silver threads volume 7
DESCRIPTION
The Official Publication of United Bayanihan FoundationTRANSCRIPT
A rich catch indeed in this 1st Quarter
2010 issue of Silver Threads! There are
first of all the winning photographs
from the recently‐concluded Bayani‐
han Photography contest. By them‐
selves these photos can stand alone
and are worthy of display in any ex‐
hibit. Then, interestingly, we have two
takes in the same subject ‐ ʺwhen an
office becomes a placeʺ‐ written from
two different perspectives ‐ George
Manalacʹs and Doc Vir Ofianaʹs, both
mainstay writers of Silver Threads. We
have a sketch on Ed Alcaraz, ST Edito‐
rial Consultant, enthusiastic supporter
of the UBF in all its programs and eve‐
rybodyʹs friend. Talking of which, I
remember when my late wife was un‐
dergoing treatment for a malignancy,
Ed would badger his colleagues in the
CFDM for expensive chemotherapy
drugs which he passed on to me, sav‐
Editor’s Note
Twenty‐six Boston marathoners wannabes comprising
Unilab retirees and the entire staff of the United Ba‐
yanihan Foundation braved the dawn hours of March 7
to join the Run United for Wellness at Global City in
Taguig. Led by UBF Executive Director Bert Lara, the
retirees‐UBF contingent formed part of the 6‐thousand
plus who donned their running shoes to participate in
this yearʹs first big fun run event which was cobbled
together by a high‐power Unilab task force composed
of representatives from ULCH, Corporate Affairs, Em‐
ployee Relations and the Office of Company President
Clinton Campos Hess no less.
Proceeds from the run will go to the Childrenʹs Hour
and the K.I.D.S Foundation.
Fittingly, a Wellness Village was set up to cater to eve‐
ryone regardless of age or gender. Booths that dis‐
pensed gifts packs and products at discounted prices
competed with those where one could get free medical
consultation, listen to health tips, and even join in fun games.
Retirees Jimmy Nuyda, Nano Mariano and Mike Mejillano
finished the 10k. Four others did the 5k while the rest of the
of the UBF coterie gamely hacked the 3k.
Like the tale of the tiger and the deer, everybody has to run
for his life.
ing my family thousands
of pesos at a time when
hospital expenses were
burning a big hole in my
pocket. Ed shrugs it off;
that is just the way he de‐
fines friendship. A num‐
ber of times Ed dragged
me along as a guest to at‐
tend meetings and fellow‐
ships in the various or‐
ganizations where he is a
member. I can tell you now: Ed knows everybody and every‐
body knows Ed. No pushovers, his acquaintances either. They
are the big names in government, media, civic organizations and
civil society.
ST never lacks for contributed articles. In this issue, we have en‐
grossing pieces from Rudy Ibanez and Jerry Esquivel ‐ writings
that are quite revealing as they dig deep into the heart of hearts
of these former heavyweights from Marketing.
Good reading!
Thank you so much for the 4
th Qtr issue of the “Silver Threads” which
I read, reflected on and truly enjoyed.
The issue started o
n the right footing with Long Perez’ “H
OPE”. Just when I thought that life wo
uld not be as exciting upon
retirement (“Caterpillar”), possibilities and a
dventures continued to be opened (“
Butterfly”) to those who dared to liv
e
their dreams. I feel that with UBF, the best is yet t
o come.
The Chairman’s address, Ms. Jocelyn Campos‐Hess, touched
on United Creed: “That Unilab’s great
est asset is its human
asset,” was again brought into focus. A
nd as a retiree, to be addressed as pea
rls of great value was indeed very touc
hing!
Vir Ofiana’s “daily d
ose” was a wake up call. As a person, f
ond of sweets, I was jolted into reality
that white sugar is known
as “White Poison”. Ugh, the truth hurts. No
netheless, I hope it will set me free and be more prudent in taki
ng those deli‐
cious pastries and chocolates.
Mel Santiago is truly
blessed, living a dream after retirement with amazing grace. Yes, w
here she is now is not work but a
hobby that brings her joy, peace, and f
ulfillment. Mel,
a glimpse of paradise on earth?
During Kit Pamintuan’s time, he brought in a n
umber of projects to ensure that sales tar
gets were met. One that I remem‐
bered and was involved in was the Bad
minton Clinic he organized at the Quezo
n City Sports Center. He asked me to draw a
game plan to instruct the officers of Rose
Pharmacy (Q.C.), a wholesaler. A well attend
ed affair it was and one of Kit’s way
to sustain the loyalty of a leading cust
omer.
To Kit and to all w
ho have crossed the great divide, and
to the loved ones left behind, may they find comfort and peace
from Rei Cedeño’s “They are all safely hom
e.”
Ah, never a dull moment with UBF. The
last big one was the “Frolic at the Gym
”, last year’s Retirees Christmas Party. Lam‐
berto Lara’s Production Company made sure that all w
ould enjoy and vanish aches and pain
s and be made to feel young
again. It was an international affair wi
th a number of retirees from the U.S.A. reliving
the old Unilab days.
A number of retirees hav
e warm memories of how Mr. Jose Y. Campos left marks in our lives. That photo of Mr. Campos
with Dr. Ibanez taking a stroll by the s
ea evokes memories when Messrs. Campos, Howard Dee and Alberto Gotuaco
visited
Singapore (1968). They too were takin
g a stroll at Raffles Wharf by the sea, off
Singapore. Yes, it does appear Mr. Campos
brilliance was illumined by the calming effects of blue w
ater, and most probably important decisions made seaside.
We were also a witn
ess how simple his ways were and how he looked
after his health. Before dropping by
our place, he
requested only lugao (porridge) with
hibe (dried shrimps) be served.
Thank you Mr. Campos for coming and enriching o
ur lives.
I never realized tha
t this ageing body of mine was a chest full
of treasures, until “Tawa Corner” ann
ounced it.
And lastly, to the E
ditorial Board, my warmest congratulations for skillfully puttin
g out a work of art. And to the Publish
er,
our gratitude, for taking the directors
hip of Untied Bayanihan Foundation se
veral notches higher! May your tribe increa
se.
