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Oscar S. Moreno, Cagayan de Oro (2026)

08/10/2026

Grateful for the thoughtful Teacher’s Day surprise from my Xavier Ateneo Law students. And having them sing Top of the World by The Carpenters made the moment even more special. 💛

Teaching is a privilege, one that allows us to share, learn, and grow with one another.

To all teachers, professors, and educators, Happy Teacher’s Day!

May we continue to inspire and make a difference, one student at a time.

Daghang salamat!

08/10/2026

THE STANDARDS I BROUGHT INTO PUBLIC SERVICE

Before I entered politics in 1998, I had spent 21 years in the private sector.

Those years, from 1977 to 1998, were among the most important in preparing me for public service.

I worked with Far East Bank, Citibank, and the Ayala Group, where I spent about 16 years.

I learned banking, finance, investment banking, corporate management and the complexities of doing business, including in the international environment.

But looking back, the most valuable things I learned were not necessarily technical knowledge.

They were the standards and values expected of us.

Professionalism. Discipline. Accountability. Preparation. Respect for commitments. And the responsibility to deliver results.

In the private sector, I learned that credibility takes years to build but can be lost very quickly.

I also developed friendships and professional relationships with people whose judgment and integrity I respected.

And those relationships mattered to me.

When I entered Congress in 1998, I brought those lessons with me.

During my first term, I belonged to the minority. I valued the opportunity to scrutinize government policies and exercise our oversight responsibilities.

In my second term, I became part of the majority and eventually chaired the Committee on Economic Affairs. I was able to participate in economic reform legislation and other important congressional work.

But after six years, I decided not to seek a third term.

Congress, I realized, was very much a numbers game. And there were times when maintaining one’s principles within that environment could be particularly challenging.

I felt that I could contribute more effectively in a different role.

So I ran for Governor of Misamis Oriental.

For nine years as Governor, and another nine years as Mayor of Cagayan de Oro, I had the opportunity to apply much of what I learned in the private sector.

Planning. Budgeting. Reviewing projects. Monitoring implementation. Holding people accountable.

But beyond management practices, there was something that always stayed at the back of my mind.

I did not want the people who had known and respected me in the private sector to be disappointed in how I conducted myself in government.

I had worked with people who held themselves to high professional standards. I wanted to carry those same standards wherever public service took me.

Looking back, I am grateful for those 21 years before politics.

They gave me knowledge, experience, friendships and confidence.

But more importantly, they gave me standards that I tried to live up to throughout my years in public office.

Perhaps that is one lesson I would share with younger professionals.

Whatever career you choose, pay attention not only to the skills you acquire, but also to the values and habits you develop.

Because someday, you may find yourself in a completely different position, with much greater responsibilities.

And when that day comes, your experience may help you do the job.

But your values will help determine how you do it.

07/10/2026

Hallooo, hallooo, hallooo, mga higala! 🍕🔥

Ready for a pizza experience nga lahi gyud? 👀🍕 Kuyog ta sa 📍KANAYITA, located at Legacy Building, Gen. A. Luna St., Cagayan de Oro City!

Good pizza, good vibes, and a place where food, music, and creativity come together. 🎨🎶🍕

Unsa kaha ang mga pizza nga atong matilawan?

Atangi ang full vlog, mga higala! Salu-salo ta sa KANAYITA! 🎥🍕🤎

07/10/2026

𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

During my years in public service, I learned that borrowing is not necessarily a bad thing.

Governments, like businesses and families, sometimes need to borrow.

A road, hospital, school, government center or other major infrastructure may be needed today, even if its benefits will be enjoyed for many years.

But there is an important difference.

When government borrows, the people eventually pay.

And very often, the people who will still be paying are not only those living today, but those who come after us.

That is why, for me, the most important question is never simply:

“Can we borrow?”

The better questions are:

Do we really need it?

Is this the right priority now?

Is the cost reasonable?

Can we repay it without sacrificing essential services and other obligations?

And perhaps most importantly:

Will the people receive enough lasting benefit to justify the debt we are leaving behind?

There is another lesson I learned in government.

