Hu Shi My Mother
When I was a child, I was weak and could not play with the wild children. My mother also didn’t allow me to run around with them. I never developed the habit of lively games when I was young. No matter where I was, I was always formal. Therefore, the elders in my hometown said that I "look like a gentleman" and called me "Mr. Lin". After this nickname became known, everyone knew that Mr. San's youngest son was called Mr. Lu. Even with the name "Sir", I have to pretend to be "Sir", let alone follow the naughty boys. One day, I was "throwing copper coins" with a group of children at the Bazi gate of my house. An older man walked by, saw me, and said with a smile: "Mr. Lu, do you also throw copper coins?" After hearing this, I felt ashamed and blushed. Lost the status of "sir"!
The adults encouraged me to pretend to be a gentleman, but I did not have the ability or habit to play. And because I really like reading, I have never enjoyed children's games in my life. Every autumn, my great-grandmother and I go to the fields to "supervise the harvesting" (the best fields have no worries about floods and droughts, and the harvests are the best. The tenants always invite the landowner to supervise the harvesting, and the millet is harvested, and the two families share it equally). I always sit under a small tree and read novels. When I was eleven or twelve years old, I was a little more lively. I actually organized a drama class with a group of classmates, made some wooden swords and bamboo guns, borrowed some fake beards, and performed in the fields at the entrance of the village. I usually do literary characters like Zhuge Liang and Liu Bei; only once did I do Shi Wengong, and I was shot down from the chair by Hua Rong with an arrow. This was my most lively thing.
During these nine years (1895-1904), I only learned two things: reading and writing. In terms of writing and thinking, I can't say that I have laid a little foundation. But there are no opportunities for development in other aspects. Once our village's "Dangpeng" (Badufanwu Village, called "Wupeng", every year one village takes turns to hold a prince's meeting, called "Dangpeng") was preparing for the prince's meeting. Someone suggested that I be sent to join the former village. Learn to play the sheng or flute in the Kunqu Opera Troupe. The elders in the clan objected, saying that I was too young to follow the prince around Wupeng. So I lost my only chance to learn music. In the past thirty years, I have never held a musical instrument and I know nothing about music. I still don’t know whether I have any talent for learning music. As for learning to draw, it is even more impossible. I often use bamboo paper to cover the lithographs in novels and imitate the heroes and beauties in the books. One day, my husband saw me and was scolded. All the pictures in the drawer were found and torn up. So I lost the opportunity to learn to be a painter.
But these nine years of life, apart from reading, have given me some training in life. At this point, my mentor is my loving mother.
Every day at dawn, my mother would wake me up and tell me to put on my clothes and sit up. I never knew how long she sat awake. When she saw that I was awake, she told me what I had done or said wrong yesterday and asked me to admit my mistakes and study hard. Sometimes she tells me about the benefits of my father. She says: "You must always follow in the footsteps of your father. I have only known this perfect person in my life. You must learn from him and don't fall into his trap." It is embarrassing and embarrassing.) She often sheds tears when she talks about sad things. At dawn, she put on my clothes and urged me to go to morning school. The key to the school door was placed at my husband's house. I first went to the school door to look at it, then ran to my husband's house and knocked on the door. Someone at my husband's house handed the key through the crack in the door. I took it and ran back, opened the door, and sat down to read the textbook. Eight or nine days out of ten, I was always the first to open the door to the school. When my husband arrived, I memorized the birth certificate and then went home to have breakfast.
My mother has the strictest control over me. She is a loving mother and a strict father. But she never scolded me or hit me in front of others. If I did something wrong, she would only look at me. I saw her stern eyes and was frightened. It was a small crime, but she waited until I woke up the next morning to teach me a lesson. The crime was serious, so she waited until night when everyone was quiet, closed the door, scolded me first, and then punished me by kneeling down or twisting my flesh. No matter how severe the punishment was, I was never allowed to cry out. She did not use this to vent her anger to make others listen when she taught her son.
