Location: Nazaré, Portugal
It was early morning in the fishing village of Nazaré. I snapped this picture of a widow on her way to the beach presumably to look for local fishermen bringing in the catch of the day.
I know she is a widow because of the way she is dressed. It is customary for a Portuguese widow to dress in black for the rest of her life.
What happens then if and when the widow remarries? Will she keep wearing black mourning clothes?
Perhaps it is question that doesn’t need an answer.
In their book, Culture and Customs of Portugal, Carlos A. Cunha and Rhonda Cunha explained that both the culture and the church dissuades a widow from remarrying because she is considered to be married to her husband for life, even after his death.
The authors continued that “Traditional, social stereotypes cast the widow as an undesirable choice, especially for single man, illustrated in the proverb, O amor de uma viúva é caldo a referver; nunca nenhum é tão bom como o outro marido. (The love of a widow is like reheated broth, never as good as for the first husband.”
But of course, I want to believe that it was said all in jest. Older and wiser when it comes, love has the potential of being better the second time around.
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For Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Challenge: 29 May 2015
Tom didn’t expect Laurie’s message on his answering machine inviting him for coffee. They had dated before. Love blinded him to believe this was it. When she left him, he became a shell of his former self.
It took a while before he got over her. He went through a long process of healing until he learned to forgive and appreciate the good times they had together.
Tom knew he’d always love her and wanted to remember her the way she was before the split. He saw no point of seeing her again. Without hesitation, he pressed the delete button.
location: ephesus, anatolia, now part of selçuk, turkey
ISIS militants toppling and smashing ancient statues and carvings are in the news lately. Their wanton disregard for humanity’s cultural heritage is beyond comprehension.
It’s déjà vu all over again. History has a way of repeating itself.
They aren’t the first and they won’t be the last either.
Above is a photo of a head of Apollo that I took in Ephesus, Turkey. Like many of the ancient statues on exhibit at various museums in Europe, it shows signs of defilement.
When I was in Varna, Bulgaria, I expressed my dismay to a local history professor and asked him who could possibly be responsible for the destruction of these artifacts that are at least a thousand of years old. His response came as a surprise. He said it was the early Christians who considered them sacrilegious.
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For Friday Fictioneers 100-Word Challenge: 22 May 2015
Note: Just in time for Memorial Day. Remember they also serve who stay behind. I hope you like it.
“One more month and I’d be home,” Jason told his mom.
While on routine patrol, Jason and his platoon found themselves in an ambush. “Mom!” was the last word he uttered before everything went black.
A few days later, two marines in dress uniform came to the neighborhood as Jason’s mom was watering the lawn. When she saw them, she felt weak and almost dropped the hose she was holding. She wanted her baby back but not in a casket.
When they passed her by and didn’t stop, she was relieved and sad for the mother who lost a son.