What are oral family traditions? Family lore
At the same time, readers often think that writers mainly share what happened in their lives. But you can’t write about yourself all the time, it’s what kind of life you have to live to experience all this! Especially if it concerns the “Unknown” section. Therefore, taking this opportunity, I would like to thank my friends, relatives and just casual acquaintances who share with me their (or heard from someone else) stories. Sometimes, indeed, very funny things happen.
Once, while visiting a friend, I met a woman who had recently moved to Yakutsk from a northern region. This area once flourished as an industrial area, but last years Due to the closure of the mining industry, it fell into disrepair and became completely extinct. Many residents of the regional center, abandoning comfortable apartments that no one wanted or could buy, left, so to speak, for the mainland. At first, these houses stood empty, then people who lived in worse conditions began to move in, often AWOL, without warrants. Many apartments are rumored to be still empty. And since a holy place is never empty, in those houses, according to this woman’s story, real ghosts settled. Moreover, they became so insolent that they appeared in broad daylight and even interfered in the lives of the residents. For example, an unsuspecting resident is standing and spinning minced meat for cutlets in a meat grinder, and suddenly a ghost appears behind her and asks: “With pepper, right?” And where should I add such a story? Who will believe me that this really happened? Not only do the ghosts come not during the hours, so to speak, of “their work,” but overtime, and besides, they talk, which, according to parapsychologists, is strictly forbidden to them, and most importantly: this is absolutely, absolutely NOT SCARY!
But, nevertheless, like an esotericist, I am collecting bit by bit, bit by bit, what can be used to write something worthwhile in this section. And you never know in what place you will hear something that you immediately say to yourself: “Oh, I need to write this!” For example, quite recently, while sitting at a festive cheerful table, I heard one story.
Fight with an old ghost
This story took place in one of the Vilyui uluses. My friend was only two or three months old when in the village where they lived then several children fell ill with meningitis. At that time, there were no qualified doctors in the ulus, there was not enough medicine... Of course, the doctors at the district hospital did everything possible to save the children, but their forces were unequal. The children died one after another. At the hospital, the girl’s parents were told this: there was practically no hope.
Saddened, they returned home and saw that the two older girls were waiting for them on the street, sitting on the rubble. Several hectic days passed, the parents rushed to the regional center to the hospital almost every day, hoping that their little daughter felt better, but alas! Then one of them finally noticed that every time they came home, they found girls on the street. Apparently, the children were afraid to be left alone, without adults, in the house, which, by the way, they had just recently moved into. They began to ask: what’s the matter, someone scared you, what are you afraid of? It turned out that when there are no adults in the house, they see some little old lady who appears around the corner every time, and does not enter the door like all people. The old woman is very angry, looks with an unkind look and constantly mutters something under her breath. The girls didn’t understand what she was muttering. Here, probably, it should be said that the family moved to Vilyuysk, my mother’s homeland, from an industrial area, the children grew up with Russian children and did not understand Yakut well.
The adults themselves did not hear or see anything, until one day an incident occurred, after which the head of the family from an atheist overnight turned into a believer.
The day before the man was working in night shift and slept during the day. There was no one in the house. And then he dreams horrible dream. From the far corner, which his children were so afraid of, a little old woman suddenly appears in ancient Yakut clothes, with a blue scarf tied on her head. The old woman comes up to his bed, looks at him for a long time... and begins to climb on him. Just skin and bones vertically challenged, and sat down astride, as if some kind of boulder had been piled on top - she couldn’t breathe or turn around. He seems to have woken up and wants to ask: who is she, what do you need from us? But the voice seemed stuck to the larynx, and the man could not utter a sound. He wants to throw the evil old woman onto the floor, who seemed to mumble something: they say, I came for your youngest daughter, for her soul... Then the man became very angry, he somehow managed to get out of bed. And then a real fight to the death took place between them. He understood that his daughter’s life was at stake: if he lost in this fight, the old woman would take the baby’s life. Therefore, at all costs he must defeat her! And he defeated her. The old woman, hissing with anger, retreated to a corner and melted there. When the friend’s father came to, he found a terrible mess in the room - which means he had not slept at all, and all this really happened. That's when he believed his children. Soon they moved from there to another house.