One early autumn evening, I had dinner and played at the door, wearing only a single vest. At this time, my mother's sister, Aunt Yuying, was staying at my house. She was afraid that I would be cold, so she brought out a small shirt and asked me to put it on. I refused to put it on, and she said, "Put it on, it's cold." I replied casually, "Mom, what's the matter with coldness? I'm so stupid." As soon as I said this, I looked up and saw my mother coming out of the house. When I walked out, I quickly put on my shirt. But she had heard the frivolous remark. After everyone was quiet at night, she punished me by kneeling down and gave me a severe punishment. She said, "How proud you are of losing me! It's easy to talk to!" She was so angry that she sat trembling and wouldn't let me go to bed. I knelt down and cried, wiping my tears with my hands. I didn't know what kind of bacteria had been rubbed into my eyes, and I later suffered from nebula for more than a year. Doctors come and go, but the general doctor is not good. My mother felt regretful and anxious. She heard that nebula could be licked away with her tongue. She woke me up one night and actually licked my sick eye with her tongue. This is my strict teacher and my loving mother.
My mother became a widow at the age of twenty-three and the stepmother of the family. My stupid pen cannot describe the pain of this kind of life. The family's finances are not well-off, so it is entirely dependent on the second brother's management and management in Shanghai.
The eldest brother has been a prodigal since he was a child. He smokes opium and gambles. When he gets the money, he will go home and make plans. When he sees the incense burner, he will sell it, and when he finds the tin teapot, he will take it out as a pledge. My mother invited the family elders several times to set the monthly fee for them. But he never had enough, and he owed cigarette and gambling debts everywhere. Every New Year's Eve there is always a large group of debt collectors in my house, each with a lantern, sitting in the hall and refusing to go. The eldest brother had already escaped. The two rows of chairs in the hall were filled with lanterns and creditors. My mother walked in and out, cooking New Year's Eve dinner, thanking the Kitchen God, giving New Year's money, etc., just pretending that she had never seen this group of people. At nearly midnight, when the door was about to be "closed," my mother went out through the back door. A neighbor came to my house and asked each debtor to make some money. Being good at doing evil, this group of debt collectors walked out one by one carrying lanterns. After a while, the elder brother knocked on the door and came back. My mother never scolded him. And because it was New Year, she never showed any anger on her face. I have celebrated this kind of New Year six or seven times.
The eldest sister-in-law is the most incompetent and ignorant person, while the second sister-in-law is a capable but narrow-minded person. They often had disagreements, but because of my mother's gentle example, they never openly scolded or fought each other. When they are angry, they just don't speak or answer, and put their faces down, which makes people look ugly. When the second sister-in-law is angry, her face turns blue and she is even more afraid of people. The same thing happened when they were angry with my mother. I didn't understand this at first, but then I gradually learned to read people's faces. I gradually understood that the most disgusting thing in the world is an angry face; the most obscene thing in the world is showing an angry face to others, which is worse than being beaten or scolded.
My mother is generous and good-natured, and because she is a stepmother, she is more attentive and tolerant of everything. My eldest brother’s daughter is only one year younger than me, and her diet and clothes are always the same as mine. She and I had small disputes, and I always got the short end of the stick. My mother always blamed me and asked me to let her do everything. Later, the elder sister-in-law and the second sister-in-law gave birth to sons. When they were angry, they would beat and scold the children to vent their anger. While beating, they would use harsh and thorny words to others. My mother just pretended not to hear. Sometimes, she couldn't bear it anymore, so she quietly walked out, or went to the left neighbor's sister-in-law's house to sit for a while, or went through the back door to the back neighbor's sister-in-law's house to chat. She never quarreled with her two sisters-in-law.
