Wu Wu and You

My mount is not a tall horse, not a limousine, but a bicycle, a Flying Pigeon 26 men’s commuter. It is strong, heavy, and not tall. My seven-foot-twenties can ride with a partial leg, it is very easy, to slow down, to land, in addition to using the brakes, two legs and one leg can also be done. It’s more convenient to act. Stop it if you want, stop it if you want, turn it, and it will turn immediately, so I like it very much. I always feel that it is much more flexible than the horses and donkeys that the ancients rode, and it is simpler and faster. Besides, it does not need to feed for feeding, unlike horses and donkeys, it needs to be carefully looked after.

I ride it almost every day. I ride it to and from work, I ride it to visit friends and friends, I ride it to Xinhua Bookstore, old bookstores to buy books and books, I ride it to pick up children, I do n’t even do anything, just ride it . For many years, it was so obedient. As soon as I unlocked the lock, it rushed me away. Sometimes, I even wondered: oh, why did I ride on the car, it was unknowing. Just like a spring swallow, spreading invisible wings, flying with me close to the ground. Especially when I go to work every morning, I ride it, facing the rising sun, blowing in the breeze, just like riding a dragon, rushing into the sea of ​​people quickly, and even give birth to the delusion and ambition of “fighting for life”. It has followed me for so many years, although it seems to be worn out, but I seem to have formed a deeper tacit understanding with it, and often have the thrill of being one with the vehicle.

From this I thought that bicycle is really a good invention, a genius invention. You see, how simple the structure is. The main body is two wheels, and the beam and chain connecting the two wheels. Coupled with a car head, you can walk and you can fly. I am jealous of the person who invented the bicycle. Although this invention was not made by one person at one time, I admire the original designer, that is a remarkable genius. I think his contribution to humans is no less than Edison, who invented the electric light. Even Einstein, who invented the atomic bomb. I know that he is a foreigner, which makes me a little bit resentful. So the Chinese who have created the wooden cow and horse are not one of the inventors or creators of bicycles.

Riding on a bike, running in the field, running on the street, the sun is shining and the breeze is coming, the feeling is really wonderful. In picturesque places, even when you are in a good mood, you may even feel ecstatic. I always wanted to write down this feeling and write it into poems, but unfortunately I was too stupid, and the words I wrote could only seem as if they were. I once wrote in a poem “Girls and Bicycles”: “The girl riding on a bicycle thinks / she is a fish / separate layers of blue waves from the sea / sweeping across and flying towards the other shore … It’s like riding a magical tree / leafy tumbling flight / rising along the trajectory of the rainbow / at this time people believe that / the bicycle is the invention of God / the girl riding on the bicycle is / a demigod! “I can only express my love for bicycles in such poor words.

I have certainly cycled a lot. The bike I ride now has been with me for more than eight years. It was given to me by a friend of mine. When I took over, it was about 80% new. My friend seconded from Shandong to our unit (all belong to a system) for four years. As soon as he arrived in Beijing, he bought this car, which is a new car. This car has spent more than a thousand days and nights with him, and ran him through many places, especially some antique markets, so that friends can successfully find many beloved antique treasures. This car also went with him 叩I have visited many ancient tombs in the mountains of Beijing West, and let my friends touch the engraved stone monuments with their eyes and hands in the setting sun and wild west, sinking deeply into the distant thoughts of life and death, past and future. In the real life. He and I used to have drinks and talk together. At the street food stalls, we opened a small Erguotou bottle, drank slowly, and thought for a long time. I was riding a bicycle at that time, it was relatively high, but it was worn out. I could n’t compare it to a sturdy, beautiful bicycle with my friends, but the two bikes were close together, like close brothers. The last time I met, my friend was about to leave Beijing and return to Lu, and the topic increased sharply with generosity and resilience. My eyes fell unconsciously on those two bicycles, and my heart seemed to be sentimental for the separation of them. I did not expect that the intelligent friend of Ice and Snow could see my heart brightly, and he would look at his mount. As a gift, I saw that my friend ’s eyes were so sincere and enthusiastic, and I did n’t give in. From then on, my friend ’s bicycle became my BMW good horse, and accompanied me to go back and forth in the smoke and dust of the years. Feel the ease of movement and the ease of speed.

The bikes I’ve ridden are no less than seven or eight after coming to Beijing alone. But often it is either missing or it is old when bought, and it will be scrapped if you can’t ride for a year or two. Looking back at my cycling history, in addition to the current one, the “Red Flag” bike that was the longest following of me when I was a kid—also produced in Tianjin—is in the same place as the current one, and even The brothers who were “one dragon and nine sons” were also unknown.

