amicus
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Sep 28, 2003
- Posts
- 14,812
A new Yahoo group started not long ago, where new authors from Publish America gather and exchange ideas. This email came to me this Christmas eve and I thought I would share it with you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I signed my contract with PA in September. I would like to share my
excitement with all of you. Nobody can understand better my feelings
than you. You all passed through that. One moment, I am excited and
next, I am scared to death.
I arrived four years ago to the United States, where an American
company proposed me a job. I felt honored by this wonderful
possibility given to me. I am of Hungarian origin, but I have French
citizenship. I was grown up in Hungary during the high communist era.
I lived in Paris 16 years and embraced the formidable experience of
democracy and freedom. I love America, this new country full of
possibilities for the individual to realize his/her dreams.
As we are in a writers' family, let me tell you a story…
I was twenty years old, when I went to a tourist trip to Austria,
neighbor country of Hungary. It was the first time in my life that I
had a trip outside of the communism. My head was full of pre-
suggested ideas.
In the small baroque town of Gmunden, in the youth hostel, I met a
young American. We discussed about the United States and he explained
me, how open is the American society. I did not understand the
meaning. I answered with certitude and self-insurance: "The American
society was open one hundred years ago! Nowadays, the classes are
settled, and it is as all the others!"
The young man watched me with seriousness. He answered with the same
certitude and self-insurance: "What are you speaking about! Not at
all! America is still a country of opportunity, where all is
possible!" I was dazzled. This simple sentence quaked all the twenty
years of instructions and educations, everything I heard and knew
about America. The young man had my age. For him, everything was
possible…
I went back to Hungary, but in my spirit, the meeting changed
something, what I could not even express at this time.
Thirty years are gone… When I opened the email, announcing my
acceptation by PA, tears came in my eyes. All of a sudden, the
smiling face of that young American appeared in my spirit. How right
he was! I would never write this novel in Europe. It would never get
publish there.
Thanks to PublishAmerica and thanks to you, Americans, who built this
country, where all have a chance to dream!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Seasons Greetings to all...
amicus...
postscript....I had another message from the same person...
"...Christmas is a time of children's dream. Nothing is more beautiful,
pure and touching than Christmas lights shining in the eyes of
children.
In my childhood, my parents prepared the Christmas tree. Grandmother
went with us, me and my sister, in the movie. In Hungary during that
high communist era, we could not see American films. The regime
censored everything. We saw what they wanted us to see. During
Christmas, for two weeks, we were able to have Walt Disney in the
movie theaters. My father bought the tickets three weeks in advance.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs… Sleeping Beauty (I do not know the
correct English title)… That was an event! We were excited for weeks!
After the movie, grandmother made a big tour before arriving at home.
We lived on the fifth floor. Instead of rushing into the elevator,
she went in the yard, yelled for my father.
"Pista! We are here! Can we come upstairs?"
"No! Come back in twenty minute!"
Grandmother took our hands and we had to walk all around the block.
We were as fools. We wanted to see little Jesus arriving with the
Christmas tree and instead of waiting for him at the open window; we
had to circle in the streets. I still remember the fury I felt at
this time. I still see my grandmother; I still feel the cold winter
and I still gaze into the dark street.
The moment arrived at last; we knocked on the door and rushed into
the entry. We wanted to precipitate into the living room, but we had
to get off the coats and we had to wait.
"Why we have to wait? We want to go!"
We were knocking on the closed door; we were jumping and whispering
for we were afraid to yell. All of a sudden, we heard the bell… We
had an old bronze bell that we used exclusively on that single
evening. At that moment, the door opened slowly and we saw it. It was
there in all its glamour. In the darkness, the candles appeared as
moving star from the sky. We could not say a word. We could not
breath. We stand there paralyzed. With small steps, we went closer to
that tree. The emotion of my parents and grandmother was dwelling
around us. This emotion made these old Christmas so touching and
unforgettable.
We always had the most beautiful Christmas tree. My father made a
question of proud of it. When he passed away eleven years ago, I
lived in Paris. It seemed my mother would not survive him either.
During the summer, a company offered me a project manager job in
Budapest. I accepted at once. This terrible first Christmas without
him arrived. Somebody had to take care of that Christmas tree. There
was nobody else, than me. I never bought one in my life. In addition,
that year, there was shortage in Christmas trees. Two days before
Christmas, we still did not have the tree.
I went to the farmer market. A crowd was circling there hunting for
Christmas tree. All of a sudden, a truck arrived. People encircled it
at once. I was in the middle. The driver just threw down the trees on
the crowd. In the forest of the nervously agitating hands, I tried
with despair to catch one. I was crying. I needed this tree so badly.
It was so terrible to have this Christmas without my father and if I
could not have this tree, my mother would never survive.
"Daddy, give me that tree, please," I said crying.
At that moment, as by miracle, a tree landed in my hands. I caught it
and gripped it still crying. I am still convinced; my father gave me
that tree. It was a nice, little tree in good shape. My father would
buy that for sure. In the sadness of that Christmas, the tree was in
the living room, on its habitual place shining and smiling on us. My
father was still among us.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU AND TO YOUR BELOVED ONE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(By the way, I did not write the above as someone asked, I simply cut and pasted from two emails) Seasons Greetings to all on the Christmas Day.
