When I was young, my grandparents lived in a village on the gold pit of the eastern part of our homeland. They were young when Cole appeared. He also worked on this search. When he saw his grandmother, he approached his grandfather and said:



“Genka, you can kill and beat me, but I fell in love with Alla. What you want to do, and know that," his grandfather then pulled him, then they sat down and drank all night. And in the morning...In general, Cole became a friend of our family. All family holidays are around, and I’ve always said, “I love her, I can’t! “”



But he did not do anything. He lived in a neighboring house, always helping with homework. My mother was my friend and taught her life. Like my grandfather.



After 17 years, my grandfather died. My grandmother burned and burned. Three years later, they moved together with Kolya and began to live together. On the other hand, Cole's uncle smoothed his cheeks at family evenings and said, "I've been waiting for my love for 17 years" - and looked at his grandmother with love. I was small and didn’t understand anything. Uncle Cole loved it.



After a while, my mother left with me, my father with us. He was a very walking man. My grandmother went to the store. He raised his hand on his mother even when she was pregnant. He soon left the family, and well. I have never paid any alimony, I have never participated in my life. My mother herself.



It was hard in the new city. There was no money for bread. My mom gets the money in 3 days, no one can borrow it. She was saddened by what was left at home. Whether it was from pain or anything else, I don’t remember. I remember that the little boy understood it. He never asked for toys or sweets. I saw a tired mother coming from work. I cooked her dinner when I was in the first class.



I cooked badly, I now understand. There was less tea. But my mom always kissed and said, “Thank you!” He ate with pleasure and looked at me with love. And I was happy. I wanted to grow up and help her. Make sure that there is no misfortune in her life.



Then a man appeared in her life. Not so... a man! I remember the 90s. He had a Mercedes 124, always slippery and shiny. Always dressed and crazy. I took my mother from work every day and brought her home. with sweets and fruits. My mother once said that she hadn’t eaten praise for a long time (sweetness so eastern). The next day he brought a whole container...and asked friends from Turkey to send it by plane. have sent.



There were 1000 such situations. Gradually we started living together, I always called him Uncle (name). He never pretended that I would call him a father. My upbringing was given to my mother, kept carefully and sometimes uncomfortable. But he taught me... male things - repair, care for a woman, the ability to hold a blow, fishing. It was a fucking healthy time.



When I was 14, my mother died. That...I’m not going to explain how much the world turned around at that moment. With our whole family. My father brought me up alone. It was hard, he was strict. But the best. He was my daddy.



Unable to withstand the death of my daughter, my grandmother begins to drink without stopping and in two years burns and dies too. I remember standing on their graves. They were buried together. I, Uncle Cole (I called him grandfather) and grandfather (father). We are strangers to each other. There was no one closer to us.



Many years have passed, his father has gray hair), his grandfather writes reports that he is still pulling up ten times...and says that he has no one closer to us. I am an adult and I have a beautiful wife.



My father remained a single. When I come to him, he says he loves my mother still, as on the first day of meeting. Grandpa is alone too. He said that after his grandmother, any woman for him was like plastic: “Allah, she was real. I waited for 17 years, and she has now to wait for me. Genka also wait, I didn’t hurt her!”



And I... As a young man, I concluded that blood bonds are nothing in this life. I was raised and raised by two strangers. My grandfather and dad. I still have not to deceive them.



Thank you, it looks more like a scratch. It was hard for me to write this because it was an intimate part of my life. Without tears, I can’t remember it. He wanted to speak. Love those around you!

A well-known programmer from the United States once told me. He may have written, but it seems to be true. At the time, he lived in Israel and worked in a small programming office. One day the shop owner asked the employees:

Does anyone speak German?

In response to the silence...

and OK. I redefine the question. Does anyone know anything in German? We have potential customers from Germany. They will be glad if someone from our company tells them something in German.

Here is a friend and said:

I know different German words.

Oh well tell me!

Hitler is a coat. The Führer. The stormfighter. The Zonderkommando. Hende to Hoh! The gas...

and stop! You are on holiday tomorrow!

I know a lot of German words.

Have you not heard? and you! and tomorrow! The weekend!

I ordered a gift from my husband in an online store. The next day the courier calls:

Can I specify your address? The navigator shows me that there is no body 1 at the address of Leninskiy Pr-t house N.

How not? Look more carefully. There is a Magnet shop in the house.

Okay, I will look for...

If so, the fifth parade. I wait.

Three minutes later he calls:

“Sorry, of course, but you said ‘parade’, and I thought... You’re probably in Peter? I am here in Moscow. Something was confused in the store.

Both are broken!

PS: Where is my order? Waiting for 4 days. My husband’s doctor has passed.

I decided to share a funny dialogue that took place between me (I), my aunt (T) and my wife (G).

And so, we came to visit the aunt and I decided to praise my wife before her mother:

I: And your daughter has made a very delicious soup.

Q: My daughter, what is the secret?

J: (distracted) Mom, it’s all simple, I just stopped cooking soup like you...

The silence, the curtain.

