Coming home

Iwill always try to make it home. Just this week, I had the pleasure of traveling to and from Manila and Baguio, four times. I just had to. Sunday, I went down, up Monday, then down again Tuesday and back Wednesday.

Last week was the Philippine Military Academy Homecoming. I am an adopted member of the Maringal Class of 88. The senior host this year at 30 years. I being the only Baguio born thus far, immediately, I am part of the planned activities for the home coming.

Just for this, I had had again the pleasure of coming to and fro from Baguio to Manila to discuss the faithful event held last week. In various occasions I am requested to take part in the planning of the said event to come home.

As early as last year the planning has already began, a task traditionally given for a host class. The junior host of 25 years and the 30 years their senior, who at this time are both still in active service. Except of course those who have graduated in West Point or Annapolis.

The Class of 93 and 88 will host this year's homecoming. That I knew. I will march alongside my Bok's and Mistah's. All along the hollowed grounds of Borromeo Field in PMA. Yearly I will know of this, because during the Panagbenga month long celebrations, the third weekend is always dedicated to the men and women and their families to come home.

Timing is just perfect for me to enjoy all this after 30 years for this class. Except that it also coincided with a holiday declaration for Chinese New Year the Friday. Good for many as they being in active service will have all the opportunity to come home for this.

I am fortunate (or unfortunate) to be part of the homecoming. Being the only Baguio boy. I am suddenly significant for them to come home. I am called many times to go down Manila, and knowing me, will come back home immediately after the planning, or any meeting.

I learn too that on Saturday like always, a special breakfast, lunch picnic and dinner will ensue for the host classes. I however learn that the class