I also have a deep feeling for the original “Red Flag” bike. It was the bike I first contacted and learned to ride. I still remember the scene when the “red flag” came to my house: it was originally packed in a carton, and my father took it apart, and then groped while assembling it. When a brand-new and bright bicycle stood at my house In that humble house, it really looks like a beautiful, magnificent god, full of vitality! Not to mention how happy his father is, his eyes are full of joy, and his body is full of joy. Later, the “red flag” carried him to the streets and counties, walking through villages and alleys, and also set up “khan horse credit”. That was the beginning of the 1970s, when bikes were rare in the countryside. The father is very baby, and he must wipe it carefully every time he rides back, until he is clean and shiny. My father often gave it “anointing oil”, so for many years, it was still as sharp as a sword. Of course, my father was sloppy on loan, and occasionally lent it to others, and it usually took no more than a day. Once I borrowed it from the godfather of my neighbouring village. He rode away in the evening the next day and did not return it the following evening. The father sent my mother to take our brother and sister to the godmother’s house and waited. When it was dark, The grandfather came back on the car. We said nothing and took it over and pushed home. The father was relieved when he saw that the car was safe and sound. He can also understand that he loves such treasures. At that time, buying a bicycle was based on a ticket, and a ticket was always difficult to find, not to mention saving more than a hundred dollars for years of frugality, not to mention he went every day. Teaching in school was not easy on foot, and he was already struggling.

I was carried by my father on the back of his “BMW” since I was young, and went to school, county, and relatives’ home with him. At first I could only sit on the girders, curled up in my father’s arms, and walked for dozens of miles. My legs were numb and numb, and it took a long time for me to recover after landing. Later he sat on the back seat of the bicycle. Once, my father took us three brothers and sisters to his school. My eldest sister and I were sitting in the back, and the road was bumpy. Sure enough, we didn’t go far, and we fell down. I had to walk and chase the bicycle. Maybe from that moment, I germinated the idea that I should learn to ride a bicycle. From then on, as long as the bicycle is parked at home without being locked, I have to sneak it out and push it to the threshing field in front of the door. I let my little friend help me. I crouched on the car and pedaled vigorously. At the beginning, of course, it kept falling, breaking my knees and palms was inevitable, but it was better than riding once. Let the buddies release their hands, and let me go round and round on the threshing ground. This took about half a year. Then I went to the village road to practice, and the long slope on the east side of the mountain dared to rush down. It is still a common occurrence to fall, but fortunately, it has never been planted in a canal on the roadside. In this way, I finally learned to ride a bicycle and learned to run happily on the road. But this is still only occasionally. It wasn’t until high school that my father generously made it my mount.

On the first day of my high school report, I was carrying my luggage and rice with my father’s bicycle. This was only allowed after repeated requests to him. This was not because he regretted the car, but because I was admitted to ordinary high school, he was very angry and doubted whether I could be admitted to college, so he asked me to take a load and walked. This may be a way for him to motivate me. The next week, I went to school again, and of course I didn’t dare to speak to my father anymore. I really walked to school on foot. Of course, I went home on weekends. I washed my feet at night and found that there was a blood bubble on my feet. When my father saw this, he felt compassion, and said, “Go on a bike.” Since then, this “red flag” bicycle has become my special car, and my father had to walk to work. It’s just that it has been in my house for ten years, and there are already some “old looks”, although my father has always paid attention to maintaining it.

At that time, few people were able to ride bicycles to the county seat to go to school. Even some of the students who lived in the county seat did not have a car. Therefore, several people with cars became the envy of everyone. We often biked together, chasing one after another in Xiaoye, whistling and generating wind. You can bring a classmate home when you go home on the weekend. One of my classmates was relatively small, and I had to jump to sit on the back seat of my bicycle. Once I was too hard, I fell from the seat to the other side, and the asphalt was melted when I sat on my butt. On the way. It ’s more convenient to have a car. I went to Xinhua Bookstore ’s library to “book visit” together with the literary and artistic youth I met during the meeting, and walked around in government agencies. They were very casual. Stayed in his father’s unit. Before the college entrance examination, there was a screening “pre-exam”. I lived with this classmate the first night. In this room, I listened to the sound of the rain that continued on and off overnight. I couldn’t sleep, and I got up early in the morning. , Staggered to ride the bike to the school, but also passed smoothly. Even the college entrance examination also lived at home. As usual, I fell asleep in the middle of the night. I rode a car to the examination room early in the morning and was lucky enough to be admitted to the university. Now I want to come, I was really bold then, what if the bicycle broke down in the middle? Fortunately, the danger did not occur at all. I want to know how grateful my mount should be. It really is like a war horse, rushing towards me to the battlefield, embracing me, and achieved “victory”!

Of course, memories are not all good. I once rushed to a small bridge at the junction of urban and rural areas by a car, but was hit by a scooter into the river at the bottom of the bridge. Fortunately, the water was not deep, although the bicycle was not in the way. Women at the waterside all blamed some of the deliberate rampages of the carts, but I kept saying, “It’s okay,” I got up from the water with the help of others, and rode away again. There was a second-year summer vacation from college. At that time, under the kindness of others, I was “talking with” my female high school classmate who was studying at another university. She asked me to teach her to ride a bicycle. I helped her to fight. I made a few laps in the field, but I was still thinking about the book, so I always wanted her to ride more and read a few more lines by herself. As a result, she repeatedly fell and even bumped into purple As soon as she was angry, she cried and ran back to her home. I’m also sorry, and soon I went to her house to apologize. At that time, he was too young to be very sensible. We finally failed to come together, and my apologies for her deepened.

