There is virtually no humor in this story, and it will not fit into the usual Internet 2-3 paragraphs. But believe me, it is worth it. Especially because the story - in fact exclusive, sounded several times in a narrow circle, without bringing out. Now, it seems, it is time for greater coverage, just on Victory Day.

In the 1970s our family lived in Rostov-on-Don at the address: Fortress Street, house 141, square. 48 is The usual brick five-story in the center of the city, across the road from the pool "Briz", if anyone is interested in the exact location.

There and now someone lives in our two-bedroom Chruščov. Just like the floor above, in the 51st apartment, in a single room. But in my childhood, my grandmother Sonja, a quiet, smiling old lady, lived in the apartment number 51. I don’t remember her well, I can say, I don’t remember anything at all, except that she always had a soft plastic bag in the hallway with caramels, with which she served me, resorting to salt or other economic orders.

My mother and Sophia Davydovna often talked, the neighbors at the time were much closer to each other, so the relationship was more open.

Many years have passed, we have moved for a long time, and once my mom told me an amazing story. She, of course, became aware of this from the neighbor, so now it turns out - "from the third hand", sorry if I am wrong. I tell you as I heard.

*** by

Sophia Davydovna in her youth studied in Moscow, practiced in some publication, and when the war began, she became a stenographer-machiner in the editorial office of the newspaper "Red Star". There were a few young girls there, and they worked mainly on the grades of Soviet journalism - in the summer of the forty-first Sonet got Konstantin Mikhailovich Simonov, it was his texts she re-printed most of the time.

The time was heavy. The Germans approached Moscow, daily airstrikes, the edition moved somewhere in the suburbs of the capital, the evacuation is actually being prepared. And suddenly in the midst of all this nightmare they announce: "In Moscow concert! In the Philharmonic! “There are invitation tickets for the newspaper, who wants to go?”

Everybody wanted to go. We found some kind of bus, or half Tuesday, full body of music fans, including Sophia and Simonov. In the courtyard, either the end of summer or the beginning of autumn, we arrived without adventures.

And there beauty - ladies in fashionable dresses, officers in parade uniforms, a few staff also found something to wear. Our girls look in all eyes, a bunch of famous people, what are you! On the stage - the orchestra... here memories fade, like my mother confidently reminds me that it was about the premiere of the symphony of Shostakovich. You feel the atmosphere, right? A piece of peaceful life.

In the middle of the first act, the air defense sirens begin to blow. The orchestra stops playing, the commander comes out and says, "Comrades, we have an unexpected break, whoever wants can come down in the lobby, there is a bomb shelter, it will be safer." The room is silent, no one rises from his seat. “Comrades, I ask you to come down to the bomb shelter!” In response, silence, even the chairs do not whisper. The manager stood, stood, took his hands and left the stage. The orchestra continued to play until the end of the first act.

They applauded, and only then everyone went down to the lobby, where they waited for the alarm. Sonia, of course, looks after "his" Simonov, as he is there and with whom. Everyone knew about his romance with Valentina Serova, and it must happen - at this concert they almost accidentally met.

Serova was with some military, Simonov grabbed the desperately sparkling Sophka, went with her to the actress and introduced them to each other. This, of course, was, rather, an occasion to start the conversation, but the young stenographer and that was enough - even, Serova herself, the star of the screen!

Then Simonov and Serov went aside and there, behind the columns, they talked about something for a long time. The conversation went on a few elevated tones, everyone around delicately as if not noticing what was happening. Simonov asked Serov about something, he whipped his head, he insisted on the answer, but as a result only achieved that Valentina Vasilievna turned and left Simonov alone at these columns.

Here, the beginning of the second act is announced, everyone returns to the hall, a whirlwind of the conductor’s stick, and music grimps again. Time flies unnoticed and almost at night the truck goes back, the spectators tremble in the body, a small rain freezes. Sophia stolenly looks at Simonov, he sits silently, smokes papyrus, one after the other...

Arriving at the location, everyone goes to sleep, full of impressions.

In the deep night, at three o’clock, our heroine wakes up from the fact that she is awakened by a messenger: “Sofka, get up, it urgently demands you!” She begged, soon dressed, resorted to the house where Simonov lived. Konstantin Mikhailovich stands at the dark window, looking at the distance. “Sophia, sit behind the machine” – and begins to dictate:

Wait for me and I will come back, only wait very long,
Wait for the yellow rain,
Wait when the snow melt, wait when it’s hot,
Wait until others wait, forgetting yesterday.

