All good time of day!
My story is not funny, yes, it is just information for reflection. (Fans criticize for "not funny" - see at the top of the site warning "there is no...pre-selection of published materials on the site")
My late grandmother Shure was 20 years old when the Great Patriotic War began. Men of all, of course, were mobilized, and women were left to work in the forestry. Shura graduated from driver courses and worked as a truck driver ZIS-5 for ten years. No hydroamplificers of the steering wheel, no "palaces", no heaters in the cabin. The grandmother remembered how the sparks from her eyes flew when she loaded barrels (80 kg, in my opinion) into the body - no one was able to help, the war, the warehouser - a disabled. She recalled how trucks were driven to Moscow for the front from the Gorky automobile factory: at night they were driving with light masks (the phares were closed with shields and a narrow strip of light remained), they froze in the cabins, these journeys lasted for a month or more. The driver’s girls shaved their hair because there was no opportunity to shave every day, and the hair dropped almost into a cloth. Valkys, worn in the frosty February Gorky, soaked in March's raw Moscow and when the feet were dried so "dry" that when they returned home they had to be cut off with scissors. It is clear that such work was then heavily affected by pain in the inflamed body.
When Shure was 30, she married and gave birth to a son. Her husband died, Shura remained.
A young child and an old mother. She worked to fatigue to feed her family. She was a warehouse. And the son of Shura (my future father) graduated eight years in the village, then electromechanical school, then the university (afternoon faculty, worked in parallel), then postgraduate studies in Moscow. To defend the candidate was prevented by restructuring - it was necessary to earn money. His father worked in the research institute, fell under a reduction in the late 90s, found a job in a small firm, then he was retired. A few years later he returned to his hometown, where he still works. By the way, it is not by chance that the old workers who were reduced at the time were eagerly taken back to the research institute: the young and the old know how to count money, but with drawings and products things are bad. My father’s co-worker, today a graduate of Kazan University, knows less than a graduate of the technical school thirty years ago.
I have a question for all those who love to criticize the Soviet past: tell me, what are the prospects for today of the son of a lonely semi-literate rural warehouser? I think the answer is clear – almost none. There is only the danger of falling into the jersey of juvenile justice. Therefore, it is not necessary to shrink everything that has been. Even in the fall of democracy.