When I was a child, I was eating at the dinner table, and I always listened to my parents nagging about how they were not full when they were young.
When I was in college, my father didn't talk much on the phone, but he gave instructions: no matter what, we must eat enough, and history cannot be repeated! I laughed and remembered the stories he told about his college days.
The amount of subsidies the state will give each month, and the amount of food stamps, is definitely not enough. The dish has bean sprouts all year round, which is a reserved item, and the porridge is cornmeal, which is available every day. To this day, my father still often talks about how thick and hot the porridge was in Nongda University; and bean sprouts, in my impression, have never been on my dining table. After all, in those four years, my father had enough. There is also sweet potato with the same ending. Our family is called sweet potato. No matter whether it is red or white, it will never be on the table. Occasionally, I would buy a roasted sweet, squeaky and oily one. Out of habit, I would peel it off and let him. He always pushed his glasses and pouted and said, "I got the exam just because I didn't eat sweet potatoes." It's like a joke, but it's always proven in my father's stomach: whenever he eats something high in starch, he always has a stomachache. In those years, eating dried sweet potatoes had a bad stomach.
In the movie, when the plate of sweet potatoes that was placed in front of the American reporter was broadcast, the little bits of memory resonated. In the past, sweet potatoes were fed to pigs, and in disaster years, sweet potatoes were life-saving. Now, strangely, it turned out to be a very popular snack. No wonder my grandmother often remarks: sweet potatoes are more expensive than white noodles!
I've basically never really felt hungry, and patch after patch is all that's left of my parents' descriptions. In the movie, I saw it all.
Dian's wife and vend son, actually happened seventy years ago.
What the fathers who were born fifty years ago wore, ate, and used did not change much from the ones in the movie. That year, my mother would indeed ask my grandmother on the evening of New Year's Eve: Mother, why can other people eat dumplings with white noodles, but ours can only eat sweet potato noodles? Grandma looked at the five children under her knees, wiping her tears and couldn't answer. That year, a Harbin couple really came to their grandmother's house to see their aunt and wanted to take them away, but they were finally stopped by their mother's uncle crying. That year, when my father was on vacation at the university, he would really go and make two white flour buns and take the train for seven or eight hours to bring them to my grandpa to eat.
1942, for me, has nothing to do with history. The planes, massacres, and Japanese aggressors on the screen are far away from me, but starvation happened to my parents.
Father is celebrating his 50th birthday this year, and he is having a great time talking about wine. But recalling that when he was a child, he worked hard just to avoid eating sweet potatoes.
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