They write about their fathers.

I’m lucky with my father. very very. He was strict, he was little spoken, he was even harsh. I was the sixth child, the youngest son. It turned out to be the most favorite.

It all became clear later, many years later, as a father did not become. Coming to my mom, snacking my mom’s cakes, drinking tea with blenders, my mom and I often sat talking, remembering all sorts of ancient stories. So began to reveal some interesting moments... there were many of them, I will tell about two.

The first case.

Immediately after school, in order to become independent faster, and not to burden my parents, I decided to enter a military school. Decided and done. became a sergeant. The salary of a student is 5 rubles, the salary of a sergeant is 7. You need to buy seams, pencil, notebook, paste, shorter soap and writing and teaching. There were hardly any cakes and drinks.

Mom once apologized: I apologize for not being able to help you during your studies, not sending money, not sending packages.

I say, how did they not send? I received 10 rubles each month.

My father was a teacher. It turned out that he managed to send me money from his salary for 4 years.

The second case.

I collected old photos and letters with my mother. Here is a postcard from you for March 8. Indeed, from me, on March 8th, only without the marks and handwriting of my father...

He loved his mother too...