By the way, my friend’s mother also saw this old woman on the same day. She was on duty at the patient's bedside and accidentally fell asleep. And she dreams of how the door opens and a little old woman comes in blue handkerchief, tied low on the head and covering the entire face. She begins to scurry around the entire ward, as if looking for someone. She approaches all the beds one by one, but they are already empty, so she mutters: “I already took it here, and I took it here...” Then - oh horror! - she approaches the bed, where the only living child is lying, and stretches out her bony hands... Then for some reason she pulls them away and clearly says: “No, it’s too early for her to be with me...” The mother woke up in horror, touched her forehead daughter, who was always hot, and felt that the temperature had gone away. The doctor on duty, having examined the girl, was very surprised that the disease had suddenly subsided, the crisis had passed, and the girl was recovering. The only one of all the sick.
This incident remained as a family legend, which was told to children when they became almost adults.
Ghost Savior
And this family legend was told to me by a young woman. When she was in 11th grade, during the Christmas holidays, she asked to go to a friend's house for an overnight stay. A friend lived in the same house, only in a different entrance. The girls first, as usual, told their fortunes a little, then talked for a long time and went to bed quite late. My friend quickly fell asleep, but for some reason she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned in bed for a long time and only fell into a heavy sleep in the morning. And she dreams that a door opens and her late father, who died in a car accident when she was little, comes in. He seemed to be very excited about something and without any unnecessary words begins to wake her up: go home, they say! Now! She wakes up from fright and cannot come to her senses for a long time. It’s already dawn in the room and, of course, there is no one. She turns over on her other side and tries to fall asleep, but sleep does not come. My father’s demanding voice clearly sounds in my head: “Go home!” And she decides to go home, fortunately that he is nearby. The girl quickly gets dressed and runs home, opens the door with her key and enters the apartment.
“I still remember this moment,” she says later. “The house was quiet, clean, you could hear the water dripping from the tap... But at the same time there was something depressing, some kind of smell of trouble and loneliness, so to speak. Without taking off my shoes, I run into my mother’s room. She turned to the wall, sleeping. I turn her towards me, and her unnatural pallor catches my eye. With a cry: “Mom, mom!” I start to wake her up and can’t get her to wake up. I run to a neighbor with whom my mother was friends, she comes running and calls ambulance. Mom is taken to the hospital, and only then do I find out that if I had come, as usual, at lunchtime, they simply would not have had time to save her from a stroke.
Most likely, in every family, from one generation to another, people come from the depths of the Nowadays there are legends about so many ancestors. There is also in our family ar-hi-ve such a story about the ancestor-ro-di-tel-ni-tse of the female line of Ana-sta- these Ni-ko-la-ev-not Po-le-tae-howl. Za-pi-san-noe my ba-bush-koy from the words of her ba-bush-ki, it sounds like this.
Countless days have passed since that time, and a lot of water has flowed under the bridge. Somewhere, like, seven-twenty years before the Tsarist ma-ni-fe-sta of 1861 in the godly village of Kon-stan-ti -but, in the Tula province, a girl was born in a cattle yard. Her mother, a Christian cattle Ef-ro-si-nya, a young widow, sick, worn out by hard work, passed away, never having heard the first cry of her child.
The poor little one was left behind as a round si-ro-toy.
In de-living between each other, the unsophisticated property is in no way, the cattle are ki-well-whether the lot is: on whose share the baby must get it, as if it was out of spite for them to be born. You-la-that bitter fate of the calves Var-va-re, women have no disposition, ser-ez-no-go, su-ro-vo-go. Of course, to be fair, she didn’t beat the lord’s calves and her own kids, but she -lazy Na-stu (that name is ok-re-sti-si-rot-ku) tu-zi-la not-nice-heartedly.
From the very first day of his appearance into the world, the g-re-moo di-t did not meet any of the villagers with any sympathy. niya, no pity, for some reason, under the back, kicks and teeth, without being stingy.
The poor girl worked from morning to night, and she was called lazy and gifted. When she was little, she herded geese and ducks, at the age of seven she was already cleaning manure in a calf's house, and a little older - Var-va-ra op-re-de-la her at hand to her husband, husband-to-be, soon to the right-hand, then time -for some reason, I os-ta-viv-she-mu mit-ka-le-vuyu factory and per-re-se-liv-she-mu-sya with my -their weaving mill to the farmyard.
Yes, apparently, it’s not in vain that it’s said: not everything is wrong, the red sun will rise. By the age of seventeen, Nas-tia blossomed beyond belief, turning into a real beauty. And in the summer, gentleman Afa-na-siy Petrovich came to his estate on vacation. As in la-ga-et-sya - with my wife, children, ok-ru-zhen-ny nyan-ka-mi, gu-ver-ne-ra-mi. Under the senior bar-chuk, Dmitry Fe-do-ro-vich Dementyev, a young man, was a teacher -ny, you come from a prosperous family, but the dinner is not of your kind.
A chance meeting with a cre-po-st de-vush-coy. She stood on the wall for a ne-ro-co-howl. He fell in love. However, fortunately for him, having learned about this, Afa-na-siy Petrovich did not fall into dis-go-va-nie, on the contrary, through-you-tea -but got excited and even in the ry-ve ve-li-ko-du-shia gave the unfortunate orphan freedom. And since there was no one else to ask for consent for the marriage of Dmitry Fe-do-ro-vi-chu (ro-di-te-th then -he died a long time ago), then the wedding will not be held for a long time.
It’s hard to say whether it’s true or not, but as if in the future Ana-sta-sia Ni-ko-la-ev-won’t-be-beautifully succeeded in hiding - start your peasant production, and noble family Dementiev was one of the respected people in the Tula province.
WITH on my father's side my great-great-great-grandfather [Great-great-great-grandfather (~1730-~1800) → great-great-grandfatherLeonty (~1770-~1840) → great-grandfather Maxim LeontyevFaydysh's son (~1800-~1860) →grandfatherabaloneStepan Maksimovson Faydysh (1826-1898) → father Peter Stepanovich Faydysh (1854-1905)] he was a fine fellow, a handsome Zaporozhye Cossack. It was a time of troubles and war in the 18th century, and he was captured either by the Turks or Crimean Tatars. There they cut off the tip of his tongue for disobedience, made him a slave and called him Fayda .
Having lived in a foreign land for quite a few years and spotted a beautiful Polonyanka or Turkish woman [This one was typical story. Writer Konstantin Georgievich Paustovsky(1892-1968), considered a descendant of the Zaporozhye Cossacks, wrote: “Before my grandfather became a Chumak, he served in the Nikolaev army, was in the Turkish war, was captured and brought from captivity, from the city of Kazanlak in Thrace, his wife - a beautiful Turkish woman " (Paustovsky K. “The Tale of Life.” Volume I. - M.: Modern writer, 1992. p. 10)] , my ancestor fled with her and settled in Ukraine. From that time on, our family of Faydyshes began. One old man who knew Turkish translated this surname as “I myself,” as if in Tatar Fayda means labial alphabet, mute, without tongue.
There was a relative who knew the whole history of the Faydyshes, but, unfortunately, she had already died. From her stories I only remember that as a child she watched in admiration as the Faydysh Cossack brothers watered horses in blue zhupans with red sashes on the river,
and they then lived near Sumy in the city of Miropol. And the Cossacks of Miropol belonged to the Sumy regiment. And that’s why the ancestors’ surname was Faydyshi-Sumskie. [In 1816, the name Slobodskoye Cossack Army abolished, and the Cossacks were equal in rights to state peasants. COSSACK DICTIONARY-DIRECTORY, A.I. Skrylov, G.V. Gubarev] .
