Daily TribuneIn my book, Ate Guy was the epitome of everything great — she was the greatest actress this country has produced, the golden voice adored by the masses, and a National Artist for Film and Broadcast Arts, an honor she so deserved.
Filipinos love to idolize personalities for who they are, for what they represent, and for what they have become. Often, these idols are sources of inspiration.
For me, there’s just one celebrity I was avidly drawn to — Superstar Nora Aunor.
She was the only reason I got into showbiz writing after completing my Journalism course at the Polytechnic University of the Philippines in 1989.
That year, Dean Rustica Carpio came to our room to ask if there was anyone willing to train under Bibsy Carballo, a well-known talent manager who was handling the careers of Dawn Zulueta and Gretchen Barretto. I immediately raised my hand and found myself at her office waiting for her recommendation letter.
Encounters with Ate Guy
I first saw my idol during an awards night in 1989. She walked past me while I stood in great awe. There she was, all glammed up, with a coterie of supporters walking right past me.
Then, it took years before I saw her again. It happened when a writer-friend, Almed Garcia, asked me to accompany her to Derek Dy’s birthday party at a bar near the EDSA Shangri-La Hotel. Dy was the husband of Melanie Marquez. Aunor was asked to sing a few songs, and she obliged.
Many years passed before I saw my idol again. A writer-friend, Eddie Littlefield, invited me to attend Ate Guy’s post-birthday celebration at Guilly’s Bar, just across the ABS-CBN building.
I saw my idol again upon the invitation of Rodel Fernando, Ate Guy’s confidant. First, during a night out at Freddie Aguilar’s bar along Tomas Morato in Quezon City. Then, during her 69th birthday celebration at Seda Vertis North Hotel, also in Quezon City.
The last time I saw her was during a pictorial of John Rendez for an album she was producing for him.
Ate Guy’s incomparable generosity
In my 37 years as a showbiz writer, I learned about my idol’s legendary acts of kindness — how she welcomed loyal fans into her home in an exclusive subdivision; how she distributed money and groceries to reporters affected by the pandemic; how she extended financial help to a farmer who lost his carabao; and how she gave soldiers money for helping production maintain safety during the shooting of Brillante Mendoza’s Thy Womb. She’s generous to a fault, showbiz insiders would always say.
I, too, became a recipient of her generosity when I underwent an operation related to diabetes. She extended financial assistance during my hospitalization. The last time she helped me financially was a year before her death. During our phone conversation, she promised more help.
In my book, Ate Guy was the epitome of everything great — she was the greatest actress this country has produced, the golden voice adored by the masses, and a National Artist for Film and Broadcast Arts, an honor she so deserved.
Coming from a poor family myself, her grit and growth were a source of inspiration. I was motivated by the sheer hard work and resilience she unwittingly embodied through her body of work.
