Converging Horizons/Horizontes Convergente/1700-1925

Horizon Saga Book 2

Title: Converging Horizons

Sub-Title: Anastasia's Forebears

Period Covered: 1700 - 1925

By ALP Gouthier

Ver. June 2013 

            “The sub-title of this book is an obvious reference to This is the capital of the state built at the end of the nineteen century, where the dreaming of big dreams will not be tolerated. “This is the city that will not forgive mistakes and stones failures along with successes, and sometimes even persecutes innocent the dreamers.”

            “My second book Expanding Horizons, is dedicated to two people that have been very important to me in my life. One is obviously my mother Clara, who loved and cared for me unquestionably to the end of her days.  The other is my maternal grandmother Teresa, a very stabilizing force in my adolescent years, who also enriched my life with stories”.

 ALP Gouthier

Yellow Ipê Tree

Book two: Converging Horizons.

Almost five hundred years have passed and the families, one by one, turn in the direction of the newly built capital of the state erected at the end of the nineteen century, and there start dreaming dreams at times too great to be tolerated. This is the city that will not forgive mistakes and stones failures along with successes, and sometimes even persecutes innocent the dreamers.

             I trace their progress of the four families through time and space along with that of the world in which they live, describing curious customs and stories of those times and, in general, painting the local colour. Finally, in the beginning of the thirties my parents meet in the city of Belo Horizonte where I was also born. I refer to the early days of life in this then budding city, with stories either heard first hand or related to me by the first story tellers of my family.

            “Anastasia, the narrator and teller of tales, relates the story of her ancestors, as well as, comes to life from the future to speak to the various characters about the events of those times, the way she used to do when she was a child”.

Indigenous Brazilian Family / Familia Indigena Brazileira

What does not kill – feeds.  Nietzsche

           I remember, once upon a time, my father being announced on television, before he was interviewed live, as such:

“And now we present- Business Man: Banker, Industrialist, Land Owner; Politician; Medical Doctor: Antonio Luciano Pereira Filho.”

And through all of that time, I and the rest of the family at home, held our breath in horror and consternation. We were so frightened that they were going to ask my father about anything unpleasant or controversial. But, at the same time, I felt so proud of him for his introduction, though I thought they should have added Philanthropist to the list.   

                        Stanza 10:  My father was good father 

                                            Loving kind as fathers be

                                             Behind a desk he ruled his world

                                            Fortune building was his creed

             So,I write this book in honour of my father, who deserves to have his life story told, from a different point of view, than the one bitterly expressed by the press, and usually written by people who did not really know him.

It is my belief that, if no other version is ever told, that one could become the only and absolute truth. And that I will not allow.

         I, his first daughter, embrace the mission of defending my father, by throwing to the wind these words, that once said and written, will exist forever. It is my duty and pleasure to say, to those who might wish to hear, that father was a wonderful person, simple and kind, a very special person to so many people. He was also a very good parent, whom I so much loved and admired.   

                       Stanza 11: How I wanted to be like him

                                           Controlling all I liked

                                           Behind a desk I willed to be

                                          To run my dreams and life

          The public at large, have a lot more interest in words of criticism, and often are not terribly concerned, whether it is true or not. It is easy to spread lies, that once are out, will never be forgotten.

            Part of what was said about my father in media, especially during the first traumatic twenty years after his death, was true, but so much also was false or at least terribly distorted. They said, insistently, that he was eccentric, and a womaniser. But what was his crime? And why was he, and even us, his family, being marked, and persecuted?

                What hurt the most is that not a word was mentioned in the press, through these years, about all of the charity he did, all of his life, even that which was of common knowledge or of public record.

            So, after I am done with my work, there will be two versions of the story of my father’s life. This one is the version from the point of view of our immediate family, and as such, I will concentrate on the things that I saw or heard, mostly directly from family members, close friends, and other family aggregates to our everyday life.

             I owe special thanks to various people who worked with my father, and therefore had the opportunity to be with him, on a day to day basis, at the office, where he spent most of his time.  At my request they contributed with stories from the depth of their memories.

