My XX century
Published in Russian: Çàãðàåâñêèé Ñ.Â. Ìîé ÕÕ âåê. Ì.: Àëåâ-Â, 2001. ISBN 5-94025-009-2
Chapter 4. “Stagnation”
The following text was translated from the Russian original by the computer program
and has not yet been edited.
So it can be used only for general introduction.
Like a razor, dawn slashed his eyes,
Opened Kuroki, as the magic sesame
Arrow appears on the trace of light,
And flew a dragonfly with putrid rivers
And the fun went in two hands, two arms.
You lay down on his stomach and teeth removed.
Even that, even he who dived under the flags
Felt pitfall pillows legs
The one bullet could not overtake b -
Also in fear, usepray, lay down and weakened.
For life smiling to wolves, not heard,
Wonder we love it, partygoer,
And death - the beautiful, wide grin
And healthy, strong teeth.
Same wolfish grin enemy,
We have not lathered withers,
But the tattooed blood snow -
Your painting: we no longer wolves!
You crawled like a dog tails tucked,
To heaven surprised muzzle raised.
Or retribution from above you shed,
Or the end of the world and in the minds of bias,
Just beat you to the growth of iron dragonflies!
Blood soaked lead you under the rain,
And humbled by solving: still will not go away.
Bellies hot melted snow.
This massacre started not the God - man:
Flying in years, fleeing - in the race!
You bunch of dogs, you get a bunch of my not wages,
Equally , cooked for us good luck,
Wolves we - well,our dog's life
You dogs - and the death of you dog!
Same wolfish smile to the enemy,
To nip in the Bud the rumors.
But the tattooed blood snow -
Your painting: we no longer wolves!
To the forest, where at least save a few of you,
Hurry, wolves - harder to kill on the run,
Take the same leg, save the puppies!
I MacOS eyes half-drunk shooters
And call together the best of soul himself wolves!
Those who are alive, crouched on the shore,
What can I one - nothing,
Weak eyes, dim instinct,
Where are you, wolf - former forest animals?
Where are you, yellow-my family?
I live, but now surround me
Animals, wolf who knew no cry.
These are dogs - our distant relatives,
We used to consider prey.
Smile I smile of a wolf to the enemy,
Revealing rotten pieces.
But tattooed blood snow
Melts painting: we no longer wolves!
“Hunting from a helicopter”
When he describes what he saw and remember myself, there is always the danger of loss of objective perception. On the other hand, the “live” images create a coloring era - a kind of neo-realist film.
And since the beginning of the seventies neorealism has taken a very strong place in my life began unattractive school routine. Besides moving on Leningrad highway geographically distanced me from the house of Moses Naumovich and Elena Alexandrovna on Gagarin square and dramatically closer to Lidia Viktorovna and Mikhail Naumovich.
Were this approach and its pros and cons of not less.
The house Zagraevsky was standard-pensioner. Such thousand. The exception was one - person Lydia Victorovna. Such a strong and dedicated women still little...
Grandfather Mikhail Naumovich Zagraevsky to life at home is not affected in any way. Moreover, from idleness and lack of demand was quietly drunk. First, a teetotaller he never was, and secondly, he suffered from diabetes and had some “good people” advised as medicine dry wine. In the end, no evening without a bottle last (well, not vodka).
My God, how many people in the literal sense of the words were lost because of these “national” methods: from nerves - vodka, cold - she pepper, from anemia - port, from a bile stone disease - beer, from diabetes - dry wine... something, maybe, for awhile, and improving, then it becomes even worse. And tourists with thirst in any case it is not recommended to drink alcohol: there is only a brief illusion of quenching.
Approximately the same narcotic effect as alcohol, Mikhail Naumovich assisted projects mills, which he some organizations periodically sent for examination. As far as I understand, it was a pure formality and not much depended on the results. Some ersatz activity.
Something similar was and Chairman of the housing cooperative. In the late seventies and his grandfather had left.
He was only slightly over seventy, but it was a stout, passive and slow, old man. Outwardly, however, he remained very presentable gentleman and proudly wore a jacket with a badge “for excellence in military construction” for lack of a more tangible rewards. He was still a medal “For defense of Moscow” and similar for the Caucasus, but it hung “to pupov” veterans of the war it was even disreputable. Even with a medal “Veteran of labour” for some reason he was not honoured. Apparently, not like the Jews in the Ministry of defense...
Sadly - it was a system of values grandfather, and he was in it did not succeed. Again, remember Galich:
Oh, do not sew, you Jews, livery,
Do not walk you in Chamberlain, the Jews.
Do not grieve the same vain, do not cry -
Don't you sit either in the Synod, or the Senate.
But a Jew is a Jew, and even being in such an unpleasant situation, my grandfather worked. However, very specific - invented. And technically feasible things such as hydraulic power transmission, which later turned out “nepatentovannoe”, and complete nonsense type of “perpetual motion”, based on the effects of atmospheric pressure.
His oral and written relationships with the Institute of State patent examination were protracted and malevolent in nature. When in the mid-eighties he could not go there, to me, a student, had a couple of times to defend his projects on expert advice in this esteemed institution Berezhkovskaya embankment and get a “neck” in full...
Actually my grandfather did not find a better representative - I knew little hydraulics, besides I still desperately unlucky in the issues, decisions on which are taken collectively. But more than his grandfather nobody could help.
All this was much later. And while we're talking about the seventies.
Mikhail N. me madly loved and forgave me all pranks, telling tales of his childhood, played cards and chess (yield), but for some reason I can't remember what he did teach me.
Apparently, the latter was the exclusive prerogative of the grandmother, and the lessons me she always taught to do by yourself, only to verify the results. While in high school, she is nothing but chemistry, and test-and could not - school program eighth grade my time exceeded the level of higher education dacotah years...
I spent time at my grandparents much more than in the parental home, although she was just a floor above. No father, no mother's day was not home, and Lidia Viktorovna dealt exclusively with me.
Despite his age, she had a beautiful figure, a Regal bearing, fast and sure movements, the ability to take clear decisions. One word - identity. However, she is not followed his appearance, walking is not known what, no cosmetics, paints, hair and creams - all the wrinkles and gray outside. She did not care.
I wanted to say about middle-class orientation of Lydia Victorovna, but does not work. There was something different, more scientific-technocratic life position with middle-class background. Simply put, my grandmother knew in Soviet science properly and consistently pay for a “cushy” job and wanted to make her grandson a scientist (at least engineer), and the best teacher of high school.
