General Admission
The ‘Generals’
By Al S. Mendoza
(Happy birthday to my brothers living in Mangatarem—Kuya Vicente Nov. 7, and Kuya Onie Nov. 10. I owe you the usual, Kuyas.)
* * * *
ON the street where I was born is located a vacant lot close to my heart.
That vacant lot on General Luna Street used to be the property of Fernando Poe Jr.
It still is vacant today.
(Yes, Julie & Joy, FPJ has also roots in my hometown. A prime lot in the poblacion used to be the property of Bae Marta Reyes, FPJ’s grandmother.)
You want more history?
When I was, maybe, 6 or 7, FPJ filmed some shots of that 60s blockbuster movie where he had starred in, “Low Waist Gang,” in Mangatarem.
The story is told that during a filming break, some town thugs tried to provoke FPJ into a fistfight.
FPJ did not oblige.
He was slapped in the face.
He did not retaliate.
He walked away—cutting short the shooting of the film.
He promised never to come back to our town again.
But time heals all wounds and so, he broke his promise.
In 2000 or thereabouts, FPJ sneaked into town to crown our Queen during our annual fiesta.
Before the coronation, FPJ sat beside me and journalist-poet Sol F. Juvida.
“Please take care of your fellow superstar,” said our Mayor Ted Cruz to me.
I grew up there, on General Luna Street, near that vacant lot.
I used to play hide and seek in that lot, now owned by my aunt, Tia Erling Gomez—the beauteous wife of Dr. Guico from Binalonan.
The folks of my youth called our street, “The street of the Generals”—the “Generals” being the wives of the street’s prominent lot: Doctors, lawyers, engineers, industry captains in Manila.
My mother (bless her soul) would become the barangay captain.
Elected as the town’s ABC (Association of Barangay Captains) president, she would retire undefeated—even unopposed in many elections.
I was groomed later to follow in her footsteps, especially when I got myself elected consistently in high school polls.
But I was not cut out for politics.
I figured if I got into it, I’d lose my interest in writing? Maybe.
To my surprise, even my own mother discouraged me from running as congressman of the second district in 1992.
This, after I told her, Tio Condring Estrella was supportive of my planned foray into politics.
“You can start your congressional bid with a budget of P200,000,” said Tio Condring, the baptismal ninong of my brother, Efren (bless his soul).
“Say thank you to your Tio Condring, anak,” my mother said to me. “But if I were you, forget about politics.”
I listened to her—as always.
Mothers know best. That’s why they are called the “Generals” on the street where I lived.
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