Jaime T. Miralles
ny enemy is a formidable foe, but
more so if you can’t see it. And,
worse still, if it’s ubiquitous and
insidiously invasive.
It’s called fine‐particle air pollu‐
tion which is measured in terms
of Total Suspended Particulates
(TSPs). These distinct particles are
composed of airborne dust, gases, soot, mist, acid
fumes and metallic and mineral granules produced
by motor vehicles and fuel‐burning facilities. One‐
third of TSPs are coarse, measuring 10 microns (a
micron is one millionth of a meter); two‐thirds are
2.5 microns or less and they pose the greater danger
since they are inhaled into deeper parts of our air‐
ways. In a past issue of the reliable British medical
journal Lancet, researchers described how particles
lodged deep within the lung, can cause inflamma‐
tion that leads to blood clotting, then to respiratory
and circulatory disorders and ultimately, death.
Outdoor pollutants from vehicular and indus‐
trial emissions are quite well known to us. Carbon
dioxide, carbon monoxide and nitrous oxide are
known to combine with hemoglobin in our red
blood cells dislodging the oxygen that these cells
carry to all parts of the body. Acute poisoning from
these gases can be fatal. In Sweden, these pollutants
have been reported to increase the incidence of heart
attacks by 50 per cent!
We are less aware of indoor pollutants. Do
you know that chloroform, formaldehyde, and ben‐
zene can emanate – “off‐ gas”—from paints, build‐
ing materials and dry‐cleaned clothes? Or, that im‐
properly vented woodstoves and scented candles
can emit polycylic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs)
which can cause cancer?
Carbon monoxide can escape from space
heaters, furnaces, stoves and other appliances and
poses a threat in a poorly ventilated room. There can
even be radon gas, another odorless and invisible
cause of lung‐related deaths, produced from decay‐
TOXINS (2): Foul air, the invisible predator!
A ing uranium in the soil and may seep indoors through cracks in
the floor.
Formaldehyde deserves special mention since this is the
active ingredient in embalming fluid, but is being used in a lot of
other places besides dead bodies – in plywood panels, fiberboard,
plastics, upholstery, carpets, paper products, cosmetics, eye
makeup, nail polish and permanent‐press clothing. The chemical
is extremely irritant to the lungs, sinuses and liver. Low‐level ex‐
posure to it is associated with eye irritation, asthma and depres‐
sion.
Now in the kichen – smoke from overheated cooking oil,
especially previously used oil, may contain cancer‐producing
chemicals! Pest control chemicals and household cleaners often
used in the kitchen area can be toxic if inhaled or ingested. Dish‐
washer detergent can react with food residues to form chloroform,
a toxic gas.
And, oh yes, lest we forget! Do you know that tobacco
smoke contains, by one account, about 4000 chemicals including
sulfuric acid that eats away the linings of the lungs and arteries?
Or, as shown in a recent study of young adults who smoke 5 to 6
sticks a day, that just one cigarette can reduce their arterial elastic‐
ity by 25 % compared to nonsmokers? Consider how scared stiff
must be the arteries of heavy smokers!
Have you ever imagined that air fresheners and personal
care products (e.g., men’s aftershave, women’s foundation
makeup) contain chemicals called terpenes that can cause harmful
reactions with ozone, the product of automotive exhaust fumes
interacting with sunlight? Terpenes react with ozone (itself an irri‐
tant) to form so‐called volatile organic chemicals or VOCs that can
trigger allergies including asthma and related respiratory ill‐
nesses. And – are you aware that lipsticks may contain lead that
can pile up in the body over time and lead to infertility and mis‐
carriage? Or, that aluminum (alum) added to antiperspirants may
be linked to breast cancer as British scientists have reported?
Just as less thought about is the risk that humidity in a
house or building can enhance the growth of microbial contami‐
nants such as mold, mildew and dust mites all of which can cause
allergies and trigger asthma.
Bewail the air that makes us breathless. And to think that
we cannot survive without air for longer than three minutes!
By: Doc. Vir Ofiana “Old age”
should be
embraced as
a harvest
time when
the riches of
l i f e a r e
reaped and
e n j o y e d
while it con‐
tinues to be a
special pe‐
riod for self‐
development
and expan‐
sion. We, all
of us, carry
within our‐
selves the
core, the es‐
sence of an
eternally youthful spirit whose inner light is de‐
signed to warm and illuminate all the days of our
life.
The whole of life should be a journey toward
youthful old age, toward being forever cheerful,
optimistic, imaginative, creative, loving and car‐
ing for others.
Aging is just another name for growing. Old age,
like time, is a gift!
(Ashley Montagu is a distinguished anthropolo‐
gist and author of Growing Young and more than
forty books; he was professor and head in the de‐
partments of anthropology at Rutgers University,
Harvard, Princeton and the University of Califor‐
nia)
Ed’s note: Growing old sure beats dying young
anytime!
The process of growing young is called neoteny or
pedomorphosis. The human traits associated with
childhood are referred to as neotenous or pedomor‐
phic traits. They include eagerness to learn; open‐
mindedness; curiosity; playfulness; imaginative‐
ness; unbridled laughter; humor; energy; honesty;
and, most valuable of all, the need to love.
The truth about the human species is that in body,
spirit or mind, feeling and conduct we are designed
to grow and develop in ways that emphasize child‐
like traits. In fact, the retention of juvenile physical
and behavioral traits into adulthood is one of the
major qualities that differentiate human beings
from animals. Thus, barring social restrictions,
when humans are able to retain their neotenous
qualities well into adulthood, they can revolution‐
ize their lives and become for the first time, per‐
haps, the kinds of creatures their heritage intends
them to be: youthful all the days of their lives!
Unfortunately, society has ingrained in our culture the
conventional wisdom which requires that as we grow all
“childish” traits must be left behind just as one does his
or her outgrown clothes. The penalty for non‐
conformity is to suffer the stigma of the “second child‐
hood” in which possession of “childish” qualities is erro‐
neously equated with regressive behavior associated
with mental and physical break‐down as in Alz‐
heimer’s disease and senile dementia. Senility is a disease
‐‐ not an inevitable consequence of aging.