When every sister-in-law gets angry, she often goes out for ten days and a half without rest. She walks in and out every day with a straight face, bites her mouth, and beats and scolds the children to vent her anger. My mother just endured it, and when the day came that she couldn't bear it anymore, she had her own way. At dawn that day, she didn't get up and cried lightly. She didn't scold anyone, she just cried about her husband and her own miserable life, unable to keep her husband to take care of her. When she cried first, her voice was very low, and then she started to cry loudly. I woke up and tried to persuade her, but she refused to stay. At this time, I always hear a door opening in the front hall (the second sister-in-law lives in the east room of the front hall) or the back hall (the elder sister-in-law lives in the west room of the back hall), and a sister-in-law walks out of the room and walks towards the kitchen. After a while, the sister-in-law knocked on our door. I opened the door, and she walked in, holding a bowl of hot tea, and brought it to my mother's bedside. She persuaded her to stop crying and invited her to drink the hot tea. My mother slowly stopped crying and reached out to take the tea bowl. The sister-in-law stood there to persuade her for a while before exiting. Not a word was mentioned about the person, nor was there a word about the angry face for the past ten and a half days, but everyone knew in their hearts that the sister-in-law who came in to make tea was always the one who had been angry for the past ten and a half days. Strangely enough, after this cry, there was at least a month or two of peace and quiet.
My mother is the kindest and gentlest to others, and never says a word that hurts people's feelings; but she is also very strong-willed at times and does not tolerate any personal insult. My fifth uncle was a wanderer with no real job. One day he complained in the opium den that my mother always asked someone for help when something happened at home, and she probably always got some benefit for her. This sentence reached my mother's ears. She was so angry that she cried. She invited several members of the family and called Uncle Wu. She asked him face to face what benefit she had given someone. She didn't give up until her fifth uncle admitted his mistake and apologized in public.
I lived under my mother’s teachings for nine years and was greatly and deeply influenced by her. I left her when I was fourteen (actually only twelve, two or three months old), and I lived alone in this vast sea of ??people for more than twenty years without anyone controlling me. If I can learn a little bit of good temper, if I can learn a little bit of kindness in dealing with others, if I can forgive people and be considerate - I have to thank my loving mother.
Lao She My Mother
My mother’s natal home is in a small village outside Deshengmen, outside Tucheng’er in Beiping, on the road leading to the Dazhong Temple. There are four or five families in the village, all with the surname Ma. We all farm some land that is not very fertile, but among my brothers, some are soldiers, carpenters, plasterers, and policemen. Although they are farmers, they cannot afford to raise cattle and horses. When there is not enough manpower, women have to work in the fields.
Regarding my grandma’s family, I only know the above points. I don’t know what my grandparents are like, because they have passed away long ago. As for the more distant genealogy and family history, I don't even know about it; the poor can only care about the food and clothing in front of them, and have no time to talk about the glory of the past; I have never heard of the word "family tree" when I was a child.
My mother was born in a farm family, so she is diligent, thrifty, honest and in good health. This fact is extremely important, because if I didn't have such a mother, I think I would be greatly compromised.
My mother probably got married very early, because my eldest sister is now an old woman in her sixties, and my eldest niece is still one year older than me. I have three brothers and four sisters, but the only ones who can grow up are the eldest sister, the second sister, the third brother and me. I am the "old" son. When I was born, my mother was already forty-one years old, and my eldest and second sisters had already left the government.
Judging from the families my eldest sister and second sister married into, before I gave birth, my family was probably just so-so. At that time, engagement was about being well-matched, and the eldest sister's father-in-law was a minor official, and the second sister's father-in-law also owned a tavern. They were both quite respectable people.
But, I, I brought misfortune to the family: after I was born, my mother fainted and only opened her eyes to see her old son in the middle of the night - thank you, eldest sister, for carrying me in your arms for the future. freeze to death.
When I was one and a half years old, my father died.
My brother is less than ten years old, my third sister is twelve or thirteen years old, and I am only one and a half years old. I was raised entirely by my mother. My father's widowed sister lived with us. She smoked opium, loved playing cards, and had a very bad temper. For our food and clothing, my mother had to wash, mend or tailor clothes for others. In my memory, her hands are red and slightly swollen all year round. During the day, she washed clothes and washed one or two large green tile basins. She never did anything perfunctory, even the iron-black stockings brought by the butchers were washed by her until they were as white as snow. At night, she and her third sister held an oil lamp and mended clothes until midnight. She never rested all year round, but even in her busy schedule, she kept the yard and house neat and tidy. The tables and chairs were all old, and the copper door of the cupboard was incomplete, but her hands kept making sure that there was no dust on the table, and the broken copper door shone brightly. In the courtyard, the pots of pomegranates and oleanders left by my father will always receive the water and care they deserve, and they will bloom in abundance every summer.
