A young G.I. is returning from WW II and finds he has little in common with the wife he left behind. Travelling as a salesman he (Paul) meets an unmarried and pregnant woman, Victoria, the daughter of a wealthy vineyard owner.
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Jacquou le Croquant is a French historical film based on the 1899 novel by Eugene Le Roy and the 1969 TV serial “Jacquou le Croquant”. The book is often translated as “Jacquou the Rebel” even if the word “Croquant” has a more pejorative meaning as a “yokel”.
However, the action is set in the Dordogne, just after the Napoleonic period and filmed in Romania, at the Corvin Castle.
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Humanity’s history of hatred goes back many and many years, and it still goes on today, but in disguised forms.
This true story movie paints that hate and racism. A female journalist, Hazel Brannon Smith (Jen Seymour) is the one who speaks out for black civil rights. Even if she knows insults, violence and death threats from the local Ku Klux Klan, she is not intimidated by the racists of the town and sticks to her ideals.
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Roger: “You’re a legend, Fred”
Freddie: “We’re all legends.”
Bohemian Rhapsody
I know Freddie Mercury as a legend, because of his talent as songwriter, singer and performer.
Things as writing songs, ruling the stage and holding sway over thousands of fans make Freddie a special person and the film focuses on them.
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Sye Raa Narasimha Reddy is a fiction movie about the first revolt against the British Raj in India and is inspired by the life of Indian independence activist Uyyalawada Narasimha Reddy from the Rayalaseema region of Andhra Pradesh.
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Ever since I moved to the village, I have seen people crossing the road with a stick in their hands. I asked someone, why he carries it with him. The answer was “to protect me if a dog attacks”. There is the lesson “fight or flight” because of fear but even using a stick to hurt a dog, that will still be there. The lesson I learned from my father is that unless you run or hit the dog, he does nothing to you. This thing made me love dogs even more.
It happened to me that some people coming to my gate, tried hitting my dog over the gate, in my yard, with the whip or the fist. Although, he only does his “job”. He barks because he defends his yard and owner.
That is why I agree with Mark Twain’s words:
The more I learn about people, the more I like my dog.
– M. Twain
Unfortunately, in the society we live in, you can be easily fooled. Especially if you do not listen to your instinct, do not know the body language, or do not look into people’s eyes.
In addition, we are taught to listen only to the voice of rationality and to ignore our instinct. Then, many times we cry or are sorry for we did not.
Moreover, the man lies to you and can do it with much nonchalance. Some do not think they can hurt through lies or their actions. Maybe, they don’t care.
Instead, the dog will look you in the eye. He communicates with you in this way. He feels what you feel. He knows if he can trust you or not. It is because he is just his feelings. I said he just loves or tries to defend himself. When he loves you, his gestures make you feel loved because he offers you his unconditional love.
If a dog will not come to you after having looked you in the face, you should go home and examine your conscience.
― Woodrow Wilson
The dog doesn’t lie to you. He eats what you give him because he trusts you. I saw a dog beaten, with his teeth broken, another one with one eye removed and yet they returned to their owners. It is because they know loyalty, respect, and unconditional love.
We are those who are trying to humanize them, using clothes and accessories. Also, we are those who hurt, starve or kill them. At the same time, there are people living in the canals or on the streets. They do not afford clothes that others allow for a dog. Where is our humanity?
I said that I moved to the village and the first impediment I reached was waking up with uninvited guests in the yard. I actually found one in the house and he was an unknown person. It was the first time that happened to me (and the last). I was shocked at that time.
Also, here in the village, I discovered that some people can keep a dog but do not love it. In addition, if they come to your door they take care to have a stick in their hand and to hit your dog if he barks.
We are talking about a man who lives badly as he lives a dog life. If he is sick, we say he suffers like a dog.
Actually, a dog suffers because the man makes him suffer. We keep him tied, beat him, starve him or kill his puppies. He is a free-born being that adapts to the conditions in which he lives. If he has no food, he looks for it, if he has no shelter, he looks for. If he meets a man who offers him little food, he loves him.
They teach us about friendship, selflessness, and loyalty. They also teach us the way to communicate without words, to listen more than hear, and accept death with grace.
It is not our rationality. It is his loyalty:
If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.
– Mark Twain
It is also his love:
A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself.
– Josh Billings
Athena (my dog in the pictures) does not bark at some people who pass my threshold, although she is “a bad dog”. So, I believe my dog when she barks because she listens to her instinct, and that is not a lie.
I’m suspicious of people who don’t like dogs, but I trust a dog when it doesn’t like a person.