Perhaps, the accurate description of “old age” is not
“second childhood” but “second wind.” For the later
years can truly be the happiest of one’s life. Many of
those who have achieved a ripe old age admit to feeling
embarrassingly young, as if such feeling were an unex‐
pected freshness, not unlike that renewed burst of en‐
ergy that the long‐distance runner experiences at the fin‐
ish line.
Easter Sunday, 2009
Mr. Clinton Campos Hess
President and CEO, Unilab
Group
Dear Clint,
Let me first take this opportunity
to congratulate you on your new
position as President and CEO of
Unilab, a position you more than
deserve.
I am a warrior of Unilab. I con‐
tinue to be. I am one of those
they say is an original, a pioneer.
Though I am a hybrid, I came by
way of stock swap between two
leaders in the pharmaceutical
industry. I may not have started
my career in Unilab but I got
absorbed early enough to have
some claim of being a home‐
grown warrior. Ours was the time when
streams were crossed with the reliable Toy‐
ota Van because most of the time roads did
not exist. Air‐con in a car was but a dream.
You bathed in dust, driving a hundred kilo‐
meters, to touch base with a doctor in the
barrio. Those were the times when you left
your car by a river, ride in a banca, walk a
distance and leave your stocks in the only
drugstore in town. No, there was no detail‐
ing done, the drugstore owner who was
also the doctor asked you what was in
your bag and the other big box you car‐
ried on your shoulder. How much did all
of the stuff cost? You were paid in cash,
so you could rush back to the last banca
that would ferry you across the river.
The doctor’s wife walked with you while
you’re finishing the drink she insisted
you took and the rice cake she wrapped
for your baon. “Mag‐ingat ka hijo at hu‐
wag mong masyadong tagalan ang pag‐
balik.”
An anecdote about your other Grandpa,
Ambassador Howard Q. Dee, captures
an era that pictures the pioneering spirit
of the time. Let me share it with you: In
one of their expeditions in the mountains
of Banaue they decided to visit an Ifugao
village for whatever assistance they
might be able to extend. The Land
Cruiser could only go so far; they had to
go on horseback for an hour before tak‐
ing the long walk to the village. Mr. Dee
out of habit looked for a drugstore first.
There was none. There was a sari‐sari
store, though. They have a few bottles of
San Miguel Beer, some bread, and Pepsi.
To his surprise the store was carrying a
box of Medicol! Can you believe that? I’d
like to think that the pioneers of Unilab
made that happen.
The kind of Bayanihan we knew then
was the presence that Amo (that’s how
fondly we call our Chairman, your
Grandpa) exudes. He was the symbol of
trust, someone who looked after us like a
By: Rudy G. Ibañez
“Senior management led by President and CEO Clinton Campos Hess tours several Unilab com‐
pounds; the Key Personnel greet the employees with good wishes for the coming year while
congratulating them for their excellent performance the previous year.” (Bayanihan, Feb. 2009)
father. A man whose words bonded us to the knowl‐
edge that he would care for our family should disas‐
ter strike, that he would be there when we needed
him most. And so we worked unmindful of the diffi‐
culties, the long hours, the meager pay, and the bene‐
fits that were yet to come.
After thirty‐four years of service I retired from
Unilab. I told myself I would not fade into nothing‐
ness. I remember the words of General Douglas
McArthur standing before the Corps of Cadet at
West Point the day he retired, “Old soldiers never
die, they just fade away.” In my mind I was not retir‐
ing, I was simply changing careers. Besides, I did not
feel helpless about what the future would bring. The
umbilical cord was not cut. It was like moving from
one house to the next. The Unilab Foundation
opened its doors to me. The Foundation contributes
to the continuing strength of the company. That the
recognition was bestowed on us speaks well of the
Company’s care for its employees. It was as if Amo
was saying, “Pag‐pasok mo sa Unilab ay lalabas kang
Unilab pa rin.”
Unilab Forever!
It is true some of us Pioneers are dead. But we refuse
to fade away; I refused to fade away. The doors of
academe became the new challenge for me to con‐
quer. Amo is at my side, the teacher who taught me
lessons of life, of what malasakit, pakikisama, hiya,
and utang na loob means.
I was not that confident in the beginning. I feared in
my search for new horizons I would take the philoso‐
phical nuances of a thesis unmindful of the morality
they projected. Young minds are like shoots of bam‐
boo that bend to the wind. I was afraid with the con‐
stant bombardment of unmanaged information for
the sake of academic freedom I would turn out gen‐
iuses expert in their chosen professions but retarded
in their spiritual growth.
I had no reason to fear. The institutions I associated
with cared. You cannot measure the satisfaction of
seeing young minds wonder at the discovery of new
concepts, new knowledge that you helped them un‐
derstand.
I kept in touch with Unilab. A few times I was fa‐
vored with a call from your Mom, our new Chair.
Those short moments reminded me of Amo’s care for
us, of the intensity of a man on fire whose purpose
was to serve our country and uplift the well‐being of
the Filipino no matter in what modest way. Your
Mom has your Grandpa’s heart. She spoke of her
concern when she assumed the highest position in
Unilab: “Bayanihan, the soul of the company must live in every‐
one’s heart. That no air will separate us, the old members wel‐
come the new with open arms, the new exert all efforts to im‐
bibe what Bayanihan spirit is all about, and in the end we are
one.”
In‐between my teaching load and helping manage a university I
discovered new lessons in life. That it takes more than an an‐
nual feast day or a special bonus to inspire people working with
you. Jane Sunley, Managing Director of Learn Purple says,
“Creating a motivated workforce is less about monetary re‐
wards and more to do with management styles. Consistency is
important. If you want to be an inspiration to your staff, you
must walk the talk. Be an example of what you want from oth‐
ers. Don’t blow your top if you have a bad day. If things go
wrong deal with it; and always be energetic even if you don’t
feel like it.”
Clint, you are now at the helm of Unilab and much is expected
of you. There is only success in your path. The road you have
chosen has been travelled by a man greater than all of us, Amo,
your Grandpa. At the end of the day Amo is right, the one les‐
son I will always remember from him is, “people make the dif‐
ference.”
