Some years can stand the wait

1

Like all those born in the 1950s, my father’s formal education ended in junior high school.

In December 1966, my dad and a group of older children imitated the Red Army’s Long March and began a hiking trip, starting from our home in Dengkou County and heading east. They rolled up their bedding and brought their bedding, walking and playing, not sleeping in the open air, but their passion and curiosity were gradually replaced by numbness and exhaustion. By the time they arrived in Baotou, they were already exhausted, and they reluctantly moved to Hohhot, where they finally lost their In order to gain the courage to move forward, without debate or democratic voting, they unanimously decided to return home.

Returning the same way, the people and luggage are still the same. If there is something extra, it is the revolutionary slogans torn from the two big cities of Hohhot and Baotou. They are colorful and surging. They quietly put the revolutionary slogans Wrapped up in his quilt, he arrived home safely.

It was only a month before and after, and when my dad came back, it happened to be New Year's Day. For the first time, the future is in front of him. He has no way to study, no work to do, and no one can solve his confusion. A trouble much bigger than the troubles of young Goethe haunts this young man.

This year, my dad was 14 years old.

2

My dad started looking for work everywhere.

The first job was carpentry, installing doors and windows on construction sites. At that time, there were no aluminum alloy doors and windows, and they were all wooden doors and windows. Other than that, there are all the odd jobs that require nailing strips of wood and nailing boards. He was not a carpenter, and he did not have any superb skills. Later, the first set of sofas in our family was made by this carpenter who had become a monk himself. It was strong, spacious and heavy.

The second job was when I was called to the red vitriol factory by my friends. At that time, the factory was under construction and was still in the stage of building the factory building and preparing large equipment, which was all purely physical and heavy manual labor. My dad was young, honest, and happily satisfied with the contentment of having work to do. He plunged into the sweat and youthfulness, and actually did it with great joy. The secretary of the factory was very satisfied with the young man and kept encouraging him to continue working hard.

The day was not too long. The young people who went with me had trouble with the factory, clamoring to quit their jobs, and even yelled at my dad to join them. They were still temporary workers anyway, so there was no one left here, but one of their own. at. My dad didn’t really want to leave, but he couldn’t stand the instigation. In addition, he didn’t know what he really wanted, so he asked the factory to settle his wages. The secretary scolded him fiercely, saying that he didn't understand the truth. The most tiring and painful early period of work was over, and he had to leave just as the factory was about to be put into operation. Only by staying, could he become a full-time worker, become a real worker, and have a stable income. .

My dad is not determined to leave or stay. If his partners hadn’t spared no effort to encourage him, and if he had been older and more stable, maybe there would have been another choice. In the end, he left the factory, which the secretary described as having a bright future.

After this, he quickly found a job as a boilermaker. After the first day of work, pulling coal, shoveling coal and burning coal, it was so smoky that I fell asleep early when I got home. In the middle of the night, my grandma heard a fierce knock on the door and vaguely heard my dad's name being called, so she woke him up. After my dad put on his clothes and went out, he was still sleepy-eyed, so he was taken to the flour mill without any explanation by the young man outside the door. Before he knew it, his little brothers signed up for him, and by dawn, he had become an official flour mill worker.

3

This is my dad’s third job and the longest one.

My dad has always been an honest and hard-working child, obedient, willing to work, not opportunistic, not cheating, and not taking advantage of the public. At that time, everyone tried their best to bring home some flour from the factory, using lunch boxes, kettles, and bags tucked into their waistbands. As long as it was hidden from the eyes of the guards or labor unions, they would compete with each other for wits and courage. My dad basically didn't take it, but he seemed to have taken it a few times. He couldn't stand the torture in his heart, so he gave up early. When possible, he would hide it from his fellow workers and bully others, and jointly deal with inspections in the factory.

After working during the day, we organized study at night, read newspapers and recited quotations, and the factory director and secretary were not strict. Gradually, the young people began to be lazy and run away. My dad still did not dare and listened honestly. Download all lectures, newspapers, materials, and speeches.

When the leader has the highest instructions, each unit will beat gongs and drums to welcome symbolic models or props at the station, and then go out to the streets to cheer and celebrate. There was no one to play the drums, so my dad volunteered to sign up. He got off the night shift at 11 or 12 o'clock and practiced drums alone in an empty factory. He was afraid that the rhythm was wrong and the drumbeats were inaccurate. He followed the drum music and practiced every day. midnight.