Before beginning something very large, it is worth looking at what is already on your table.

Projects already started.

Obligations already incurred.

Services that still need funding.

Promises that still need to be completed.

Because borrowing capacity and capacity to implement well are two different things.

A government may be legally capable of borrowing money.

The more difficult question is whether it can spend that money wisely, transparently and effectively.

Public officials come and go.

Administrations change.

But long-term obligations remain.

That is why every major public borrowing should be accompanied by careful study, complete information, transparency and an opportunity for citizens to ask questions.

Not because borrowing is automatically wrong.

But because public debt deserves public accountability.

In the end, perhaps the simplest test is this:

If we ask the next generation to help pay for something we build today, we should be able to look them in the eye and say:

“It was worth it.”

06/10/2026

BEFORE THE MEDALS, THERE WAS A SMALL BOY WITH BIG DREAMS

Boxing has fascinated me since I was a boy growing up in Balingasag.

To me, boxing has always been more than two people fighting inside a ring.

It is a test of endurance, grit, willpower and, most of all, aspiration.

Through the years, I followed the careers of many Filipino boxers—from national champions to those who fought for world titles.

So when I became Governor of Misamis Oriental in 2004, I wanted to give young people from our own communities an opportunity to excel in the sport.

In December 2004, we started the Misamis Oriental boxing program.

I was fortunate to meet Bobby Jalnaiz, an accomplished boxer who shared the same desire to discover and develop young fighters.

The idea was simple:

Find young people with potential and give them a chance.

We screened aspiring boxers from Misamis Oriental and Cagayan de Oro. We provided them a place to stay, coaching and training, and opportunities to compete.

But there was another important part of the program.

They had to stay in school.

The young boxers were given a monthly allowance, but there was a condition: boxing could not become an excuse to abandon their education.

If they wanted to remain in the program, they also had to attend regular school.

That was important to me because we knew that not every young boxer would eventually become a champion.

Boxing could open doors, but education would give them another path in life.

At any given time, we could have around 30 young boxers living and training together.

I enjoyed visiting them during their training.

I watched closely.

Who was serious?

Who was improving?

Who had the discipline to condition himself every day?

Sometimes I would ask the young boxers to demonstrate their form and sparring movements so I could see how they were progressing.

And sometime around 2008 or 2009, one of the smallest boys in the group began catching my attention.

His name was Carlo Paalam.

Carlo must have been around nine or ten years old then.

He was small, but even at that young age, there was something noticeable about his conditioning.

I had a rather simple way of checking whether our young boxers were serious about physical conditioning.

I looked at their abs. 😊

And Carlo’s were already noticeable.

Whenever I asked the boys to show what they had learned, Carlo was often among those eager to demonstrate.

He was small.

But you could already see discipline, confidence and determination.

Another important part of Carlo’s development came when Elmer Pamisa joined our coaching team through our partnership with the national boxing program.

Something special developed between Carlo and Elmer.

It went beyond the usual relationship between an athlete and his coach.

They developed something close to a father-and-son relationship.

As Carlo progressed and eventually joined the national pool and trained in Baguio, Elmer remained beside him.

Years later, Filipinos would come to know Carlo Paalam on a much bigger stage, eventually winning an Olympic medal and representing our country internationally.

But whenever I see Carlo compete, part of me still remembers that very small boy in our boxing program, training with the others and eagerly showing us what he could do.

Our boxing program, however, was never only about Carlo.

From the time we started in December 2004, and later when I became Mayor of Cagayan de Oro and continued the program, hundreds of young boxers passed through our training system.

Not everyone became a champion.

Some succeeded in boxing. Some eventually left the sport and pursued different paths.

And that was precisely why the requirement to remain in school mattered.

We wanted boxing to give these young people an opportunity.

We did not want it to take away their other opportunities.

I would like to think that many of them left the program as better young men because of the experience.

Because boxing teaches lessons that remain useful even after you leave the ring.

Discipline.
Respect.
Endurance.
Courage.
And the ability to get back up after being knocked down.

Looking back after more than two decades, perhaps that was the real purpose of the program.

