Skip to main content

True Story Film


This is the second week my plans were foiled on my day off, Thursday . We discovered a water leak that took priority over anything else in our day. We were able to fix the leak quickly, but decided to skip our trip to Flagstaff and stay in town and get the oil changed on the truck. While in town, we got a lot done and stopped for lunch at our favorite Chinese restaurant. We bumped into an old friend who stayed and ate with us and it was wonderful to connect again. So with our tummies full, we went home and watched a great movie.

An American Rhapsody is a true story that takes place in Hungary and Los Angeles. I found the story line very interesting. A family escapes from Eastern Europe during the Stalin era, just years after World War II and settles in America. Unable to take their baby with them, she is left behind in the safe care of a loving childless couple in the countryside of Hungary. Eventually she is transported to America and the story goes on to show her adaption to a new country while dealing with her emotional roots in Hungary. I’m a nut for history, and the scenes in Hungary enticed me. This is a great film.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Mom Fought the U.S. Post Office and Won

My mom embarrassed me years ago when she called our small town post office and complained about slow package delivery.   I gave the eulogy at mom ’ s memorial service, and I told the mortifying story at the chapel. Respectful laughter filled the room.  However, embarrassment doesn ’ t bother you when you ’ re dead in the grave and maybe that ’ s the lesson here today. Mom loved to send packages to me in Arizona.  She often mailed pencils, recipe clippings, bars of soap, cereal, odds and ends that were meaningful to her.  Mom never understood that her mailings to a hick town in the west take a heck of a lot longer than it does in Chicago.  I got umpteen phone calls from her before any shipment arrived and she would ask impatiently:  “ Did you get my package yet? ” It was about six years ago when retrieving my mail, Toni, my favorite clerk shouted to me across the room from the front desk, “Your mother called me yesterday.   She...

A Memorial Day Reflection

  Memorial Day is always noteworthy for me and my girls.  Next Thursday marks the third year of missing their father, my husband. So many thoughts  run through my mind.  The journey of loss takes on various emotions.  The strongest feeling, at first, was emptiness.  In a split second, I would forget he departed forever.  I imagined things I needed to talk to him about when he got back home.  My mind is realistic now.  He's not coming back.  There will be no more times of sitting on the porch swing together on the front deck staring at the moon and the stars.  He would tell me all he knew about the majestic night sky. I have so much I wish I could tell him, like the excitement of seeing our oldest grandchild make a decision to follow Jesus and get baptized on Mother's Day!  And our little Amy, 11 years old, I wish he could have seen her on stage receiving her induction to the National Honor Society. Our daughters have their own ...

A Veteran's Story

  I noticed Bill sitting in our local park where I walk.   He glanced my way just as I finished the last exercise walk song on my playlist.   He shouted and pointed to my car:   “Hey, is that your car with the Nam front license plate?   I stepped closer into the veranda where Bill sat on a picnic bench.   I noticed his Vietnam Vet cap and instantly I knew why I walked there that day.   The Marine Vet served during the 1960’s, the same time span as my husband.   Bill talked a lot about the war evoking my emotions from laughter to tears.   My South Vietnam front plate often prompts a conversation with a stranger and I’ve learned a deep respect for it over the years.   It is my way of listening to a veteran.   I enjoyed listening to Bill.   He made me laugh in spots but he made me cry as well.   Like when he talked about the sandwich lady.   “Do you ever eat at the sandwich shop in the gas station down the street...