Gonz, Ashok, Jun V and, yes, Biking Jess

By Al S. Mendoza

WHO said late is bad?

Not me.

Gonz Duque, my neighbor upstairs, had just done good to all Pangasinenses and I’m confident no one would brand my compliment for him as late, right?

If someone does, I forgive him/her.

To me, Gonz Duque has become a hero himself in Pangasinan lore.

Reason:  Like the unsinkable condor, Gonz did the remarkable, courageous act of heading a committee to search for the true birthday of Pangasinan.

After a painstaking research, assisted no less by some of the province’s greatest minds, Gonz had finally nailed the day when Pangasinan was born: April 5.

With steely resolve, Gonz announced the date with pride and honor brimming out of his heart.

Cheers!

Last month, Pangasinan finally celebrated its real birthday, April 5.

“Gonz, I must say, did his homework well,” said Raffy Baraan, the hardworking provincial administrator.  “Without his erudition and hardnosed attitude in accomplishing his task, we would still be in the dark up to now as to when really is the founding day of Pangasinan.”

My salutations also go to Guv Spines, who defied conventions as well as rabble-rousers when he appointed Gonz Duque to head the committee.

As usual, well done, Guv Spines.

And, may God help you so that your new three-year tenure would continue to bring more progress to the province.

And now to Ashok, a well-loved guy for his frankness and big, big heart.

A while back, my teacher in high school, Anita O. Valdez, was confined in a Dagupan hospital.

Upon her discharge, my teacher, now retired, found out she was short of cash.  She sought the help of her brother living in New York City, Renato (my high school classmate).

Renato e-mailed me his sister’s predicament.

I called up my kumpadre, the eminent Jun Velasco (the one directly above me here, who else?).

“Don’t worry,” he said.  “I have a friend who will extend help immediately.”

It was Ashok, who else?

“How much do you need?” came Ashok’s text-message to me.

Just like that.

I barely knew him.

And so, Ashok came to the rescue.

I haven’t paid Ashok the amount up to now.  And it’s been almost three months.

“Nothing to worry about,” came Ashok’s text-assurance.  “Jun V’s friend will also be my friend—if it’s OK with you.”

I next texted Jess “Biking Jess” Garcia: “What’s Ashok’s full name again?”

“Ashok Vasandi” came Biking Jess’s reply.  “Great guy like Jun V.”

So, what’s wrong with being late?

I’m late myself in settling my debt to Ashok.

Hate late?

A good deed, when acknowledged, is never, ever late.

My teacher’s on the way to full recovery.  To me, that’s what matters.

See you soon, Ashok.  And thanks, again.

* * *

P.S. I doff my hat off to John Capitan Lucero, who had just hurdled his studies at the distinguished West Point Military Academy in New York, US of A.  He is the son of Cynthia, my childhood friend whose house is right across from our house in General Luna St., Mangatarem.  Cynthia’s Dad, Tio Erning, used to be the town’s Postmaster General.  Cynthia’s Mom was my elementary teacher, the Ninang of my Kuya Vicente. On May 10, election day, I kissed the hands of both Tio Erning and Madam inside our precinct booth—and they gave me their blessings in return with a gentle touch of my head.  That’s how close we all are.  Cheers again to John, who could, in all probabilities, be the first West Point graduate from Mangatarem.  My heart pounds with pride.

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