Alexandra Bazhenov Biography

Chairpersele Ne Dae ... Mom’s chorus, the people loved to sing. In the year, several young collective farmers, together with their mother, rode along the road along the fields on the cart, as then we had and threw the cheerful songs of Mamines, who liked the truth and the sharpness of the word that were very true. A vigilant man passed by. He reported. Everyone was “taken away”, interrogated, but released, leaving one mother, as she turned out to be an unsuccessful writer.

For her it was a shock. The mischievous fun of a man who thought that he was free by nature, turned into a tragedy. Never left his native noise, she was in the harsh north among other people's and sometimes dangerous people; I got difficult there, the whole body was covered with a crust ... I asked what she was sick with? She answered: “longing” ... She was treated by such a category of people who was a doctor - Belarusian Ivan Lukich Likhach, who was born in the village of Gorivoda, Rechitsa district of the Gomel region, they loved each other.

But I had to quickly part: my mother stayed in the camp for one year. Her father, a warrant officer, Ivan Grigorievich Shvydko, returned from the war and began to bother for her. Having reviewed the case, the all-seeing "bodies" decided that the illiterate poor peasant, the daughter of a war veteran-Harden carrier is not dangerous for the Soviet system. She returned to her homeland, she was already with me three months in her arms.

It was a hungry year in the Volga region. My father, Ivan Lukich, after the occupied territories “open” for free movement and Belarus was just such a land, had to go to Belarus, since the former prisoners were strictly determined and paid to the places where they “took”. We agreed that he, having returned to his homeland, would get a job himself and call his mother a letter. Mom with my father did not see more.

He wrote letters for letters, inviting her to come, but my mother worked in the field from early morning until late in the evening, my grandmother Natalya Mikhailovna Schwydko was nee nearest Ilyina; , who did not want her mother - the eldest in a family of 14 children, the main worker now say “workaholic”, the nurse of the entire grandmother's family, went to a foreign land, and the letters flew to the oven.

Mom’s early works were in vain in vain: all grandmother's children, except for two mother’s sisters, devoured hunger, epidemics, war. For her work, God gave Mom to survive after the abrasions, typhoid, malaria, hunger and years, war, political camp, collective farm poverty. After the years of waiting for the news, my mother secretly began to look for her father from her grandmother, and when she found the address, she wrote to her father through her friends to their address.

But he no longer wanted to answer ... He was desperate. He did not forgive me with his mother: according to his concepts, we quit him did not know that this did not happen through our fault. He was harsh and uncompromising. I came to him in the year in the village of Gorivide. We saw each other for two or three minutes. He did not want to talk to me. He then had another family, and, apparently, in this family it was not everything as he wanted.

But this is not the case ... The father died on June 6 in the Halchan House of the elderly in Belarus, when I was already an adult, married woman who graduated from the second course of the second higher educational institution - the Literary Institute. Mom and I and I did not know for a long time that he died. This is the greatest tragedy of the family! Loving people remained sincerely lonely.

I grew up without my father. Mom, by a number of legal manipulations, barely escaped from the collective farm, where people did not give their passports, the peasants worked as serfs, almost nothing received. In the year, my mother and I moved to the city of Engels from the MTF farm in the steppe on the Saratovka River almost at its source, where my childhood spent with my grandfather and grandmother who loved me.

They ended up in a rented apartment on Persian Street. Mom entered the weaving factory with a trace of rollers with fabric. Since she remained illiterate educating 13 brothers and sisters had to work, and not to study, she did not have to count on the best. We lived poorly, because then in the city we had to work almost for free: during the payments of workers at the cash register, party and trade union activists were waiting for the cash desk, who forced to take state loan bonds for almost the entire salary.

People scared, were afraid, people were afraid of everything and gave the last. Then the mother “took” on the outskirts of the city to build a house, and the endless long -building “her nest” began. Various teachers have many interesting subjects, all teachers were well prepared, more talented than a former teacher. With their energy, enthusiasm, they gave a charge and our imagination, our aspirations.