Even wondering, what does the boss expect, who has built a vertical of power under himself from obedient fools, to whom he calls for carefully thoughtful and responsible decisions?

When I went to the first class (it was 1988), my first teacher called all my parents to a meeting and promised, I want to emphasize OBLIGATIONS! Our parents during the year to organize a tour to our class at the place of work of each parent.

It was probably the brightest event in our first-class life!

We were in a factory for the manufacture of petroleum equipment, in the ice cream factory, riding a garbage car, regulating the movement of the car with the staff of the Gaia, sitting behind the An-24 (on the ground), firefighting with the firefighters two burned barrels from a fire truck, sewing clothes, and much more. It was cool!

- Surprisingly, but somehow it became self-evident that everything that the authorities do is presented as a feat. Olympics in Sochi, the world football championship, the Crimean bridge, the cosmodrome East...
But something is done without pathos and noise, everyday, from day to day?
and yes. They steal.

When I was about a year old, my mom and dad divorced. My mom got married very quickly, if not immediately, and my "father" became another uncle. No, my father, the real father, was always there. I wrote about it in the previous post, but not about it now.

I remember my mom “raised” me with a belt so that I would call my uncle “Papa.” This same uncle, by the way, was not the most cool or magical father of the dream, he did not try to earn my trust, with his mother, too, it was different. I remember when my mother asked him for loans for bread, up to his salary... for the same bread, which besides us, he will eat. He usually borrowed. When I was 4 years old, my brother was born, and my father-in-law, his father, treated him slightly better than me. If you take for the starting point “nik” in terms of relationships with me, to him it was “nik+/-”. He was not an alcoholic, although the holidays happened and I remember him drunk. Basically, he was riding a car, riding for fishing and hunting, working somewhere there, and again riding for fishing and hunting, repairing the car for these trips. After a while, my father still agreed with my mother about my move. My life changed in many ways, my father was the best, he was for me and my mom and dad, and also, my dad was my friend, the most real! I don’t know how many children can boast of being friends with their fathers, I could. My father had the principle “there will be questions, there will be answers” and I asked, a lot, often, sometimes not correctly. Dad, if there were quite “sweet” questions, asked for a moment to think, and then found the necessary and true answer. I came to my mom for a weekend, it was not especially before me, and then I youthful freedom. The one where the beer with the boys, the naked knees of the girl and the pressing of the one at the fire in the evenings. I felt permissible there. I remember my mom stuck me with a girlfriend in their bedroom with their father, on their bed... There was a scream, and the worst threat, according to my mom, was “I call your father.” It hardly frightened me, because Dad was adequate.

I always knew who my father was, and who my father was, as if my mother didn’t bother me. I’ve always seen the contrast between father and father. If my father brought me something as a gift, then my younger brother, the son of another man from a woman he loved, even in the past, always received a gift of equal value. I remember my father told me that he was my “born brother.” And it was my dad who laid down my attitude to my brother, now we "do not pour water." No sarcasm, I very much love and appreciate this abortus, taking care of him exactly as much as possible without compromising his independence and wealth.

My dad always talked to me, the only oplew I got from daddy was when at the age of 14 he came home "blue in the isolant." Everything is always resolved by communication. Father, on the contrary, a little boasted of the belt and poured his brother or twisted his ears, so that he stood up. He screamed for nothing and forever ticked his finger in his chest, indicating that he was feeding them. So it continued until I was 15 years old, at that time I had been boxing for almost 6 years, because tennis and basketball my father rejected for uselessness in case of something on the street. At some point, I gained courage or stupidity and stood as a shield between my brother and father. Having picked out the dog’s guide, with which he stretched his brother’s back, I argued that “this is not a method of education.” My father came, for the first time. Then such moments happened periodically, Father often repeated that I was preventing him from raising his son, but I did not dare to sweep, and not because I was a boxer, but because my father would come. Although there were clashes, and even once, this wonderful creature grabbed its rifle to shoot me the ugly smith, but it's a different story.

Time passed, I fell in love with an absolutely amazing woman, she lived in a different city. She worked in a large company in a very miserable, advanced position. I raised my daughter, who was 9 years old at the time. Is it worth saying that a 9-year-old daughter is not a year-old child? We started building bridges, I went through “mama sleep with me in this room”, “mama you kiss him more often”, “mama hold me by the hand, not him”... I remember what my father was, I remember what and how to do not... For almost 6 years as we are married, daughters have been 15. Am I a “father” for her? No is. She never called me that word, and I never asked for it. At the very beginning, I said that “Papa” is a high title, for the first I suggest her to be friends.

And now it is happening so:

Help me with the lessons, or my mom is always screaming and I don’t understand anything.

I need to talk to you, but my mom doesn’t know.

I love you...

You know, let me not be “Papa,” but I am a father. And unlike her father, I remember when she had her birthday, I know what she is fascinated with, which of the boys she likes. And I am proud. I’m proud that she plays my guitar, that she’s learning great, that I’ve never raised my hand on her, that we have something to talk about. I am proud that she is my daughter!