PREFACE: A FOREWARNING? The Pearl Harbor attack of 7/8 December 1941 created uncertainty as to the future among Philippine residents. They included my parents and me, for we were unaware that an event of nearly a decade earlier (ca. 1933) in effect had foreshadowed our wartime fates. That event occurred during a visit to Baguio, the country’s (nearly) mile-high summer capital, roughly 150 miles north of Manila. One day we drove the 40 or so miles from the Pines Hotel (where we usually stayed) to Mount Santo Tomas, which is about a half-mile higher than is Baguio. (Described in Wikipedia as a “potentially active” volcano, it last erupted in 1641.) We parked at the base of the mountain and hiked up the steep earthen trail to the Lodge at the top (there was no road to the top then). We had intended to return the same day, but rain, accompanied by premature darkness, compelled us to stay overnight at the Lodge rather than hike down the rain-slick trail in the dark. We had no idea, of course, that our somewhat ill-starred escapade augured that eventually we would be involved, next time unwillingly, with another place also named after the 13th-century theologian Saint Thomas Aquinas, aka Santo Tomas. Nor did I know that the unpleasant version of Santo Tomas would affect my entire post-1941 life.
[Note: From our overnight stay at the Lodge, I remember several details: a blazing fireplace (something new to me); a cat that I played with; sleeping in my father’s shirt in lieu of pajamas; and a fabulous view of a clear sunrise, with clouds floating by below our elevated location, and Baguio in the distance, as it is in this photo from the mountain top.]
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