Here are his best friends, several juniors of similar age, working together, drinking together, smoking together, and picking up girls together. One of the uncles named Qi was an educated youth from Beijing. He met my uncle and brought my dad and other friends to visit my grandma’s house. From then on, our friendship with my grandpa, grandma, uncle, aunt, and mom continued uninterrupted. When I came to my grandma's house, I had work to do and food to eat. My third uncle didn't like to write essays, so my dad would write for him whenever he could. It was more of a young man's unique chatting all over the world. Life was very poor, but there was no lack of happiness. It was lively and bustling, coming and going, until in the end only my father was left.

The days passed peacefully like this.

His educated youth buddies began to return to Beijing, and another one rolled his arm into a machine because he was too sleepy during the night shift. Young people back then were getting married, starting families, and having children one after another. Middle age was coming neither suddenly nor unexpectedly.

My dad stayed in the flour mill for ten full years. There is a line in "The Big Dyeing House", "Back then it was just a flour mill." When we saw this, we laughed incomprehensively. Maybe my dad will be a flour miller all his life.

4

In 1978, my grandfather transferred my dad out of the factory and went to the Cultural Affairs Bureau. The person in charge at the time asked my dad if he was educated and if he knew art, but my dad said he couldn't do it. People said how could this work? A worker couldn't stay in the Cultural Bureau, and he couldn't do any work if he stayed. With a stroke of a pen, he was relegated to a subordinate unit of the Cultural Bureau - Wulan Muqi, which is a local small theater troupe. The small literary and artistic group composes, sings and dances by itself, and from time to time visits villages and towns during festivals to enrich the people's spare time life.

Except for the leader in charge who is affiliated with the Cultural Affairs Bureau, my dad is the only one among the few people who does not understand business. He neither knows how to play, play or sing, nor how to write scripts. I worked as a cashier and purchaser. A month's work was completed in one morning. The rest of the day was spent sitting in the small yard listening to others practice their voices while playing the huqin.

The next most fun thing is to carry me here who is still young but like a rag doll, listen to the compliments and exclamations of the women in the courtyard, and then rush to hold me impulsively. And I held his neck tightly and refused to let anyone touch it. This episode left a deep impression on my dad. From then on, he always lamented that I was getting uglier as I grew older, which was completely different from what I was back then. In fact, he is too bland here, boring and tasteless.

5

One day, my dad was bored in the office as usual and heard someone looking for him. Until he saw someone coming through the door, my dad still didn’t know who it was. The man who came was short, wearing glasses, and was polite. He introduced himself as the director of the county radio station. He was going to be transferred to the government as a secretary, but there was no handover of work in the station. I heard from their leader that my grandfather had a My son-in-law knows a little bit about writing, let’s see if he can take over. Then, let my dad think about it and go over and talk if he wants.

There was no need to think about it for too long. On the third day, my dad went to the Broadcasting Bureau. The director only conducted a very brief interview and communication, and then arranged for his editors and directors to test whether they could write words. If they could, everyone would be happy. What should go should go, what should come should come.

When they came to the director's office, the two of them were already familiar with each other. The current director's surname is Su, and he has been notified to work as a secretary in the government. He has no one to hand him over, and he urgently needs my dad to get started, but he doesn't know if he can do it, so he handed my dad a long document and asked him to abbreviate it to "need". The broadcast materials do not need to be too long, capture the center, highlight the key points, and are suitable for broadcasting.

When my dad came back with the rewritten manuscript, it was still the editor-in-chief’s office. Director Su was holding a cigarette with his legs crossed, reading it carefully from beginning to end, front to back, and over and over again. He sat there for half an hour without saying a word. When he raised his head again, he said to my dad: "Okay, I can do it here. You go back, and I will let you know if there is any news. If not, just take it as such." I never mentioned it to you."

My dad returned to the courtyard, but the news came quickly: Director Su called him to come with him to the director's office.

