Assumption HS Class of 1977

NO MORE SIO MAI, Liza Hocson-Manzano

Liza Hocson-Manzano is Vice President of Finance for Pacific Investment Management Co. (PIMCO), a Newport-based investment firm with over $115 billion in management. Lisa has been with PIMCO for only three years, but has steadily risen up the corporate ladder. She is the only woman and the only Asian in top management. Plus she is also the only Filipino officer the 25-year-old company has ever had. Lisa graduated from Assumption High School in 1977 and completed two years of college also at the Assumption before transferring to University of Redlands, California. Her very first job was as a secretary at the Hilton Hotels Corporation. Later, she moved into finance working for Quotron initially as a secretary and later moved up to executive Project Manager. Lisa also pursued her masters degree at night while working during the day. And, remarkably, throughout this time, she also cared for her only son, Martin, now 13 years old. "He is much taller than me, thank goodness." Lisa's success comes with much hard work, perseverance and prayers. "I was a single Mom for 9 years," she says. Lisa remarried in December 1977 to Jose Mari Manzano. They live in Las Flores, California.

NO MORE SIO MAI

On a brief visit home in 1996, my mother, a devout Assumptionista, and I celebrated Assumption day at Assumption, San Lorenzo. Father Reuter was going to say mass. Oh what a relief it was when my mother decided not to wear her school uniform. When we got inside of the village, it seemed like the streets of San Lorenzo were so narrow. I remember them being much wider. I did not even recognize the park. It looked much smaller...or maybe the trees were just taller. When we got to the front gate of Assumption, my mother waved to the security guard to let us in. She visits the nuns a lot, especially Mother Candida who is already bedridden. So the guards know my Mom well. I was expecting Mang Caridad to open the gate. I wondered what ever happened to him. As we drove past the gate, I looked up at the second floor of the chapel building. It was force of habit. The second floor housed the dormitory. I stayed in one of those rooms for three years during high school. So did Marisa Medina, the Garcia girls, Sonja, Ana, and Mylene. We got down from the car and I noticed the chairs outside of the chapel. I guess they were expecting a lot of people. But it was disappointing because when mass started, I could count the number of people who attended. I was the only one from our batch. The other faces were older but looked very familiar. I saw Paz Bermejo's mom. She and my mom hang-out together when they attend meetings of the Legion of Mary. Father Reuter arrived so late he gave everyone general absolution. I had to smile. Only in Manila do I experience general absolution. My mom whispered, "now you can take communion." I just rolled my eyes. She just had to say that, knowing I rarely go to confession. Much of the rest of the mass, I couldn't remember. The sermon though was about the role of the Assumptionista in society. My mom held my hand when it was time to sing Mother Angela's song -- see, I can't even remember the title of the song. I just know it's in Latin. After the mass, the older girls retreated to an air-conditioned room for merienda.

I decided to walk to see the rest of my old school. I went straight for the fish pond. For some reason, I always imagined big koi in there. But all I saw were guppies. A Sister rang the bell 12 times when it was noon. I heard it to my right. That sent shivers up my spine. It felt as if I was in the Twilight Zone. The volleyball court is covered now and the mango and pine trees are still there. I was thrilled to see cute, little girls in uniform all standing in one long line. Nikki's CuUnjieng-Lao'O's daughter might have been in that line. The older girls were in white uniform. Then I went to the auditorium. The seniors were enjoying a show. I saw the cafeteria and craved for sio mai. I looked around and saw no lines! So I went in and ordered sio mai. But they didn't have any! I couldn't believe they stopped selling siomai. I was so looking forward to pouring brown sauce on it and making "piga" the whole thing with calamansi juice. Then I was hoping to dig in with my fingers to take a slurpy big bite. It was very disappointing so I ended my tour and went back to my mom. She looked at me and knew something was wrong. Maybe it was the Assumption air around me or maybe I just felt like the brat I used to be, but I made sumbong and said, "Ma, there's no more sio mai!" She gave me her sympathetic look and tried to console me by saying, "We can buy sio mai outside." "But it's not the same," I said. And you know what? It can never be the same. We can't ever go back twenty years in time. But boy, I sure we we could. Those were such great times.