I did not expect that there are so many memories about “mountains”. This is also understandable. When people come to this world, they have to deal with “things” every day, and they have to use “things” to do things every day to realize their wishes and achieve their own goals. “Produce emotions. For example, my current car was given to me by friends, and a friendship was condensed. It accompanied me every day, as if on call, carrying me to and from things, running north and south, from my heart, going downstairs. It fluttered, it was not silent, it helped me every day, and it is very in line with the environmental protection concept advocated now. If I do n’t have an attachment to it, it ’s abnormal. That’s exactly what it should be.

Love in paper

People who like writing, painting, composition, and books probably don’t like paper. Paper is a tool for writing writers, and it is a load of art and thought externalized, just like plants and land cannot be separated. Of course, the situation is different now. The application of the computer allows the text to exist away from the paper, but this can only be regarded as one of the forms of existence of the text, and this way of existence has both its strengths and great limitations. (E-books are always inconvenient to use, and inconvenient to read. I always think that text is more reliable when it falls on paper media, and it may take longer.) Paper works are not only irreplaceable, I am afraid they are still fundamental. Some works, such as painting and calligraphy, can’t be done with paper.

The literati liked paper so much that it was very particular and there were more. The most popular was Tang Tao of the Tang Dynasty. She thought that the paper size at the time was too large to write poems, so she changed the size of the craftsmen, and used her own dyeing technique to dye ten colors, such as deep red and pink. “Change the paper” to write poetry in this way is not only inspired by inspiration, but also more artistic. That is “Xue Taojian”. Later literati emulated more. We have seen ancient and modern literati “ruchi” or poetry manuscripts. The paper used is printed with patterns that complement each other’s “dharma” or poems. It is extremely exquisite, and it is indeed a very elegant and stylish thing until the Republic of China. This style still has the aftermath of this period. Didn’t Mr. Lu Xun and Mr. Zheng Zhenduo collect the printed letterheads used by the literati seen in Beijing? It is said that this self-published “paper note” has a total of six volumes, including 332 characters, landscapes, and bird and flower notes. This move is not only called “elegant”, but also a culturally significant thing. Get a set, when the arch.

I ’ve written about the author in the toilet for about 30 or 40 years, but I have no research on paper. Although I always admired Cai Lun ’s invention of paper, I even thought that “their advantages are not under Yu”, and I hope someone should write A “Paper History” is handed down, but in the end I only stay at the “like” level. At first, I got an exquisite notebook, and I felt very cherished. I wanted to keep my best text, poetry, on top of it, so I studied and brewed extraordinarily, found the feeling, and inspired the poetry. I left a piece of work that I thought was “OK”; if I get another notebook next time, it will be the same. Time after time, many of my poems were originally written like this. Occasionally I get specially crafted paper, as Mr. Lu Xun said, because it is too new and beautiful, but I ca n’t bear the pen. There are some cases, not many, because I do n’t have many opportunities to get “good paper”. .

So, as for paper, I have more memories as a kid. Because it was a time of widespread poverty, it was very difficult for people to find good writing paper. If anyone gets a good notebook, it will be regarded as a treasure, and they will not even show it easily.

However, I like paper so much. It really looks like an innate nature. Occasionally I got a piece of paper and I collected it and stared for a long time. For example, after the Spring Festival, after the firecrackers set off in the village burst, some scattered pieces of paper fell to the ground, and I occasionally picked them up, trying to see what the above text came from, the “daily paper” or a comic book, which of course was just for no reason Just “guess”. Therefore, when I was five or six years old, I quarreled with my parents to go to school, because as soon as I went to school, I could have books decently! What a wonderful thing! But my parents thought that I was young and could not rest assured that I was crossing the road, so I never agreed. After another year, I often went to my father ’s primary school by myself. When my father was teaching, I would also walk around the stage—if I did n’t let me go, sometimes I would bump into the blackboard. At the lower end, there was a sharp pain, and the painful appearance also caused the students to snicker. I really envy them as elementary school students-as if I have no chance to study in the future, I envy them that they have books and books. Once the students went to do exercises on the playground. There was no one in the classroom. I was scrambling in the classroom. I saw that some students had not only exercise books but also notebooks, and some notebooks seemed to be quite old. Yes, the color is a bit old, but there are still appropriate grid lines, and there is even a pattern on one corner, and some have illustrations in the middle. I looked around, almost half of my classmates had a notebook, and my eyes were terrible, and my heart was irritable. The intense possessiveness swelled in my heart, making my blood thrive, my heart throbbing, and my head was a little bit awkward Dizzy, an evil thought can’t stop coming out, I’m going to tear a few sheets from these notebooks to comfort my longing heart. I also know that this is a mistake, it shouldn’t be, and I have been stunned for a few minutes, but reason is often unable to defeat desire, I still stretch out the evil hand, I aimed at a few notebooks, and tear two or three Zhang and West pulled three or four pages. About four notebooks were attacked by me. I tore off the paper and held it on my body. I do n’t remember what these pages were used for, and I often wondered what kind of surprise and pain the students who would tear my notebook off, would they suspect each other, and would they guess on my head? ? This was the only thing I could do as a “sin” in my youth. I did n’t forget it, and it ’s meant to be a reflection all the time, although I would n’t regret it like St. Augustine for stealing a neighbor ’s pear when he was young, because after all, it ’s nothing less.

