I REMEMBER every week the campus Physical Plant Office (PPO) sending an open-bed Bedford truck containing the noisiest fogging machine that could be heard on the next block. It fogged each and every house with the anti-mosquito chemical, DDT. We would go out and dance in the fog, inhaling and blowing it out through the mouth like we were in a cold foreign land.

Years later, DDT would be banned as a hazardous chemical.

My formative years in Area 1 were greatly influenced by the quality of the neighborhood. Teeming with teenagers hanging out in each other's houses or the fire hydrant at the intersection. They would be exchanging jokes so funny it would put the expression "laughing out loud" to shame. Our stomach muscles were cramped from laughing too hard!

The faculty children were divided into three groups: the college students (now in their early 80s), the high school students (now in their early 70s), and the elementary students (now in their mid and late 60s). Each group had a profound impact on the younger group.

My two younger brothers and I belonged to the elementary group.

After school and socials, the collegiates would gather in one house and bring whatever musical instruments they knew how to play — congas, bongos, guitars, basses and play Elvis-era music.

Occasionally, a pickup would connect a guitar to a transistor radio for amplification. Learning a new guitar chord, one would play it while hiding the position of the fingers so one couldn't see, hahaha. Such naughtiness only brought out my early sense of ear training, hearing each string, and placing my fingers on the fretboard accordingly.

The high schoolers, with my older siblings, began forming musical groups that played Beatles-era music.

Not a few stood out with their musical talents. They had outstanding versions of the Beatles songs, eerily sounding like them. They were awesome. You need only to close your eyes while listening to them, and you would swear John, Paul, George and Ringo were there performing for you!

Music and jokes became the staple at Area 1.

The younger me wanted to join in the fun. And so, I thought I should play an instrument. The small ukulele was the best choice so I practiced hard on it. But even before I could show them my wares, I would be sent home to take my siesta. I must be encroaching on their older group, I thought.

It only fueled my desire to join them. I figured, maybe the ukulele didn't fit in, so I tried playing my brother's guitar. But I was still sent home for naps.

I felt I was a round peg trying to fit in a square hole. If I was a nuisance, then I'd rather learn an instrument that they couldn't play.

Visualizing how a violinist played, I would use individual tines from our "walis tingting" and try to rub it against the strings of the ukulele. After half of the "walis tingting" was gone and my mother started asking questions about it, I pestered my father to get me a violin.

You see, my father was a genius. He was not well off, but we got by with three meals a day with good education to boot. His mental prowess brought him around the world many times over through scholarship grants.

I eagerly awaited each arrival from abroad hoping that he carried the familiar violin case. I must have waited for about four trips before he finally carried one, to my heart's delight.

Being a scientist and an engineer, he was a DIY guy. He got a booklet on how to play the violin, with photos on how to hold it, and a self-study book on note reading. He painstakingly learned these himself and taught me on weekends after working three jobs during the week. And learn I did.

After a year, he declared, "Son, I have nothing more to teach you. I must now enroll you at the UP Conservatory of Music" for further studies.

Area 1 today is a different community. Most of the pioneers have passed, and original residents retired and moved out. It has adapted to the times.

When, we, the original kids of Area 1, would visit and stroll around its streets, the lyrics "Try to remember when life was so tender, that no one wept except the willow" would bring us back and we would wax nostalgic.

There was definitely something about the neighborhood. It produced the following national artists: Jovita Fuentes, Music, Area 1; NVM. Gonzales, Literature, Area 1; Andrea Veneracion, Music, Area 17; Jose Maceda, Music, Area 1; Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero, Theater, Area 1; Napoleon V. Abueva, Visual Arts (Sculpture), Area 17; Amelia Lapeña-Bonifacio, Theater, Area 1; Ryan Cayabyab, Music, Area 1.

Must have been the DDT.