            Father was an exceptional person.  His successes and realizations in business, his main field of work, were very great and obtained through hard and constant work, hour after hour, day by day, while he had strength to live. And by the insistent habit of saving, in any way he could, always, never spending anything on his own self. As I used to think: he lived too simply. He had no time, and no interest in luxury; and thought the display of it ridiculous.

       Apart from being an affectionate and caring father to the three of us, his immediate family, Antonio was a very good and respectful son. Through his life he gave care and attention to all of his siblings, in-laws and a very large number of nephews and nieces, and other more distant relatives. To all of these he gave help, either through jobs, or occasional direct monetary support.  In reality the whole family at large depended on him.

           -My father told me that work was the best thing in the world and it was much better to give help to people by giving an opportunity of work then of giving a monetary hand out. He taught us to respect the human being and to value honesty above all.

          -How dare they say in the newspaper that he never practiced medicine!

          -I cried for hours of fury at the unfairness of it when I read it.  Not that he had to!

           But he loved medicine, and kept up his knowledge by further studying throughout his life, so that he could continue to treat the poor, hands on, in places that there were no doctors, as in our lands in the outskirts of Urucuia and Brasilandia. All of this unjustified attack made me determined to defend my father.

            I was once told by my children’s doctor, who was also a director of The Our Lady of Mercy Hospital, in Belo Horizonte, that my father contributed largely, to the upkeep of the hospital, through all of his life.

          As natural to a medical doctor, by training, my father was obsessed with health and nutrition. He would give his medical opinion to all, on an everyday basis, even when not requested. To complete it, he would hand out prescriptions to his accidental patients, along with indications of a pharmacy, across the street from his office, where they could obtain the medication free of charge, on his account. This pharmacy happened to belong to the father of a school friend of mine, who later told me about it.

          At our sugar refinery, near the town of Lagoa da Prata, father kept a hospital where his employees could be treated by professionals for emergencies, general medical complaints as well as basic dental and ophthalmological problems. These services were certainly free of charge to the company’s employees and their families, as would be the medication and prescription glasses.

        The persecution of my father, and consequently of us, his immediate family, has been said to have been caused by my father’s accumulation of capital, or better, by his ability to create and control very diversified and extensive business interests. Such guilt, could alternately, be described as maybe envy or greed. Further, he was pointed out by stories of womanizing, about which, being a daughter, I had no knowledge of until much later; and there were also nasty suggestions about his liking for younger companions, but never any proof or formal accusation, for that matter.

Or by his lack of ability to be a social object, preferring usually a more private life; I must agree he had no time for socializing;

And later by his eccentricity, having had, for a while, a smaller species of ocelot, for a pet, became object of derision.

           Father was basically a loner by choice and had no patience social chit chat, it is true. He never smoked and did not drink alcohol. None of us could drink of smoke in front of him, ever at any age. His disapproving look was enough to impose respect. So if any one happened to be smoking or drinking, and he arrived, you would have to find a way of making your glass disappear as well as the cigarette butts. We used to joke among ourselves that it was best to swallow our finished cigarettes then to throw them about for him to find. Otherwise we would have to listen to long speeches on the subject. That included my mother, his brothers or any friends of ours who happened to be with us. Poor Papa, he was ahead of his time. For him, and for us in his eyes, eating fattening and not nutritious food, such as spaghetti was also highly condemned. Such bad habits had to be practiced when father was not present.

              If one stands above the crowds in your community, for any reason, such as large accumulation of wealth, one must be very careful not to make mistakes because they are sure to be noticed. And papa did, later on. Those were also the years when the struggle between the Right and the Left strains of political thought was upper most in the world. So many people then believed that social justice would only be made by Communism. We didn’t and had to pay for it.    

              I have not seen, in the press, my father accused of dishonesty and that is what really matters. He sinned of impatience in the face of the slowness of bureaucracy, and that caused problems with his first bank. He also got desperate with problems of invasions to his land, as farmers do nowadays when that happens. For me and for my brother and sister honesty, respect and principles matter the most. That is what we learned from our father and mother. We are not amused by inferences of the contrary, and will continue to defend ourselves with dignity.

         So this book is directed mostly to, the ones who matter the most to us, our descendants, to whom I give our version of the truth. 

