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He told his students to go to the windows. Get out. Jump if you have to. Then Liviu Librescu walked to the classroom door and pressed his body against it. He was 76 years old. He weighed 140 lbs The gunman was in the hallway. It was April 16, 2007. A Monday morning. Solid mechanics class at Virginia Tech, Room 204. Twenty-two students, most of them 19 or 20 years old. At 9:45 AM, gunshots echoed through Norris Hall. Room by room, the shooter was working his way down the corridor. Liviu heard it. He understood immediately. He had survived the Holocaust. He had survived a labor camp. He had spent decades living under Communist oppression. He knew exactly what evil sounded like. He told his students to escape through the windows. Second floor — it was a drop, but they'd survive. Then he walked to the door and held it shut with his body. The shooter tried to force it open. It wouldn't move. He fired through the door. Wood splintered. Bullets came through. Liviu stayed. Behind him, students were climbing out the windows. Dropping to the ground. Running. One by one, all twenty-two of them got out. The shooter kept firing through the door. Liviu held it shut until every student was safe. Then the bullets killed him. When police arrived, they found his body at the door. All 22 of his students survived. Not one was injured. Liviu Librescu was born on August 18, 1930, in Ploiești, Romania. He was Jewish. In 1941, when he was eleven years old, Romanian authorities sent him and his family to a labor camp. His father died there. Liviu survived. When the war ended, he was fifteen. He went back to school. Studied engineering. Earned a doctorate from the University of Bucharest. But Communist Romania had no interest in allowing a Jewish intellectual to succeed. He was blocked from academic positions. Passed over for jobs he deserved. He applied to emigrate. The government kept refusing. Finally, in 1978 when Liviu was 48 years old — Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin personally intervened. Romania let him go. He had spent most of his adult life trapped in a country that didn't want him. In Israel, he taught at Tel Aviv University. Published over 300 papers. Became an international expert in aeroelasticity — the science of how air flows over aircraft wings. In 1985, Virginia Tech offered him a position. He moved to Blacksburg, Virginia. He taught there for 22 years. His students loved him — demanding but kind, high standards, genuine care. He was still teaching full-time at 76. Still publishing research. Still showing up every Monday morning for solid mechanics. April 16 was the first day of Passover — the Jewish holiday celebrating liberation from slavery and oppression. Liviu Librescu died on the day his tradition sets aside to celebrate freedom. He spent his entire life escaping death and oppression by luck, by persistence, by the intervention of others. And on his last morning, he chose to stand at a door so that twenty-two young people could have the future he had fought so hard to reach. He could have run. He could have hidden. He could have climbed out a window with his students. He chose to stay. The Virginia Tech shooting killed 32 people that day — the deadliest school shooting in American history at the time. Room 204 had zero casualties. Because a 76-year-old Holocaust survivor held a door with his body until every student behind him was gone. His funeral was held in Israel. Students from Virginia Tech flew across the ocean to honor him. The Israeli government awarded him the Star of David Medal posthumously. Virginia Tech named a scholarship in his memory. His son said his father died the way he lived — protecting others. A man who survived everything evil threw at him for 76 years. On his last day, he made sure 22 kids survived too. Professor Liviu Librescu. August 18, 1930 — April 16, 2007. Holocaust survivor. Labor camp survivor. 302 published papers. 22 years at Virginia Tech. 22 students out the window. He held the door.

Lucas shot and edited the newspaper montage in The Godfather! He was widely known at the time as a skilled editor.

Susan Sarandon explains why her children didn't show much interest in seeing her movies: "Interviewer: Susan, you said your son was one when 'Thelma & Louise' (1991) was made. I would suspect all of your kids have watched this movie by now. What was their reaction when they saw it, knowing their moms made this iconic film? Sarandon: I don't even know if they've watched it, actually. They didn't watch it with me, so I have no idea. Interviewer: Really?! Sarandon: I mean, I think they're probably relieved that I didn't take my clothes off, because that's always the first thing. "Is there s€x in it? Is there going to be s€x in it?" Which, even just kissing is just as offensive as full-blown frontal n*d!ty [to them], so it doesn't even matter if you're tasteful. So, I don't even know if they saw it. I'll have to drag them [to the drive-in]. I'll force them for the anniversary. They'll probably say, "Oh, mom, of course I saw it," but they didn't say anything to me. Davis: I don't know if my kids have seen it either, quite honestly. Sarandon: Nobody wants to see their mother looking like someone else. When I was doing films when I just had my daughter and I would come back, the first thing she had to do was take my makeup off. She just did not want me to be with my hair, with my makeup [done]. She wants her mom back. She doesn't want someone that looks different." ("Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis Are Reuniting for 'Thelma & Louise' 30th Anniversary", John Boone, ET, 2021) P.S: On this day, 35 years ago, Ridley Scott's "Thelma & Louise" (1991) premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, France.