24-II-1964.
Everybody in the inner circle of kids in obdanište is talking about something called „liston klej“. Those were the kids from the novogradnja across the street, mostly, the better off who had TV sets. For some time I didn't have a clue what were they talking about, though some mention of boxing did surface.
I think this was my last year there. By this time I grew enough to be left alone at home, so I had my own gate key, for the times when I was in the first shift in Zmaj and would return home before anyone else - they all worked, and their work hours ended at 14:00. While mom and granma worked downtown, dad probably worked in Duvanika (tobacco factory), which is on (what I much later learned was) edge of Groš.
Dad had quit smoking years ago, did so because he didn't know when it was enough. He noticed something was off when he moved from three packs a day to almost four. Regardless, he'd bring the advertising packages of tobacco products. Mom did smoke, but didn't touch the stuff, not because that was reserved for select guests, but because Duvanika never made normal cigarettes - their thing was to make cigars, cigarillos, pipe tobacco and other weird stuff.
We'd lunch around half three - three, when we gather. The lunch was cooked the afternoon before, and would be reheated. We had an electric stove now, so it was easier. The stove had an express plate, which meant that it had a bit stronger heater and a thermostat, which was used to make coffee. This is about the time when I stopped drinking half a liter of milk a day, so the cup I got for birthday four years ago was now reassigned to make coffee in. It had its own coffee spoon assigned, always the same one. The enamel on the inside wore out from all the stirring, and the spoon also got visibly shorter.
This shot was made much later, in 1972, and I'm including it here because it shows it all - my cup, and Kraš's cocoa tin can where the coffee was always kept, and how the coffee cups were small (though these were bought years later and were actually larger than those in use in 1964).
About that time mom started her tour of medical checkups, and received (in whichever year, perhaps the next or one after) a certificate that she's a category two invalid (official word then, later proscribed in the west as not kosher, so for those with finer ears, read that as „category two person with disabilities“), with work time of four hours a day, the other half of her salary being paid by social [security]. The reason was her heart, a hole between antechambers or some such fault. Then they considered me grown enough to hear the story why was I the only child - she born me at her own responsibility. That cardiolog[ist], one Milojica Danilov, explicitly forbade her pregnancy, but nope, she risked it and came out with a happy end. But he convinced her to not gamble her head by trying another one.
Mentions: Groš, novogradnja, obdanište, Zmaj, in serbian
10-VII-2022 - 17-V-2026