Happy Saint George's Day, Courage readers...

Now that Sant Jordi is here, let's talk about it. Mother Courage and her children, set during the Thirty Years' War. Canteen girl Ana Fierling pulls her cart behind the soldiers, with her three children, and doesn't want the war to end because, like Mr. Esteve, like La Fabricanta, she finds that business comes first. She will lose her children and be left alone, but will she suffer? This is the question of the great work.

If I explain the plot, it's because most of the journalists who paraphrase the title haven't read the work or seen it. They use it for stories of family uplift. They've called a certain celebrity gossip columnist who had divorced "Mother Courage" (there are several associations called "Mother Courage"). They've called a man "Father Courage"—they've even dedicated a miniseries to him—who infiltrated drug addicts. Blood ties have widened, and so we have had a "Iaia Coraje" from Chiclana, who fought for the custody of the cleanliness. On Antena 3, they also told us about a Sister Coraje, yes. But until now, I hadn't seen what I've seen. In the bar where I usually have breakfast on the days I go to Barcelona, ​​​​there was a newspaper, delightfully monarchist, that spoke of the death of the Pope. The headline was: "Papa Coraje."

Ah, yes. Papa. Papa Coraje is wonderful, it's an extraordinary circus act. Papa Coraje. And why not "Papi"? Papa Coraje dedicated to the Pope is much better than Tieta-Grandma Coraje. Better than Nebot Coraje and Pareja Coraje and Prima Coraje. Better, of course, than Amigue Coraje and, above all, Brother-in-Law Coraje and Tieta Coraje.