Soffka knocks on the keys and cries. And tears drop on the first printed copy of the famous poem.

*** by

I have long thought about writing this post. There is no written evidence. Sophia Dawidovna Yukelson died in the late eighties, other similar memories were not found, Yandex also knows nothing about it.

In some archives there will probably be facts confirming or disproving this story. But I think it is worthy to be preserved in our memory - a small piece of history of a great country.

Such things.

Odessa, “Privation”, a fish series. The Aunt:
and Bulls

By the end of the summer, I decided I needed a thickness.
“Well, come, buy,” said my mother when I told her about it.
And I went, taking my brother as a guide. We came back in a few hours.
- So you already have a grey, - commented the mother's purchase.
and E?
I knew for sure: I had neither grey nor white, nor any other thickness.
So I bought you.
Aaaah, why didn’t you tell me? Why did I ride then?
I thought you would buy blue.
In silence, I heard my brother and I drown their jaw.

You are laughing and your child is growing up. Think before it is too late.
________
O boze boze, in the future there will be less than one selfish, unable to give up even in little things to the person he values. The alarm code is red. Urgently, urgently educate a fucker who organically does not accept anybody's tastes and opinions, except their own! And then, oh horror, some butterfly with him in the future will be, at the peak of traditions and foundations, even HAPPY! Save who can!

And of the two orders I left one, which in fulfillment of my instructions - "It will be incomprehensible - call me!" - called at 3 a.m., and not the one who then bleated "I thought...
— — — —
Just for the sake of interest – you are, by chance, not from a military family, right?

"Make the game, only in a short time, rather, rather, cheer for optimization now!!and "
"What kind of shit did you do? Let us optimize"

endorphin: always in doubt, what is better to give to other children, flommasters or drums?

A hundred and a hundred!! to
and...
Where did Lieutenants Ripley come from?
The road to my home lies by the fence of the kindergarten.

I go home and hear the unfortunate girl’s voice:

Oh yeah yeah! We don’t want to go into space! Oh alloyana! We have pooons in the club!! to

I turn my head to the voice and see a small veranda where five girls in different combinations of pink clothes and one boiled boy in green clothes stood together.
At the entrance to the veranda is Alona.
A bold April wind shakes two bumpy dark tails on his head. Alona in a dark blue combination in a bright yellow strip. In her hands she has a huge and bright water pistol-automat.
Alona, with a sound ticking, shakes the pump of a shooting water monster and calmly says:

I have a blaster! That’s why we are flying into space!
It is....
It’s a pity "plus one hundred" can’t bet!You did my day and night by the way too!!! to

Do you want to know who keeps the traditions? The men? No, there are individual men who hide their increased tendency to violence, but they are generally very few. And the vast majority of conservatives-traditionalists are grandmothers-grandparents. An enormous number of "Tichon Kabanov" quickly become normal people, if they are not caught by the sick Catherine to repent, and a normal girl, besides, of course, no matter how difficult the conditions of a young family are - the husband's mother-in-law must be imported from the house immediately.A month or two falls asleep that the mom made a homemade cheese, and the wife does not, but still rapidly evolves to the ability to independently find a pot of soup in the refrigerator and warm it up, rather than knocking on the table with a fist.

Strangely, in general, the efficiency of labor and production is increasing, and as we wandered in the eight-hour workweek, we continue to rape the 40-hour working week.
Of course, thank you for the 8 hours, and for the shortened Friday and two weekends, but since then the technology has little jumped forward. At the same time, it comes to the fact that we also work on holidays, and we sit overtime and go out on weekends. 30 hour working week. Unemployment will decrease, there will be time for a hobby, family and children, chronic fatigue and stress will go away, there will be a desire (and the main opportunity) for something creative, rather than dinner and sleep.

XX: We watch with my husband "Styles", the final song, a bunch of diverse youth, girls, dresses, boys in shorts, etc. And at this moment I get through – and why do they have such a strange mark on the road? My husband laughed long.

UVA: It is not treated.
I can in the most emotional moment of the series whisper: "Who on a medieval horse dressed a sports seat?", the husband is upset that the doors of King Arthur are made on a machine that will appear in 500 years, our... there a clinic... "This tank was only in 1944, and not on that part of the front for the first time! Yellow!"

