Why are childhood memories of such "long-playing"? ..



Why are childhood memories of such "long-playing"? .. Memory - insidious thing! Sometimes in a remote corner of our brain for many years stored memories that from a practical point of view must be long forgotten. But I will not unfounded.
 
I myself remember quite well the age of four. We lived in the Vyborg district, in the industrial district of Leningrad, in a communal apartment. The apartment was located on the third floor of four houses. Heating was stove, kitchen not heated at all, the bathroom has never been. Near the house were two-storey sheds, where all the tenants kept the wood and all sorts of unnecessary things. Our barn was on the ground floor, and our neighbors - on the second, over our barn.

In addition to our family lived in the apartment of the elderly couple: Mary and Peter, and middle-aged woman Tosya. In the words of my mother, once my parents went to the movies and asked Aunt Tosya me watch. I was at that time was about two years. Initially, the tender-hearted neighbor to play with me, and she especially liked the way I dance to her tune scanty ... When it came time goes to bed, I do not want to, and continued to dance. Then Aunt Annie, without hesitation, gave me a sleeping pill - a glass of mead (home intoxicating drink prepared with sugar and yeast). Of course, I quickly fell asleep, and Aunt Annie was happy.

When his parents returned from the movies, then they took me from sleeping Tosya, and before you put to sleep at night, my mother made me sit on the toilet, but to maintain a vertical position, I could not, and then fell steadily to the right side, then on the left. Parents are not seriously worried that a child, and wanted to call an ambulance. But Aunt Annie admitted that she was watering my glass of mead. Since then, between parents and aunt Tosya established tense relations ...

At the age of five my mother decided to send me to kindergarten, so I'm more socialized with peers. But no such luck. I attended kindergarten exactly one day ... Other neighbors have lived next to us through the wall. The partition was thin, and the audibility - amazing. Peter was a disabled war veteran, where he lost his hand. He received a small pension and drank a smoke. His wife also was not working, and to have some money, she kept a cow in a barn on the second floor. Cow milk, Maria sell it.

Like everything is fine, but the cow never left his stall, and all the "deep contents cow" unending stream flowed into our barn ... No negotiations by my parents to stop the "mad cow mess", to no avail. Peter had a marvelous feature: after the first bottle of vodka, he began beating his head against the wall, shouting the vilest of obscenities. I have great pleasure in all this is to listen and remember.

Very soon I knew all of his lexicon. When my mother brought me into the garden, I gathered a circle of children and shared his "deep knowledge". By the end of the day the whole group enthusiastically uttered these words, because the teacher was angry, but we liked to tease her ... In the evening head told her mother that she was more than I do in this garden has never led.

I remember another episode. I was only six years. In the kitchen, all the tables were kerosene, gas and did not exist. Once a week on a vacant lot across the street came a man on a horse-drawn into a barrel of kerosene. My mother was busy cooking dinner, and sent me to three-liter cans and money for kerosene. It was early spring, snow is already starting to melt, and the ground was quite slippery. I successfully passed the road, reached the wagon, got his kerosene and moved back.

Beadon was heavy, I'm constantly wandering from one hill to another ... Suddenly, I slipped, fell, and all safely kerosene spilled on the ground ... With me into hysterics ... How long have I wept over spilled kerosene, I do not know. I only remember that my mother found me, comforted, but the memory of this "grief" is still with me. The strange thing is memory!

When I went to school, then felt himself quite an adult. That year my parents bought the first TV KVN-49 "with a big lens, which had to pour distilled water. I could sit for hours in front of this miracle and watch any transfer. But inside me maturely curiosity to see what's inside and how it works. And now my hour has come. The parents went to visit. I waited a little, but the devil inside me pushed: "Come and see."

I pushed the TV, took off the cardboard back cover, and found a lot of obscure wires that went to the television receiver and a lot of different bulbs. I decided to see what would happen if all the bulbs pull. I did it, turned on the television, but it did not work. I was very pleased that I know the secret of this magic box ...

After "research" I stuck all the lights in place, once again turned on the television, and he worked again! When the parents returned home, I did not tell them anything, but since then I have remained an irresistible craving for electronics ... now I can fix the TV, computer and virtually any home electrical engineering. It turns out that these skills somehow laid in childhood ...

 Why are childhood memories of such "long-playing"? .. Our family I was the only child in the family and somehow especially never regretted that I had no brothers and sisters. But once it happened with a rather strange circumstances. For singing lessons in third grade we were practicing a song "elder brothers". I remember the beginning of this work:

The older brothers are in the columns,
Every twenty years.
The wind sways above them the banners,
Better to have no!

And here I am very sorry that I have no older brother. It would be nice to my brother, too, was in these columns with the most beautiful flag in the world, and I would be very proud of them! What nonsense can come up with a child if this child's head with hammer kind creations.

 
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