Willie’s Jeep

THANKS to the wonders of Internet, I received last week from our classmate Wally the following message: “It is with deep sorrow that I announce the demise of Willie de Lara. He was found by his wife, sitting in his chair, deceased a few hours earlier. Willie is a very caring individual; let’s offer prayers for his eternal rest.”

* * * One reflex comment went out: “What sadness! We remember Willie full of life and spunk; not a mean bone in him. We learned our catechism with him. We include him in our mass and prayers.”

* * * Abe, another batch mate, chimed in: “I am saddened to learn about the sudden passing of my good friend, classmate, and partner Willie. He was a good and caring person. I remember the times when we hitched with him in his Willy’s Jeep to serve mass at the Loyola Residence house at 5:30 in the morning. He served us well at Pascual Lab for several years as finance manager until he decided to leave for the US…”.

* * * There followed a mournful litany from batch mates in grade school Class ’56, high school ’60, college ’64. “Storming of heaven with our bootless cries,” the exchanges continue up to press deadline…

* * * We will miss Willie, as we miss our growing up in the world, secured by folksy homilies of Fr. James Gordon and Fr. Roque Ferriols’ accounts of “When we were young and full of hope…”.

Dem were the days before today’s traffic mayhem. Those of us who didn’t hitchhike on Willie’s namesake Willy’s Jeep walked to swathe a shortcut footpath across the fields of Loyola Heights.

Back then, the world was black and white; technicolor was in the movies. I never made sacristan at Sanctuary Society (Latin prayers were too much and getting up before the cock crows was too early); but I was at Fr. Raymond Gough’s weekly Mass Club which instructed catechumens on the perfect sacrifice. (BTW, Fr. Gough as dean of studies had declared me ex cathedra over a Rebel Without A Cause; but as notable exception, he repatriated me on his reincarnation as student counselor.)

We distinguished between venial and mortal sin; and we won and lost at NCAA and had several celebratory bonfires. It was Blue Eagles vs. Green Archers (even when neither was championship caliber).

After graduating, we set out like sheep into the world inhabited by wolves – into government, business, arts, defense, journalism, tourism, religious life, or whatever vocation. I had my own innings, grateful for my sainted mother’s prayers to be given more chances well beyond my efforts.

We remember Willy and the many others who have gone before us. The Jesuits invested their lives at Loyola Heights to form men for all seasons: Those of us who have stamina and the good fortune to carry on continue with the best of intentions.

Most of us have reached (or will soon arrive at) the passing grade of three score years and fifteen. (My own plumbing hasn’t been working to a T; and I doubt if the repair job is worth the expense.)

We still try to earn our Daily Bread. But otherwise we may leave to sons and daughters whatever unfinished business by the time we write 30. FEEDBACK: