Chapter 37 Section 4 The most beautiful mother and the most handsome father

When I got home, it was already afternoon.The mother is weaving in the yard, and the other two aunts in the village are spinning.Now, in the south, large-scale mechanized production has long been introduced, and clothes are produced in batches. Each garment factory employs tens of thousands of workers. Who wants these homemade clothes? The mother and the three of them were doing the work at hand, talking about the housework, and singing songs at every turn, all of which were learned in church.The singing is slow and long, continuous, which makes people very sad. I asked my mother, "Why do you weave so much cloth?"

My mother said: "Some people have difficulties in their families and cannot afford sheets and quilts. The church members will weave the cloth and give it to them." My mother said again: "The priest asked to help the poor, and those who have money will pay. Our family has no money, so we weave some cloth and send it over." The aunts looked at me and smiled kindly. Giving is joyful.I saw it from my mother and my aunt. The mother was weaving under the eaves, and the loom was crackling; the aunts were spinning beside the loom, and the spinning wheel was humming.This voice used to be so familiar, it made me feel like I was back in my childhood.At that time, before I went to bed at night, I could always see my mother shaking the spinning wheel.The mother's figure was illuminated by the dim kerosene lamp on the wall, making her look very tall.Mother shook the spinning wheel with her right hand, and twitched the twister with her left hand, as if she was dancing.Often, I would wake up in the middle of the night and still see my mother spinning.And after dawn, I went to school with my schoolbag on my back, and my mother went to the field with a hoe on her shoulders.

This was the last time I saw my mother and aunts weaving and spinning. Later, I never saw such a warm and ancient labor scene again.The ready-made clothes from southern garment factories are extremely cheap, with novel styles and beautiful fits for spring, summer, autumn and winter.Although some clothes may be foreign garbage transported from the coast with various germs, farmers in the Northwest do not know this. They only know that these clothes are cheap, and cheapness is the most important criterion for them to choose clothes. The homespun clothes have been forgotten in the depths of history.

Spinning and weaving are also about to disappear now. However, the mother who spins and weaves is the most beautiful woman in the world. Walking into the house, I saw my father's picture hanging above the table.It was the only photo of my father in this life.This photo was taken by my father, my sister and me when I took my father to the provincial capital for medical treatment. The only photo of my father, several photos were edited at that time, one for each of us three brothers and sisters.I have always cherished this photo of my father.I take it with me wherever I go to work. Later, I had a girlfriend. When my girlfriend saw my father for the first time, she exclaimed, "Dad is so handsome."

The father is 1.8 meters tall, with a burly figure, good facial features, and a sense of strength.Years of physical labor gave my father a strong physique. Dad is really handsome.I remember going to the theater with my parents when I was a kid, and we were walking home after it was over.My mother lovingly said to my father: "Under the stage, only you are the best looking." Another time, when my father was watching a play, he stood with a few educated youths who jumped in line.Those female educated youths from the city said quietly: "This big man is so handsome." I asked my father, "What is handsome?" My father smiled and said nothing.The photo of my father was taken when I was 58 years old.His 58-year-old appearance still amazes my girlfriend so much.

Father left too early.In my most difficult time, my father was seriously ill and had no money for medical treatment, so he left me.When my life improved and I wanted to be filial to my father, I was separated from him. I heard from my mother that my father had many opportunities to jump out of the "farm gate", but he either gave up by himself or was punished by others.So, he has been a farmer.And these words of mother were heard from grandpa.My grandfather died when I was very young.The grandfather in my impression is tall and tall, but very thin.He was so hungry that his ribs bulged and his cheeks collapsed, and he died before the joint production contract responsibility system.He has never been able to eat a full meal in his life.When grandpa passed away, my father cried very sadly.That was the only time I saw my father cry in this life.

At that time father and mother were not yet married.One year, when my father was going to the market, he saw a lot of people gathered around the gate of the commune. When he inquired, it turned out that the oil refinery was recruiting workers.After my father went back, he signed up in the brigade.At that time, there were not so many unhealthy trends and corruption. My father's family was a poor peasant, and he was honest and hardworking. The commune also approved it, and the oil refinery also admitted it.Just when my father was about to become a worker, my cousin found my father and pestered him to give him the job.My father's cousin went to school for two days, and his mind is much brighter than his father's. He has long seen the superiority of being a worker.At that time there was a slogan that said: "The working class leads everything." It was Chairman Mao who said it.

At that time, the younger brothers and sisters in my father's family were still young and couldn't earn work points, and if they couldn't earn work points, the whole family couldn't get food.The father finally gave up and sent the cousin to work in the oil refinery.Now, the oil refinery is not called an oil refinery, it is called "Sinopec".Sinopec is the richest state-owned company in China.When my father's cousin retired from Sinopec, his salary was several thousand. Another time, it was conscription. At that time, my father's younger brothers and sisters were able to work in the fields and be used as strong laborers.My father went to apply again and passed the exam smoothly.It was time to report to the commune the next day, and my father went to the production team to say goodbye the afternoon before.The captain said: "Stand on the last post in the socialist countryside." He arranged for his father to stand on guard in the wheat threshing field to see if anyone was stealing the wheat.Every year, the wheat is harvested and placed in the threshing field for unified milling.At night, the wheat grains are stacked into a rectangle with a small top and a large bottom, and covered with wooden seals to prevent theft.Stealing wheat stamped with a big seal is punishable by shooting, and no one has the guts to do so; but members of the commune have other methods. Before the grains were stamped, they would put their feet on the pile of grains while working, so that some grains would be filled in the shoes and slide down the top of the feet to the soles of the feet.Then, they stepped on cloth shoes filled with wheat grains, endured the pain of broken feet, and walked home with a calm expression on their faces.After returning home, pour out the wheat grains in the shoes, it will weigh half a catty, and this half catty of wheat grains can steam two steamed buns.

When my father was standing guard, he saw someone walking in an unnatural posture and expression.Father knew there must be grains of wheat in their shoes, but he didn't say anything.At that time, the commune members were all poor, and my father couldn't bear to catch them on the spot.After these commune members walked over, suddenly, a cadre appeared from nowhere, rushed over like a beast, and took off the shoes from their feet. There were grains of wheat in each shoe. The cadres held up their shoes like flags of victory, and asked their father righteously and hysterically: "What is this? How did you stand guard? Can someone like you be a soldier? If you are asked to stand guard for socialism, can you?" Put American imperialism and Soviet revisionism into it. Thanks to me for catching you, otherwise, you would have subverted our socialist country.”

As a result of this incident, my father not only did not become the Chinese People's Liberation Army, but became the target of the dictatorship in the countryside.Whenever there is a meeting, my father will stand on the stage with those who stole the wheat and be criticized as a negative teaching material. Since then, my father can only be a farmer at home honestly. That year, all our soldiers here went to be auto soldiers.Two people from the entire brigade went, one stayed in the army and worked as an automobile instructor; the other returned from a job change, and drove a small car in a government department.

Plows and harrows, spinning and weaving, milling discs, shadow puppet bellows... They run through my childhood life, making my childhood simple and wonderful.They are closely connected with the green mountains and green waters, and are closely related to fairy tales and dreams, but now, they are gone, they have disappeared, they have disappeared from our lives, leaving no trace.We stretch out our hands, trying to keep them, but what we hold in our hands is only cold memories.