My brother seems to have never played with me. Sometimes, he went to study; sometimes, he went to be an apprentice; sometimes, he also went to sell small things like peanuts or cherries. His mother sent him away with tears in her eyes, and within two days, she picked him up again with tears in her eyes. I don't understand what this is all about, but I just feel alienated from him. My third sister and I are dependent on my mother. Therefore, when they do things, I always follow them. When they watered the flowers, I also collected water; when they swept the floor, I collected soil... From here, I learned to love flowers, love cleanliness, and keep order. I still keep these habits.
When guests come, no matter how embarrassed the mother is, she must try to get something to entertain her. Her uncle and cousins ??often spent their own money to buy wine and meat, which made her face turn red with embarrassment, but they diligently warmed wine and made noodles for them, which gave her some joy. When there is a joy or funeral at home among relatives and friends, the mother will wash her coat clean and go to pay her respects in person - the gift may only be two small coins. To this day, my habit of being hospitable has not completely changed, even though life is so hard, because things that I have been accustomed to since childhood are not easy to change.
My aunt often loses her temper. She looked for bones in the eggs alone. She is the king of hell in my family. She didn't die until I entered middle school, but I never saw my mother resist. "If you haven't been angry with your mother-in-law, why don't you be angry with your sister-in-law? This is your destiny!" My mother said this when she had to explain that it was not enough to convince others. Yes, this is how it is meant to be. My mother lived to be old, poor to old, and worked hard to old age. This was all her destiny. She will suffer the most. She is always the first to help relatives, friends and neighbors: she will wash babies - poor friends can save money on "treating grandma" - she can scrape, she will shave children's heads, and she will give young women They winced... Whatever she could do, she would do whatever she asked for. But the quarrels and fights will never be without her. She would rather suffer a loss than make her angry. When my aunt died, my mother seemed to have cried out all her life's grievances, and she cried all the way to the grave. A nephew who came from nowhere claimed the right to inherit, but my mother kept silent and taught him to move the broken tables and benches, and also gave him a fat hen raised by his aunt.
However, mother is not weak. My mother died in the year when Gengzi started to fight. The coalition troops entered the city and searched every house for property, chickens and ducks. We were searched twice. The mother took her brother and third sister and sat on the wall, waiting for the "japs" to come in. The street door was open. The "Japanese" came in, stabbed the old yellow dog to death with a bayonet, and then entered the house to search. After they left, my mother picked up the broken suitcase and discovered me. If the box had not been empty, I would have been crushed to death. Yushang ran away, her husband died, the Japanese came, and the city was filled with blood and flames, but the mother was not afraid. She wanted to protect her children under the bayonet and in famine. There were so many riots in Peiping. Sometimes there was a mutiny, and the whole street burned down, and the fireball fell in our courtyard. Sometimes there is a civil war, the city gates are closed, the shops are closed, and guns are fired day and night. How can a weak old widow bear this fear, this tension, coupled with the planning of the family's meals and the concern for the safety of her children? However, at this time, the mother's heart became angry. She did not panic or cry, but she wanted to find a solution out of no solution. Her tears will fall in her heart! This soft yet hard personality was also passed on to me. I adopt a peaceful attitude towards all people and things, and take losses as a matter of course. However, as a person, I have certain purposes and basic rules. I can make do with anything, but I cannot exceed the boundaries I have drawn. I'm afraid of meeting strangers, doing errands, and showing up in public; but when it comes time for me to go, I don't dare not go, just like my mother.
From private school to elementary school to middle school, I have experienced at least twenty teachers. Some of them had a great influence on me, and some had no influence at all. But my real teacher, the one who passed on his character to me, was me. mother. My mother was illiterate, but she gave me the education of life.