– Bill Murray
With Love,
Copyright © 2019 manuela@inalove.world
Mom and dad are the first or among the first words, a child learns when he starts talking. At the same time, they are words whose meaning will be understood much later in life by some, and not by others because they did not have to opportunity to know them. I am talking about children who grow up with one parent because the other one has decided that it is better to live without responsibilities or orphaned children who for some reason do not have any of his parents in their lives. Could they say thank you to the missing parents? Can I tell you “thank you?”
Mom and Dad are the first persons who should write together the first chapters of the child’s life. Chapters, from which trust and self-esteem are born. Yet, what happens when one is missing from your life?
When you grow up with only one parent, and you think that you did something wrong, that you are a bad child … Though, how to live without that important part of your life as it is one of the parents. Can you thank the parent who does not want to be part of your life?
Some fathers have been sons, many sons become fathers, but some have forgotten what they were, and there is no one to explain to the others what they will be.
– Jose Saramago
Dear father,
This is a letter I am writing as an adult. Now, I know what I do because of other people who were around me but you.
If I listen to some people, you have only flaws because you did not want to raise your child. Listening to others, you have qualities but how do I have to know them? You have decided that it is easier for you if your son will grow up without you getting involved. Then how to know you?
As a child, I would have liked to know you, to grow up with a model near me, without looking for one among strangers. To meet you to get to know me better and to find my way in life more easily.
Being a child, I considered myself that I am punished for living without a father because I am a bad child. This is how I knew that “sinners” are punished. Was it my sin that I was born? Was your lack of presence in my life my sin?
I grew up with the illusion that one day you will come to be part of my journey. Or maybe, someone will take your place. Thus, being a child, I was asking each relative who was visiting my mother and I “Do you want to be my father?”
Besides, when my mother could not fulfil the role of father, I read or asked strangers, because you were not around me.
While learning to walk and falling you were not around me. You didn’t even hear me telling my first stories as I knew them.
You weren’t there to help me get up when I was beaten or bullied. Not even when I had nightmares or fever.
I am sure now that you will never understand what it is like to cry rivers of tears asking “why does not my father come to see me?” You will never know how many tears I cried when I was looking at my friends running into their father’s arms. How I was aching when they hugged or jumped their children on their shoulders. Where was my sin?
You weren’t near me when I needed you to warm my frozen hands. When I needed you to teach me how to ride a bike, use roller skates or rollers.
You were not near me when I learned to swim or dance. Not even to support me when I went to competitions, to laugh and be happy for my prizes. Not even when I needed to know how to conquer a girl.
You will never know how much I wished to know you dead than to accept that you did not want me in your life. Maybe, I could easily get over your absence in my life.
Yet, because I was not a bad child, I always found strangers who helped me. They supported and encouraged me, for they were more fond of me than you, “dear father”, was.
A child looks up at the stars and wonders. A great father puts a child on his shoulders and helps them to grab a star.
― Reed B Markham
I wish you could put me on your shoulders and help me grab my star.
I wish you dared to come and see me, but you let the years pass as if we have all the time in the world. When crying and asking to see you, you weren’t near me. Not even for my birthdays.
You haven’t been there to make me feel safe. You weren’t there to see that
There’s nothing that moves a loving father’s soul quite like his child’s cry.
– Joni Eareckson Tada
I wish you were near me when I learned how to read and write. I wish you were there to run into your arms to show you what I can do. To show you my drawings or to make together presents for my mum.
To share with you the few gifts I received from Santa. I wish you were with me to feel the warmth of your hugs.
Growing up, I was looking for meeting you, to know why you didn’t want me in your life. I found only a thick wall called selfishness and lack of interest.
For many people, children are gifts. For some, they are burdens. I learned that you belong to the second category.
I have learned that some people want their children and cannot have them. Others have children and abandon them. Also, you lost first place.
I was told that wishes become true, if I want to and take action. Thus, I wish to know you became true because I have wanted to. In that way, I learned that an adult remains a frustrated child if he doesn’t do something to change himself. If he does not take action to pursue his dreams.
I learned to become independent and be responsible for my actions.
I learned that you will never know that being proud of me would have made you proud of yourself. Instead, I am proud of the man I have become.
Now, after I met you, I can’t say that you are dear to me. Instead, I learned not to hate you. I don’t even miss you anymore. Moreover, I would feel you like an obstacle in my path if you would be close.
Maybe one day I will have sons who will tell me “dad” just as I could never tell you that word.
So, I can tell you “thank you” for everything I have learned without your presence in my life and for not being part of i
(to whom others have explained what to be a son is like and what to be a father will be like.)