As children, we loved to unwind our grandfather's legendary sash. He was several meters away. Playing with his Turkish weapon was also not bad.
My great-grandfather Maxim Leontievich was engaged in the book trade in Miropol and was known as an expert in the book business. Eldest son Stepan [Preserved CERTIFICATE OF 1847, JUNE 2-DAYS: We hereby testify that Kursk province Sudzhansky district of the Zastatnaya city of Miropolya near the State Peasant Maxim Leontyev's son Faydysh son was born Stefan 1826 August 1st day and baptized on the same date, to whom were the successors of the Zastatny city of Miropol, residents of state-owned peasants Osip Ivanov, son of Mikhailichenko and Grigory Sumets, wife Ulyana Osipova, daughter; the sacrament of baptism was performed by Priest Roman Mirovitsky; This requirement is recorded in the registry book of the provincial town of Miropol of the Cathedral and Ascension Church on August 1, 1826 under No: 24 m. In which, with the attachment of the church seal and we sign the Miropol Cathedral-Ascension Church, Dean Priest Vasily ... ] he sent to Moscow to expand the bookselling business.
From the side of my grandmother Lyubov Aleksandrovna Shmatkova, the wife of Stepan Maksimovich Faydysh, it was like this. She came from a wealthy Cossack family, Shmatko (Shmatkov). Her father, Alexander Shmatko, worked as a manager for a count in Ukraine and was married to an Italian from Venice, the governess of the count’s children. She was very beautiful: black eyes, blue-black hair. There were two children in the Shmatko family: Lyubov (my grandmother) and Nikolai.
One day, Alexander Shmatko was carrying money in a box, fell asleep and lost the box. He was the most honest person, they believed him and forgave the loss of the box. However, he was deprived of the position of manager and left the count’s estate with his family. For the rest of his life, my great-grandfather Alexander Shmatko was very poor with his family. He and his wife died early, leaving their daughter Lyuba with her little brother Kolya in her arms.
Lyubov Shmatkova was beautiful and looked like her Italian mother: blue eyes and raven-colored hair with a bluish tint, carved nostrils. Her hair was so thick and long that she cut it in the middle and arranged it several times around her head in a basket.
1852-53 Faydysh family: Stepan Maksimovich with his wife Lyubov Alexandrovna and daughter Maria
It was here that my grandfather Stepan Maksimovich, being young and successful, won the heart of my grandmother Lyubov Alexandrovna, half-Italian, half-Ukrainian. When they got married, they already had a daughter, Maria. [Maria Stepanovna Faydysh, married to Voronin (1850-1914)].
In the middle of the 19th century, Stepan Maksimovich moved with his family from Miropol to Moscow and had book warehouses in Moscow. Trade in Moscow was going well: if in 1853 he - Moscow tradesman of Kadasheva Sloboda Stepan Maksimov sonFaydysh, then already in 1857 - merchant [“BOOK OF ADDRESSES OF MOSCOW RESIDENTS, COMPILED FROM OFFICIAL INFORMATION AND DOCUMENTS BY K. NISTREM” was republished and updated annually in the 19th century. We find for the first time in 1857: “ Faydysh Stepan Maksimovich, 3 guild merchant, Fri. part, in Sadovnik., Dolganov’s house.” Further in 1862: “ Faydyshev Stepan Maksimovich, 3 year purchase, Fri. h., Golikovsk. lane, Glebova village.” In 1863: " Faydyshev Stepan Maksimovich, 2 years of purchase, Yauz. h., 5 quarters, in Nikitsk. lane, Motyleva village No. 4.” In 1865 and 1866: " Faydyshev Stepan Maksimovich, 2 years of purchase, Yakim. part, 5 sq., in Mal. Ustinsky lane, Yagodnikova village.” In 1867 and 1868: " Faydyshev Stepan Maksimovich, 2 year purchase, Fri. part, 2 quarters, in Ovchinniki, Sherupenova village"].
