(A corollary homage to commemorate Dagupan’s 75th Diamond Jubilee)

By Rex Catubig

 

I did not get to know Pangasinan’s political luminary, Speaker Eugenio Perez Sr, who authored the charter that made Dagupan into a City.

But growing up in the 1960’s, I was fortunate to have had personal encounter with the Speaker’s widow. My father was a loyal ally of the Speaker and the widow carried on friendly ties with our family after his demise.  She would frequent our home in Babaliwan so that a room overlooking the river was reserved for her brief rests.

She was a fascinating woman.

An actress and a soprano, she gained fame for her role in the 1938 film Ang Maya where she starred with Fernando Poe Sr. The movie’s lilting title song was her signature aria which she loved to hum. We would press her to sing it, and when in the mood, she would gladly oblige, filling the whole house with her trilling voice.

And yet she was an intimidating, larger-than-life, Mother Earth persona–the precursor of all  First Ladies, who set a standard difficult to measure up to.

Well-coiffed and dressed in flowing colorful muumuu, she would sashay into our living room leaving a trail of   perfume’s breathtaking floral fragrance–her head and chin always tilted high. She hardly spoke in a soft voice—she spoke with oratorical flair and dramatic flourish, accentuated by a piercing gaze. Having a firm grasp of politics and familiarity with top personalities, she regaled her listeners with her astute analyses and acerbic comments.

Yet it is her graciousness that left an indelible mark on my mind.

On a college break, I came home with a couple of my buddies. Wanting to impress them, we drove to Doña Consuelo’s beach property in San Fabian. We walked down the fine black sand beach, then we proceeded to the resthouse to have a look-see.  As teenagers, protocol was something we didn’t really care for.

We came without prior notice, but we were welcomed after I introduced myself as “anak ni mama Lope”. Being typical teenagers, we did not strike the mayordoma as special so after she let us in and offered us to sit, she left us to inform Madam of our presence. Lo and behold, when the Doña came out and saw us waiting idly in the veranda, she berated the house help for failing to serve us refreshments: “Bakit di mo sila binigyan ng kape!”, she barked.  Instantaneously, a tray of fine China porcelain set with tea and coffee materialized out of nowhere. More incredibly, the Lady of the house sat down with us and engaged us in small talk.

We were star-struck!  What were the chances ordinary college kids in Hush Puppies get to hob nob with the prominent diva?

In a nutshell, that was Doña Consuelo Salazar vda de Perez–an inimitable class act. She enthralled us not just with her exalted stature, but by being down-to-earth, her spontaneity in entertaining carefree teeners with no estimable credentials–only a token family tie.

With her gracious gesture, she transformed a casual episode of our youth into a significant event, a dog-eared page in our adolescent journal, a coming-of-age vignette of a serendipitous encounter with iconic greatness.

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