It can also be seen from this that my love for paper is still relatively deep. It seems to be deeper than many other things, even more than toy pistols.

At the elementary school, at the beginning I was at the same school as my father (soon he was transferred away). Of course, I also went to his office. Sometimes I got one or two blank sheets of paper. I also like it. Take it back and doodle on it. Something went wrong. I also wanted to bind a book, but it didn’t look good, far worse than my father’s binding. One day, in my father’s office, I found that his colleague, Teacher Yang, had a large-sized book bound in white paper, almost like a book, very neat, and even couldn’t see the nails under the stapler. A thick book, about a hundred pages, I loved it when I saw it, and I put it down to me. Finally, I offered it to Mr. Yang with a cheeky face. I thought he wouldn’t agree. I didn’t expect him to groan for a moment, so he was generous. Saying “You take it”, I like to keep it in my hands, and go away. I didn’t expect my father to drink a drink behind my back: Put it down and give it back to Teacher Yang! I had to walk back obediently, flipped through this beautiful blank paper again, put it down reluctantly, and left my father’s office with great regret. Forty years later, this scene is still as clear as yesterday, and it can be said to be “unforgettable”!

After I went to work in the publishing house, I occasionally met colleagues to make books, because I had to catch the book ordering meeting at the beginning of each year, and the text of the book was too late to print, so I made a “fake book” with blank paper of equal thickness. In fact, that’s the “white paper book”. With a beautiful cover, it temporarily serves as a real book. It is also very chic. After coming down from the meeting, I will come with a book or two, always as a notebook and whenever I read On the occasion of inspiration, I recorded it informally. There were a lot of poems and short essays on it, and after finishing processing it, I could finalize it.

I like to write on paper because I like paper, and I always do it this way-I think there is no shortage of others. I can’t forget that when I was in junior high school, I got a manuscript from a classmate who didn’t know who wrote it. It was copied on a large-scale manuscript paper. It was a thick book, the content of which was “Li Xuexue Ye Cai Cai State”. After reading this play, I felt that it was well written, but I appreciate this manuscript paper more. I have only seen sixteen-page manuscripts before and never seen eight-page manuscripts. I have treasured it for a long time, and my classmates have not returned it again. I thought about it and cut it out and bound it into a 32-note notebook. I still wrote poems on it, thinking that it would be preserved, and more meaningful. It’s a pity that this drama, along with my naive writings, never came to an end. It was also many years later, until I arrived in Beijing, I got a stack of manuscript papers from one of my alumni working at the Academy of Art, and wrote a few articles with it, only to satisfy my “shaped” Wishing writing on manuscript paper.

I liked writing when I was a teenager, and I also collected some types of paper. Now I want to come, but it is very limited. After all, I was in a backcountry. I even used other people’s abandoned books. I just remember that the texture of the paper was not very good at that time. Many papers were very thin, even as thin as cicadas, which made me use it to cover textbooks and some extra-curricular reading materials, and copy their illustrations. Almost all children have done this, including the boy Lu Xun. In “From Baicaoyuan to Sanwei Bookstore,” he never said, “I am a painter, and I use a kind of” Jingzhou paper “, covered in the novel. The embroidery of each one is traced down one after another, like the shadow copy when learning Chinese characters. “He also said that the paintings scored much better than others. But I don’t have any achievements at all. Art is always far away from me. It’s only since I was a boy that I have never seen those thin, pale yellow papers.

A rare piece of paper is probably the common impression of people who lived in rural areas in those days. Many people have no paper to use in the toilet, even if they are waste newspapers. An uncle in our village is a caring person. I usually pick up a large piece of paper when I see it, and then cut them to the same size, stack them neatly, and place them in the hole in the wall of the latrine. When we wild kids knew this secret, they often stole it and used it to fold the triangle to play; when the uncle’s family discovered it, they came to stop it, and we had to smash it away. The Chinese have always said “seeing and regretting writing paper”. The formation of this traditional consciousness is probably related to the paper Jingui.

After work, of course, I have to deal with paper every day, and papers of various names and models also keep coming to me. What are “pure paper”, “white cardboard”, “special paper”, “Coated paper”, I know a little bit about it, but if I want to say exactly its characteristics, it is also difficult to be afraid, as well as the past “Jingchuan paper”, “Daolin paper”, “Malan paper” and so on , I know even more about it. It seems that on paper, after all, I am just a hobby and not professional at all, just like my writing.