In time we will not be able to distinguish who Amo is and who
you are. You two have become one, now greater.
I am a Unilab Warrior forever!
All the best always,
Rudy
JY Campos, the Compleat Motivator, leading the cheers during the
THERAPHARMA rally in Hongkong with President Sonny Samson,
Rudy Ibañez, Tan Wan Lian and Tito Granda.
Filling up medicine vale forms and get‐
ting replenishment for one’s mainte‐
nance medication have been its business
‐ as‐ usual attraction. Over the years,
however, the UBF office has evolved
into a “contact point” somewhat remi‐
niscent of the ACC/TCC days of old
minus the coverage plans, a place at
least to exchange long‐time‐no‐see
greetings or huddle on the run. Thanks
to its widened space and improved lay‐
out – and, of course, splendid service of
its staff‐‐ the office has lately been more
accommodating not only to increased
foot traffic but to more varied activities
as well. Not surprising then that you
would see people either engaged in
spiritual healing or practicing for the
choir or planning for the next ST issue.
On some days you would also bump
into people geared up to undertake the
foundation’s corporate social responsi‐
bility (CSR) tasks, e.g., medical mission
and urban farming. On a regular basis,
you see people pass the time reading
the papers, some dozing off their bore‐
dom over the usual headlines. Still oth‐
ers would be in a round‐table huddle
over a cup of brewed coffee whose
strong aroma usually gets
visitors to gravitate to‐
wards the kitchenette—
specially those who have
been hooked to caffeine
due to the bottomless
coffee they had been
treated in the canteens
all those years. Just so
you would know ‐‐ a
whiff of coffee aroma
will stimulate some
brain circuits to release
dopamine, the good‐
feeling neurotransmitter.
And, yes, anything that
makes you feel good can
be addicting.
Indeed, the office has
become a convenient stop‐
over for many retirees
who happen to be in or
near the UNILAB premises
for a specific mission. Un‐
knowingly, it is providing
retirees the healthy social
network to make up for
the interactions they used
to have in the old work‐
place. The diminution, or worse, the loss of intercon‐
nectedness is the deadly bane of retirement. This we
know because people who continue to have whole‐
some social support get to live longer, healthier lives.
They have stronger immune systems and can better
cope up with stress; they sleep well, too.
Life, we agree, is not perfect but in that imperfect exis‐
tence we can create perfect moments. In the UBF of‐
fice, the encounters among retirees who know exactly
who they are and where they came from make perfect
uplifitng moments out of the jewels of shared bayani‐
han experiences and other cherished memories culled
from the field, office, lab or the production lines.
The UBF watershed is a place where retirees no more
mindful of their former ranks can have the luxury,
however fleeting, of trying , as it were, to “bring back
the hours of splendour in the grass, of glory in the
flower.” There, as Barbara Streisand suggests, is the
place for us!
Try to visit the United Bayanihan
Foundation office, and one of the things
you’ll notice it’s seldom empty of people:
retirees other than the perennial customers
who go there regularly to buy or have
their prescribed UL medicines filled, sub‐
mit medical receipts or pick up checks for
reimbursement.
The people central to these per‐
sonal reasons, are those who go there for
activities other than official business.
These are retirees who seem to have found
a second home, those who come to join
informal gatherings of old and new ac‐
quaintances while sipping freshly brewed,
steaming hot coffee that enriches conver‐
sation; listen to the burning news of the
day (some people have the gift of tongue);
get a dose of the latest in old Unilab or
news about former buddies who hibernat‐
ing in the province to take care of farm or
poultry; or scan newspa‐
pers and magazines scat‐
tered on a center table.
Since its renovation some‐
time ago, the UBF office
has become a ʺplace”, a
haven for tired feet and
souls wearied from mun‐
dane cares, a refuge from a merciless sun or venue to share stories with old and new‐
found friends, stories that drift along with time, told and retold and getting better with the
telling, at times enticing a laugh here, a teardrop there, because they highlight the spring‐
time – yes, the green years ‐– of our lives.
And UBF Exec Diirector Bert Lara’s heart swells with happiness. That’s how the
shepherd wants to see his flock. And that’s how it’s founder, JY Campos, envisioned the
foundation to be: a bastion of unbreakable bonds, still dominated by the spirit of damayan.
Retired employees from the provinces who come for some business in Metro Manila and
visiting former employees from abroad never fail to drop in to relish that rare atmosphere
of being still a part of the Unilab Family.
The UBF today is not only an office with a friendly, accommodating staff, but a
place of hello and welcome, and, shall we say, a showcase that makes one feel that the
Foundation cares. –George Mañalac
Against the backdrop of the bigger picture, it will for‐
ever be the subject of debate whether in stumbling
upon a scene or a diorama one has, to his singular
good fortune, found Bayanihan, or, whether one sets
out deliberately, to discover Bayanihan in the mun‐
dane as it spools out in an unending stream of ordi‐
nariness. Regardless, the word escapes exact defini‐
tion and for ages we have tried to drill down on it, the
better to define it, in the vernacular even, as if rolling
the synonyms familiarly off our tongues and printing
them in italics, would somehow bring the concept to
bay, lassoed and owned at last. Sama‐sama. Malasakit.
Damayan. Matulungin. Utang na loob. Mapagbigay. Salu‐
salo. None of the above or all of the above?
In the end, we throw up our hands and decide that
the topic is much too rich for our blood. We have
written, if somewhat unintentionally, and lived the
prologue; let future generations write, and live as
they must, the epilogue. What it boils down to is the
definition we of our genre of Unilab are most familiar
and at ease with; our “comfort zone” explanation of
why we do things with that characteristic aplomb
that borders on chutzpah, and with such resounding
success. We have made our lives simpler with a
straightforward orientation of Bayanihan as all of
communal effort and sharing in the bounty with
which “togetherness” is inevitably rewarded. Actu‐
ally it puts a good working handle on the issue and
has been the steadying helm in episodes of famine
(few of them, anyway) or when the good times
rolled.
