The 1996 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism, Literature and Creative Communication Arts

RESPONSE of Nick Joaquin

To all of you here: peace. And God loves you.

Tonight's award--this one--is such a high for me because I am supposed to be already down, down, over the hill, and out, out, on the way out. But I look at this prize and you know what it says to me, what it shouts to me? Hear it hooraying: "Hey, guy, you're not finished yet, you're not yet for retiring, you're still where the action is. Yes, man, you're right here where they run races and give out prizes."

That is what this award is saying.

Some people say I should have got it long ago. I don't agree. I think the timing is perfect, as is. I should, by now, be in a rocking chair, hugging the shadows--or worse, in a wheelchair, ready to "rage, rage against the dying of the light." Instead, here I am in the limelight, still winning prizes, thanks to this award.

Not that my writing career hasn't been one steady harvest of laurels. I enjoyed winning them, of course, but all the time I was also nervous. Even as I exulted, I kept warning myself: "This is hubris, this is hubris, you'll end up kaput." Well, I may end up kaput--but what the heck: at the moment--this moment--I find myself on still another high. Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be! Whoever said that must have been a previous me.

For today, even with so much to be thankful for in the past, I can still say in utter astonishment: "But thou hast kept the good wine until now!" Happy is the senior who can say that.

Thank you. I have spoken.