Miracles continue

The Vremya publishing house released the true story of New Year's wizards

In that long, long time, when the future Grandfather Frost did not yet know that he was a powerful wizard (and did not know his magical nickname either), he, Sergei Ivanovich Morozov, was already somewhat different from his relatives and acquaintances. Firstly, he loved children and knew how to guess their innermost desires. (The Morozovs did not have any children of their own, and therefore at first, in the “pre-magic” era, Sergei Ivanovich and his wife Katya, who lived with him soul to soul, generously bestowed warmth - and, of course, wonderful gifts - on numerous nephews and nieces.) Secondly, Morozov willingly and expressively told his especially beloved nephew Vanya either “about the city” or “about work.” A city is a history that lives in buildings, bridges, embankments, parks, in the names of streets and squares that once looked completely different. (Morozov and his relatives lived in St. Petersburg, but if their fate had been Muscovites, Nizhny Novgorod, Tula or Vladimir, my uncle would probably have painted these cities no less vividly. Once upon a time in Russia there was a fair saying that a city has its own temper , and in every people were found who knew how to lovingly and in detail “read” his landscape and architectural chronicles.) The work is the most modern, rapidly developing technology. (Morozov is a tram engineer; in the early 1910s, when we meet the future wizard, such a specialist was a more exotic and “avant-garde” figure than a computer engineer now.) Thirdly, Morozov assured his little relatives that that next to people there are small magical creatures - okhli (girls) and pterki (boys) - usually invisible, but sometimes (if you have not yet become an adult) you can get lucky...

Of course, among Morozov’s peers, many also loved children, were well versed in history, knew a lot about technology, and were prone to funny inventions. Some even believed in miracles. But Sergei Ivanovich and his faithful Katya were endowed with all these properties at the same time (which rarely happens), and each of them was several degrees higher than that of other (even very good) people. Therefore, the couple, finding themselves in a very difficult snowfall in Diagon Alley on Christmas Eve 1911 (there was such a thing in St. Petersburg, but it’s not forbidden to send greetings to Harry Potter), suddenly became wizards. Sergei Ivanovich realized this (with great amazement, at first fearing for his mental health) quite soon, by Christmas 1912. (Then all his nieces and nephews found completely unimaginable gifts under the tree, the same ones that Uncle Seryozha asked for after the first miracle: on the previous Christmas Vanya received a toy railroad, which were not then available either in St. Petersburg or even in foreign stores.) He understood, admitted that the pricks and ahs (they carry out the will of Morozov, who first felt what the child really dreams about) were not imaginary to him, and began to fulfill new duties. This required a new name (Santa Claus), a new appearance (the beard became longer and thicker), new clothes and equipment (a sheepskin coat, a hat, a staff). But Katya realized that she, too, was a sorceress, much later - when Christmas trees with gifts, round dances, treats, songs, poetry readings and other familiar joys unexpectedly acquired citizenship rights in a country whose name was then replaced by a whistling, growling abbreviation.

Before, as we know, many sad events happened - the First World War, revolution, civil war... Sergei Morozov did not hide from troubles - he went through fire, water and copper pipes, but remained alive. And he remained Santa Claus. Well, after the merciful resolution of Christmas trees (not for the abolished Christmas, but for the New Year), which would not have happened without a passionate childish thirst for a miracle, without the memory of a good past (sometimes disturbing even the steel Bolsheviks), without the magic of pterks and ohls, without powerful kindness Santa Claus, after this real miracle, a lot of things also happened. Including terrible ones.

All this is described in the new book by Andrei Zhvalevsky and Evgenia Pasternak, “The True Story of Father Frost” (M., “Vremya”). This story is truly true, and it turned out this way because the co-authors are internally similar to their heroes. They love children and know that cherished children's dreams are serious and worthy matter. The history of the Fatherland is dear to them, which they tell about without any gussiness or falsehood, without avoiding such “not childish” subjects as Stalin’s terror and the siege of Leningrad (the chapter “The Very Scary 1942 New Year” is written with amazing noble tact). They are friendly towards technical toys (including the latest ones) and have a good understanding of them. Finally, good magic is truly dear to them. The preface says: “Santa Claus exists! At least for now they believe in him. We believe."

And we - those who have already read “The True Story...”, and those who still have this pleasure ahead of us - also believe. Therefore, without waiting for 2013 (the story ends there), hoping for scientific and technical achievements that will help overcome the temporary lack of magic, but knowing that our good feelings are most important, we, together with the playful but wise ohls and pterkas, can (should ) make a wish: to always believe in Santa Claus!

And it will, of course, come true. Although the “Albanian language”, which Father Frost and the Snow Maiden are now forced to study (in the book, the near future is indistinguishable from the current moment), is much more disgusting than the rules for the use of the letter “yat” that tormented first-graders in high school in ancient times, when Sergei Ivanovich and Katya still did not know who they really were.

Andrey NEMZER