At work, there is a deep impression, that is, a thin or not too thick piece of white paper, which can often cut a person’s hand into a hole and bleed, so my female colleague When proofreading proofs, they often wear thin cotton gloves. This made me wonder deeply: a thin piece of paper will have personality. It is from this that I realize that writing is to give soul to each piece of white paper.

I sing a bowl of rice

I am a southerner, and rice is my staple food. In my opinion, there is no food in the world that is more fragrant and tempting than a steaming bowl of rice. If it is a good variety of rice, it will be as beautiful as pearls, no! It is more popular than pearl beauty jade, because pearl beauty jade can’t have a belly, and can’t meet the most basic survival needs of people.

Every time I face a bowl of rice, my whole body and mind exudes joy and joy. I will be excited, and I ca n’t wait to pour it straight into my stomach and into my stomach, as if it was a long-lost source of life. I can only satisfy it by integrating it into my body and becoming a part of myself. Such a look is really ridiculous. However, there is no lack of enviable places-my classmates once told me that they like to sit with me for dinner and see that they are so gobbling, they will also have an appetite. Ha ha!

I often unconsciously thank God for giving us such good food—God really treats us humans! I also always imagine how humans discovered the rice plant in the first place-they accidentally found it on a wet or shallow depression, there should be a large area, of course, wild, they see so many The heavy ears of rice must have guessed that these grains are edible; they knew from the beginning whether they would shell or swallow them, and of course they had to try. Over time, they will find that cooked hulled rice is even more delicious! They promoted this way of eating. Rice is also planted where there is no rice, and the ability of rice to adapt to soil and climate is so strong. As a result, rice has finally become one of the most widely distributed crops in the world-perhaps most of the world’s places with water were originally It is not known whether there is native rice (rice or upland rice), but at that point there were sporadic existence, and after selection, a large and pure piece of rice was formed.

China has a history of rice cultivation for six or seven thousand years, how proud it is! I even suspect that this history should be much longer, maybe tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of years. Rice should feed more than half of the Chinese people, and this statement should be true. There is a poem about rice in the “Book of Songs” from ancient times: “Peel dates in August, and rice in October.” Rice also plays a key role in the formation of Chinese appetite, and even affects the personality of Chinese people; rice culture is the most important part of Chinese culture (perhaps still its matrix), and these are worth our pride Also worthy of our research.

Li Bai wrote a poem that misses Du Fu: “Ipengshan meets Du Fu and wears a sister-in-law, Zhuotingwu. By asking not to be too thin, it is always a pain to write poetry.” Contains a certain irony. The first is to imply that Du Fu has always lacked food, and the second is to say that Du Fu’s poetry is “Bitter Yin School”, unlike Li Bai who coughs up and spit freely. I do n’t know if there is a mountain named “Iige Mountain” here. It is said that it is a mountain near Chang’an in the Tang Dynasty, but I think that Li Bai used a symbolic and metaphorical method to write something like that. A mountain made of rice, Du Fu stayed on top of it (meaning Du Fu has been worried about clothing and food). I think Li Bai, the poet immortal, does have some “knowledge” on earth. He is not as good as Marx who understands the most basic truth in the world: people must eat before they can engage in everything else, such as poetry, such as revolution … Don’t you stand on the “rice hill” or “bread hill”?

My hometown produces rice. Although it belongs to the hilly area, the terrain in the county is like the whole of China, high in the west and low in the east. The topography of even a few villages near my home is similar. The flat land in the east was reclaimed into paddy fields, and rice was planted, and even in the hills to the west, wherever water could be diverted, they were transformed into rice fields. When I was a kid, the locally improved species had been changed from single-season rice to two-cultivation. Whenever rice starts to bloom in early summer, a unique fragrance is floating across the field. Although it is light, it is still obvious because it is more easy-going and fresher than the fragrance of other plants, as if there is a simple and elegant taste. And firm temperament. When folks smell this kind of fragrance, they will be very happy, because it will indicate that the harvest is in sight. Xin Qiji has the words “sailing the abundance of rice in the fragrance of rice flowers”, indicating that this situation has been the case in China for thousands of years! In the season of rice maturity, the entire field seems to be covered with large expanses of golden blankets, and some are almost endless, like the ocean, the wind blows, and the waves are undulating. At this time, the village is just like a reef out of the sea. How can such a sight not be rejoicing! Even more gratifying is that after the rice came out, it was threshed and piled on the threshing field, like a small pyramid. This tower is made of rice grains like gold, and still emits a woody fragrance, which makes people not Consciously think of the taste it gives people, think of the heat and power it adds to people, why not make people want to sing!