Photo credit Pexels
Copyright © 2019 manuela@inalove.world
Many times I read about heroic mothers, their role in the family and raising children. Unlike them, men are heroes on the battlefield, they have big muscles and in movies, they have miraculous powers. Though, my father, a common man is the hero of my life.
Last week was 24 years since I lost my father. My discussion with one of the bloggers who just lost his father a few weeks ago, made me decide to write this post.
Even if I cannot write from a man’s or son’s point of view, yet I can do it as my father’s daughter and as a single mother who raised her only son.
In my opinion, being a hero is not just about winning on a battlefield. Being a hero is coping with everyday problems, and loving your family despite negative events of any kind. It means, above all, to love your children. To be an example for them in loving and respecting everything good and beautiful in All.
To me, my dad is a hero. Maybe for each of you, your father is a hero in the same way or others.
My father didn’t look like a fairy tale or movie hero, was neither very tall nor short. He was not a boxer and had no miraculous powers. He was a common man, a worker, and what he offered me as his daughter is priceless.
His eyes were speaking to you. After his looking, you knew if you had to hide as far as you could, or that you could laugh with him.
Dad was the first person who made me love math. In the first class, I could not make a clear distinction between addition and subtraction. Thus, I was operating them the other way around. I didn’t understand them from school, and he took action. He used cardboard/wood cubes, which were my toys during Ceausescu’s time. He taught me to add and subtract with the help of those cubes and with a lot of patience for the child’s mind. My love for mathematics began there, and I still have it.
He was a man who managed to instil my love for history. He was proud that he was Romanian, that he was a descendant of the Geto-Dacians and proud to be born in Stefan’s Moldavia. Loving history, he had the entire collection of “Historical Magazine” from their appearance until he died. My interest in history was increased by the way he was telling the stories and discussing with me what I was reading.
My father made me love nature, although he didn’t travel much. Being a large family, we did not allow long-distance trips. We were making walks only in the hills near the flat where we lived. We played with a ball or ran and played in the grass. He was taking pictures and telling us stories about his childhood. Thus, he showed me the joy and tranquillity offered by nature.
At 2 years old, I was bitten by a dog. Despite this fact, it made me understand that I can love dogs. He explained to me that a man can make mistakes in a relationship with a dog but it only loves unconditionally or defends itself.
My father made me love music, being himself a music lover and an innate romantic. At the time when I was born, my relatives said I had to be named Elena because of the day I was born. He had heard Julio Iglesias’ new song: “Manuela” and his decision had been made. My name was going to be “Manuela”. Besides, he liked to play the accordion or listen to records with light or symphonic music.
His love for books and poetry inspired me. He was not just an avid reader with a rich general culture, without having a higher education. Wherever he went on his walks, he had a book or a Historical Magazine with him. He was also a poet, though he was not considered one.
It made me love writing and calligraphy. To see writing as an art not only in what you express by writing but also, in the way you shape the letters with a pencil on paper.
He gave me a sense of security and a desire to read and know. He defended me in front of others because I was spending too much time on books. His words were, “let her read, for she likes it.”
He showed me that I can believe in myself, and can handle things that were considered only by a boy/ man’s competence. He said “let her learn if she wants. She can use those skills in her life when she’s alone.” “It is true, my dear father, I can change my light bulb alone, I can beat nails, I can cut wood, in fact, I can do everything I want to.
He showed me how far a parent’s love can go. For the first time, I was married only for a month. My husband’s jealousy was huge and he beat me until I fainted. My father was hit in front of the court because he took my defence.
He was a firm man, who was speaking his voice, defending others when he felt he had to. He did not love the lie and injustice. That’s why the people he worked with respected and loved him.
When he died, I was going through a second divorce and I had a 3-year-old son. Being retired at that time, his help along with my mother’s had been huge for me in raising my son. Especially because my son’s father did not show interest in his son’s existence.
I did not know what I know today about energies, vibrations, and spirits. Thus, I grieved my father for a long time. After a few months, he appeared in one of my dreams. He told me “do not cry anymore because I will always take care of you and your child”.
I have always felt protected myself and my child with my father’s love. That’s why, for me, he was and will remain my hero. My father was not a hero in fairy tales or movies. He didn’t say “I love you, my child” but he showed me through everything he did that he loves me and my siblings.
He is the hero who took care of what was planted in the mind and soul of a child.
My father is the hero of my life!
Imagine de Bessi de la Pixabay
With Love,
Copyright © 2019 manuela@inalove.world
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