Something reminded me of the case when I and my future wife moved away from our parents for our first shooting and decided to prove that I AM A MAN!

That water crane, the time of the Bronze Age, I remembered for my whole life. This entirely rusted monster, holding on a limestone plaque, sending water fountains in unpredictable directions, from unexpected places, dropping unceasingly and making outward sounds, dreamed of me in my nightmares a week and a half after its repair.
It all started with the fact that the sealing valve, which was to block the water in the pipe leading to the crane, banally collapsed when trying to twist it. Thus e. It fell down entirely - there was not even a pipe left for the plywood.
Then, having agreed with the carpenter and blocked the water in the entire stand, I began to dismantle the crane. To begin with, fill it with a means of news. As I said at the beginning, he held on to it: after 3 hours of soaking and draining, both the valves on the crane and a piece of the hook that once twisted the crane to the hot water pipe fell. The remains of the crane were eaten out by holes and covered with cracks, and the traces of repairs of previous MUZIKOV! could be removed as archaeological layers.
The dismantling of the crane was completed with the help of a hammer, a hammer, a drill, a pin, a knife and a mat. But Stsuko was jealous of the tank armor.
When my wife came from work, I could be taken to neurology to be placed. But I replaced the crane, setting up at 9 o’clock.

If my daughter’s caregiver tries to touch me gently and gently on the phone, a huge debris awaits him. I have no desire or time to hide with someone unnecessary and unknown to me! I’ll ask in a second “who are you, man, and what do you need?” and to all kinds of stupid attempts to “intrigue” the answer will be sharp, and possibly obscene. Because I’m not sitting at home on the couch and I’m not a fool, unlike a young shalope. I have a pot in my hands, a knife, a puddle... And I, on the contrary, will consider him not a foolish guy, but a finite fool. I will try to convince my daughter.

An honest answer to everything:

I am upset by your opinion. I’m not going to tell you anything, because you’re also going to have it on you.

I hope that the girls don’t take this beetle about borscht seriously, because the man needs second dishes with meat!
Man, I don't know what you ate there instead of borsch, but in my borsch there is always meat! and :)

In the repair room:
If I cut my finger, I’ll just glue it with a patch instead of calling an ambulance.
If I am heavily, before arterial bleeding, I will cut my arm - I will apply a burn and then call an ambulance.
If I have appendicitis, I will go to the doctor instead of doing the operation myself.
As well as repair. The burning lamp and the flowing crane I change myself. But to tint walls, to turn off electricity, to put tiles in the bathroom and parquet on the floor - I will hire specially trained people. Because it will eventually cost cheaper than doing it yourself (taking into account the time spent, the purchased tool, the dull materials and the subsequent removal of various cracks).

Oh is. And my mother interrogates me: "Do you cook soups of mouth every day? But now we are talking to you, and your husband is still unfed! How to heat the potatoes or cook the peelings? It is unthinkable! He will leave you!"
I breathe, hold my shoulders. How to explain to a man that I don’t want my husband to have a dozen varieties of salt as my father made his mouth too hot! I wanted a potato yesterday, but I don’t want it today. And in general, I wanted tubes with condensation, and they with cream!"
My husband loves to eat everything I cook, sometimes cooking and feeding me. And yes, neither my mom nor my housewife ever worked a full shift, mom even at two sometimes.
And if the husband goes to the one that the borsches cook every day. He is better off with me than with me.

Try to imagine a family where they earn a lot and all the household tasks are done by employees. Who is the wife in this marriage? Or a well-known young actress you love who earns a lot and married. I don’t think she runs a household. She is an ideal for you.
--------
Do you really think that a husband/wife is a set of economic functions? Are you there spouses by resume what do you choose? Zinc is better cooking, but scary, the male wants a shirt, but always agree to fuck, although stupid. Which of these two idiots would you choose? Are you really choosing that way? and ppc. If so, are you complaining afterwards? Coincidence with the summary?

News of Science

Scientists dispeled the myth about the attractiveness of big dude for babouins

- Hearing "Allo" (the voice of my mother), say "Hello, little"
Shake for a long time, intensely using affectionate words, not addressing by name.
— — —
Interesting moms you met. Go to Shallow! Or did you just not give them a word to put in, shaking for a long time? It is good to play with your sister on the phone. Few people raised the phone. It is best to play with your grandmother, of course. The main thing here is not to stumble on a minor brother with an unbreakable voice. You are harder there.