Family of Stepan Maksimovich FAYDYSH according to the 10th revision of 1858. In the book Naydenov N.A. "Materials for the history of the Moscow merchants." T.5-9. M.1887-1889 according to the 10th revision of the Kadashevskaya Sloboda, under No. 101 we find: 1858 February. 28 - 3 guild merchant Stepan Maksimovich Faydysh 31; from 1854 from the burghers; he has sons: Peter 4; Stepan 2 1/2, he, Stepan Maksimovich: wife Lyubov Aleksandrovna 26, daughters Marya 7, Alexandra 6 m. (Orthodox)
The children in the family of Stepan Maksimovich and Lyubov Alexandrovna Faydysh died one after another. Of the eighteen, only three remained: Maria, Peter (my dad) and Stepan. All were distinguished by brilliant abilities.
There lived a family on the Canal (it was said Ditch) . [Water drainage channel- built in Moscow in 1785 to combat floods and forms a kind of loop that turns one part of Zamoskvorechye into an island. Channel (or ditch, as it is called in Moscow) begins at the Babyegorodskaya dam (the dam supports high level water above the Cathedral of Christ the Savior) and ends with a lock below the Krasnokholmsky Bridge. (“Around Moscow” Reprint reproduction of the publication by M. and S. Sabashnikov from 1917. M. 1991. pp. 307-308)]. We lived happily, although Stepan Maksimovich was a tyrant. His character was heavy and domineering. He raised his children strictly: he woke them up at six o’clock in the morning, and if they didn’t get up, he brought a burning candle to their heels. Children had to sit silently at the table. If anyone spoke, he would hit him on the forehead with a spoon, saying: “ Stupid aspen forehead" He loved to party, he was tall, straight and thin. Once, while locking the warehouse, I forgot there little Petya(my dad), and he spent the whole night in cold and fear and froze his cheeks.
1872 Lyubov Aleksandrovna Faydysh, née Shmatkova
His wife quickly gained weight - she was very obese, and she and her grandfather traveled in different cabs. Once she fell through, while pregnant, in a bathhouse from the top shelf, but remained alive. She was very expansive. Once at an evening some “godfather” seduced her, but Lyubov Alexandrovna took a fork and pierced her chest, saying that she would rather die than cheat on her husband. Our grandmother pronounced our surname: “ Khvaydysh" She cooked well and tasty. On last photo grandma is very fat woman. She died early from improper metabolism in the body. [In Moscow at the Danilovsky cemetery on the grave monument the following inscription: Lyubov Alexandrovna Faydysh, born Shmatkova, died on February 20, 1873. She lived for 41 years. Eternal memory to her. And her husband Stepan Maksimovich died on May 17, 1898. His life was 75 years old].
1874 Stepan Maksimovich Faydysh
Grandfather Stepan Maksimovich was married again after the death of his wife, but, it seems, unsuccessfully. In his old age he lived with us (with his father and mother), and then with his mother’s sister in the village of Cherkizovo on the Kazan railway. Stepan Maksimovich lived to be 70 years old and loved vodka. Grandfather’s Cossack thirst for heroism manifested itself in an active desire to help put out Moscow fires, often contrary to the wishes of the firefighters.
Stepan Maksimovich often recalled the past exploits of his Cossack ancestors, admiring the saber and pike attached to the carpet on the wall. Where now are his Turkish weapons, passed down from his ancestors, and the famous red sash-scarf, which we played in childhood, is unknown.
And my grandmother’s brother, Nikolai Aleksandrovich Shmatkov, was a shareholder in the Skorokhod Partnership, but I will tell you more about him.
ABOUT NIKOLAI ALEXANDROVICH SHMAKOV
E that uncle [- hereditary honorable Sir. Big. Kislovsky lane, building Kolokoltseva. (“All Moscow”. Address and reference book for 1901. Moscow. 1901. Suvorin’s edition.)] was a millionaire. He was one of the founders of the Skorokhod shoe factory and made capital from it.
