Shan Huaizhen, a member of the Heze City Writers Association, a teaching craftsman, has been unknown for 20 years, and thinks that the sound of books under the green bricks and blue tiles is a natural sound in the world. Advocating freedom and interest in reading, mostly through the autumn wind, the pen cultivation is natural!
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Text/Shan Huaizhen
With regard to my father, I cannot tell you all the years of his old age and the traces worth mentioning. Because, all I know, is only the tip of the iceberg.
The date of birth on the father's identity card, the same age as the Republic. However, according to his old man's family, when he applied for an identity card, several cadres of the brigade gave a random year, month, and day, and his actual age should be almost 77 years old. Despite his advanced age and tough body, he is still authoritarian and still nosy!
Where is it better to start? After thinking about it for a long time, mix my hearsay with what I have seen with my own eyes.
My father had many sisters, three brothers, three sisters, and he was the fourth with two younger sisters. I don't know exactly what year it was, because the family didn't have enough rations, so my father went with a troupe to sing. It's not so much singing as it is about stuttering. Even so, life is still difficult. My grandparents eventually decided to give my little aunt to someone else. This matter finally reached his father's ears, and his old man did not know how far he had traveled, and he carried his little aunt back from someone else's house. Without saying much, he divided the two pieces of land he received from the troupe every day to his sister. No matter how hard life is, it has never changed. The little aunt has the deepest affection for him, until now, after the little aunt retired from the Tianjin Health Prevention and Control Center, she still chose to settle down near her father's residence, which should have a lot to do with it.
My father was a man who never bowed to life, and his old man's tenacity often made me sigh.
Originally, my father was also a farmer with his back to the sky facing the loess soil. What I called initially should have been that I had not yet been born. Father and mother support each other in the face of those difficult lives. However, his father's disposition made him unwilling. Desperate, he left home and went to the town's supply and marketing agency. My father, who had no money, no power, no wealth and nobility, bowed to the leader of the supply and marketing cooperative for four years, did not want any remuneration, regardless of the wind and rain, and paid for four years without complaint or regret, and finally kept the clouds open and saw the moon, and the leader arranged his father in the supply and marketing cooperatives restaurant to do miscellaneous work.
His overjoyed father cherished this hard-won job, and in half a year, with his extraordinary diligence, he learned to fry fritters, fry sugar cakes, paste burnt cakes, and "beat" fried buns. Tidy up and keep everything he can, all around him, and everything he can reach. At the end of the year, my father was named an excellent worker in the supply and marketing system. When the leader asked him what he wanted, the old man snorted: Let me go to the cotton station.
In this way, my father successively went to the town cotton station and the town grain office, and every time he went to a job, he could always shine a dazzling light in his unit. I clearly remember that his old man's abacus played well, and occasionally he would teach me the abacus by hand, from "1" to "100", accumulating, and finally "5050" appeared on the abacus, and we both breathed a long sigh. The supply and marketing system has an abacus contest every year, and his father always gets the first place, which is an aura worth showing off for his old man. Actually, me too. It's just that in all these years, I have never told him, not because it is difficult to talk about, but because I think the aura is more of a spur to me.
Later, I have the memory of the years, and my father began to run the tobacco and alcohol counter of the supply and marketing agency. Every day, the goods are purchased, the goods are shipped, and the inventory is still necessary when it is dark. At that time, it was a luxury for me to see my father during the day. Thanks to my neighbors, when they go to the town to catch the market, they will ask me: "Erni, are you looking for your father?" "Go!" I was picked up and ridden in the folds on both sides of the front bar of the "permanent" bicycle, carrying all the way to my destination. The door to the counter was not open, and my father took me directly from the counter and put me in the counter. At that time, my father had already begun to take apprentices. His apprentice would encourage me to eat all kinds of candy on the counter—fruit candy, mint candy, baby puff pastry. Stealing candy, never let the father find out, otherwise he will be beaten. But the fruit candy in the mouth will immediately emit the aroma of fruit; mint sugar spicy, really do not like; children's crisp is the most delicious, the entrance is crispy into sugar foam, the taste is wonderful! I really couldn't resist this temptation, and when my father couldn't see it, I would put the sugar in my mouth with lightning speed. Standing at the counter, my eyes directly killed my companions who had gluttoned me with toys that I didn't have in front of me. During those years when supply and demand were woefully inadequate, my childhood memories were colorful because of my father.