However, this is only one aspect of the matter. On the other hand, behind it all, it is permeated with incomparable hardships. How much labor the farmers have to pay to obtain a good harvest. As a child growing up in the countryside, I not only witnessed it all, but also experienced it for myself. From seed selection, folks need to take care of each seedling as much as their children. “Dingling and seeding” is a word that I have learned since I was a child, and I understand it better. It means that you need to jump into the cold muddy water with bare feet against the snow, and sprinkle the seeds into the seedling field; When it grows up, it must be pulled out one by one, tied into a bunch, and then picked into another field, and planted it plant by plant; followed by fertilization, weeding, deworming, and irrigation; When it is mature, cut them bunch by bunch, bundle them, and pick them off the threshing field (or just in the field); finally, dry them over and over again until they are dried and cleaned. In order to return to the warehouse. And this is only in terms of a single season. If it is two crops, the late rice in the second season must also be inserted before the beginning of the autumn, otherwise not only the yield will be reduced, or the grain may not be harvested. In any case, this is comparable to a fierce and fierce battle, and at this time is the hottest season of the year. The sun in the south is like a huge stove, constantly spraying flames outward, rolling up and tumbling. The heat wave is sometimes covered by clouds, and the sun still comes out. It is hotter, and the wildness is steaming. It is too stuffy to breathe. It is really like entering a “sauna” room. The more farmers at this time, the more they want to go out, because if the rainstorm comes, all the rice will fall to the ground, it will rot when flooded for a few days, and it will be more difficult to cut. In those years, during the summer vacation, I carried the burden with the folks and ran on the field repeatedly many times a day. The hot stones boiled the bare feet and soaked them one by one, not to mention the escape from the flames of the sun. It’s baked. In this way, finally the rice appeared, and every family finally flew the woody fragrance of rice.

The newly laid rice is really delicious. Open the lid, the aroma is tangy; when it is served in a bowl, the grains are smooth and smooth; when you eat it, it feels soft and sweet. This kind of rice does not require dishes, and it can be swallowed by two bowls. If you burn one or two more small fish caught from the pond or river ditch and pour the fish soup into the rice, the taste is so delicious that it can no longer be delicious. Eat it, as the saying goes, “it will lick your nose “. (My hometown says “eat more pond fish and eat more rice”) These rice-fat-steaming rice (Du Fu’s poem “Rice fat-slurry corn white” is very accurate), is a farmer In exchange for their own sweat, the only benefit the farmers get is that they can eat the new rice this month. During those days, it seemed that everyone in the village had added a tremendous amount of “strength” to them, and even walking would generate wind.

Our place is probably the same as in many places. The rice we produce includes indica, japonica, and glutinous rice. Indica rice is an early rice with low viscosity, long grains but sufficient swelling, and large yields. It is a good food to solve hunger. Japonica rice is generally late rice. It is short and round, but it is sticky and tastes more refreshing and moist than indica rice. The glutinous rice is the most sticky. When it is cooked in the pot, it almost sticks together and almost no longer takes shape. However, it tastes longer and it seems to be more oily and more “killable”. It is generally used to Deep-fried cakes. People in our village generally consume edible rice as the main ingredient, supplemented by japonica rice; glutinous rice is just a small field that is used for fried rice cakes or ground into starch. The most memorable thing for me is that whenever there is a big event or Chinese New Year, many people use a kind of appliance called “甑” to steam rice. The ravioli is shaped like a wooden barrel, two feet high. When steaming, instead of putting the rice in one at a time, put a layer of steamed rice and add another layer until all steamed. The steamed rice (the ravioli is placed in the pot, and the pot must be constantly filled with water) is fully swollen, the grains are full, and it is very “glutinous” to eat. At the end of the year, you can use glutinous rice to steam out a dumpling. You can also simmer it into rice slabs and store it for a long time. If you fry it, it is good fried rice. (Ie maltose).

The days when there is a bowl of rice are good days, even now. Of course, all this can only be done in a peaceful and peaceful year. If there is disaster or war, there is no fruit, and the road is hungry, how can we talk about it? At that time, being able to eat a bowl of rice would be a rare thing for many people to dream of. In the 1960s, the country of China ushered in a nationwide disaster. How many people were starved to death! I heard my mother say: Many folks are still dying when they are about to die: “When can I have a bowl of rice!” She also said that Wang Sanniang, a neighbor of the village, was in confinement that year, the whole month In addition to rice bran and wild vegetables, I ate only three lettuces! There are only three lettuces for confinement! What kind of day is this! I also heard from my mother that she was spared by running a collectively owned “snack shop” in the village and occasionally a little food came in. A cousin in the village was too hungry and secretly ran to the backyard of the “Snack Department” and called for my mother to give him a rice ball. The mother could not find it, and quietly sipped him a bowl of tofu residue He also took it home with joy, and was able to survive … maybe only at this juncture, we really knew: what a bowl of ordinary rice means! ——Nothing else, that is life, life like a mountain! Then we will understand what “people take food as the heaven”!

Therefore, I want to worship any bowl of rice that comes to me, not only like it, cherish it, but also praise it and sing it!

I hope that even if the country is really prosperous and modern, every Chinese person will never forget the bowl of rice that came to us for generations!