His first wife died, leaving him a daughter, it seems, Nastenka. Aunt Marisha (Maria Stepanovna Voronina) raised her.
Suddenly he met an energetic German woman, Otton (or Oton), whom he married. She was frivolous and became infatuated with my handsome father. Maria Stepanovna did not like this noisy German woman, and she shared her suspicions with Uncle Shmatkov. And then he broke off all relations with dad, quarreled with Aunt Marisha, and continued to live with Oton. Had two sons from her: Alexandra [Alexander Nikolaevich Shmatkov- hereditary honorary citizen. B. Kislovsky, 4. Director of the Bolt and Co. Partnership, attorney at law. (“All Moscow” for 1916. Address and reference book of the city of Moscow. XXXIII year of publication.)] and Nikolai [Nikolai Nikolaevich Shmatkov- B. Kislovsky, 1. (“All Moscow” for 1916. Address and reference book of the city of Moscow. XXXIII year of publication.)] .
When dad got sick, Aunt Marisha turned to her uncle for help, since her mother Lyubov Alexandrovna (my grandmother) raised him. And as they said then, “brought to people” [Nikolai Alexandrovich Shmatkov, 2 merchant guilds. Prechistinskaya part, 5th quarter, in Gagarinsky lane, Schlippe village. (Moscow memorial book or address-calendar of Moscow residents for 1868... Moscow. 1868.)]. N.A. Shmatkov promised to help, but did not help enough, so the main contributions were made by Aunt Marisha - Maria Stepanovna Voronina.
Dear niece, hello to you!
I need to see you and talk about Pete [Petr Stepanovich Faydysh]. What to do with him. Come to Moscow to Ilyinka store A. Bolt and Co. against the merchant bank Trade in Rubber Products on Thursday the 20th of this month from 10 am to 12 noon. If you don’t have time, then come on Saturday the 22nd of this month at the same place, same hours, then we’ll talk about everything.
I saw I.K. Polyakov today and asked him about Petya, he promised to do what was possible. Let him get treatment, I’ll still talk to their accountant S., I don’t know what we’ll do. The people do not recognize the dry needs of others, they do not recognize their responsibilities, they live by refusals. You don’t live and work, you don’t get paid - and there’s nothing to pay for. For their part, they are right.
I really regret that I left the service, and during the service I would have helped Peter a lot, but now what can you do when we can make ends meet only if we are prosperous? I'm heartbroken about this.
You said that you prepared 3 boys for the gymnasium, then I agree to pay for them. I think the fee is 60 rubles. per boy per year is only 180 rubles, and I can give Petya and others another 120 rubles. A total of three hundred rubles a year, which is what they asked for the date. If it is necessary, then I am ready to give it, but I cannot serve only with money, I cannot cheat and deceive - I have no head on my shoulders.
Goodbye. Kiss. Your uncle N. Shmatkov
Specific
After N.A. Shmatkov’s death, he left his entire fortune to his wife Oton, and after her death she left a joke amount to Uncle Styopa and nothing to us. Where the children are and what happened to them is unknown. His grave, a huge granite structure, went to work - on the embankment.
In the life of every person, nothing can be more important than the Motherland and Family, and therefore we all must treat them with deep respect, love and care.
The meaning and importance of having a homeland, as a rule, comes to people as they grow up, but we begin to feel the understanding of the presence and importance of a family from an early age, because greatest participation and we receive warmth from loved ones. Anything can happen in life, but family of origin can become the support that can provide the necessary support in Hard time, and therefore you should always love and take care of your family.
The main foundations of a family are the spiritual and moral values and traditions that reign in it, preserved family legends, which not only hold each family together, but also make it unique in its own way.
In ancient times, families typically had three generations living together, which is why communication between older family members and their grandchildren was daily. Then there was no television or the Internet, and in the evenings the grandchildren often listened to various tales, narratives and legends that their grandparents told them. Happened in any family interesting events, which elders told about from generation to generation and which gradually turned into family legends. The events could be completely different - heroic, adventurous or simply funny, but the main thing that was inherent in them was unusualness or demonstrated human wisdom.