When on the 30th Anniversary of the United Bayani‐
han Foundation last year (See what we mean? Our
founding fathers did not turn Bayanihan upside
down searching for subtle meanings. They just
upped and said let us create a foundation, through
which we shall channel manifestations of our Bayani‐
han) it became obvious that the occasion must be
marked in some memorable way, cogitation deliv‐
ered the idea, not earth‐shaking initially but becom‐
ing more and more so as it got tossed around, to
hold a Bayanihan Photography Contest among em‐
ployees and retirees. Well, why in heaven’s name
not? (1) It has never been done before. (2) With to‐
day’s mobility and access to some pretty cool gizmos
like 5 megapixel mobile phone cameras, digital cam‐
eras the size of a slice of meat loaf and laptops and
PCs that upload and download like a hot knife cut‐
ting through butter, taking good photos is child’s
play. (3) Most important of all, it is a “picturesque”
probe into our grasp of the concept, a kind of read‐
my‐lips in black and white or full color.
At final bell, we were not at all disappointed. In fact
we were short of ecstatic over the turnout and result.
Thus when Ronald Apolonio of Westmont submit‐
ted his IIsang Bangka which ran away with the Grand
Prize and P20K in cash, we see in the black and
white picture not only 4 men pulling in unison to
bring in a net full of the previous night’s catch, but
Grand Prize Winner Ronald Apolonio’s moving photo, Iisang Bangka
feel the cut of sharp pebbles on bare feet and the
sun relentlessly beating down. No pain, no gain.
Ah, now it sinks in. No such thing as a free lunch;
you gotta do your share.
Not surprisingly his Dasal won for Anthony John
Lumpan of UAP‐Medichem the 1st Runner‐up and
People’s Choice award for a total take of P25K. Be‐
yond the dramatic effect achieved by the seamless
blending of candlelight, rosary with crucifix and
fingers clasped in prayer (it is also a very technically
sound photo with a masterful use of focal length),
Dasal evokes an older and more original representa‐
tion of Bayanihan, the Carlos “Botong” Francisco
mural displayed at the Unilab Main Lobby. Many
have read the woman carrying a baby in the mural
as in fact the Madonna and Child. That in itself
does not strike a discordant chord in Unilab – wit‐
ness the Holy Infant Jesus Chapel in our midst and
the many many religious activities we hold and host
throughout any given year. Sa tulong ng Diyos at
Bayanihan lahat ng bagay ay kaya natin abutin. Of
course in Dasal the Infant is now Man and hangs
quite lifeless from the cross. But that is the essence
of our faith – death and resurrection.
2nd Runner‐up Lambat ng Buhay (P10K cash prize) of
Lee Tagoc of UAP‐Medichem, explores the fishing
theme further, though the emphasis now shifts to
the transfer of a vital skill as an assurance of conti‐
nuity and survival in the future. Premised on that, it
is easy to make the Bayanihan connect which gravely
proclaims in the United Creed that the human asset
is our greatest asset and vitalizes that committed
belief with a strong HROD that leaves no stone un‐
turned to insure that our human capital fit the re‐
quirements of the job and whose skills are continu‐
ally upgraded through training.
Nine other entrants in the photo contest that ran
through the entire last quarter of 2009 bagged the Im‐
age Excellence Award which carried a P3500 cash
prize. Of the more than a hundred entries submitted,
30, including those in the winning circle shall see print
in a coffee table book which the UBF contemplates this
year.
As an exciting exercise, the recently‐concluded Ba‐
yanihan Photography Contest has few parallels in the
response and result it generated. But the thought‐
provoking and ultimately fulfilling participation of the
viewer is trying to see beyond the photos’ konstrukt
and coming face‐to‐face with Bayanihan as a truth and
reality that guides our everyday life in a company that
has long embraced it.
Grand Prize Winner: Iisang Bangka by Ronald Apolonio
At the awarding of the winners, Retiree Renato Juntereal bags his nth prize
UNILAB heads grace the exhibit launch at the Bayanihan Center
o most people Novem‐
ber 11, 2009, was just
another day. Nothing
beyond the ordinary. It
was a work day, a mar‐
ket day, or a day for
doing one’s daily rou‐
tine. But not to retiree Eduardo S. Alcaraz
(Eddie/ Ed). He felt light when he woke up early
that morning. There was sprightliness in his
body. That morning Ed was kaibigan ng mundo.
And for good ‐ unusually good ‐ reason. On Nov.
11, 2009, Ed marked his 50th year of continued
service to Unilab. Truly a privilege, a rare
achievement, unreached by most employees. Ed
was formally retired in December 2000, but man‐
agement asked him to stay on and continue serv‐
ing the company through the PR agency he’d put
up. Apparently management believed that with
his long experience, his wide, reliable contacts in
the public and private sectors, the media in par‐
ticular, and his insight into the public relations
work, Ed could still render valuable service to
the company, which as with most institutions,
faces concerns related to PR on an almost daily
basis. Most important of all is his fingertip famili‐
arity with Unilab’s operations, and his trustwor‐
thiness. Public relations managers are usually
privy to corporate confidential matters and
Unilab could not just entrust this sensitive post to
any outsider.
There’s something else above all these, some‐
thing implicit in his character: loyalty. Ed’s loy‐
alty to the company is beyond any scale measure.
Unilab has been his life. He forsook a potentially
lucrative career that usually awaits an Ateneo
Law graduate. As a detailman he got swept up in
the Unilab bayanihan system of damayan and the
close circle of fellow employees who shared his
own goals and ideals. Simply put, he loved
Unilab “even in his sleep.” He’s still making his
regular media rounds to maintain important
contacts and sits with them in coffee gatherings,
as hedge in case “debts” have to be called in in
the future.
Although many of his Ateneo classmates have retired as CA judges,
RTC judges, and not a few making senior partners in big law firms, Ed
has zero regret about the path he chose.
In the early 60s he was sent to Indonesia to help set up the moorings
for Unilab’s business in that bustling country, an assignment accom‐
plished after a few back‐breaking months. Ed was to remain at the
head of Unilab’s Indonesia marketing operations for 17 years. Busi‐
ness grew rapidly and today, with its large thriving population, Indo‐
nesia is the biggest Unilab market in the region, next only to the state‐
owned pharma company, and bigger than Pfizer, UL’s fierce rival in
the Philippines.