                                          Stz. 9

                                          I’m not afraid of battles

                                          My dreams I strive to find

                                          I travel full of hope

                                         The long road is to me kind

       Additionally, my aim is to impress my readers not by the originality of the material, but by the intrinsic quality of my composition. I do admit that our world will sound exotic especially to my readers of the old world. Even to readers in Brazil a lot of it will sound as far away as a world they have never seen and much less experienced. Part of it is already gone, no longer alive. That alone is a good reason for me to write about it, so that it will come back to life in a form which is eternal. 

Diploma de Medico de Antonio Luciano Pereira Filho, 1935

“To maintain neutrality at a time of crisis

is a symptom of fear

 and a weakness of character”.

The privilege of self-control is not given to all

as a natural attribute of birth.

 It is however our obligation to society

to learn it and to practice it.

ALP Gouthier

Field under Construction

What does not kill – feeds.  Nietzsche

           I remember, once upon a time, my father being announced on television, before he was interviewed live, as such:

“And now we present- Business Man: Banker, Industrialist, Land Owner; Politician; Medical Doctor: Antonio Luciano Pereira Filho.”

And through all of that time, I and the rest of the family at home, held our breath in horror and consternation. We were so frightened that they were going to ask my father about anything unpleasant or controversial. But, at the same time, I felt so proud of him for his introduction, though I thought they should have added Philanthropist to the list.   

                            Stanza 10:  My father was good father 

                                            Loving kind as fathers be

                                             Behind a desk he ruled his world

                                            Fortune building was his creed

             So,I write this book in honour of my father, who deserves to have his life story told, from a different point of view, than the one bitterly expressed by the press, and usually written by people who did not really know him.

It is my belief that, if no other version is ever told, that one could become the only and absolute truth. And that I will not allow.

         I, his first daughter, embrace the mission of defending my father, by throwing to the wind these words, that once said and written, will exist forever. It is my duty and pleasure to say, to those who might wish to hear, that father was a wonderful person, simple and kind, a very special person to so many people. He was also a very good parent, whom I so much loved and admired.   

                       Stanza 11: How I wanted to be like him

                                           Controlling all I liked

                                           Behind a desk I willed to be

                                          To run my dreams and life

          The public at large, have a lot more interest in words of criticism, and often are not terribly concerned, whether it is true or not. It is easy to spread lies, that once are out, will never be forgotten.

            Part of what was said about my father in media, especially during the first traumatic twenty years after his death, was true, but so much also was false or at least terribly distorted. They said, insistently, that he was eccentric, and a womaniser. But what was his crime? And why was he, and even us, his family, being marked, and persecuted?

                What hurt the most is that not a word was mentioned in the press, through these years, about all of the charity he did, all of his life, even that which was of common knowledge or of public record.

            So, after I am done with my work, there will be two versions of the story of my father’s life. This one is the version from the point of view of our immediate family, and as such, I will concentrate on the things that I saw or heard, mostly directly from family members, close friends, and other family aggregates to our everyday life.

             I owe special thanks to various people who worked with my father, and therefore had the opportunity to be with him, on a day to day basis, at the office, where he spent most of his time.  At my request they contributed with stories from the depth of their memories.

            Father was an exceptional person.  His successes and realizations in business, his main field of work, were very great and obtained through hard and constant work, hour after hour, day by day, while he had strength to live. And by the insistent habit of saving, in any way he could, always, never spending anything on his own self. As I used to think: he lived too simply. He had no time, and no interest in luxury; and thought the display of it ridiculous.

       Apart from being an affectionate and caring father to the three of us, his immediate family, Antonio was a very good and respectful son. Through his life he gave care and attention to all of his siblings, in-laws and a very large number of nephews and nieces, and other more distant relatives. To all of these he gave help, either through jobs, or occasional direct monetary support.  In reality the whole family at large depended on him.

           -My father told me that work was the best thing in the world and it was much better to give help to people by giving an opportunity of work then of giving a monetary hand out. He taught us to respect the human being and to value honesty above all.

          -How dare they say in the newspaper that he never practiced medicine!