We wanted to produce champions, certainly.

But more than that, we wanted to help young people build a future—inside or outside the ring.

We wanted to give them a fighting chance.

And every once in a while, when you give a young person that chance, one of those little boys may grow up to make an entire country proud. 🇵🇭

05/10/2026

Congratulations, Carlo Paalam! 🇵🇭

Another proud moment for the Philippines. Continue to inspire us all. Mabuhay ka, Carlo! 🥊🇵🇭

05/10/2026

YOU DON’T HAVE TO KNOW EVERYTHING BEFORE YOU START

In 1977, I joined Far East Bank and Trust Company as a young lawyer.

I was hired as an Assistant Manager in the Legal Department. It was a good position for someone my age, and I was grateful for the opportunity.

There was only one problem.

I knew practically nothing about banking.

I had no banking experience and almost no background in finance. Yet I was assigned to handle documentation and prepare legal opinions, with around seven or eight personnel working under me.

So I had two choices: worry about what I didn’t know—or start learning.

I started learning.

My boss was Atty. Hernan T. Villavecer, and I was fortunate to be surrounded by experienced people.

I went through previous legal opinions of the bank and its external lawyers. Whenever I encountered a problem, I would search for an earlier case involving a similar issue and study how the lawyers before me had approached it.

Then I discovered something in the bank’s library that became particularly useful.

It was a three-volume American reference on banking. Each volume must have been about three inches thick. 😊

Those books became my Bible.

I read and referred to them constantly.

Little by little, the unfamiliar became familiar.

I learned not only the legal side of banking but also how the bank actually operated. I got to know the people in the branches and in trust, treasury, accounting, business development and the other areas of the bank.

And every six months or so, I was fortunate to be promoted until I eventually became Senior Manager.

Looking back, there is a lesson there that I appreciate much more today:

You don’t have to know everything before you start.

Sometimes you have to start first—and then work hard enough to learn what the job requires of you.

But my Far East Bank years were not all work.

There was also basketball.

Our coach, Val Rosabal, was from Talisayan. Perhaps knowing that I was from Balingasag helped me get his attention. 😊

But any special treatment ended there.

Practice was at 5:00 in the morning, almost every day.

Far East Bank had a strong basketball tradition, and during our time we were able to retain the championship in the interbank league.

And then there were the friendships.

There were six of us who became particularly close:

Sonny Coloma, Joy Joy Escaño, Roger Antalan, Val Rosabal, Efren Bordador, and myself.

Friday evenings became our regular sessions. We took turns hosting.

Those were the days when there was a curfew from midnight until 4:00 in the morning. So once midnight came, nobody could simply leave.

We stayed overnight.

And we talked. 😊

Banking, economics, work, life, jokes—and probably many subjects that sounded much more intelligent at midnight than they really were. 😂

At four in the morning, when the curfew lifted, we could finally go home.

Those were simple but very fulfilling years.

I entered Far East Bank knowing almost nothing about banking.

I left with knowledge, experience, promotions, basketball memories, and friendships that became part of my life.

But perhaps the most useful lesson was this:

You don’t become good at something before you begin.

You become good because you begin—and then keep learning.

Read.

Ask questions.

Learn from people who know more than you do.

Make mistakes and correct them.

And tomorrow, try to know a little more than you knew yesterday.

Whether in law, banking, business, public service—or something completely new—the first requirement is not perfection.

Sometimes, you simply have to start.

04/10/2026

“THAT IS OPOL.”

Some of my fondest childhood memories are of Sundays with my Lolo, Dr. Lino Maagad Seriña.

He was my maternal grandfather, a pre-war doctor and one of the early doctors of the old Province of Misamis.

I must have been less than ten years old when, on many Sundays, Lolo would bring the family to a piece of shoreline property he had in Calacala, Balingasag.

And when I say family, I don’t mean only our household.

The whole clan would go.

Mama’s brothers and sisters, their children, our cousins—we would all make the trip together.

There was no car ride to the beach.

We walked.

From Lolo’s house in the poblacion, it was about two kilometers to the shoreline.

