On the waves of memory: how we lived and played in the courtyards of our childhood

The yard of our childhood was the focus of everything, all the fun and games, all the rules and concepts, the yardstick of relationships and the mushroom of friendships, as it turned out later, for life. The yard lived as a large single organism. In winter, he went into hibernation, with the exception of the little ones, who were hanging around the big hill every day, which was built by the whole world and flooded. From the first warm spring days, he woke up for an active life, which subsided only by late autumn. The courtyard was the universe.

Everyone knew everything about each other, down to the innermost details. In fact, the same communal apartment in an expanded format. You can't hide an awl in a bag. Neither joy nor sorrow either. 

There was a strict hierarchy of ages and values in the courtyard. The raised benches were occupied by grandmothers. The men were sitting at two large wooden tables, playing cards, loudly smacking dominoes or playing chess. Young people were grouped by interests, and each of the groups had its own corner for classes. But all together, all in plain sight. There was also a "backyard", all in thickets of acacias and thick grass.

For the boys, it was a semi-secret attractive country, the wrong side. There, adults were allowed to drink and insert a strong word into the speech, discussing pressing issues. It was impossible in the yard.

Any of the adults, seeing the mess, could have made a remark to anyone younger than age, and no one would have raised a fuss: "How dare you tell my, my something there!" On the contrary, they would have thanked me for pulling it back in time. The picture of schoolchildren drinking beer in the sandbox or on a swing, like today, was incomprehensible to the mind. 

There was no senseless jostling in the yard. There was always a lot to do. In addition to football, "files", bast shoes and - varieties of towns - "tsar", were divided into detachments to play war games.

A heated argument was caused only by the division into "our own" and "Germans". Being "Germans", of course, was a trap. Lots decided everything. Armed with stick guns and toy pistols, they began a protracted operation to track each other down. Whoever was the first to cover the other unnoticed, he won. Tactics and strategy required raids into neighboring courtyards, although this was not something that was forbidden to us, but, let's say, it was not welcome.

In the summer, near every house on the asphalt, chalk-lined cages are classics. That was the name of the game the girls were playing. 

And how seriously they treated the "Cossack robbers"! They sat down on benches, played with a broken phone or folded their hands into a boat and had to secretly shift something to each other. The girls constantly jumped through the elastic band, knitted something, embroidered and kept their painted notebooks with interesting poems, questionnaires for girlfriends and fortune tellers.

The boys had their own games. Their characteristic features were the use of something forbidden, disapproval of adults and danger to health. And it's not drugs and sex, as many will think. Kid's fun - slingshots, samopals, bungee jumping and, of course, a penknife.

The knife was a symbol of involvement in the force, and it was used for games outside the school. The most famous knife game was called "Earth". Two players drew a large circle on the ground, divided in half. It was necessary to throw a knife into a piece of the enemy's land, and by its position it was determined which piece of the firmament would depart to the occupier. They played until one of the players had no place left on the ground where he could put his foot.

But then there were shouts: "Sasha, go home, Lena, go home." It was the parents who called their children home. We parted reluctantly, but we knew that we would meet again tomorrow.

In the evening, teenagers came out, gathered in gazebos, chatted, giggled, boys strummed guitars. The first sympathies and infatuations appeared.

The courtyard was the universe squared. It was a playground for any games that our imagination could suggest. "Stick-knockers for himself", "Lapta", "Fisherman and fish", "Tag". Ball games such as "Square", "Ten" and "Bouncers" were also very popular.

The most "fashionable" films at that time were "The Elusive Avengers", "Chingachgook" or "The Three Musketeers" as the basis for plot-role-playing games. All these games were exciting, with a captivity scenario and very mobile. And after the Robin Hood show on TV, the whole yard was shooting with homemade bows.

And when the apples began to ripen in the neighbor's gardens, the operation to track the "tyblock" began, which no longer cause a snarl and a cramp from acid. Edible fruits immediately became a terrible secret from neighboring competitors, the apple tree was "grazed". It did not come to fights, but the "right of ownership" was defended harshly. Anyway, the apples did not have time to ripen, although there was no shortage of vitamins. Just a game and the bonds of brotherhood plus hunting excitement.

Raids on basements, where there were common storerooms, were covered with a special darkness of mystery, literally and figuratively. As soon as they got a key or found a loophole in a barred window, the children immediately became filibusters, taking boardboard storerooms. Residents stored all the necessary and unnecessary junk there. The top of pirate luck was a three-liter bottle with compote or jam. It was a feast of the mountain up to diarrhea.

It is impossible to say that the adults did not know about the next raid and its alleged participants. But as if they turned a blind eye to it, writing off the inevitable age period. To steal something, by and large, there was nothing there. Much cooler could fly in for unauthorized entry into the attic, from where the "dormer windows" led to the roof. Hold on here.

There was a vegetable garden on the border territory between our yard and the neighboring yards.

And since August, a huge responsibility has been assigned to the yard workers - to track the arrival of trucks with watermelons. As soon as they saw it, they had to blow up and notify the older boys, until competitors ran up. Five or six guys helped two drunken movers to throw watermelons, for which they were allowed to roll back as much as we would take away. With difficulty, in short jerks, having carried the priceless cargo to the backyard, we sat down in a circle, and the zhor began. "Intelligence" was entitled to an equal share. The main thing was not to burst and pee before you get home.

Another red days in the calendar were joint trips to the cinema. Premieres were infrequent then, and not all were taken. Therefore, any visit to the cinema blew the roof off completely.

The yard lived on, giving surprises and discoveries every day. Remembering this cozy world with today's mind, you involuntarily compare it with what is happening today.