About my bout reading books grandmother contempt expressed “fiction”, whether it was about Dante, Tolstoy and Pushkin. Moreover, the reading was considered more harmful than helpful, so as to distract from the lesson.
Books in grandma's new home with Arbat times were not increased, but there was a collection of works of Jack London, whom I “balancing” the classics. Jack London, for all its “of americancommunity” has a certain depth, and the main thing - in his books has the strongest vitality and continuous theme “time does not wait”is very useful for kids and adults too...
But let's move on to the undoubted pluses close contact with Lydia. Education - it was for it all. From her early childhood, I insisted that I should be the candidate of the Sciences, and grandfather Mikhail N. Zagraevsky she said that I should be a design engineer.
Do not make the lessons were serious offense. I was not spanked, God forbid, but my grandmother was so strong man, and made such psychological pressure that I did not dare to object.
Lidia Viktorovna was aware of what is happening at school, he led there turbulent social activities (even presided over the so-called “parents ' Committee”), and the most unpleasant, what could I expect from the teacher for a prank or two, - this complaint grandmother.
Even I was forced to play music, and the house went to the teacher.
It was awful hard labor, which lasted for a class that way from the second to the eighth. Blame - the same grandmother persistence and perseverance in achieving their goals. Here they played a bad service, as was incorrect initial postulate that I have an ear for music, and that the teacher is able to develop. Theoretically, maybe a teacher and was capable of, but almost on her part was Frank thrash, expressed in a continuous “indoctrination” sonatas and pieces that I'm still a year to forget.
I think this whole process by reminding training Pavlovian dogs - for the hundredth time reflex was fixed, but after the emergence of a new reflex old immediately died for the natural unnecessary.
Lydia V. Davila at me frankly, in high school, I became actively snarl began scandals in the spirit of the already mentioned the Italian neo-realist films, but eventually I did for school and College friends is nothing to play could not.
I think that the “musical suffering” would have lasted longer than the eighth class, only our family at this time poor, and there was nothing to pay a teacher. There is no bad without good...
But to be completely objective, say thanks to music lessons. As you know, a good way to train memory - learning poems in an unfamiliar language. Something similar happened here.
To finish the story of my school years, I would say another aspect of my studying at school, which knew neither teachers, nor parents or grandmother, Lydia V. : I was constantly beaten. I reported this in more detail later, but more curious: when many years later I accidentally told all parents, they were very surprised. Why do not they intuitively felt that their child not everything, - I do not know, probably, was not before. Even when I came home with bruises and talked nonsense type drop on a corner desks, I believe. Zavtra all healed...”
And in free time I read and read, and frequent illness allowed me to do it in a big way, and then even Lidia Viktorovna did not object...
There was another aspect of my development on which Lydia V. and Mikhail Naumovich not yet affected. It was laid by the paternal side of the family's dislike of “native Soviet power”.
“Dissident” treatment of the younger generation to be easy. It was enough not to be afraid to tell the child to clear absurdities and inconsistencies, which in the semi-official ideological education more than enough. And the reality in the form of constant downward real living standards and leaking alternative information about the “rotten West” speaks for itself.
Was wrong in our “the Kingdom of Denmark,” and I knew it. Attempts by the Communists Lydia Victorovna and Mikhail N. impose my vision of the world in what have not resulted. I think important role played by the instability of their beliefs: how can I thought, to love the present-day Communist party and not to love Stalin, in fact it has created? A once-beloved leader grandfather still condemned - could not forgive him anti-Semitic campaign, and his fear about possible links to Birobidzhan...
Father evenings sometimes sat me on the bed and talked for hours about politics and literature. Unforgettable conversation! Usually too emotional father in a quiet evening atmosphere spoke softly and earnestly, and every time I reluctantly took reminders mother that it was late and time to sleep.
A huge influence on me has Moses Averbach. The fact that Lydia V. was trying to reduce “rating” of the father, telling the “chilling” history, as he then drove home from work, the thesis was unable to protect, then threw me in infancy and dropped... And Moses Naumovich Lidia Viktorovna so respected and feared that he was “beyond criticism”, and all said they were perceived by the child as the ultimate truth.
Yes, and my mother was here on the side of the father. From her childhood I talked not so frequently (even called her “fotorama”, that is seen predominantly in photo), but remember very well and walks with her, and what she taught me. It is believed that open dissent can only corrupt, but everything must be properly understood.
To its credit, Lydia Victorovna and Mikhail Naumovich must say that the impossibilitypereshibaniya butt whipping” they felt fairly soon, somewhere in my elementary school, stood up and tried to foster in me love for the Communist regime. Accordingly, I no longer hear their loud scandals with his father - theme-that was the only ideological, more than they had nothing to share. By the early eighties, their relationship is fully stabilized, although the love affair is still not observed.
In short, in the childhood I have understood everything. And when in the early seventies was the campaign for the release of Luis Corvalan”, and when he was traded to “bully”, i.e. the human rights activist Vladimir Bukovsky, and when in 1975 were signed the Helsinki accords on human rights, and when in the late seventies planted their supporters in the USSR, and when the Soviet army in 1979 entered Afghanistan...
“The stage of a” Soviet military dictatorship me has always been clear, and in senior classes I did not hesitate to openly talk about it.
However, such “smart” in the school there were many, but the Institute and did plenty. Hero advocacy , I was not and is unlikely to become them, even the Soviet Union survive longer.
The fact that the constant pressure Lydia Victorovna bore fruit: I decided to make a scientific career”, and all my anti-Soviet beliefs do not mean the transition to active actions. And just for the belief in the early eighties was not planted, especially young people - too many would have...
Father and mother in the late sixties and early seventies lucky. No, thank God, do not put any of them, but on the head do not Pat.
The fact that her mother was often a guest of the famous Moscow dissident, Professor Leonid Efimovich Pinsk. Father rarely ever been there, for all sorts of “party” didn't like them weary. In Pinsk there were Henry Sapgir, Gennady Cyferov, Oscar Rabin, Alexander Galich, Anatoly Zverev, Alexander Ginzburg -- And the latter, in turn, was one of the leaders of the company, which in 1968 went to Red square to protest against the introduction of tanks into Czechoslovakia.
All who came to the square, was immediately arrested and began to “deal” with their friends and acquaintances. The latter was calculated by elementary seized during searches on notebooks. Immediately, gradually, within a year or two, but got to all.
Father was not touched. I think for two reasons.
