About
Foreword
THE FIRST call for contributions came out during Christmas eve–a lone text message amid a sea of Christmas greetings to a few Varsitarian amihans I managed to keep contact with, a message asking them to look back and remember. Perhaps the season was a high time for reminiscing, which was why a few readily obliged, even if the deadline was set in seven days.
Several phone calls, text messages, e-mails, and deadline extensions later, we managed to collect a handful of entries, enough to make a folio of sorts. Originally, this magazine was supposed to be a part of the features souvenir magazine containing write-ups about a few notable V alumni and alumnae. But the high, unexpected turnout of contributions prompted us to create a separate folio, that is, Amihan, a 48-page magazine graced by former Varsitarian staff members themselves, especially made in celebration of Valik Varsi 80. No other title could better represent this collection, for indeed, it is a magazine by amihans for amihans.
We tried to procure pieces from every decade, and we did, with the exception of the ‘20s and the ‘30s for obvious reasons. To do so, we had to loosen the requirements and accept even those that were not about the Varsitarian, as long as it was written by a former V staffer recently. But this was the least of our problems, because most adhered to the theme.
Reading the entries was definitely the best part in the making of this folio. In every piece herein, there is always that feeling of wistfulness that carries the reader back to the Varsitarian of a certain place and time–whether during the ‘40s, described by F. Sionil Jose as “the age of the typewriter, the flatbed press, and the linotype,” or the time of Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo in the ‘60s, with the V office looking “so old that at first I thought it had been transferred, stone by stone, from Intramuros to España(.)”
The work involved in the Varsitarian was never easy, then and now. Rina Jimenez David of the ‘70s said that the V taught her more than what she learned in class, like, “how to type stories straight from rolls of newsprint that your editors tore off even as you were thinking of the next paragraph,” and even “how to traverse the huge football field and avoid getting hit by balls and players as you hurried to do press work.” Fast forward to three decades later, when the selection process was as grueling as ever: “Nariyan na pagkahaba-habang exam na halos umaabot sa anim na oras, ang kinakatakutang panel interview, at siyempre, ang pagpasa ng kauna unahang article na pinutakte ng mga marka at pang-ookray ng mataray na editor,” as Michael Celis from batch 2005 said.
But the memories that dominate these pages are the Varsitarian “beyond the bylines.” An unsolicited subject taught in V was “Food Appreciation 101,” which until now is happily enjoyed by the current staff: “Umaapaw ang pagkain at inumin kahit hindi Pasko,” Reynaldo Candido from the ‘90s said. Lifetime friendships (and romances) were forged not just inside the offices of the V, but even in Maligaya Beach for the ‘70s batch and Balayan, Batangas in the ‘80s.
No matter how much the times have changed, the Varsitarian, the 80-year-old institution in the University of Santo Tomas, is the thread that connects all of these amihans together. How many times did the mantra “Once a V staffer, always a V staffer!” hogged these pages? Many time. It is infinite in our hearts.
So to all the amihans who heeded this call to stroll down the memory lane, all the credit goes to you. Here is proof that the Varsitarian is not merely a publication but also a family, strengthened by 80 years worth of history and tradition.
Kudos to all Varsitarian amihans!
