Father, son and journalism

1. My father, although he had never held a pen to write for a newspaper, taught me - a reporter who was just starting out in the profession - how to be a human being, how to do the job with all his heart and sincerity. Those precious and priceless lessons, now and forever, will always be the "compass" for my life, my career and the fire that warms my soul during the days of uncertainty between life and the profession of "writing".

My father is now 68 years old, his face is full of wrinkles of time. (Illustration photo - Source: ST)

My father, now 68 years old, is an ordinary laborer, who has spent his whole life working in the fields, selling his sweat for many years, and dedicating his youth to his motherland. His hands are rough and his face is full of wrinkles, as if they were traces of time. However, his eyes always shine with optimism and faith in life.

My father, because his family was poor, had to put his books aside to help my grandparents raise his younger siblings and had to leave his 4th year student life at the Polytechnic University to become a "trader" at the border gate of Lang Son province. He had never written for a newspaper, had never worked as a journalist for a day, and did not know the concept of the profession's integrity, but my father, with his heart full of life's scars, his humanity combined with a sensitive soul, a profound view of people and life, taught me a lot about being a person and doing his job.

I still remember the evenings sitting on the porch with my father, listening to him tell and listen to stories of everyday life, maybe about an old man who sold goods on the street all day but had no customers but was always smiling, about soldiers during the war who went to the battlefield for the Fatherland despite having been married for only one day, about the older sister who raised her younger brother to study because her parents unfortunately died early, or about my own mother, the woman who always worked hard, staying up late and waking up early to help her husband with work, taking care of and raising us four children to study and become good people... My father's stories, no matter who they were about, were always about kind people in this harsh life.

After years of struggling in the expensive capital, one day I realized: Those stories are the first lessons on how to listen, observe and understand - that is how to be a human, and then a journalist.

My father said: “Whatever you do, you must have a heart. Without a heart, no matter how well you do it, it is just an empty shell.” That simple but profound saying has been engraved in my mind, becoming my “guiding principle” when I entered journalism.

My father also said that to understand others, you must first know how to put yourself in their shoes. “Every life has its own story, never rush to judge them without understanding them…” That teaching, over the years, has followed me in every word, every article, every interview when I started my career. Thanks to that teaching, I learned how to listen not only with my ears, but also with my heart, to feel the pain, joy and desire of each person, each situation that I met or came into contact with. And then, now I understand: Journalism not only requires talent and expertise, but also ethics and humanity.

Once, when I was completing an article on the topic of the State reclaiming land and resettling people in a locality, after reading the draft, my father shared: “Don’t just write about the procedures for reclaiming land and the rights of the people, but also write about their dreams, legitimate aspirations and ways to “realize” their dreams. That should be the destination, the core value of the article as well as of journalism, my child.”

That lesson was like a ray of sunshine that illuminated my professional heart, and then I realized that: Journalism is not just about recounting what you see, writing down what you know, but also has the mission of finding light in the darkness, bringing hope and solutions to everyone.

My father, who has never worked in journalism, has a keen sense of communication and storytelling. According to him, a good story does not need to be flowery or lengthy, but must touch the hearts of each reader. This is also the reason why, every time I sit in front of the computer to complete an article, I always ask myself: Who am I writing for, what content and message do I want to convey to the readers.

2. What moves me most when thinking about my father is not only the lessons, but also the unconditional love he has for me. My father never forced me to become someone or do anything, but always supported me in my own way. When I decided to pursue journalism - a career he did not know much about but knew would not be easy and full of challenges. My father just said, no matter which path you choose, I believe you will do well, as long as every time you look deep into your heart, you do not feel ashamed or guilty for what you have done.

That is why, over the years of working as a journalist, my articles are not simply words, but also a way for me to spread kindness, humanity, and love for everyone, just like the way my father lived his whole life and taught his children.

Once, I wrote an article about my mother’s silent sacrifice for her family, for her husband and children. When the article was published and given to my father to read, he said nothing, smiled and said “this is a good article” then quietly lit a cigarette and took a sip of tea. At that time, I saw his eyes were a little red but I knew he was happy.

Journalism is a long, challenging and emotional journey. It is not just about writing, but journalism also has the mission of bringing the truth, inspiring and connecting people. And in that journey, my father has always been a beacon of light, a support for me to continue. There are days when I am tired, confused, wondering if I am really suitable for this path. Every time like that, I return to my hometown, to the house where my father is, to talk to him, to listen to him talk, to listen to him tell stories, stories that seem humorous, random but somewhere, profound, humane. Then, doubts, fatigue or challenges are no longer difficult for me.

Now, with all my gratitude and love, I just want to thank my father, the great teacher of my life and my profession as a “word collector”. Now and in the future, each article, each journalistic work of mine will be a tribute to my father - the teacher of the youngest son he gave birth to. Thank you very much, father…

Gia Hai

Source: https://baophapluat.vn/cha-con-va-nghe-bao-post548685.html