First, the former of verkhoturova feared - to put pressure on them was useless, and even “harmless” conversation in the KGB would mean the strongest response from the “company” Moses Naumovich Averbuch.
And so in these years Moscow was buzzing like a disturbed hive. Strength in Stalinist prison camp inmates still lacking, and they had a little, but ignored. Anyway, without much need for “old” tried not to annoy, although Moses Naumovich work in the “people's control”, which gave many rights to protect people who have lost it then.
About the passions is the fact that when in 1973 Varlam Tikhonovich Shalamov under the strong pressure of the KGB sent a penitential letter in “Literaturnaya Gazeta”newspaper, where a very streamlined wrote that “the problems of Kolyma tales charged by life itself”, he, “the apostate”, was immediately denied from home Moses Naumovich and, as I understand from other “nice” places.
I think that Shalamov was not easy because he was admitted to the Union of Writers. And he died as a result of fear - all abandoned, in a psychiatric unit litfund...
A house of Moses Naumovich held a huge stream of anti-Soviet literature. Grandmother Elena published samizdat and travel further. One former Vorkuta of lagerny, German Selm Fedorovna of Ruoff, received through the Embassy of Germany heap “of tamizdat”, i.e. Newspapers, books and magazines, and also sent further. All of this was not exactly clear, but not very secretive about the KGB could not know, but I prefer them not to bother.
Remember the anecdote of the time? There are two and one friend tells anotherthat separates “Anna Karenina”. At surprised question, why, she replied that to his son: he reads only samizdat...
Illustration to this anecdote: I poetry in the childhood was fond of a little, but the class that way in the eighth, I found a large volume poluzabytogo Mandelstam, published in new York, with the anti-Stalinist-anti-Soviet introductory article of Professor Struve. And as for “the publications” I couldn't read very carefully. Through the fate of Osip of E. poems I felt and for the first time “let through”.
The opposite example: Pushkin I'm only in adulthood, in his youth, his white teeth poems “I frankly did not like “because” the same M.:
Gramoteet in overcoats with revolvers tribe pushkinovedov -
Young Amateur white-toothed rhymes...
Sorry, I got carried away - very alive in me all these topics. You have not forgotten that, all told, it was only a “first”that is why the KGB after 1968 once again chose not to trouble troubles” and did not touch my father, Wolfgang Volfgangovicha Kavelmahera?
Was the “second” - his father was a private architect shabby restoration trust, had no degree, no partisanship, and he had nothing to lose.
However, the real threat to the regime he had no idea. The position of the father and his environment perfectly expresses one quatrain his then-employee of trust, and now won the deserved reputation of the poet Mikhail Aizenberg:
Near circled in the back of breathing
We burned incense loud power.
And do not interfere.
My mother, a poet Inna Zagraevsky, had something to lose - the path to the reader. And she lost it, for the Soviet writers were regarded as agents of the party's policies, almost what employees of the ideological front, and are not “hang out” in the anti-Soviet companies.
All of its relative prosperity and the printing was in 1969 crossed a tacit indication of the KGB conducted through the Chairman of the writers ' Union of the RSFSR Sergey Vladimirovich Mikhalkov. Direct or indirect indication - do not know.
Modern children for want of a new mass children's literature know and love “Uncle Stepa”. And I always wondered: can a person of type long-term Chairman of the RSFSR Mikhalkov (or, for example, Marshal Zhukov) at the end of life to repent of all your sins and to write a truthful memoirs?
More and more convinced that it can, and not because he is banned or ordered to write the truth.
Read the memoirs written after the collapse of Soviet power, type, memoirs of the main insurgent Beria's NKVD-MGB, General Sudoplatov, and understand: if these people any of his numerous crimes considered sins, they would have gone crazy, or had a stroke before retirement. Transgression and sin, unfortunately, in our imperfect different things.
Career deprive people of the opportunity to repent and to tell the truth, and do not expect this from them, and in old age. They have long forgotten how to do it...
But even if Sergey Vladimirovich, beyond expectation, found the hunt to confess, I don't know remembered if he would like thrown from the literature Inna Zagraevsky.
Somewhere in Corsica I probably should have been to avenge his family for seven generations, and here - even consider him a son Nikita was a good actor and a good Director. Yes, and her mother were the last good relationship. However, with Mikhalkov-the father Inna my memory cute greeted and talked. Civilization.
Neither anger nor censure
Long time since we do not rattles.
Greet the scoundrels,
Bows with a policeman.
This is again Galich - “business card” civil lyrics seventies. On all occasions...
Interestingly, the generation of my parents perceived Alexander Galich primarily as “laughers” - the author of songs like “I'm the scientific Marxist nurtured...” or cycle of Klima Kolomiitseve.
His tragic civil-poems-type “Songs of eternal fire” (better known as “Tumbalalaika”) contemporaries seemed loud and inappropriate - imagine anyone in our time will stand in classical theater posture and will be with pathos to shout about small pensions or delay of the salary to state employees...
But you must, at a distance of a quarter-century civil sincere Paphos already seen quite adequately, and right argh break through, when you read something like:
And still, not easier,
The age of our attempts us:
- Can come to the square,
Dare to enter the area
At the appointed hour?
Galich wrote this about the very entrance to the Red square in 1968, several heroes, led by Alexander Ginzburg.
And we in the nineties had its own area, and grandparents - in the twentieth. And sure I need space for a particular action you want from us? Age of us “trying” constantly.
In my childhood I managed to blame parents for what they do not come to the square. I didn't know that when Mandelstam, who appeared in the Crimea under General Wrangel was briefly imprisoned (by today's standards - “to identification”), he began to knock on the door and demanding the release, arguing that “it is not created for the prison.
On the one hand, and who created it for?
On the other hand, there are people, because of the physical and mental qualitySTV JVosobne to bear it. Example - my own grandfather, Wolfgang Alfredovich Kavelmaher. He survived all lumbering camp (although amassed tuberculosis), safely returned to Moscow and not only married, but started two children, George and Anna.
I spoke with him rarely, but even in his extreme old age of complaints to life and twenty years in the camps did not hear. Wolfgang Alfredovich clearly differed unwavering mental health and an iron, but all the same to say that he was “created for the prison, mildly speaking, incorrect.
Inna Mikhailovna Zagraevsky nor any parameters for the prison has not been established and the area in 1968 did not come out absolutely right - somebody has to write poetry...
