Mr. Vasile

In Romania, right after I graduated from high-school, I got a good job as a sales lady. Back then, there were these kiosks in fashion, selling soft ice cream by the cone and soft soda pop. I was making as much as my father was, who worked in the steel factory, a whopping $6 a month. It was three years after the 1989 revolution, when the communistic system fell, our president and his wife got captured and shot.

The work was hard, but rewarding. The best part of it all was our boss, we called him Nenea Vasile, the kindest man I’ve encountered at that age. My Chet is a great version of nenea Vasile, and I feel so very blessed to be married to him:)

Nenea Vasile, was the first man that showed me kindness. I sure never got that at home. He also seemed so gentle in his reprimand whenever we made mistakes, and we made mistakes. But the way he went about it telling us how to improve was not damaging. He also became my cameraman, a completely voluntary position, at our wedding and I silently felt so very proud that he was there, close by, like a reassurance that everything will be okay. I looked up to him more than I looked up to my own father and to this day, just thinking of him, makes my heart smile, my eyes tear up and my heart full of gratitude to God for bringing nenea Vasile into my life. If he reads this, I want to tell him a big, THANK YOU, for bringing light into, then, a quite shadowed world I lived in.

God bless:)

 

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