I was born in an ordinary Soviet family. My mother was a kindergarten teacher, my father was a worker at a local factory. They lived on the outskirts of the city, where basically, everyone worked in this production.
The area was small and all the residents knew each other. It was formally the city, in fact – the village. It’s was a great place though. Near the Don river and surrounded by forests. I have a feeling that I grew up in the Don and in the forest. Well, with the boys at the construction site.
I was only having friendship with boys before school. They were mostly a little bit older than me. But I loved spending time with them, and I wasn’t interested in girls. But with the boys – another thing. To go secretly swimming in a river, to crawl in the forest in the trenches, playing war games, climbing trees, and the game “Cossacks and robbers” was just pure happiness for me.
I wasn’t inferior to the guys in any way, and I didn’t have any indulgences. Even if it was difficult to climb somewhere on the construction site, I was panting, shivering, but silently climbed after them.
I remember once, when we were playing something where the commander had to hide, we ran into the basement and I was stuck under the ceiling, on the heat pipe, which is wrapped in bare glass wool. I lay there for 30-40 minutes, not moving, so as not to let the team down. Who knows what glass wool is will understand what a strong test it is. I still remember how the whole body burned with fire from this material…
…When I went to school, according to my parents, it was like I was replaced. I became very serious, studied well and was responsible in all sectors of school life.
In fact, as far as I remember, I really became more serious, but I also learned to “encrypt” better from my parents, so they did not know about my “personal” life.
I became friends with girls, but still I was more interested in the guys. They always had crazy activity, which I liked. And with the girls somehow everything is too calm, at most the game of rubber bands interested me and in knockouts.
Only one, my best friend, did I enjoy spending time with. Our favorite game was “Chairman of the collective farm”.
My friend’s grandfather lived in the Stavropol territory, and was the Chairman of the collective farm. A lot of wheat was grown there. Well, she heard enough from her grandfather and we had such a game.
The essence of it was as follows: we sat down at the table, half of the table like her office of the collective farm, and half – my office of the collective farm. There were a lot of improvised phones on the table.
And it’s like it’s harvest time and the hottest time.
And the whole game was that we grabbed the phones and yelled into the phone, something like: “Petrovich, well, what the f***, why are 3 combine harvesters? What bearings? They were brought in yesterday!”
Then grabbed, necessarily, in emotions, another tube and I type call “my bro” , in neighboring collective farm (i.e. my friend), and yell (this is mandatory): “Vasilich, help me out, my dumbs mixed all up again, give me the bearings, I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Well, there are combines! The plan is on fire!”
To which my friend the Chairman replied something like (necessarily with an emotional cry): “Zakharych, I’ll try to find it, dear! But my eagles also f***ed up, they didn’t bring tractor oil, they got stuck somewhere. Help me out, let them bring at least a little, while my boys on their way!”
And in this spirit, we yelled for several hours until we were tired.
I don’t know why, but we loved this game. Naturally, they played when their parents were not at home, because they shouted obscenities in their “telephone conversations”. Two grades of elementary school, the best pioneers, that’s the way the mystery played.
In case the parents suddenly descend, we had everything ready for the alleged game of teachers…
So I grew up naturally, with the understanding that the main thing is to get married. Diploma of higher education, then the children, and the family in the first place. Well, you can work somewhere, but of course, not far from home for example, family, children.
The limit of my mother’s dreams was that I would one day become a chief accountant.
To be continued.