When I graduated from primary school, my relatives and friends unanimously agreed that I should learn a trade so that I could help my mother. I knew I should go find food to relieve my mother's hardship. However, I am also willing to study further. I was secretly admitted to a normal school - uniforms, meals, books, and accommodation were all provided by the school. Only in this way can I dare to tell my mother about going to college. To enroll, you need to pay a deposit of ten yuan. This is a huge sum of money! My mother struggled for half a month to raise this huge sum of money, and then sent me out in tears. She worked tirelessly as long as her son had a future. When I graduated from the Demonstration School and was appointed as the principal of an elementary school, my mother and I never slept a wink. I just said: "You can take a break from now on!" Her answer was just a string of tears. After I entered school, my third sister got married. The mother loves her children equally, but if she also has a preference, she should prefer the third sister, because since the father's death, everything has been supported by the mother and the third sister. The third sister is the mother's right hand. But the mother knew that the right hand must be cut off. She could not delay her daughter's youth for her own convenience. When the sedan arrived outside our broken door, my mother's hands were as cold as ice, and there was no color on her face - it was April in the lunar calendar, and the weather was very warm. Everyone was afraid that she would faint. However, she struggled, biting her lip, holding on to the door frame, watching the sedan chair slowly walk away. Soon, my aunt died. The third sister is married, my brother is not at home, and I live in school, so my mother is the only one left at home. She still had to operate from dawn to dusk, but no one said a word to her all day long. The New Year is here, and the government is advocating the use of the Gregorian calendar and not celebrating the old year. On New Year's Eve, I took two hours off. Returning from a crowded market to a quiet home. Mother smiled. When she heard that I had to go back to school, she was stunned. After a long while, she sighed. When it was time for me to leave, she handed me some peanuts and said, "Go, boy!" The street was so lively, but I didn't see anything, and tears covered my eyes. Today, tears cover my eyes again, and I think of my loving mother who spent that miserable New Year's Eve alone. But my loving mother will no longer wait for me, she has passed into the earth!
Children’s lives do not follow the track set by their parents and spend a lot of money, so the elderly are inevitably sad. I was twenty-three years old, and my mother wanted me to get married, but I didn’t want it. I asked my third sister to intercede with me, and my mother nodded with tears in her eyes. I love my mother, but I gave her the worst blow. Times have made me a traitor. At the age of twenty-seven, I went to school in England. For my own sake, I gave my sixty-year-old mother a second blow. On the day of her seventieth birthday, I was still far away in a foreign land. That day, my sisters later told me that the old lady only drank two sips of wine and went to bed very early. She missed her infant son but could not express it.
After the July 7th Anti-Japanese War, I escaped from Jinan. Peking was once again occupied by the Japanese just like it was during the Gengzi period. But the young son whom the mother missed day and night came to the southwest. I can imagine how much my mother misses me, but I can't go back. Whenever I receive a letter from home, I don't dare to open it immediately. I'm afraid, afraid, afraid, afraid of the ominous news. Even if a person lives to be eighty or ninety years old, he can still be somewhat childish if he has a mother. Without a loving mother, a flower is like a flower in a vase. Although it still has color and fragrance, it has lost its roots. People who have mothers have peace of mind. I'm afraid, afraid, afraid that the letters from home will bring bad news, telling me that I have become a flower that has lost its roots.
Last year, I couldn’t find any information about my mother’s daily life in my letters home. I have doubts and fears. I can imagine that if it weren't for misfortune, my family would miss me and be exiled and lonely, or they might not bear to tell me. My mother’s birthday is in September, and I wrote the birthday letter in August and a half, hoping that it would arrive before the birthday. The letter asked me to write down the details of my birthday, so I no longer had any doubts. On December 26, after returning from the Cultural Labor Army conference, I received a letter from home. I dare not read it. Before going to bed, I opened the letter and found out that my mother had passed away for a year!
Life was given to me by my mother. My ability to grow up is due to my mother’s blood and sweat. My ability to become a not-so-bad person is due to my mother's influence. My character and habits were passed down from my mother. She had never enjoyed a day of happiness in her life, and she was still eating coarse grains before she died.
well! What else can you say? Heartache! Heartache!