Fetish era

When people are born, they are always curious about this world! He finds everything new and interesting to see. This kind of strong interest in things is probably going to run through the whole youth, and some will last longer or even a lifetime.

Thinking back to my childhood, that was the case. Not only do I feel happy every day about the heavens, earth, and everything in the world, but also many small things that come to me and are at hand, and I always want to keep them as my own so that I can play at any time. That’s like a kind of “fetish” manifestation. Such a stage may be called “fetish era” for a person.

Many of my objects were obtained from my friends in the village. There are also many ways to “get it”, such as winning, fighting, betting, or betting to win. Naturally, you can attribute some of the items that you have said in advance to yourself; there are also things that are exchanged, or flowers I bought a few coins, and I even saw them so enthusiastically that I couldn’t let them down, or even “take them” at the risk of using the “stealing” means. This may be available, and it can be said that they are not all. In short, at that time, all the thoughts were on some small objects, and when you got it, you were happy, but when you lost, you were sad and worried.

Even now, I have not forgotten many objects, and I even want to get them back and play them again.

Playing cards. I don’t remember how many years I learned to play poker, it was very early. There is no entertainment in the mountain village. Every Spring Festival, adults and children like to play poker, and there are also bets on winning or losing a few small coins. A deck of fifty-four leaves, but there are many tricks to play, it seems that there are infinite changes, which makes people feel novel! I participated in it, how can I not have the idea of ​​owning a deck of cards! So begging Bailai entangled my older buddies and asked him to transfer the extra leaves to me. So I gradually have a complete deck of cards. Playing cards for a long time, can not help but curl, fluff, missing corners, and then a friend came up with a way to try to solve this problem: use tung oil to “play” the playing card again, anyway, we are rich in tung oil, It is not difficult to find some tung oil. I did not expect that the playing cards that tung oil had “oiled” turned black. It was hard, but it was easier to break. It is better to leave it alone.

glass bead. Now I can’t remember where these glass beads come from, and some of the bead cores are still colored. A few of them are put together, and the five-color flashing is very beautiful. Playing it is called “pinball”. Dig a small hole in advance, put a glass bead not far from the opening, take another one to eject from a distant place, and hit the glass bead at the entrance. Isn’t this a bit like a prototype of “playing golf”? But at that time we didn’t know what “golf” was in the world, and we were still having fun. I once went to my father’s colleague’s child, Wu Mao, to steal the glass tube in the laboratory in the middle school of my father’s school. It’s useless, it’s probably just blowing bubbles or changing glass beads, because they are all made of glass. I hadn’t gone to school yet.

Ping pong paddle. This is about after school, because when you are addicted to playing table tennis, you must reach a certain age and height. There are table tennis tables and beats in the school, but unfortunately we are not ready to play. My father also brought back a tempo, which was borrowed, and he would return it after playing for a while. How to do? Do it yourself, get plenty of food and clothing, this truth seems to be unintelligible. The little friends used wooden boards to make their own ping-pong beats-it’s not difficult to do anyway. Without suitable wooden boards, go to the “car cricket” unloaded from the waterwheel, that is, the blade of the waterwheel, which is exactly the same size as a ping-pong racket. Of course, this is not easy to obtain. I bought a pair of coins from a better partner in the village “craftsmanship”, so that I could play a ball. I was fined once. Without a table, remove the door and find two benches, as long as you can serve and receive the ball. I often play such games in my yard. I also learned to play table tennis in this state, and some of my friends will “pump, cut, spin”, and I will know a little or two. However, my “Wild Fox Zen” style of play, “Serving” was too non-standard, so that when I was in the university elective course, the “Ping Pong” teacher corrected me for a long time, I still did not learn to “Serve” standard. Ha ha!

gun. This is the most beloved thing in my youth. I always want to have a “good gun”, in addition to concentrating on collecting and thinking day and night. I even once opened an “arsenal” at home. I found friends and made various types of guns with interest. Mainly “pistols”, air-dried. I carved a crosshair and a pattern on it with a knife. Dyeed, exaggeratedly said, “However it can be confused.” In addition, the wire is bent into a pistol shape. The barrel is attached with a chain link removed from the bicycle chain, and then a wire is used to make a striker. A trigger is triggered. The striker is driven by the rubber band and hits the chain. A small hole was deliberately set at one end. A match was inserted into the small hole. When the match head was struck, an explosion sound was made, and the match stick was also knocked out, and there was a crisp sound. It is conceivable that this kind of gun will also hurt people, such as hitting people’s eyes, the consequences are unthinkable, so it has been repeatedly banned by adults, but we still ignore it and fortunately no accidents have happened. Another thing is to put an abandoned bullet case-in those years, often engaged in “militia training”, it is not difficult to find a few bullet cases-tied to a pistol made of wire or wood, but the firing pin is a long Nail, blunt its tip, bend it, and buckle it to the device that is linked to the trigger. It is also a trigger, firing the needle, and hitting the gunpowder placed in the bullet shell in advance, and it will explode naturally. The guns that we can “fire” are these two. Once, a relative from a family came to the village, and one and a half of the children brought a large wooden pistol, which can be used for gunpowder. The barrel was still a steel pipe, which made me feel novel and admired, so I tried everything with him The suit is almost, and I want to exchange it with other objects, but unfortunately I can’t move him. After playing for two days together, he took the gun home and made me feel lost. I went to my grandmother’s house and found a child about the same age as myself playing a gun. Most of them are older than me. One of them has a wooden pistol, which is made of wood, except that the place where gunpowder is placed is covered with an iron sheet. I naturally want it, so I always hold it. The owner was reluctant to let go of such a good thing, so he snatched it in a frenzy, snatched it, and littered it. I didn’t expect that when I threw it, I accidentally threw one of my friends-my cousin. His head was smashed, and his mother, my little grandmother, went to my grandmother’s house and scolded me. The two made me unhappy, and my grandmother seemed to dislike me even more. It can be seen that I did some Stubborn, oh!

