Ambo Jones, aptly

THE name instantly evoked a turning point in the American Revolutionary War.
Battered, afire and sinking, the outfitted merchant vessel Bonhomme Richard engaged His Majesty’s man-of-war Serapis in furious battle, its commander flatly rejecting the British demand for surrender with the cockily confident: “I have not yet begun to fight.”
Three hours later, it was the Serapis that surrendered. Thus, on September 23, 1779, John Paul Jones carved his immortal niche in naval history.
No never-say-die admiral but no less true-blue American is his namesake, Paul W. Jones, chargẻ d’affaires of the Embassy of the United States in the Philippines.
“No relations, but wishing there were,” the diplomat smiled at this icebreaking banter at the start of roundtable talk with the local media staged by the Capampangan in Media Inc. at Montevista last week.
And no formalities too, Mr. Jones pleaded, prompting the ever-funny Perry Pangan to append him the Filipino nickname “Ambo.”
Paul was ebullience personified in his assessment of the Clark Freeport Zone, his bullishness spurred only in part by the $1-billion Texas Instruments investment inaugurated earlier that day with groundbreaking ceremonies graced by President GMA herself.
There is so much in Clark to draw in more investments, American and otherwise, Paul noted, given the strategic location of the area, the expanse of space, and the skill of the people. And the embassy will be watching “very closely” the developments here.
Then of course, is the airport. No, Paul did not need to be reminded that the second runway was built by the Americans as an alternative landing site for the space shuttle, at the time GI Joe was ruler and master of Clark.
This paper’s editor, Ashley Manabat, though predicated a query on Clark being once the largest American military installation outside continental USA, as if embassy people did not know.
I went the same route as Ashley at my turn: impacting the obvious with a statement on the airport and the century-old trees as the greatest, and positive, legacy of the American presence, then did a hundred-eighty degree turn asking about the “negative” legacy that was the Amerasian children.
Most assuring indeed – even to Sonny Lopez, long-time advocate for the rights of Amerasians – was the assurance of Paul that the issue is at bat with both non-governmental organizations and American legislators. There is no shirking of American responsibility, he emphasized.
Are American forces in Sulu obliged to fire back if fired upon?
“We will not put them in such situation,” was Paul’s crisp reply to Rendy Isip.
Paul did one better than the usual diplomat or Clark visitor fielding some how-did-you-find-the-place questions from the media. He had a deeper sense of appreciation of the place, if not a keener sense of its history. This he manifested not just by a visit to the Clark Museum but coming face-to-face with Clark’s living history, the ever-youthful, always-brilliant Miss Cefie Yepes.
Gushing like a child-progeny who had just had his fill of a well-stocked library, Paul made appointments for a next visit – “with my whole family” – to get a full immersion in Clark history from Tita Cefie.
Paul’s impressed attachment to the Philippines is no bovine ordure, to be diplomatic about it.
“My sister was a Peace Corps volunteer who served in Isabela thirty years ago. She loved the people and she was so loved in return that when she made a visit with our family recently, they were feted for three days. An unending stream of acquaintances virtually regarded as relatives.”
Ah, Jones town in Isabela is named after her, Perry concluded.
Being second only to Ambassador Kristie Kenney, it would not be too far in the future for Paul to be ambassador himself, and given the choice, where would he want to be posted?
“Right here,” he affirmed smiling.
Ambassador Paul Jones. Make that Ambo Jones in keeping with the Filipino penchant for shortening names and titles for greater endearment. It is most apt.