They became her civil act. The Soviet authorities
have rated them “dignity” in
Inna “received” even... parsing of the party organization of the writers ' Union, despite the fact that she was not a member of any joint venture or the CPSU. Her poems have been thoroughly examined and condemned as “spoiling the language of Soviet children”. Unfortunately, I do not know, unanimously or by a majority vote...
Lev Kassil died in 1970, and is unlikely to be able to protect Inna Zagraevsky. Its not long before his death “demoted” from the chairmen of the children's section because he refused to condemn Israel (in conjunction with the six day war in 1967), so he has his own problems enough. A positive “internal review”, which is about creativity Zagraevsky wrote decent people (including Kassil, and Antokolsky, and Yuli Daniel), a little worried about the Almighty guide JV.
It is encouraging that the chief editor of the publishing house “Detskaya literature” Konstantin Piskunov, despite the persecution of “harmful poet”, not “scattered” already typed the book “Happy skier” and gave her the opportunity to be published.
And - more than any single more or less serious publication until 1992, when the mother sponsored by some sort of charity Fund, his own son, still has published all his works - and the poetry, and drama.
The Union of Writers of the USSR mother tried to enter many times. In the early seventies, almost every year, she filed documents, and they are happily stuck at some bureaucratic level. The situation was aggravated by the fact that Sergey Mikhalkov was President of JV RSFSR, and the actual section head of children's literature, that is, against “young children's poet” his word was true, in the first and in the last instance.
Despite the fact that the mother at that time worked as a Professor of chemistry and for her literary career was not a matter of life and death, all this was extremely difficult.
And it a chance “to go into samizdat” it was not for this it was necessary to destroy the world or modernism, as Sapgir, or citizenship, as Galich. And think about whether it was appropriate in samizdat poetry type:
Look out the window:
Explodes and melts,
Bonfire of the snow
And the woods in the snow
Maybe Inna Mikhailovna would cost to continue political and surreal line of his first poem - about a dead mouse? Hardly. This style is absolutely jar with a warehouse of her personality, and not without reason, no such verse in it is no longer published. A “social order” of it, thank God, has never tried to do.
Of course, if it “carved” verses about snowflakes belonged who served for many years the hero protection type Bukovsky, have specific tragic halo and they would be of undoubted interest of the wider public. However, such interest in the art would have no relations, but still!
But the mother, as we have said, none of the parameters was not created for the prison. Moreover - it weighed even the Department of chemistry, she dreamed of living it is literature. And the possibility of literary earnings in the early seventies gave only entry into the Union of Writers, but the road was closed for Sapgir, and for Tsyferova, and for Zagraevsky.
They all even had the charge of personal “guardian” of the security bodies. The mother of “her” even allegedly broke something resembling a human relationship. She thought so. But in fact everything was played, as the notes:
First, from the “guardian” was a blatant intimidation types of visits to the rector of the Mining Institute (where he worked Inna) or phrases like: “Why are You in the Writers ' Union, if that is your political views?”
Then the position of “buddy”: “I was engaged in journalism, but because of the work in the “bodies” was forced to quit and, between ourselves, I am very sorry”.
Then the “friendly” advice: “Be careful not to associate with, they will kill You, and You are such a good person”...
Then, the alleged “secret”: “I got the bosses closing Your case, giving at your own risk swear that You reconsider your views...
All this, of course, from first to last was pure water “headdress, but reached a certain goal. The mother, being a natural person too fond (minus the greenhouse education), stopped visiting Professor of Pinsk and tried to follow the standard line of the Soviet writer. Moreover, hid her contact with the KGB and the parents, and her husband, that is “to open her eyes” was none.
Started some wretched seminars for young writers, a trip to the “house of art”, the “party” in the Central house of writers, attempts to establish relations with officials from the art - Agnia Barto, Anatoly Alexina... Nabout all this was a waste of time and effort, because this is something to it, and cheated, and the title of the Soviet writer (let's publications and fees) so assigned. And associated with these “meetings” intrigues and gossip were disgusting and humiliating - many writers, especially women instinctively felt ostracized and persecuted as he could.
Interestingly, in memory of the mother and father changed cause and effect - that is rejection of the “brethren of the pen” they considered the root cause of the ban on poetry ina Zagraevsky. Date crushing Assembly in publishing gradually forgotten, and it was considered that all this was the year that way in 1972, there seems to be discontent successful “baby” the poet gradually matured, and then splashed out...
But in fact, based on the undisputed memory Inna Mikhailovna that these meetings passed, when preparing for printing the book “Happy skier”, released in 1969, it is possible to make a clear conclusion: the poet Zagraevsky from the literature kicked immediately after the “Czechoslovak events”, that is, by command of the KGB. And whose hands - by and large, unprincipled.
Well that Zagraevsky docent at least from the chemistry Department is not expelled. The mother still naively believes that its “covered” by the rector of the Institute of Textile Martynov, with whom they once shared was in the Komsomol Committee, but it is also unlikely - if the KGB seriously something decided, no rector would not help. Apparently, simply chose not to “corner”: Inna Zagraevsky were all prerequisites to become an activist advocacy, and if it were completely deprived of work, perhaps it any other way would not have left.
But the Union of Writers of the mother in the Soviet time and was not allowed, and eventually she became a member of this organization only in 1994, when it has no one been necessary, and above all to herself. And the unions of writers at that time was a few, do not even know in which of them is my mother.
The time has come hard and some “viscous”.
The Jews since 1974 became the masses to leave the country - in order to reduce the intensity of emotions, most willing to open the exit, and the others were quietly “press”. And the way to higher education institutions were closed and to work in “good” did not take place... And then, and another has taken place with some exceptions, but they were few.
From our family to leave no one wanted. Convinced that “the Zionists” and “anti-Soviet” Moses Averbach was no less a patriot of Russia, than Communist Mikhail N. Zagraevsky. And the mother and father would never have the parents did not leave.
went on. In 1973 the family “took off” and bought the “Moskvich-
mother of another “Zaporozhets” learned well led, and “Moskvich” after it
seemed a miracle of science and technology. No joke, after 27 horsepower - 50!
After a maximum of
Well, of course, about the “continuous” said strongly, in the heat engine is constantly overheated and failed - the fuel pump was located too close to the cylinder block. This happened with all the “Muscovites” a similar model, but in the Soviet time such a “trifle” little worried about the plants, Yes, and people perceived as merely one of the links in a continuous chain of household problems.
It is curious that I remember from childhood terrible traffic jams in Moscow, despite the factthat cars were on the order less, than now. Apparently, the traffic was also an order of magnitude worse...