Small radio, electric brake. At that time, making small radio was also very popular among friends. This was of course inspired by real radio. Anyway, every household had to set up a radio according to regulations, and curious children took it off the wall. I took it apart and researched it again and again, even if I tried boldly, I found a small iron box with emollient oil, and according to the structure of the broadcast, I arranged all the necessary things. I did n’t expect that I could really receive the sound, although Not much more than the hum of a mosquito, which is enough to amaze me and want to own one. I made it myself, I do n’t remember, but I can definitely get something from my little partner for one, but unfortunately I did n’t play for a long time, and then I was dumb. I really admire the ingenuity of the hand! Related to it is to make an electric switch, which is to use a piece of iron to make a push-pull switch on a wooden board, cut the ground wire broadcasted at home from it, and install this hand-made electric switch, so that the “ring” of the broadcast and “No sound” control in hand. This shows that children have a certain desire to control. I also made several of these things.

Fishhook. I was also hooked on fishing for a while, and when I saw others fishing, I always had a lot of gains, and I felt like I couldn’t bear it. So he started to buy fishing rods again and again, and the fishhook and fishing line were bought from a neighbourhood seller in the neighboring village who was “selling odds and ends”. But the fish did not catch much, the fish hook was often swallowed by the fish, and the fishing line was always entangled with something underwater. Once it was torn, it eagerly went to the old man to fill it. Sometimes the old man is not at home. In anxiety, he burns the fire with the needles that are used daily at home, bends it over, and uses it as a fishing hook. In the middle, he must also be beaten. This is the poem of Lao Du: “Boy tapping a needle for a fishing hook.”

Iron rings, wheeled carts, spinning tops … I like these toys that children like to play with, and I’ve got them through various means. What other “favorite” objects do you like? It seems that there is no more to say. At that time, the rural life was poor and closed, and some strange things outside could not be reached at all. However, there were a few things in the home that looked small and exquisite, and they felt very cute. For example, the little cricket used by mothers to grow vegetables is as big as the feet of children. Its handle is only one foot long, but it is very easy to loose soil and dig wild vegetables, and it is the only one in the village- Farm tools are large, and no one wants to buy such a miniature tool-so I love it. I used it to dig trenches, dams, and dig trees. In addition, my father also bought me a small plastic flashlight with a battery that is much smaller than ordinary batteries. I often take it to run around the village at night and fight with the children in the neighboring village, even in an ambush There is no such fear in this grave post. Such a small flashlight is also unique in the village.

Thinking of it, it was really an age of obsessed with things. I’m always interested in gadgets like this and all day long, either searching for this or making that, and there is almost no stopping for a moment. Oh, by the way, in addition to the above, I have also produced hookahs, squirt guns, iron rings, pulleys, clocks … I have been collecting artillery battles endlessly, and put them out when I have time. Many objects also caused my infinite imagination. A painting in my home and a pattern on the pillow and quilt made me stare for a long time. Once, as the crowd went to a village to watch the mobile performance of the literary propaganda team, after the people dispersed, I picked up a small round box containing a few rubber bands, glass balls, buttons, and hair clips. I guess it must have been left by a girl. As I was playing, I was thinking: What does she look like? Where is she now? Why does she collect these things? She lost them. Was she worried? … Later, I read the story of the French film “Emily’s Wonderful Destiny” and found that Emily also picked up a box like this, and tried to give it to the owner of the box, and let the little owner back then It’s past time. So I thought, unfortunately, the little round box I picked up was gone, otherwise, maybe I can also recover the lost time, right?

Fetishness may be a stage that everyone must go through, but I would say that if you have fetishism in your life, it may be a pathological manifestation (It is said that there are really such people who want to pick up everything when they see it and make the family shape (Same as waste station), at least it has not been out of childhood and has not really matured. Fortunately, I was not like this. I went to middle school and had no interest in those small objects overnight. There was only one thing. I was still happy with the collection and collection of books.