Amicus...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I signed my contract with PA in September. I would like to share my
excitement with all of you. Nobody can understand better my feelings
than you. You all passed through that. One moment, I am excited and
next, I am scared to death.
I arrived four years ago to the United States, where an American
company proposed me a job. I felt honored by this wonderful
possibility given to me. I am of Hungarian origin, but I have French
citizenship. I was grown up in Hungary during the high communist era.
I lived in Paris 16 years and embraced the formidable experience of
democracy and freedom. I love America, this new country full of
possibilities for the individual to realize his/her dreams.
As we are in a writers' family, let me tell you a story…
I was twenty years old, when I went to a tourist trip to Austria,
neighbor country of Hungary. It was the first time in my life that I
had a trip outside of the communism. My head was full of pre-
suggested ideas.
In the small baroque town of Gmunden, in the youth hostel, I met a
young American. We discussed about the United States and he explained
me, how open is the American society. I did not understand the
meaning. I answered with certitude and self-insurance: "The American
society was open one hundred years ago! Nowadays, the classes are
settled, and it is as all the others!"
The young man watched me with seriousness. He answered with the same
certitude and self-insurance: "What are you speaking about! Not at
all! America is still a country of opportunity, where all is
possible!" I was dazzled. This simple sentence quaked all the twenty
years of instructions and educations, everything I heard and knew
about America. The young man had my age. For him, everything was
possible…
I went back to Hungary, but in my spirit, the meeting changed
something, what I could not even express at this time.
Thirty years are gone… When I opened the email, announcing my
acceptation by PA, tears came in my eyes. All of a sudden, the
smiling face of that young American appeared in my spirit. How right
he was! I would never write this novel in Europe. It would never get
publish there.
Thanks to PublishAmerica and thanks to you, Americans, who built this
country, where all have a chance to dream!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Seasons Greetings to all...
amicus...
postscript....I had another message from the same person...
"...Christmas is a time of children's dream. Nothing is more beautiful,
pure and touching than Christmas lights shining in the eyes of
children.
In my childhood, my parents prepared the Christmas tree. Grandmother
went with us, me and my sister, in the movie. In Hungary during that
high communist era, we could not see American films. The regime
censored everything. We saw what they wanted us to see. During
Christmas, for two weeks, we were able to have Walt Disney in the
movie theaters. My father bought the tickets three weeks in advance.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs… Sleeping Beauty (I do not know the
correct English title)… That was an event! We were excited for weeks!
After the movie, grandmother made a big tour before arriving at home.
We lived on the fifth floor. Instead of rushing into the elevator,
she went in the yard, yelled for my father.
"Pista! We are here! Can we come upstairs?"
"No! Come back in twenty minute!"
Grandmother took our hands and we had to walk all around the block.
We were as fools. We wanted to see little Jesus arriving with the
Christmas tree and instead of waiting for him at the open window; we
had to circle in the streets. I still remember the fury I felt at
this time. I still see my grandmother; I still feel the cold winter
and I still gaze into the dark street.
The moment arrived at last; we knocked on the door and rushed into
the entry. We wanted to precipitate into the living room, but we had
to get off the coats and we had to wait.
"Why we have to wait? We want to go!"
We were knocking on the closed door; we were jumping and whispering
for we were afraid to yell. All of a sudden, we heard the bell… We
had an old bronze bell that we used exclusively on that single
evening. At that moment, the door opened slowly and we saw it. It was
there in all its glamour. In the darkness, the candles appeared as
moving star from the sky. We could not say a word. We could not
breath. We stand there paralyzed. With small steps, we went closer to
that tree. The emotion of my parents and grandmother was dwelling
around us. This emotion made these old Christmas so touching and
unforgettable.
We always had the most beautiful Christmas tree. My father made a
question of proud of it. When he passed away eleven years ago, I
lived in Paris. It seemed my mother would not survive him either.
During the summer, a company offered me a project manager job in
Budapest. I accepted at once. This terrible first Christmas without
him arrived. Somebody had to take care of that Christmas tree. There
was nobody else, than me. I never bought one in my life. In addition,
that year, there was shortage in Christmas trees. Two days before
Christmas, we still did not have the tree.
I went to the farmer market. A crowd was circling there hunting for
Christmas tree. All of a sudden, a truck arrived. People encircled it
at once. I was in the middle. The driver just threw down the trees on
the crowd. In the forest of the nervously agitating hands, I tried
with despair to catch one. I was crying. I needed this tree so badly.
It was so terrible to have this Christmas without my father and if I
could not have this tree, my mother would never survive.
"Daddy, give me that tree, please," I said crying.
At that moment, as by miracle, a tree landed in my hands. I caught it
and gripped it still crying. I am still convinced; my father gave me
that tree. It was a nice, little tree in good shape. My father would
buy that for sure. In the sadness of that Christmas, the tree was in
the living room, on its habitual place shining and smiling on us. My
father was still among us.
MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOU AND TO YOUR BELOVED ONE!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(By the way, I did not write the above as someone asked, I simply cut and pasted from two emails) Seasons Greetings to all on the Christmas Day.
Amicus...
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