Try to think of any more “special features” relative material prosperity of our family in the mid-seventies, but something goes wrong. Ah, Yes, on the way to giving my mother and grandmother sometimes dined in the restaurant “Skazka”.
However, I did not love either then or now, and material well-being of that time did not last long.
Years in forty Inna decided (fortunately, mistakenly, that “filled up” as a poet, and began to write plays. A play-it came not only through the Union of writers, and through the Union of theatrical figures!
Mother joined the trade Union Committee of the Moscow drama, play somewhere printed somewhere was going to put it, and she made a stunning act: in 1978 threw chemistry, leaving the post of associate Professor at the Moscow Textile Institute. However, provisions for pensions experience it to curry favor, but to receive it could only 55 years, that is from 1988.
How is it “took” chemistry, she went to the deliberate reduction “standard of living”! Father was something of a “Deputy head of the restoration Department,” that is received, as I remember, two hundred rubles per month. I was fourteen years old, I was not earning money and in the foreseeable future is not going to.
Hopes for a “theater” earnings were ephemeral - no offense be told, plays the mother of Moscenicka. Specifically, the deep subconscious background, they could play an actor of genius, but those of their dramatists enough. “Medium” actors inevitably turns any play of the mother in hopelessly boring. Two of her plays for puppet theater put somewhere in Ukraine, and that was all.
The mother a year later occurred to return to the chemistry, but changed his mind. Instead, she went to the course guide, but encounter debility memorizing routes and at least debility of their content. No, it was beautiful and routes - for example, in the Vologda, but Inna Mikhailovna for overly creative approach to the approved texts tour route was given at the Cherepovets (city, famous for its steel plant and nothing more).
In the end, the only thing that she has made these courses - new play, this time autobiographical.
For some time she worked... the newspaper boy in the mail. More precisely, usually spreading the Newspapers father, for it had to be done in six or seven o'clock in the morning, and the mother was physically unable to get up so early. A couple of times and I “honored” to put in boxes Newspapers. Lasted this epic two weeks, and then we realized that this “job” is not for us.
Prior to the underground character of work in the boiler house - the mother still has not reached. Rescued stopwatchdisplay pensions of all grandparents, let's finally a decent enough consolidated the family budget. It looked as follows: to buy something at the amount of more than ten rubles indulged “subscription list”, and if someone or grandparents saw the purchase expedient, it is included in the share.
And, fortunately, my mother and grandmother both were fed. Father almost all the money was given to the mother, but in the “feeding” is not needed, because, unlike her and I was able to have a penny stuff jelly type, udder and soup bones.
However, were in the care of Inna Mikhailovna Department and the pros. Sharp reduction of loads allowed her to improve health and more time communicating with her family, including me.
And the money - on, things were missing, and right.
I remember how we came to my mother's friends from Germany, Hannhen and Otto. Together we went to the store and I liked the kind of toy type “harmonica”. Dear Mr. Otto immediately offered me 10 (ten) rubles, so I bought it. How much is it really worth it, I don't remember, but to me right there in the store, became hysterical that a lot of money and I never take them.
Poor Germans felt doubly embarrassing because the day before they were trying to pay us for “accommodation”, and did not speak German father grabbed the dictionary and use it explained that “we are proud of”, and managed, despite flipping dictionary, make it very solemnly. Sight, I believe, for Germans it was unforgettable.
Germany occupies in the life of our family special place. The mother at the time of the “iron curtain” was contrived there from time to travel due to the fact that in the German Democratic Republic (East Germany) children lived grandmother's older brother, Nikolai Viktorovich Petrovsky.
How they got there is a separate story.
Grandmother's brother, uncle nick, he lived in Leningrad and was one of the largest in the country scientists, specialized in marine diesel engines. Doctor of technical Sciences, Professor, also the captain of the first rank, that is, the Colonel of the military Department of such experts highly appreciated.
In the late fifties, he went on a long trip to Germany - the so-called “socialist integration” where ships were built for the Soviet merchant fleet. In the interpreter gave him a curvy blonde German woman of thirty, and they begin to have a real love.
Uncle Kolya was sixty years, almost forty of them he was married, but the marriage he had no children, and aunt Inga (the German) with an interval of one year bore him two daughters: Christian (all called her Nana) and Vika. He eventually around 1960 divorced his wife and married Inge.
Such “immoral” behavior for a party professors were fraught with a great scandal, but he skillfully played on his indispensability to the German shipyard and remained in East Germany on a permanent job. Actually changed the place of residence, while staying within the allowed citizens of the USSR.
Note that it is very homesick, but was smart, practical and understand the difference in the maintenance adorable daughters in the impoverished of the USSR and in the relatively prosperous East Germany.
Three of his younger sister, Lydia, Nina and Galina lived and prosper in health in Moscow, differed uncompromising character, active patriotism and blamed for any trouble unfortunate aunt Inga. Even when Nikolay Viktorovich in 1975 he died, it was believed that he was about to return to Leningrad, but Inga was against and brought to a heart attack”.
It was hardly true indeed - and Nikolay Viktorovich, and his wife were United mad love for children, and I think such a fatal conflict between them was not.
After the death of uncle Kolya became very sad - in 1978, at the age of seventeen, died of cancer's youngest daughter, Vicky. Aunt Inga then spent a brief period in the mid-eighties, too, died of cancer. This heredity Vika was evidently from it - from Peter nobody cancer was not sick (PAH-PAH, touch wood).
No wonder that in those years, the mother has to travel to Germany very often - she was able to create around themselves a warm and festive atmosphere, these people needed it, and my mother loved Germany.
Even during the “iron curtain” she managed to go there once a year. So far, so it was easier for her - Whether dominated by the principle of “the more, the cleaner”: if a person does not fled to the West and nothing was done” for the first time in the second it was released with less “scratch”, the third - less etc. and she went in socialist countries, to relatives...
I must say that in those times the family of Peter was large and relatively knit. All three sisters were the children and grandchildren of my second cousins, brothers and sisters. We communicated with them on anniversaries, and there happened a lot - the birthdays of all ten people create ten holidays, and even after all there are any “side” anniversaries type of wedding anniversaries. And, as usual, Wake - by grim joke, relatives gather to count each other...
In short, celebrated much. No other common interests, my mom and cousins had, and I have cousins with close relations also somehow not ensued...
Turned out that the cohesion of the family of Peter was kept exclusively for grandparents, relatives sisters dedamovtkan, and after their death, all disappeared together with the “cousins”. Where are they now, I don't know. Hope everything is well - lack of information in this case is positive.
