My beloved dad.

Daddy

My daddy worked as a weight master at a meat-packing plant, so meat delicacies were not transferred to the house even in times of general shortage.
When the Great Patriotic War began, dad was twelve years old. He had to drop out of school and get a job at a meat packing plant. After the end of the war, dad, in the evening school, finished eight classes and did not continue to study. But he was far from stupid. He loved to read, and not only fiction, but, even more so, popular science.
In our house, every year the magazines "Science and Life" and "Around the World" were subscribed. Therefore, my dad, despite a modest education, was a smart, well-read and comprehensively developed person. Many acquaintances were sure that he had a higher education, and I did not doubt it until I myself asked and found out the truth.
However, my daddy was highly valued and promoted to all kinds of social work. He was a member of the city committee of the party and repeatedly led the column of the meat-packing plant at demonstrations. His motorcycle, with a festive banner, rode ahead of the column, and I sat proudly in the cradle.
He was completely indifferent to my upbringing, and when I gave a reason, he expressed his dissatisfaction with rare but long notations. There were different reasons: most often I caused discontent by returning home late. In the summer I was allowed to walk until eleven in the evening, in the winter - until nine.
If I flirted and was late, then on the way home I was terribly worried, fearing my father's wrath, so I did not go to the door, but to the window of the room in which my grandmother lived, and knocked softly. Fortunately, our apartment was located on the first floor.
Grandmother carefully sneaked through the corridor, opened the valve and, secretly from dad, let me in. As a rule, this tactic worked. I quickly jumped into bed and pretended that I had been there for a long time.
However, if I forgot that I was late for the deadline and slowly stomped home, calmly went through the door, I would definitely run into an angry father, listen to his cries about my addictions and shake like an aspen leaf, although dad only once in his life whipped a belt and never raised a hand to me again.
But, sometimes, all of a sudden, dad would catch on, call me to his room and begin to actively educate:

Have you learned your lessons?
—
- Yes.
- Come on, tell me.

I told. After that, daddy began to ask questions himself.

What city is the capital of Georgia? How many republics are there in our country? Who is the chairman of the council of ministers?

I felt like I was on an exam and soon learned all the answers to his favorite questions. Dad, for some reason, believed that they would be asked me at the interview when entering the institute.
When I made some progress, for example, in sports, he was very proud of me. And after drinking wine with friends, he began to openly brag about what a wonderful daughter he had. He took out all my diplomas, showed photographs, but worst of all, when he called me and introduced me to the guests. I felt like a fool. Indeed, by that time I was already almost an adult, and not a three-year-old child who happily climbs into a chair to read a poem to guests.
But once I got it from my dad.
Somehow our parents went to visit the neighbors, and my brother Yura and I were left at home alone. As always, they quarreled, fought, and out of spite, I screamed so that daddy heard me, despite the fact that I was in the next entrance. He ran to us, grabbed the belt and, not understanding the reasons for the conflict, whipped Yura, and then me. Then he silently turned around and left. Of course, I immediately shut up, and my brother and I, as comrades in misfortune, immediately reconciled. Yura came up to me and showed an abrasion on my neck:

? Look how I got it because of you ...
? Look how I ..., __ I answered, showing a huge, palm-sized bruise, comfortably located on my thigh.

Brother Yurochka almost felt bad himself from such a gloomy spectacle.

? Wow, was all he said.
? You were standing there, the belt lashed around your neck and lightly tore your skin with the tip. And I was lying, and the belt hit me flat, so this blanche turned out.

So I had to go to gymnastics training in trousers for two weeks to cover my thigh shining with all the colors of the rainbow.
But he did not resort to such methods of education anymore. Yurochka got it more often. The Pope himself was a brave and resolute man, and demanded the same from his son. Dad could never calmly pass by fighting people - he always climbed to separate them. Or, for example, sitting at home in front of the TV, he suddenly heard the noise of a fight on the street, he immediately jumped off and ran there. And strangely enough, dad never fell from angry fighters. For some reason, people immediately recognized in him a person who had the right to decide their affairs.