Until now, I still regret it, why didn't I think of hiding the best baby crisp and bringing it home to enjoy in front of my peers? At that time, there really wasn't, never had!
Later, his father built a wholesale department for tobacco and alcohol for the supply and marketing cooperative, and his old man was the leader, and his old man was still busy. Every day I was busy with tobacco moisture protection, and the super large machine (air conditioner) buzzed non-stop, and I felt that I could deafen people's ears! In the late 1970s and early 1980s, I spent my childhood under the shadow given to me by my father. A few years ago, my father wanted to dispose of the house in his hometown, and I firmly disagreed, because I didn't want to make my memories rootless! Because the years continue to travel, the memories are intermittent, and the land that carries my past memories will always emit a sweet fragrance in the dust of history!
My father loved to buy books and read. "Liaozhai Zhiyi", "Three Words and Two Beats", "Legend of the Archery Hero", and even "Ancient Literature Guanzhi"! When I was illiterate, he would use "storytelling" as an oil head and coax a few of our sisters to pick up ears of wheat, pick cotton, and go to the newly turned fields to make a mess. When I went to school and knew some words, I began to steal my father's books. "Liaozhai Zhiyi" really can't understand, fortunately there is a translation later, so I only read the translation; the stories on the "Three Words" are not all talented and beautiful, and I also secretly looked through it. Therefore, when our brigade finally bought a TV set, when my peers sat around and watched the TV series "Liaozhai" xin thirteen niang and baby Ning and was shocked at first, I was already secretly laughing at them in my heart. The movie "Du Shiniang's Angry Sinking Treasure Chest", which we only released once in the first half of the year, did not attract me, because, in the "Three Words", I had long known Li Jia, a coward! In fact, my father only went to the third grade of elementary school. There were many words in the book, he didn't know, he kept mispronouncing them. I don't correct it for his old man, it's very good, no matter what he reads, his old man' home, in my eyes, is also a book!
My father could play the flute, and when he came out of the troupe, he rarely touched the flute. Occasionally, it was only in front of the guests. People will say: Great, great, and flute! Once, when no guests came, he picked up the flute and tried the bull knife in front of me, but he did not expect that he was old, his mouth leaked, and the flute sounded dumb and ugly. I smiled, took the flute and blew a song called "Butterfly" to his old man. I saw my father with his mouth open, and his jaw was about to fall off! He didn't know that I had secretly learned it as early as when I was in my third year of junior high school. But I had to give his old man a step, so he said leisurely: Blowing is not good, I am from the door, I would not have let you smoke three points! In the past few years, my father has learned to play the piano again, hey, this old man! I really can't catch up with him!
In 2007, her mother died of illness. My father was so sad that he took my third brother out of his hometown and lived in his sister's house in the county town. Although his old man worked all his life, he did not buy a single tile property in the county town, and he could not find a place to live in his old age. A few years ago, I gave everything I had, bought a second-hand house for my father, cleaned it up a little, and let my father live in it. That day, he called me and said that he was crouching on the side of the road, thinking that he had been busy all his life and was still living in his daughter's house, when a sprinkler truck drove up and splashed him with water! He lamented his old age. alas! O my old father! The house is for you to live, mine is yours, this life, we two grandfathers, break so clear what!
The years do not live, the seasons are like a stream. Seeing that I have also reached the year of destiny, my life has been changed repeatedly, my heart is decadent, and I am sad. From time to time, my father messaged me and encouraged me. Simple words, warm words, let me feel deeply in every late night! He bought a thermos bucket, or wrapped dumplings, or stewed my favorite dishes, two-wheeled tram, riding more than a hundred miles, and sent them to my unit. This old man, who was nearly eighty years old, had years of soaked hair and stubbornly flew against the wind. Father, you have written your own tough life with the capital "human" word! In my eyes, in my heart, you are the benchmark, in the direction of your progress, I will unswervingly go on!
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