in awe

I have had the privilege of working with people who even beyond the retirement age are still very active and involved in their work. They never cease to impress and inspire me. And then I met Edith Lopez Tiempo. National artist for literature. All of 88 years. Very lucid and even funny. I have never met, heard or seen her personally before but I bet that she has not lost one bit of her passion for writing. Not even her sense of humor or her appreciation for an audience all awed by her presence. She started her lecture by saying that she is not used to talking to an audience she could not see, speaking about the dimly lit venue. Then she proceeded to tell us that she was hard of hearing, almost apologetic. She said she needed an ear to know the reaction of people and requested for somebody to sit beside her on stage. She then hastily assured the crowd not to worry that much because she could still hear herself.
She was ushered unto the stage by her son. She looked rather frail while she tried to settle herself at the center. But when she spoke it was with delicate strength much like royalty. If you had not heard the lengthy and impressive introduction given before she spoke you would instantly know that this was a woman speaking about something that was so much a part of her. Her speech was slow and deliberate as would a teacher making sure her students do not miss a single point about her topic. I listened in awe. Not only because of what she was saying but more because of the fact that I have not seen so many people her age so alive and so passionate about their craft. I mean, some people are already tired at 20. And some at her age are still trying to figure out life. Edith Lopez Tiempo mentioned just finishing a book last year. Wow! I don’t think we could afford to charge her with indolence if she just rested on her laurels. The national artist title conferred to her in 1999 already marks her work with immortality. She could just bask in the achievement while we drool over her work and wish we wrote some of them. And yet there she was graciously taking center stage as a celebrity would. She lectured like a true mentor speaking from the heart inspiring the young audience to relish the pleasure of pursuing the craft and rekindling in others the passion for writing that may have otherwise been extinguished by time or circumstances.
Her lecture was part of the effort s of the Cebu Arts Council and the UP Institute of Creative Writing to bring to selected locations outside of their hometowns some of the country’s national artists to deliver lectures on topics of their expertise. Dubbed as Pagpupugay sa Pambansang Alagad ng Sining sa Panitikan, the activity was part of the observance of the National Arts Month.
When the lecture ended the audience was not really rushing to leave. In my case I lingered because I wanted to continue to bask in the creative aura that evidently pervaded the room. I also wanted to get an autograph. But the literary crowd was already gathered around Ms. Tiempo and I felt a little shy about joining the assembly. I thought about just leaving. That it was enough for me to be in the same room with her. But then I also could not afford to leave without a proof of my encounter with her. I reminded myself, this is the closest I’ve ever been to a National Artist. I had to keep something for remembrance. And who knows some of her brilliance might rub off on me. So I stood on the side of the stage, just the right place for her son to see me. Not wanting to look like a stalker, I told him I was actually waiting for my turn to get an autograph. And I was so glad he generously volunteered to bring my program to his mom for signing. I reached for a pen and he said she prefers to sign with her own pen. And that’s how I got my precious autograph of Madame Edith Lopez Tiempo, National Artist for Literature. I thanked her son and told him to tell her that that day has been very inspiring for me.
I was like a mere mortal in the literary world fortunate enough to be in the presence of the gods. I almost floated on my way out.