At 75, Ed looks more like 60, the up‐side of an active life and appetite
for seafood and vegetables, a diet common among Cagayanos. In col‐
lege he was a member of the Aquila Legis Law Fraternity and Bayani‐
han Dance Troupe of international acclaim in folk‐dancing.
To this day he holds membership in professional organizations. He
was elected president of the Rotary Club of Mandaluyong but re‐
turned the compliment to focus on his work. He was a member of Ma‐
nila Overseas Press Club (MOPC) for several years. He has turned
down bids to run as president of the Public Relations Society of the
Philippines, but acceded to board memberships and high committee
posts, including the committee chairmanship of the recently con‐
cluded 45th Annual Anvil Awards. While heading Unilab Corporate
Affairs, Ed represented the company in the Pharmaceutical and
Healthcare Association of the Philippines, the Chamber of Filipino
Drug Manufacturers and Distributors, and the American Chamber of
Commerce.
When he returned to Manila in 1990 to head Corporate Affairs as
DVP, the first thing he did was to beef up Unilab’s media presence in
areas where it was needed most through the help of the CAG staff,
networking, and personal contacts.
Not too many people in Unilab now ‐ whether from the ranks or occu‐
pying executive positions ‐ know about when Eduardo Sanchez Al‐
caraz, a young, good‐looking mestizo from North walked through the
proud portals of Unilab decades ago. That is just the way things are.
But Ed is happy with himself, for his humble contributions to the
company, and friendships he established in half a century.
It just as quickly dawned on him when he woke up that November
morning of his 50th Unilab year, that these are just as priceless and
meaningful as a pat on the back, a warm handshake, or a few nicely
written words on a plaque plated in gold.
George Mañalac
T
It’s been a while since I got into the list of retirees
and senior citizens. After 40 years with the company, I
now have the luxury of reflecting upon life’s successes
and failures. I have forgotten where I learned that to
understand life, we must do it forward, committing
fewer mistakes in the process. With the average lifespan
of 66‐68 years for urban males, what shall I do while
waiting for His call for final retirement from this world?
What shall I do in the next 6 to 8 years? It is easy
and fun to recall pleasant memories of your high school
days. You beam with pride to have had classmates com‐
ing from poor families but who later ended up as con‐
gressman and now city mayor; another who became a
member of cabinet; another an editor of a leading busi‐
ness newspaper; yet another who joined the military
and later became the president of the police academy …
and a host of others who chose to become doctors and
are now living comfortably in the US.
One cannot forget the exciting assignments one got
in the job – the favorable results from activities planned
and perfectly executed by you. Having served some of
the most iconic members of the medical profession, the
experience is humbling. How did they ever put up with
me? Was their experience as pleasant as mine?
A closer look at home brings back memories when
your partner and the children easily fit in a small car –
when everybody’s appointment was lunch out with you
or an outing in one of the heated springs in Laguna on
weekends.
The tears start as you dwell on the pain of some
experience. The many wish lists one had in childhood
which remained a wish. Wearing hand‐me‐downs on
Christmas Day; frustration in the job; career setbacks
and less‐than‐fair treatment one received. Being told by
your child you were never home when we needed you.
From readings and actual experience, one develops
valuable insight that become the basis of what one does
in life.
It is said that life is a series of contradictions: pleas‐
ant and unpleasant; good and bad; sorrows and joys;
exciting and boring; plenty and few; a tear and a smile;
sickness and health. The experiences are split dead in
the middle.
Life is just a series of choices. Dr. Victor Frankle, in
his book “Man’s Search for Meaning,” concluded that
man’s ultimate freedom is the power to choose the kind of
response to whatever comes in the course of his life‐ good or
bad; pleasant or unpleasant. One must never give up the free‐
dom to choose.
Overheard a friend: “Ang buhay, parang life!” If life is a
choice, what should be my guide in living it? In one of my job
assignments in Thailand, a Filipino officemate complained
that local members of the workforce always said, “Mai Pen
Rai” which literally means “it’s alright, it doesn’t matter.” He
said it from the context that his subordinates were not serious
about goal achievement in the job. When I had a chance to
confront a Thai co‐employee, I asked him to explain their fre‐
quently‐used “Mai Pen Rai.” He paused a bit and calmly said
that in everything he did, he put importance to those related
to his God, King and family – in that order. And if things not
related to the foregoing were not accomplished, it didn’t mat‐
ter anyway. It appeared that in making choices, they knew
what mattered for them, just as I always suspected they did
What really does matter in life? The 60 years passed like
a breeze. Have I lived like I really knew what mattered to
me? Is life’s goal universal or personal? Shall the remaining
years, God willing, be a time to rest weary mind and body, or
a time to review past choices made? Antoine St. Exupery
wrote a line for his character: “That it is only with a pure heart
that one can see what is essential because what is essential is invisi‐
ble to eye.”
The insight says that life has to be lived with a clear con‐
science and a heart in the right place. A countryman whom I
admired in life was Dr. Rey Punong Bayan, a self‐confessed
atheist who died rather unexpectedly soon after retirement.
It’s a pity I never had the chance to ask him: What does
really matter in life?
Up until now I can only say that I have faced up to the
consequences of my choices and decisions, blaming nobody
for any misfortune. Hopefully, I shall be allowed to bring
along pleasant memories about this life. I ask the forgiveness
of people I was unfair to and offer thanks to those who
brought joy and happiness to me. Perhaps this is the true in‐
sight into life as a series of contradictions. Omar Khayyam,
the great Persian poet and philosopher wrote in his Rubbaiyat
“ strange is it that of the myriads who, not one returns to tell
of the road, which to discover, we must travel to.”
By Jerry Esquivel
Its record of good corporate citizenship
already secured, UNILAB, through
UBF, embarked on a new and major
shift in its social mission. Last March 8,
2010, UBF entered into a MOA with the
Rizal Provincial High School in Pasig
granting 30 of its deserving graduating
students a full college‐course educa‐
tional assistance. The financial aid cov‐
ers the expenses for tuition and living
allowance subject to compliance with
certain scholastic performance criteria –
mainly grades obtained ‐‐ and location
of preferred school.