Unfortunately, now in many families grandchildren do not meet their grandparents very often, since they live separately from them, and if they do, you can often see the following picture - a grandson or granddaughter will sit at a party, buried in his gadget, because he is interested To social networks outweighs the child’s interest in communicating with elders.
This is how family legends and the history of the family fade into oblivion, and we gradually become “Ivans of kinship who do not remember”!
With this competition we want to have a little influence on the current situation, to push the children to talk with the elders of their family or at least with their parents.
Dear Guys! Show interest in the history of your family, ask your elders to tell you something unusual from their past! Then you will have something to tell your children and grandchildren, which you will definitely have someday. In turn, your descendants will someday tell their grandchildren and children about this. Write to us about it family event past in the form a short story, essay.
Stories can be anything, the main thing is that they should seem interesting to both you and your readers who will evaluate them. It is not necessary to provide complete details for everyone characters the story and the exact place where the event you are describing occurred, approximate indications will suffice. To make it clear what is required of you, as an example, outside of the competition, we will cite the family legend of one of the employees of the Office of the Commissioner for Children’s Rights.
Dear children and their mothers and fathers, grandparents! The competition will last six months, so you have time to communicate with each other, remember various family stories and choose one that you can tell other people about.
Of course, adults can and should assist their children in writing a story or an essay, but I would like the main work to be writing- was carried out by the children themselves, and therefore, dear adults, limit yourself to consultations.
I recently read Olya Urban’s topic about her grandfather. I read it and caught myself in quiet envy: what a must! He told fairy tales, and in general, he was the kind of man who, when he was young, girls looked at very much.
Olya is the same age as my daughter. This means that my dad would be old enough to be her grandfather. My dad would be too good grandfather, but he has long been dead. And I belong to a generation of children who basically only had grandmothers.
On the pages of our magazine, I have already told a little about my wonderful grandmother, but only in passing, using her life wisdom and advice from a traditional healer. It was in the article "".
To get caught up new story with a story in Cheremukha, I went looking for that article of mine, entering the word “grandmother” into the site search. You know, the search results for the site stunned me! At first I even thought that I hadn’t clicked the “search” button and was still on the main page.
The system gave me one and a half dozen pages, 6-7 articles on each! It turns out that in our articles, grandmother is mentioned even more often than mother. That's how grandmothers are! They played and play very important role until now, since we talk and write about them so often! It’s nice, because I’m a grandmother myself!
Family history
How many of you know your family history? I heard a lot of things from my grandmother, but my childhood memory simply threw away almost everything as unnecessary, which is a pity. I still have one family legend, it was very unusual.
I knew that my grandmother’s mother, my great-grandmother, was crippled: due to a birth injury, from childhood she limped on both legs and walked, waddling like a duck.
This was in Western Belarus, where almost until the revolution, peasants went to work as day laborers for the lords. The parents of the crippled girl did not send their daughter to work for the lords (there were no photographs in the 80s of the century before last, I am posting everything that I found).
From childhood, the smart girl was taught to do work that did not require great mobility, but did require perseverance: spinning, weaving and weaving. She, my great-grandmother and her daughter, my grandmother, taught this, I myself saw a spinning wheel, a spindle and a loom in a woman’s house.
One day, the headman walked around the village and announced near each yard that everyone should come out to harvest a large harvest of fodder beets, even those who usually do not go, even the sick, children and old people. A cart will be sent for them.
So my great-grandmother, then still very young, hobbled as best she could to the cart in the morning and went with everyone else to harvest beets. She couldn’t pull and put the beets into piles, so she, along with the rest of the same poor souls, was forced to cut the tops. Apparently, the work wasn’t going well, because the mistress-panna herself stopped near the grandmother and her “team.”