I remember us walking almost in single file, passing beside the Balingasag cemetery—which, for a little boy, could be a little scary. 😊

We would cross a small makeshift bridge and continue walking until finally we reached the sea.

And once we saw the beach, everybody wanted to jump into the water.

We would swim together, play, have our lunch by the shore, and sometime around two or three in the afternoon, begin the walk home.

They were very simple Sundays.

But there is one thing Lolo used to do that I remember very clearly.

Every now and then, while we were by the shore, he would point across the bay.

And he would tell us:

“That is Opol.”

As a little boy, I didn’t completely understand why he kept pointing it out.

To me, it was simply another place across the water.

Only many years later did I understand.

Lolo was showing us where he came from.

His roots were in Igpit, Opol. He had lived in Talisayan before eventually settling in Balingasag, where he spent many years with his family.

But he never forgot where he came from.

And apparently, he wanted his grandchildren to remember it, too.

Looking back, I realize that those three simple words—“That is Opol”—were Lolo’s way of passing a piece of our family history to the next generation.

There were no genealogy websites then.

No family tree stored on a computer.

Just a grandfather standing by the sea, pointing across the water and telling his grandchildren:

That is where we came from.

Perhaps that is one of the most valuable things grandparents can give their grandchildren.

Tell them the stories.

Tell them who their grandparents and great-grandparents were.

Tell them where the family came from.

Show them the places, if you still can.

Children may not fully understand those stories when they first hear them.

I certainly didn’t.

But many years later, they may remember.

Just as I still remember that Sunday scene from my childhood—Lolo standing by the shore, pointing across the bay and saying:

“That is Opol.”

Maayong Domingo sa tanan.

Kamo, nahibalo ba inyong mga anak ug mga apo kung asa nagsugod ang inyong pamilya? Basin karong Domingo, maayo nga sugdan nato og istorya kanila. ❤️

03/10/2026

WHEN I HITCHED A RIDE HOME TO BALINGASAG

When I was a high school student at Xavier in Cagayan de Oro, there were Fridays when I had one small problem.

I wanted to go home to Balingasag—but I had no money left for the fare.

So what did a young student do?

Manghitch. 😊

Fortunately, I knew exactly which truck to wait for.

There was a Chinese businessman in Balingasag named Mr. Khu King Hong, one of the town’s prominent traders at the time.

His cargo truck regularly traveled between Balingasag and Cagayan de Oro, bringing agricultural products to the city.

By late afternoon or early evening, the truck would make its return trip to Balingasag.

So on those Fridays when my pockets were already empty, I would wait for Mr. Khu’s truck.

And when it was ready to leave—

I climbed onto the back and rode home with the cargo. 😂

It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel.

But when you’re a student with no money for fare and you badly want to go home, comfort is not very important.

What mattered was that the truck was headed to Balingasag.

And once I arrived, the weekend could begin.

There would be kinilaw—bangsi or bariles—with friends.

Sometimes chicken hinalang with saba.

Basketball in the afternoon.

And on some evenings, harana with the barkada.

Then came Sunday.

Mass in the morning, lauya at home, and by Sunday afternoon I would start packing again for the trip back to Cagayan de Oro and another week of classes.

Then Friday would come—

and I would want to go home all over again.

Looking back, those weekends were very simple.

There were no fancy restaurants or expensive entertainment.

Sometimes I even had to ride at the back of a cargo truck just to get there.

But I was always happy whenever I reached Balingasag.

Perhaps that is why, after all these years and all the places life has taken me, Balingasag has never stopped being home.

When you’re young, you don’t really think about roots or belonging.

You just know there is a place where your family is, where your friends are, where the food is familiar, and where you feel you belong.

And somehow, you always want to find your way back.

Even if sometimes—

manghitch pa ka. 😊

Kamo, naka-experience ba mo sauna nga manghitch para lang makauli? Unsa inyong pinak memorable nga biyahe pauli sa inyong hometown?

I-share daw inyong istorya. Basin daghan diay ta. 😊

Oscar S. Moreno

08/10/2026

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