Selection of scholars was based on a
number of factors, the major qualifier
being that the student not only has
good grades but that he or she also
comes from an economically disadvan‐
taged family. The roster of scholars
could make a good plot for a touching
story. Take the case of Lady Lyn Din‐
eros, 17, one of 9 siblings whose father
is jobless and
u n d e r g o i n g
weekly dialysis;
her mother is a
court interpreter
earning P16,000
a month. Four of
the siblings, in‐
cluding her, are bound for college this year.
Or the case of Bernadette Menor, 17, the eldest
of 7 siblings whose parents are fish vendors;
they share a house with relatives. Or the case
of Jessa Garcia, 17, one of 5 siblings whose
father left them 2 years ago; her mother works
as a housemaid. Jessa lives with her best
friend. And then, still part of the heart‐
wrenching stories, the case of Daisy Relato,
17, the youngest of 6 siblings whose mother
died when she was just 2 years old; she lives
with an aunt and grandmother and gets sup‐
port from a sister. Her father had remarried
and has a new family.
The assistance granted each scholar is 100 per
cent of the actual tuition or P1000 per semes‐
ter whichever is lower; and living allowance
of P1500 per month if the preferred college or
university is within Pasig, or P2500 if the
school is outside the city. The scholar will con‐
tinue to avail of the assistance provided he or
she meets certain terms such as maintaining a
weighted average of 80 % or its equivalent; he
or she has not failed any subject nor incurred
any disciplinary action in the school; and that
he or she participates in UBF’S
CSR activities.
In its very basic concept, Bayani‐
han, UNILAB’s avowed corpo‐
rate culture, is a natural spring‐
board to the idea of social contri‐
bution. To the company,
“corporate social responsibility”
is thus quite naturally a conse‐
quential extension of its culture
to the society at large. In provid‐
i ng s cho la r sh ip gran t s ,
UNILAB’s new tack on CSR is a
timely opportunity to help in the
alleviation of poverty. It is an
ennobling start, however mod‐
est, to help educate poor stu‐
dents and provide them a better
chance for gainful employment
in the future.
In contributing to the wealth of
the nation through education,
UBF’s “Gabay ng Kabataan” pro‐
gam makes good economic
sense.
An aspiring scholar is interviewed by UBF Executive Director Bert Lara
Summer fifty‐five or so years south of my life was sun‐splashed mornings swimming in the Tumaga River under the San Bernardino Bridge in old Zambo‐anga. Tong and Itoh, my boyhood chums, and I, would titter precariously on the ledge of a broken concrete slab protruding incongruously out of the flowing waters and dove or jumped in. The slab was the vestige of a flood that had ripped the retaining wall of the bank under the bridge. We went through the same routine without tiring, it seemed: clamber up the slippery platform, dive in, swim around and repeat. Our yells filled the air – Apeman screams and Chavacano cuss phrases, as explicit and dirty as the original Spanish. Chinga te, frio agua! Hijo de la gran p‐ ‐a! Yo Tarzan, aah‐ah‐ah‐ah‐aaah!
After the rice stalks were shorn of their golden crowns, great flocks of mayas came, sweeping over the newly‐harvested fields in swaying, dipping, un‐dulating clouds, their high‐pitched song riding light on the summer breeze. But we were ready for them. We’d trimmed guava branches and coated the limbs with sticky gum made from the sap of the kamanse tree. We stuck 2 or 3 desiccated birds (trophies from previous hunts) on the branches as decoys and planted the twigs where we thought the flocks would land. Out from across the far edges of the fields the rice birds would suddenly appear, tow‐ering in synchronized flight then bearing down re‐lentlessly on the decoys, the flocks finally merging into one. A sawing violin concerto from a thousand throats grew in intensity as the birds banked and landed to feed on the remaining grain.
With a loud cry we rose from where we’d lain hid‐den and still on the ground. Arms flailing and shout‐ing enough to wake the dead, we rushed forward and the flock rose in a brown mist and veered away from the sun‐baked apparitions stumbling loose‐jointed on the stubble and the cracked earth. All but for the unfortunate ones whose tiny feet were hopelessly mired in the gooey stuff. We felt the warmth of their tiny bodies in our palm, and the terrified thumping of their tiny hearts, and smelled their sweet bird smell before we slipped them into the bamboo prisons we’d made for them.
Tong, Itoh and I were the three greatest musketeers that ever tramped the rice fields, our slingshots cocked in hand, the pockets of our shorts bulging with stones, marbles and if we were lucky, with steel ball bearings that flew true and hit hard. Nothing was safe from us.
Once a red‐crested ulok (in Zamboanga it is called kanuktok) flushed ahead. In the blink of an eye Tong
drew on his slingshot and released a stony projectile that caught the unlucky bird in the rump, tumbling it in mid‐air. He couldn’t have done better with a shotgun. The water fowl ended up a tasty adobo for the stone‐slinging trio. At another time we chanced upon a co‐bra on the grassy portion of an irrigation ditch. A hail of stones from 3 slingshots rained on the snake until it writhed its last.
Right about now, the fruit of the mangga carabao was at that stage when the smooth white seed was still free in the fruit cavity. In a few more weeks the seed would attach to the flesh as it began to ripen. But now we were in the tienda buying five centavos worth of raw bagoong which the inday wrapped in a fire‐wilted banana leaf and inserted in a triangular wrapper fashioned from old newspaper. Thus provisioned, the inseparable trio climbed a favorite tree on the property of Itoh’s family, crawled along the thick limbs and plucked the green fruits within reach. We pared the fruit with our Boy Scout knives and dipping the sour but crisp morsel in the shrimp paste, proceeded to make short shrift of it. We kept at this labor until our teeth grew sensitive and we said no mas and shimmied down the tree, the remnants of our gluttony strewn on the ground all around.