          -I cried for hours of fury at the unfairness of it when I read it.  Not that he had to!

           But he loved medicine, and kept up his knowledge by further studying throughout his life, so that he could continue to treat the poor, hands on, in places that there were no doctors, as in our lands in the outskirts of Urucuia and Brasilandia. All of this unjustified attack made me determined to defend my father.

            I was once told by my children’s doctor, who was also a director of The Our Lady of Mercy Hospital, in Belo Horizonte, that my father contributed largely, to the upkeep of the hospital, through all of his life.

          As natural to a medical doctor, by training, my father was obsessed with health and nutrition. He would give his medical opinion to all, on an everyday basis, even when not requested. To complete it, he would hand out prescriptions to his accidental patients, along with indications of a pharmacy, across the street from his office, where they could obtain the medication free of charge, on his account. This pharmacy happened to belong to the father of a school friend of mine, who later told me about it.

          At our sugar refinery, near the town of Lagoa da Prata, father kept a hospital where his employees could be treated by professionals for emergencies, general medical complaints as well as basic dental and ophthalmological problems. These services were certainly free of charge to the company’s employees and their families, as would be the medication and prescription glasses.

          The persecution of my father, and consequently of us, his immediate family, has been said to have been caused by my father’s accumulation of capital, or better, by his ability to create and control very diversified and extensive business interests. Such guilt, could alternately, be described as maybe envy or greed. Further, he was pointed out by stories of womanizing, about which, being a daughter, I had no knowledge of until much later; and there were also nasty suggestions about his liking for younger companions, but never any proof or formal accusation, for that matter.

Or by his lack of ability to be a social object, preferring usually a more private life; I must agree he had no time for socializing;

And later by his eccentricity, having had, for a while, a smaller species of ocelot, for a pet, became object of derision.

           Father was basically a loner by choice and had no patience social chit chat, it is true. He never smoked and did not drink alcohol. None of us could drink of smoke in front of him, ever at any age. His disapproving look was enough to impose respect. So if any one happened to be smoking or drinking, and he arrived, you would have to find a way of making your glass disappear as well as the cigarette butts. We used to joke among ourselves that it was best to swallow our finished cigarettes then to throw them about for him to find. Otherwise we would have to listen to long speeches on the subject. That included my mother, his brothers or any friends of ours who happened to be with us. Poor Papa, he was ahead of his time. For him, and for us in his eyes, eating fattening and not nutritious food, such as spaghetti was also highly condemned. Such bad habits had to be practiced when father was not present.

              If one stands above the crowds in your community, for any reason, such as large accumulation of wealth, one must be very careful not to make mistakes because they are sure to be noticed. And papa did, later on. Those were also the years when the struggle between the Right and the Left strains of political thought was upper most in the world. So many people then believed that social justice would only be made by Communism. We didn’t and had to pay for it.    

              I have not seen, in the press, my father accused of dishonesty and that is what really matters. He sinned of impatience in the face of the slowness of bureaucracy, and that caused problems with his first bank. He also got desperate with problems of invasions to his land, as farmers do nowadays when that happens. For me and for my brother and sister honesty, respect and principles matter the most. That is what we learned from our father and mother. We are not amused by inferences of the contrary, and will continue to defend ourselves with dignity.

         So this book is directed mostly to, the ones who matter the most to us, our descendants, to whom I give our version of the truth.

                                          Stz. 9

                                          I’m not afraid of battles

                                          My dreams I strive to find

                                          I travel full of hope

                                         The long road is to me kind

         Additionally, my aim is to impress my readers not by the originality of the material, but by the intrinsic quality of my composition. I do admit that our world will sound exotic especially to my readers of the old world. Even to readers in Brazil a lot of it will sound as far away as a world they have never seen and much less experienced. Part of it is already gone, no longer alive. That alone is a good reason for me to write about it, so that it will come back to life in a form which is eternal.

ALP Gouthier

The Pequi fruit

        My motto as a writer: 
       Meu lema como escritora:
 LITERATUM UTILITAS IN DEFENS VERITAS
The Use of Literature in Defense of Truth
O Uso da Literatura em Defesa da Verdade