In the fourth generation of Guerreros, preceding mine, there were three superstars: Leon Ma. Guerrero, diplomat, biographer of Rizal, translator...
When Carmen Guerrero Nakpil peacefully breathed her last on July 30, I knew I was witnessing the end of an era of good and insightful writing.
CARMEN GUERRERO CRUZ NAKPIL (all caps) was the name on the printed invitations that commanded attendance in some very remarkable dinners.
Carmen Guerrero Nakpil went quietly on July 30 at 1:30 a.m. It might seem death sneaked up on her, as they say, like a thief in the night. But that’s hard to imagine. She allowed nothing to happen to her other than on her own terms, and that was how it was: She died in her own bed, in her own home, and, there’s good reason to suspect, in her own time. She bothered no one as she went.
One of the greatest Filipino writers in English, Carmen Guerrero Nakpil, died in the early hours of July 30. She was 96.
Carmen Guerrero Nakpil, one of the country’s most eminent writers—a columnist, essayist, author, as well as a public servant and...
Essayist and historian Carmen Guerrero-Nakpil passed away before dawn Monday, her family has announced. She was 96.
The Battle of Manila (Feb. 3-March 3, 1945), the single deadliest urban warfare fought in the Asiatic-Pacific Theater of World War II, literally annihilated the downtown area of the city and caused an estimated 100,000 noncombatant civilian deaths by ‘Sword and Fire,’ i.e., Japanese mass killings and the indiscriminate shelling of the US.”
On the morning of Sept. 23, 1972, a driver from Graphic magazine, headed by Don Antonio Araneta, called to inform me that our boss, Luis (Morik) Mauricio, had been arrested and that the building had been padlocked. Martial law had been declared, and staffers more radical than I were being hunted down. The military had swung into action.
In high school, four decades before I became a senior citizen, I turned to three writers as models of good writing: Carmen Guerrero Nakpil, Kerima Polotan, and Gilda Cordero Fernando.
