YOU rarely marry the love of your life.”
Whoever perpetuated this as a wise saying definitely did not meet a couple who celebrated their golden wedding anniversary last Saturday.
Lawyer Felipe Velasquez and wife Ester, former president of Cebu Normal University (CNU), have been each other’s first and only love.
They met in their teens and became their school’s dance club partners. The dances led to a lifetime partnership blessed with two children and three granddaughters.
Wife Ester is filled with stories about their early years of struggle as a young couple, he as a committed lawyer and she as a passionate teacher, and their journey as a God-centered couple.
To celebrate their 50 years since 1966, they identified 50 people who helped them “become who we are.”
These included His Eminence Ricardo Cardinal J. Vidal who advised Mrs. Velasquez to pursue her dream of becoming CNU president.
And former Supreme Court Chief Justice Hilario Davide Jr. in whose firm Atty. Velasquez began his career in the practice of law.
I wish there was time to see how the couple’s other 48 “significant persons” became threads in the fabric of the Velasquezes’ life.
It would’ve been one great story to tell, like some grand epic interconnecting people’s lives.
I shared a table with Vice Gov. Agnes Magpale, Cebu City Mayor Michael Rama, and Cebu Daily News’ Eileen Mangubat. Since we ladies are also UP alumnae, the conversation naturally veered to the UP lot situation in Lahug.
We were, of course, all praises for the gutsy UP Cebu dean, Atty. Liza Corro, who stood pat about UP lot boundaries. This, in light of reports that Cebu City would allow the residents to rebuild their houses, after the area has been reblocked.
But while this is a contentious issues, it would be good to stop this dance of incendiary panderings to the fire victims. Comments about rubbing salt on people’s wounds, or trashing people further to the ground are totally uncalled for.
Fencing the UP lot boundaries has been a burning issue since 1972 when I first joined UP Cebu High as faculty member.
My colleagues and I remember expressing concern about goats of residents suddenly sauntering into our makeshift wall-less classrooms we fondly called gazebos.
Students would hold their P.E. classes in the open grounds and partly worry about the safety of their school bags, seeing that neighborhood children and adults just freely took short-cut trails through the school grounds.
Why the fence was never put up between the Lahug Evangelical Church, borderline of the UP lot’s 14.5 hectares, is a long story.
It includes past dancing around the dilemma of when the fence goes up, whom was UP fencing in and whom, out? Some squatters would clearly be fenced in; would that give them some ploy for “official recognition”?
But if fenced out, would that mean forfeiting the squatted land? Already, there was talk that the 14.5 hectares had actually become only 12.
Also, there’s this very disturbing input that some of the residents are professional squatters, they who have sufficient income to buy their own lots and build their homes, but prefer to dance to other people’s lots.
Or sell their “right to squat” to others.
(lelani.echaves@gmail.com)