A few years later, my second brother said that when I was in junior high and high school, I basically contracted all the housework in order to take care of my sick mother at home.

When I was in junior high school and high school, he was already in high school and college, and he couldn't take care of his family after he was academic, let alone after living in school.

During the college entrance examination, there were two university choices: one was to study in a medical school in the city, and it was estimated in advance that he might be admitted to a bigger and better medical school in other places, but he didn't dare to fill in the first choice.

When the college entrance examination was announced, as expected, those with lower scores than him were admitted to the targeted enrollment quota of Daha in other places.

Second, choose a college close to home, the city, you can go home to eat and live on weekends, save a little yourself, you can save about one-third of the cost of food.

On weekends, I can also help my father work, work hard to earn money, and supplement the family. There has always been a clear division of labor in my family, where men are rakes who earn money, and women are the boxes that manage money.

The male protagonist is outside and the female protagonist is inside. The man is responsible for earning money outside. Father, eldest brother, second brother, always be. The woman is responsible for the house, buying vegetables, rice, laundry, cooking, living coal, expanding coal batches, drying grain from time to time, and cleaning up the house and yard.

Everything is so reasonable, everything is so natural. Our family is harmonious, our brothers and sisters and united.

There is something to rush on, and there is work to do. In case of trouble, there is a lot of discussion, whoever says it right, listen to whomever it is, and the family is very democratic.

Do more work, tired people don't die. I didn't see anyone who was tired of work. It's the parents and our mantra.

These habits have continued to this day, thanks to our enlightened parents, good habits, and simple labor literacy, which have benefited us for life.

Life is so full and busy, and it flies by. I remember that when we reached high school, we had the most rations, and we could buy 38 catties of affordable grain every month with our food book.

I was responsible for taking the food and money in my mother's hands every month, preparing bags of rice, white flour, sorghum rice, cornmeal, and pushing a dilapidated Flying Pigeon bicycle.

I rarely buy somen noodles because it not only accounts for the share of white noodles, but also the unit price is more expensive than white noodles. I remember that there was still a small amount of refined powder at that time, but my family has rarely bought it, and I have been saving enough to save a certain amount.

My father would exchange the coarse grains for rice that he had contacted in advance, and exchange them directly at the grain station. I remember that at that time, my family's fine grains: all the fine flour, most of the rice and white flour, were exchanged for sorghum rice and cornmeal, or my family's grain was not enough to eat.

Usually, only during the New Year's holidays, or when guests come to the house to eat, they will eat rice or dumplings. I still vividly remember that my two brothers and my father could eat three to four bowls of sorghum rice and rice at a meal, and I had two bowls and my mother at least one bowl.

At that time, the bowl that everyone used to eat was not the small bowl used for eating now, but the big bowl used to serve rice in the restaurant at present, a bowl of that specification.

I remember that as soon as I cook rice, it has to be full of a big aluminum pot, and the stewed sauerkraut is also full of a big iron pot, which is the big iron pot of the iron pot stewed in the goose in the restaurant.

That night, there was little oil and meat, and most of the vegetables I ate were very cheap seasonal green vegetables. People are very thin, but they are very energetic and healthy.

I was responsible for riding a dilapidated flying pigeon bicycle without brakes, hanging a large wicker basket unique to the era, and walking the streets and alleys to buy groceries.

In crowded places, land with both feet and brake with your feet, as long as you don't crash. Occasionally, I didn't brake, and I accidentally collided, and I smiled and said: I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

You can solve the problem peacefully and easily. There were no people who touched porcelain that night, and there were no people who fell to the ground, and those who were entangled in whether to help or not, the folk customs were simple, and good people were everywhere.