The two sides hit it off immediately. The Director of Broadcasting asked my dad to go back to the Cultural Affairs Bureau to issue the transfer order, and then the Broadcasting Bureau stamped it and accepted it. We all rolled up our sleeves and went to their respective jobs with less fuss and politeness. The leader in charge of Wulan Muqi was very happy for my dad and personally took him to the Cultural Affairs Bureau to sign the transfer order. The procedure is simple and fast, just sign in and sign in. Once you report to the county smoothly, you are waiting for the official seal of the highest authority to be issued and the transfer of organizational relations to be completed.

Unfortunately, everyone did not wait for the issuance order from the county as expected. The deputy county magistrate in charge felt that this was too ridiculous. For a front-line worker who was always in the factory to become a director of a radio and television station, it was not only child's play, it was simply nonsense. He refused to sign and the selection is to be decided.

My dad returned to the small courtyard and continued to listen to the huqin, while Director Su stayed at the broadcasting station to continue directing. The two did not stop communicating, but became good friends. They met often and sat together drinking. Director Su still wanted to Go, still waiting for someone to take over.

Almost eight months later, the county’s transfer order was suddenly signed. Who knows, maybe the leadership job in charge has changed hands, maybe the organization wants to clean up uncleared work, maybe the various bureaus and units have settled unclear personnel relationships, but this transfer order came suddenly, catching everyone by surprise.

My father went to the Broadcasting Bureau, and Director Su went to the government as a secretary. A few months later, there happened to be a vacancy for a cadre in the Science and Technology Bureau, and Director Su was successfully transferred. Later, he often said that it was thanks to my father who let him After waiting for an extra year, the opportunity happened to happen.

My father went to work as a director at the Broadcasting Bureau, but was transferred again midway through, and then entered the palace for the second time.

During this period, we were catching up with the emergence of television media. Although our place was only a small county, the birth and development of new things itself played a role in fueling the flames. Our TV station only has rudimentary equipment, but it has announcers with voices comparable to those of Luo Jing and Xing Zhibin, with natural mellowness and sophisticated skills.

This small team once made a documentary about their hometown, including writing, photography, anchoring, and editing, without any external help.

Later, my dad changed units and jobs more frequently. Sometimes, it was not where you wanted to go, but where you were transferred. To elaborate, I can write another article.

6

I think it is worth mentioning that those eight months actually involved the work of many people. My dad wanted to take over for Director Su at the Broadcasting Bureau, and Director Su wanted to write for the government. Naturally, there were people in the government waiting for Director Su to come work.

This is an uncomplicated but connected chain, and it is also a one-way line, so when there is a problem with one link, the entire chain stops. What's interesting is that everyone actually stood still and acted in unison. There was a vacuum for eight months. The people inside did not try to push it forward again, and the people outside did not try to fill the hole. It is to allow this vacuum to exist, to let time work on its own, and to let an unknown will dominate the entire event until it resumes operation on its own.

In these eight months, time has been slightly broken. Although there is no fixed anchor point, the rhythm is clear. It is completely natural waiting. Waiting without action, nothing in the world has been received. Any disturbance.

Eight months later, the various groups of people who were previously related to each other can naturally and seamlessly come together again, each performing his own duties and seeking his own position. Time first differentiates and then converges. Its simplicity and simplicity make it incredible to people today. Today, let alone eight months, even eight days and eight hours will cause earth-shattering changes. A person can't even control what happens around him, let alone a group of people.

Time is a variable. In "Interstellar", the astronauts performed a one-hour mission after crossing the Milky Way. Seven years have passed on the earth. It is completely the first day in the sky and on the earth as proposed in "Journey to the West" A replica of the year. But in the same dimension, the calculation of time is the same. Its speed or slowness depends on the personal feeling of being in it, and also depends on the way and frequency of society filling it.

The story of my dad’s eight months is already a legend from ancient times. Time has been able to withstand waiting. It is not about avoiding and escaping at the drop of a hat, nor about wishful thinking, but about preserving and waiting appropriately. It allows the story to bury only a visible thread, stretching straight and determined to the other end of the years. Whether it brings permanent regrets or beautiful thoughts, there is warmth and hope hidden in it. and Enron. After all, all soil can bear its own fruit.

However, we have been swept away. Opportunities in the world are constantly rolling. Now, my life is not like galloping on horseback, seizing the day and night, but I can't bear too long delay.