Proud of father's journalism

My father is a journalist, but to live a passionate life with his job, journalists sometimes have to sacrifice a lot of sweat and tears. I used to hate my father's job because it took up most of his time. I wanted to accompany him on school festivals, but he was busy writing articles at the base. I wanted my father to make me a lantern out of green and red cellophane like other children, but he was busy writing articles about the Mid-Autumn Festival for children in the highlands. At that time, with the mindset of an 8-9 year old child, my father's journalism job was really hateful. At that time, I just wanted my father to do something like my friends' fathers, he could sell ice cream, be a bricklayer, be a teacher, as long as he didn't become a journalist.

Only later, when my passion for writing grew and I wanted to explore more, did I understand my father's dedication and love for the profession. My father had been a journalist since his days in the poor countryside of Central Vietnam. He told me that at that time, everything was lacking, the whole office only had one rickety typewriter, each time he typed, the type bar hit the polystyrene paper so hard that it seemed to tear the paper, everyone took turns typing the articles, the manuscripts were completely handwritten. There were also no convenient ballpoint pens like today, whoever had a Truong Son fountain pen was considered very good, the rest were pens dipped in ink, dipped in ink and could write a few words.

Despite the hardships and deprivation, my father still loved the job he had chosen. After getting married, he followed his uncle to the South to continue working as a journalist. A strange land, strange people, and the economy at that time was extremely difficult. My mother was a teacher, her salary was not much, and when my four sisters and I were born, the burden on my parents' shoulders became even heavier. My father worked tirelessly, asking to work in remote areas, places that people were afraid of. Because there was a lot of inspiration there, my father was able to write many reports, which meant his income increased and he would be away from home for a long time.

I only really fell in love with journalism on a late winter day when I was 18, when my father returned home with a leg in a cast with many scratches on his skin. But he still said it was okay, in a few days he would carry his camera and run around taking spring photos for the whole family. That time, near Tet, everyone was busy writing spring articles. My father was assigned to write about the topic of good farmers, in my father's group there was a guy assigned to write about the topic of spring at the border.

Later, I heard from my mother that my uncle's son had to be hospitalized for pneumonia. Fearing that he would not have any assignments to submit, my uncle asked my father for help. My father did not hesitate to take on my uncle's work. He went to the border to survey and record the situation of the people in the border area during the days before Tet. My father was given a letter of introduction to contact the border guards for support. That day, the soldiers were taking my father to visit and collect information about some poor households in the border area, and then my father fell into a trap set by the people to trap wild boars that did not enter the fields.

Father was taken to the district hospital for emergency treatment. After the doctors carefully splinted and bandaged his bones, he still refused to go home. He said he could still endure it, the manuscript was still unfinished, if he went home he would break his promise to his colleagues and affect the work of the agency. A week later, the soldiers took him home. My mother was worried, tears streaming down her face, but my father still had his usual joking nature, saying that it was the first time he went to write an article and was able to lie down and write, and someone brought him food and water, and he laughed heartily as if nothing had happened.

And then I realized that the job of a journalist like my father is not simple, hard work with dust, sun and wind, sometimes even life-threatening to have a true report. My father's job has contributed to life many happy, sad, happy, difficult stories every day... But above all, I know my father is truly happy with his job.

When I was 20 years old, I received an old Canon camera that my father bought from a colleague. I used the camera to capture memorable moments throughout my youth. Until now, I still keep that camera in a glass cabinet with my father's certificates and awards, as if preserving a part of my beautiful youth memories with my father. Thank you, father, for always being a true journalist. I am very proud to be your son.

Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Radio - Television and Binh Phuoc Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values ​​of sacred and noble fatherly love.
Please send to BPTV your touching stories about Father by writing articles, writing feelings, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with recordings),... via email chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretary Office, Binh Phuoc Radio - Television and Newspaper, No. 228, Tran Hung Dao, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The time to receive articles is from now until August 30, 2025.
Quality articles will be published, paid royalties, and rewarded at the end of the topic with 1 special prize and 10 excellent prizes.
Let's continue writing the story about Father with "Hello Love" season 4, so that stories about Father can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/172480/tu-hao-nghe-bao-cua-cha