Maniolas

NEW YORK— The first sign was hair. Not the Broadway musical, with its trademark nudity on stage, psychedelic light show, and celebration of the Age of Aquarius, but one’s own hair. You might say our rebellion had its roots, forgive the pun, in the simple act of allowing one’s locks to grow to lengths frowned upon at school and polite society. Nothing of course compared to our more radical confreres at the University of the Philippines, for whom demonstrations were part and parcel of student life. In contrast, in the staid precincts of Ateneo’s Loyola Heights campus, we had a Prefect of Discipline patrolling the halls on the lookout for infractions of the dress code: neckties and regulation haircuts. The fact that he was a balding ex-Marine added a frisson of irony to his search-and-destroy missions. The administration was afraid that even a slight loosening of the code would lead to us students letting our hair down, literally and figuratively, so best not to have too much of it. As editor of Heights, the literary magazine, I remember wanting to publish an editorial railing against this curtailment of our right, but the moderator (a professor who had oversight) nixed it, saying the university was acting in loco parentis. To us, it was simply loco. The agents provocateur were the English lads, the Fab Four: John, George, Paul and Ringo. My introduction to the Beatles was when my oldest brother, Henry, who had been living in New York, returned for a Read More …

It’s the love month. No wonder many people at this time of year choose to tie the knot. But in this country of 7,107 islands, where would you hold those precious moments of walking up the aisle and sealing your future? READ FULL STORY