Despite the lack of money, every summer I drove to Odessa. Eternal couchette car - later in adulthood, I never went and, frankly, God forbid him get back in, especially with my current size. But then my favorite pastime was to climb up to third, Luggage rack - why do children notions of dirt and dust is greatly reduced.
Filmed us for some little money giving to the D- vanadzite station of the Big Fountain. More precisely, a small Mazanov shed. Besides us, the country lived a few families, so the cost was low.
Odessa is the homeland of my grandfather Mikhail N. and my favorite city. Stress - a favorite, because of chaotic, vavilonjane native Moscow and I were on the principle of “habit than is given to us, the replacement of happiness it”. In the senior school age I “ill” St. Petersburg, but he always remained for me, something illusory and Museum, and Odessa is... uhit Odessa. Where in this city such a unique atmosphere, trying to understand the many, and I will not delve into such a difficult topic. Let's just look at Odessa, my eyes, just as we in this book look at the twentieth century.
Odessa my childhood is, first of all, a huge, covered with sagebrush slope to the sea on the Big Fountain. And of course, the sea itself. However, I learned to swim only in eighth grade, no matter how tormented me mom and Granny Lidia Viktorovna, with whom I usually went. However, the composition varied - sometimes in Odessa came and Mikhail Naumovich, and even father.
A couple of times over the summer with me always called “fast” - “holiday” power of the Soviet period and crushed much stronger stomachs.
Interestingly, Odessan Mikhail Naumovich at this time lived in Odessa only one relative cousin, Valentin Lvovich Feldstein. Nobody else there, even “childhood friends” - and it is in Odessa native Jew!
How scattered the people's life...
Before you “settle down” in Odessa, I 1976-77 with her mother traveled to the Baltic States, Lithuania lake. But the rest of the month “in bed” I was provided for two weeks - my feeble body could not stomach the humidity, cold and turbotoyu dining room. Still remember those trips with horror. Yes and boring was neither sit on this tent camp site is “organized” trips camp site House of Scientists for some reason not conducted, and the ride itself is no money.
But Odessa remember with great nostalgia, as a lost Paradise. I went there almost every summer from 1978 to 1991 and so knew this city that could go there with my eyes closed. Just like the hit, so well known that even the author does not know about what “folk music, folk words”:
And in “zagranku”
I always draw you from memory,
and native cobblestone pavement
awakened from the first tram,
And, as in childhood,
I'm on the Sunny city step.
Help for those who, as they say in Odessa, Odessa was not”: topographically this city is unique, because the sea is suitable high plateau and ends where the flat, where a steep slope.
If looked from the sea in the city centre, the so-called Big Fountain will be left. No fountain was not there, is a huge resort area - nearly half the town coast. From the center of the Fountain tram, before the revolution and was Perva station of Big Fountain, but now were clearly marked with the station from the Ninth (by the way, the birthplace of Anna Akhmatova) to the Sixteenth.
Center of Odessa is a port, Primorskiy Boulevard, Potemkin stairs, the beach Langeron. A beach Arcadia is “left”, at the level of Patoi station of the Big Fountain.
From the sea walking the streets at the head with famous Deribasovskayaand distant suburbs - the so-called Moldavanka. In times when “barges full of mullets, in Odessa Kostya led”, there were slums, and now the usual unattractive quarters of the Brezhnev era. There, by the way, my best friend lived his youth - Sasha Bach, and in the next house I was romantic love.
To the right of center of the plateau ends abruptly and goes far from the sea. Lowland under the cliff and there Peresyp. There is a large ring tram starts from industrial zone and stretches along the sea to the East, to the Kuyalnik estuary and the beaches Luzanovka.
Trouble Odessa always was her excuse for prose, Sewerage system. The presence near the sea great city required unimaginable environmental control - we do not imagine, swim in the Moscow river somewhere in front of the Kremlin, and in Odessa Arcadia beach, Lanzheron and Otrada are in the center.
Broke into my memory drain in Odessa, not once, but somehow locally - that Arcadia was closed, then joy. Global breakthrough occurred in 1991, when she was officially opened only far Luzanovka. I foolishly believed it, bathed in Luzanovka, picked up the infection and were evacuated to Moscow for treatment. And soon Ukraine from Russia was separated, and all my Odessa friends have left for abroad.
They say that now drains repaired and the sea was clear, but more I am in Odessa was not. And you don't want to let this town for me will always be the way I perceive it in my childhood, when I walked with my grandfather, Mikhail Naumovich the D- vanadzite station of the Big Fountain.
Moisey N. and Elena in Odessa never been, and in Abramtzevo come every few years. No wonder - reasons to communicate with Mikhail Naumovich and Lydia, except me, they were not.
They had a very peculiar habit - every summer they went on ships of Russia. They traveled all the rivers of the European part and Siberia - the Ob, Lena, Yenisei, Angara. Only here the Kolyma river cruise was not...
I remembered the Kolyma not just - for Moses Naumovich and Elena Alexandrovna these trips were absolutely conscious “visits in the past. And not masochistic, but purely cognitive - as there birch? As there Salekhard? In Krasnoyarsk camps were the same as in Tyumen those women...
We went to them and the Volga river and the white sea canal. However, not only the boat and traveled by train, and even somewhere to fly an airplane, which at that time was a rarity.
I say this with a little sadness, because I Lydia V. never not let them. She had on a formal reason - poor child health.
The last was “verified”when the year that way in 1974 mom went with me on the boat to Astrakhan. In the end had to go to Gorky and take me home by train - ship's restaurant was not for me.
We have become so accustomed to a life without socialism, the question arises: if the restaurant was bad, really could not buy food at stops?
No, it was impossible due to its complete absence on these. More specifically, somewhere food was of course, but for her, and Moscow were considerable queue, and only in the province and even more so, and was dominated by the principle “so much product in one hands”. Jolly was obtained trip instead of exploring the local attractions to look for the store where anything is, and stand there for a couple of hours in the queue. And if in this village food appears on cards - bye.
In short, the Soviet life was not for the weak.
Note that the former camp inmates to those not treated, and “the combined” of the Stalin era were not sissy. I don't remember that one of my grandparents ever been ill with angina or had stomach problems!