With barely a month to go before school opened, the ritual passage to manhood could no longer be pushed off. The jeers and prodding of those who had gone before us stung our ears and made us feel ashamed. Soon our unwilling footsteps led to the killing field partly hidden in a clump of banana plants. There the butcher awaited, his pale face impassive, his pocket knife shaving sharp from being honed on oilstone and stropped on leather. Earlier we had some‐how raised thirty centavos each, enough to buy a pack of Diamond cigarettes – all the payment he required.
“Et tu, Brute?” Julius Caesar gasped as he fell to the most unkindest cut of all. First it showed white where the skin parted. Then red, as blood began to flow. Dutifully, you sent a green stream of chewed guava leaves on it –phtoo!‐ and then the butcher bundled it all up in strips of gauze bandage. Consumatum est. Tong, who was next, turned ash‐grey and ran away, screaming. Even now I sometimes wonder if he ever went through the baptism of the knife; I never did find out.
So the summer lazed away, arcing and peaking sun‐soaked and redolent with the smoky scent of leaves burning and the salty tang of the sea when the wind blew in from the channel. Somewhere in the middle of May the rains would come, tentatively at first, and heal the fissured earth and the refreshing smell of wet soil was etched forever on you.
June and classes were just down the road. But you didn’t care. You lived only for this summer, carefree, sunburned and deadly with the slingshot. Of course you didn’t know then that that ugly girl who sat in front of you in class and whose pigtail you occasionally pulled and at whom you sailed paper planes, would suddenly begin to look like Venus. After all, it had only been weeks since you went through the rite of passage.
Bob works hard at the office but spends two nights each week bowling, and plays
golf every Saturday. His wife thinks heʹs pushing himself too hard, so for his birthday
she takes him to a localstrip club. The doorman at the club greets them and says, ʹHey,
Bob! How ya doin?ʹ His wife is puzzled and asks if heʹs been to this club before. ʹOh
no,ʹ says Bob. ʹHeʹs in my bowling league. When they are seated, a waitress asks Bob
if heʹd like his usual and brings over a Budweiser. His wife is becoming increasingly uncomfortable and says, ʹHow
did she know that you drink Budweiser?ʹʹI recognize her, sheʹs the waitress from the golf club. I always have a Bud at
the end of the 1st nine, honey.ʹ A stripper then comes over to their table, throws her arms around Bob, starts to rub
herself all over him and says, ʹHi Bobby. Want your usual table dance, big boy?ʹBobʹs wife, now furious, grabs her
purse and storms out of the club. Bob follows and spots her getting into a cab. Before she can slam the door, he jumps
in beside her. Bob tries desperately to explain how the stripper must have mistaken him for someone else, but his
wife is having none of it She is screaming at him at the top of her lungs, calling him every 4 letter word in the book..
The cabby turns around and says, ʹGeez Bob, you picked up a real bitch this time.ʹ BOBʹs funeral will be on Saturday.
BOB
BEN By Daniel Shelton
cannot
think of
any bet‐
ter way
to cap
UBF’s
30th year
anniver‐
sary
celebra‐
tion than
the re‐
cently‐
con‐
cluded
photo contest and exhibit. It certainly gives all of us an excel‐
lent reason to celebrate because of the overwhelming response
and the positive outcome that the exercise generated. Indeed,
the program confirmed beyond reasonable doubt that Unilab’s
inimitable Bayanihan culture is very much alive within the
hearts of every single employee and retiree. It makes us proud
that we have in our own little way helped in ensuring that the
legacy we inherited from the Founders lives on.
I remember Mr. Ben Yap discussing with me in front of
the Bayanihan mural, his own understanding of the painting,
based on Mr. Campos’ interpretation. The real meaning is actu‐
ally more than what our naked eyes can see. It surprised me to
know that it has a deeper meaning than just working together
and sharing the produce.
Bayanihan is purposeful. It is determined and decisive. Bayani‐
han, just like the people in the mural, needs to constantly move
the better to adapt to the changing economic and business envi‐
ronment. Bayanihan is certainly change, much like the house
being transferred to a new location, to a place where business
thrives and opportunities abound. But it is made possible only
SILVER THREADS
Silver Threads is a quarterly publication of The United Bayanihan Foundation for Unilab retirees and their families. Comments, suggestions or contri‐butions can be sent to the Editor‐In‐Chief, care of UBF Secretariat, United Street, Mandaluyong City or emailed to [email protected] or fax to 8581835 . Tel No: 858‐1000 Loc.7264
EDITORIAL BOARD PUBLISHER Lamberto S. Lara EDITOR‐IN‐CHIEF Gonzalo E. Perez ASSOCIATE EDITOR George J. Mañalac EDITORIAL ASSISTANT Carlos T. Ardosa LAYOUT & DESIGN Spot On Productions COORDINATOR Marisa M. Cayabyab
I
CONTRIBUTORS Danilo A. Kagahastian Aurora G. Macaspac CIRCULATION Miguel Antonio G. Hidalgo EDITORIAL CONSULTANTS Guillermo C. Gastrock Eduardo S. Alcaraz Virgilio M. Ofiana, M.D. CHAIRMAN OF THE BOARD Jocelyn Campos Hess PRESIDENT AND CEO Clinton Campos Hess
with the help of the community. Many hands enable
the occupants to carry the hut. This is exactly what
Bayanihan in Unilab means: damayan and tulugan.
We have all seen and witnessed how the
values were again defined and given life by the win‐
ning photos. The expressions might have changed
from generation to generation but the core values of
Bayanihan remain constant. It is therefore a great
disservice to even think that Bayanihan no longer
exists.
Thanks for a job well done. Let’s not get
tired of living and reliving the collective message the
photos convey.
Report on UBF's Fund Raising Project Project Typhoon Ondoy
Cash Report Donation
Collection 310,220.50
1,371.00 ($30)
Total 311,591.50
Less Expenses Rice 22,125.00
Bags 14,840.00
Grocery Items (Batch 1)
119,911.95
Grocery items (Batch 2)
154,692.35
311,569.30
Balance 22.20
Beneficiary Retirees
Submitted by Marisa Cayabyab
Noted by Lamberto Lara
Audited by Edwin Navarro