish: 

“We lift our voices free / To give our praise to thee/ Loyal and true are we/ Your sons shall ever be // The world will hear us sing/ For as one our voices ring/ You with steady hands guide us/ True pride of this land// You gave us the glory/ Our Alma Mater dear/ To be worthy Bedans/ Though we be far or near// And we shall be the Bedans true/ In thoughts, in words, in deeds/ We shall always cherish thee/ Our Alma Mater Dear.”