Long braids
The great-grandmother had long, long black braids, which, when she sat in the upside-down wind, came out from under the scarf and lay on the ground. Tarataika ran over one of the spits with her wheel and the girl screamed in pain. Panna did not understand anything, got scared, and hit the horse with her whip, also hitting the girl. Pan, the lady's husband, saw everything, but did not have time to do anything.
The girl's eye was also damaged by the whip. It did not leak, but was left blind and half-covered by the scar for life. It’s a bad thing: who needs a cripple who can barely walk, and who’s also blind in one eye.
Good gentlemen
But the lady turned out to be normal person, one might even say, a good Christian. She generously gifted the family with money, and took the girl to her estate to work in carpet weaving.
Great-grandmother even managed to marry a very decent person and give birth to two daughters of the same age, one of them was my grandmother. By the way, my grandmother also had a thick black braid for a long time, tied into a knot at the back of her head.
I saw my great-grandmother’s carpets in our home for a long time. I’ll tell you a secret: one of the homespun carpets covered the washing machine in my mother’s bathroom, so while sitting on the toilet in the toilet, I memorized the patterned geometric weaves of bright and dark threads. This art, I tell you, is no match for a homespun rug made from leftover scraps! So many years have passed, but the carpet has not lost the freshness of its colors, it’s just that its threads have become shabby and thinned.
Introduction to witchcraft
My great-grandmother, living close to the master’s family, became familiar with some culture. For example, she learned to read fluently, her children were clean and neatly combed, and over time she became addicted to witchcraft and herbalism.
This knowledge did not fall to my great-grandmother from heaven. She did not study at universities and drew her first knowledge from ancient Polish calendars, which were kept for lighting stoves in the attic of the manor's house.
Another source of knowledge for the self-taught healer was the cucumbers she bought at the fair for a basket of cucumbers. Old book about medicinal plants, with pictures and descriptions.
The woman was not too lazy to slowly hobble around the outskirts and collect herbs according to the descriptions, dry them in bunches and use the decoctions and tinctures of her fellow villagers.
But her most important mentor was an old gypsy from a camp who settled nearby in the forest for the winter. She claimed that she was familiar with the ancient spells that her tribe had preserved for centuries.
It was from the old gypsy that my grandmother learned how to remove some skin diseases, remove warts and charm teeth. The husband did not approve of his great-grandmother’s hobby; he believed that it was unbecoming for a decent woman to befriend a gypsy.
But in the spring the camp disappeared, and the gypsy woman also disappeared. And my great-grandmother inherited the knowledge and skills, and then passed on to my grandmother, and I learned a little from her.
The inheritance of a Belarusian great-grandmother...
An old book, written, as I think, in Old Church Slavonic, because it contained not only yat, but also other incomprehensible letters and abbreviations, was hidden in my grandmother’s chest for a long time.
I don’t know where it went later, but it’s a pity that this rarity is! It was written in approximately the same ancient letters as in the picture 
But all the descendants of the great-grandmother on the female side inherited thick black hair, and the grandchildren on the male line got the flaxen-white hair of my great-grandfather, a tall Belarusian, a real “white Rusyn”.
Maybe my fair-haired Turkish grandson also somehow miraculously inherited light color hair from my great-great-grandfather, despite my black-eyed and black-haired mother, grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother.
... and Tatar grandmother
I can’t help but remember, at least briefly, my red-haired Tatar grandmother, my father’s mother. She had white skin and clear Brown eyes. A strange game of nature rewarded the Belarusian grandmother with a black suit, and the Tatar grandmother with a red suit. Unfortunately, I know almost nothing about my father's mother. Dad didn't tell, and I didn't ask.
I only know that she was married off at the age of 12, and at 14 she already gave birth to her first child, and that her fate was unhappy. It’s a pity, but I inherited nothing from my Tatar grandmother except the shape of my eyes.
Eh, what’s up: you could write a separate fascinating book about each of our grandmothers. And it has already been written, but not by us, but by someone invisible, written and stored somewhere forever. Just like our life.