From serious illness, of course, none of them was not insured. Mikhail Naumovich Zagraevsky had chronic diabetes. Lydia Viktorovna constantly aching heart, and the house was full with some pills. Moses Naumovich Averbakh in the mid-seventies to remove one kidney. Elena Alexandrovna was a jaw tumor, fortunately, benign, which successfully operated in the early seventies, and slightly curved lips even gave grayish appearance grandmothers certain charm.
But ill with something light such as colds, it seemed, was below their dignity.
Father, who grew up in Vorkuta, was also incredibly hardened man. I remember one day we all arrived in the summer from some of the South, and the refrigerator for some reason turned off, and it spoiled salted fish. And thoroughly - up of worms. Father announced that salted fish can not go bad, dug worms and the fish ate. And though that!
I am not a doctor, but I can guess that the lack of quenching can compensate for good food and comfort. And if neither one nor the other is in trouble, and example - my mother. She spent her childhood under the warm wing of Lydia Victorovna, but it was fed, as the whole country, bread and potatoes. In the end, she was very weak health, which gave me an inheritance.
And to me arose vicious circle - the more I hurt, the more I Lydia V. wrap and kept on a diet. “With hindsight, I realize that if I get seriously in Elena and Moses Naumovich, I would quickly ill and hardened. But, alas, precious child afraid to take risks.
When in high school, I began to harden - walk in the winter without a scarf, and then “swing muscles,” I had to endure heavy fighting. Against a whole family - reason thought that because of the small cast irons used instead of dumbbells, I'll tear the heart muscle. PAH-PAH, touch wood, so far has not broken, although already throw 32-kilo weight...
But in those times travel by boat Moses Naumovich and Elena Alexandrovna become forbidden fruit is sweet taste. Therefore, coming to them on Gagarin square on the weekends, I spend hours looking through the guides and I was reading mounds of samizdat.
Do not let me into their house Lidia Viktorovna still could not. Moreover - since primary school I went there once through the city.
Maniacs, of course, were carried out in Soviet times, but they seemed not to be, like many other “evils of society,” such as drugs and prostitution. The illusion of a model law in the USSR - trump king of modern neo-Communists. They also have a trump ACE - mighty Empire. Only on closer examination turns out that the cards they have Packed...
But, thank God, no maniac I was not met. I'm in school from the second class went on a trolley bus - and nothing. Crowding in “rush hour” there were terrible, I quietly squeaked all around began to shout: “Crushed the child!”, and it became somewhat easier.
Now on the Moscow Olympics in 1980 is absolutely true laugh, but then it was an event. Multifaceted and ambiguous.
In 1979, our valiant army was the “master” of Afghanistan, President Carter announced a boycott of the Olympics, and our Newspapers in a vile cursing. However, the unfortunate Carter for a couple of years before had to sign another contract mythical arms limitation kiss with Brezhnev, so indifferent to him, nobody could. Despised for a kiss, who is boycotting. He, poor fellow, and the second term is a re-election failed, despite pasted Hollywood smile. In my youth, I remember specifically trained to smile as Carter.
Despite the boycott in Moscow brought together an unprecedented number of foreigners. The police caught up with the whole country, even in our school organized a hostel for the police, and all citizens through the party committees and the local Committee strongly recommended during the games off (!) Moscow. Apparently afraid of “Western contagion”...
Neither I nor my family members did not obey (sanctions for disobedience, fortunately, is not expected), but these were relatively small. As a result, the city seemed to have died. The sight was unique - empty bus stop, and at each of two policemen in white dress uniform.
Foreigners on the streets is not much given to walk. They developed a rich program, and the buses they left only at stadiums and in every state Tretyakov gallery.
My mother “insolent”, and decided to go look at the Olympic village with the top landing adjacent to her home. Once we got up there, we immediately came a man in a vest and sports pants, as if by chance asked, what are we doing here, and stood all the time, until we are absolutely not very interesting looked at many prominent figures among the huge white wings.
Still, it was a breath of fresh air in the same way I am in 1988 walked along the Berlin wall and staring at the roofs of houses behind it. Wall would die within a year, but I certainly do not know.
And then, in 1980, former Director of the Central Department store Lev Matveevich gave us mother tickets for gymnastics. It was the first and my last visit to the stadium, more empty pastime I have never seen before. But the “note” at the Olympics.
That same summer died Vysotsky, hands in samizdat walked his songs, and some of the most despicable of the collections of poems dedicated to his memory. But his funeral became an event - the first mass release of Muscovites on the streets for many years. Something similar took place only in 1960 at the funeral of Boris Pasternak.
Is something in the country began to change even then, in 1980?
Apparently so, because at the same time completely disappeared sinister image of Stalin's dictatorship and became a comic, all ridicules the face of the “dear Leonid Ilyich”.
And here is another anecdote date have come - in the Program of the CPSU in 1961 assumed full and final construction in the USSR of communism in the same 1980. As everyone on this topic laughed in New 1980!
Even loyal party members Mikhail N. and Lidia Viktorovna began to laugh at jokes about Brezhnev! What can we say about the rest?
Unfortunately, Moses Averbach fully appreciate everything that happened in the early eighties could not. In 1979, he had a first “hit” - in modern terms, a stroke.
He came to himself, but it disintegrated, and coordination, and psyche. This “man of iron” (was this film Wajda) became not only to move with great difficulty, but also a cry for any reason. I emphasize - not to complain, not to “cry”, namely, shed tears. Disconnected some nerve centers...
I taught him to walk up the stairs as a child - “straighten”, “pull yourself together”, “keep right” and so on. I must say that he has for some time been able to overcome the irreversible changes in the brain - he was only a little over seventy. But the years of the camps did the trick.
In 1980 there was a second “shot” and a sharp deterioration in his condition - he almost could not walk, we are in the toilet specially screwed to the walls of the pen so that he could for them to stay.
What are all the same powerful protective reflexes of the human psyche! When caring for a terminally ill person and the master for him all sorts of devices, subconsciously understand how this long. But subconsciously, not more. At some point start to believe in myself that now bind to the heating pipes “reins” and they will last for many years, because my uncle Monet them easier to get up...
And now, apparently, the man many months hopelessly ill - but still can not accept his death as inevitable and close, and she eventually turns to tragedy and surprise.
Moses Naumovich all proved even more difficult, because he had in 1981 happened third stroke. Not long served “device” - grandfather was completely paralyzed. Moreover, the “disconnected” and no one recognized him. So he lived another year.
In the hospital he was not given - lay at home.
Elena did everything I could. Father, mother and I helped her. There was even hired a nurse, more precisely, the “vendor” - bogemoobrazny young man. Being at my grandfather, he did not waste his time and reprinted (with the help of her grandmother) borrowed somewhere “samizdatovsky” volume Brodsky...
Once a model apartment on Gagarin square, came to the eerie look. No, there are homes and more “chaotic”, and with the heavy smell, but in contrast it was felt very strongly. We did not know that the smell of bedridden patients will haunt us for more than ten years...
And Moses died Naumovich quietly. 10 December 1982 grandma this morning I saw that he was not breathing.
At the funeral there were many people, though no one in particular did not call - grandmother phoned only relatives and close friends. However, don crematorium came fifty or more. Even at the funeral were about thirty people.
Orwell - an event quite specific and generally humane. The efforts on their organization distracted relatives of grief - for example, Elena on the next day after the death of Moses Naumovich not only arranged for the General cleaning of the apartment, but... rubbed floors. Itself, no one warned, " dad and she would help. We puzzled question, why did she flooring, grandmother said that she was nothing to do.
At that time the funeral were serious financial problems - it was necessary to get the vodka and products. But in this case there were no complications - was still alive Lev Matveevich.
At the funeral glittering Roy Medvedev. Dissident historian, researcher biographies of Stalin, Khrushchev and Brezhnev, he was a great storyteller and was the soul of any company. A month before the death of Moses Naumovich Brezhnev died, and Medvedev enthusiastically talked much Leonid Ilyich was orders, as in the beginning of 1982 Andropov struggled with Suslov for power and brought the latter to a heart attack, and then feelings about death Suslova fatally affected the health of the Secretary-General...
Wake, as usual, from the ceremony gradually shifted into a friendly party. And even weeping bitterly Eugene Naumovna, the sister of Moses Naumovich, calmed down and listened to the interesting and superactual information Roy Alexandrovich. Another humane aspect of the memorial...
The Communist Lydia V., returning home the next day with enthusiasm retelling stories Medvedev neighbors. She already long forgotten its Orthodoxy and perfectly understood everything.
The death of Moses Naumovich Averbakh coincided with the coming to power of Yuri Andropov. The last attempt to restore the Soviet-Stalinist dictatorship in the former “glory” resulted in blatant intimidation of the people. Fortunately, not backed by a real tool - mass terror.
But frightened well - just think of the struggle for “labor discipline”when police day was shopping, checked the documents of persons of working age and sent them to work “cart”: what did so-and-so in the shop during working hours?
I also stopped a couple of times, but I always carried with him a passport and student ID. And then the question arises: why not in lectures? But asked how sluggish and met excuses about the break. But the workers and employees “shaking” seriously.
By the way, given that Andropov was a man, even when he was Chairman of the KGB routed the human rights movement in the USSR, it all looked very ominous. Since we remembered Roy Medvedev: for him when Andropov established constant surveillance and threatened landing. Funny, that soon, during perestroika, Roy enterl in the CPSU (the“Survilla”, as in the camp were expressed on this occasion, the Greensand even became an adviser to Gorbachev.
And of vorkutinsk Paul Negretova for regular publication of his book in the West in 1984, tried to intimidate even worse: a case was brought under article 190-CA “and held him for three days in a local jail. But it was too much noise arose in Western Newspapers: former prisoner of Stalin... it was soon closed down.
Article 190-1 (“Dissemination of patently false statements defaming the Soviet political and social system”) of the Criminal Code of the RSFSR of 1964 less famous than comprehensive Stalin 58th, but in the Brezhnev-Andropov time it's used for pressure on dissidents. The article was “easy” (if I am not mistaken, two years), but it could not only apply to any dissenter, but to proceed, depending on the circumstances. Say, will “behave” - close the case, the article easy. And if not, retrains the 70-th (this is the “Anti-Soviet agitation and propaganda”, to eight years), and even on a 64-Yu (“Treason”, to 15 years, or “tower”).
However, all these details at any time be replaced by indefinite detention in the “loony bin” - what normal people would oppose the great Soviet power? This, unfortunately, is not a joke, and the official justification of the terrible diagnosis sluggish schizophrenia,” which thousands of dissidents without trial was... Nno, not just in prison, and inspetstekhnologia”where all the mandatory pricked neuroleptics, and those who resisted - double the dose.
Who knows what it would be in the country, live longer intelligentenergy monster Andropov. But by the time of “choosing” General Secretary, he was terminally ill, and hope Orthodox Communists for the restoration of “strong government” quickly collapsed.
Over his successor, Chernenko, all openly laughed, but apparently all was well on track. It seemed that returned anecdotal Brezhnev times.
Yes, and Gorbachev began as an ordinary Soviet General Secretary. His first campaign was not new - for sobriety tried to fight Stalin, Khrushchev, Brezhnev, and even.
The only one who would simply ban alcohol, was, of course, the “genius of all times and peoples”. But any ban on vodka led to an explosion brewing and, consequently, to an even more disastrous results. A brew was unable to win even Stalin and, to his credit, understood this at the beginning of the thirties.
And in the war on alcohol was “complicit” victory. Remember the famous front two hundred grams. And to me, one soldier told me that in the terrible winter of 1941-42 on the position just rolled out a barrel, and each drink as much as you want, otherwise it was impossible to sit out in the trenches minus thirty. And in the summer to attack sober rarely go...
The idea is that Gorbachev, holding anti-alcohol campaign, had all this into account and anticipate that in the late eighties the whole country in droves will start to produce moonshine or at least insist that homemade wine. By the way, the huge bottles with the latter usually wear rubber gloves, that evolved during fermentation gases was much expanded. The process of filling gas, these gloves popularly known as “Hello Gorbachev”.
The result was either on the part of Gorbachev, it was a huge stupidity, finally undermined the power of the party, or it was a calculated political move, aimed at the same thing.
I am afraid that first. The fact that Gorbachev in the early nineties was a great chance to restore its authority in the political arena and to stay forever in the memory of descendants of the Savior of Fatherland” is to declare that the destruction of the USSR was conceived, planned and implemented, and the Soviet government he hated, even working as the assistant to combine operator in the Stavropol region and looking at the things which Stalin brought agriculture.
If Gorbachev never said - then still in the late eighties he “missed” the situation because of stupidity and incompetence.
However, “missed” - and thank
God, though, probably, would be the process of formation in
But we run ahead. While still in the yard was “five years of lavish Funeral: 1981-1985. By the beginning of this memorable “PPP” I was sixteen years old, and I, as they say, “faced the choice of life.
© Sergey Zagraevsky