The knowledge itself turned out to be attractive. I began to study better, even in such short subjects as geometry, physics, astronomy, she brought a special romantic charm to a diverse knowledge of the world. Favorite objects - literature and geography. The story was then too politicized and comprehended once later, even after receiving higher education, in the years.Valentin Rasputin, speaking of the most valuable from the heritage of Russian culture, explained that it was necessary as if "...

include in the diet of breast milk, because there is school milk that continues the necessary feeding from the diapers." The teacher of geography, who was our class teacher, and then the director of the school, Taisiya Petrovna Titarenko-crystal and ideal honest, and professional-pedagogue of the upper class, helped me with wise instructions. Teachers are the first highly cultural, highly educated people who met in the way of most students, they introduced us into a huge world and seemed to be celestials, gods, we idealized and loved them.

The literature occupied me so much that I read all day, even sometimes in the lessons, to the detriment of classes. Tales, children's books, science fiction, travel, adventure, classic, foreign authors, including medieval ones, attracted unusually. It was a world, in my eyes expanded to the universe. By the age of fifteen, I read all the books in the city children's library, which was located across the road from the tenth school.

My beloved teacher, literature, Margarita Mikhailovna Libarova, according to her passport, wrote me down in the Central City Library, which was then in the building of the current Trinity Church. Today, when I pray, especially in the right chapel, where the reading room was located, I pray and give thanks to the knowledge that I received here. Margarita Mikhailovna in the first year of study 5th grade celebrated one of my compositions as the best in the classroom and read to everyone.

I was struck by this discovery at all for the first time for a lifetime: after all, I saw something from a number of mediocre people what I saw in me and understood in which direction it was necessary to develop in the future. Realizing still vaguely, even then she realized that God gave me the feelings are subtle, unusual and would ask me more than from others.

I tried to expand knowledge. The hardworking creative aspirations at school, however, were combined in the evenings, absenteeism in the whole class on the Volga, tourists with T. Titarenko in the region, songs by the fire. In my school years, I published my first note in the regional newspaper Youth of Youth December, the first poem in the city newspaper Communist February on the entire school lineup more than once I gave gifts - books - for the best works of school among high school students.

Several boys were in love with me, and I myself liked one of the senior grade, but it was all innocent hobbies of adolescence that pass as a dream. At school, the bosom friends were Natasha Nyukhalova now Pokrovskaya, the soloist of the Saratov Philharmonic, lives in Engels, after graduation we saw once, I did not recognize her; And Luda Gnylya is now Volodin, lives in the Rostov region, by profession an accountant, almost every visit to Engels comes to visit me.

In years, after graduation, I did not yet know that direction of the works that would correspond to the features of thinking and form me as a person. Then I dreamed of journalism. She still did not know that this one is one of the oldest professions - just like the other famous ancient profession, is sold and not free. I wanted to write and work in the city newspaper "Communist" - "top" of the then journalistic prestige by local standards.

But immediately after school, without higher education and experience, except for the Koy-Kako Netotarus, they did not take to the newspaper. Only later I realized that it was for the better. Otherwise, I would be a cracker cracker. The Communists “dried” me with a young man. I met such "dried" colleagues-journalists. They looked with empty, cold eyes, as if through everything in front of them.

God removed me from this. After school, she married a surveyor who studied in Saratov, Bazhenova Yuri Pavlovich, who became my only husband, the father of my beloved daughter Nelli r. My husband and I went north for some time, in the Arctic, he was sent after the technical school by the topographer on an expedition to search for diamonds in Yakutia. Having returned to Engels, the specialty “Literary Criticism” of SSU in the first year entered the correspondence department, after sending folklore and ancient literature to the “five”, received an invitation to work in the “Engels chemist” multi -line with a corrector.

I worked there for two years and learned everything that the journalist needs to be able to: from printing on a typewriter to mocking and miles. She studied all newspaper genres “from” and “to” in practice. The countless "approving" exhausted most of all. After she served in the newspapers "The Volga Railway Manager", the "oil refinerian", which she created, opened, teaching the newspaper business of colleagues-philologists who knew how to write, but did not know a newspaper business.

She collaborated with other newspapers, but never found anything new in the journalist’s profession. However, there are few “literary” posts in the province and those - in the way. The newspaper - the feeder has helped out more than once. As a result, I have about three thousand newspaper publications, including in the central press and abroad.I took part in the creation and release of the first numbers of the newspapers “The Volga Railway”, “Orthodox Faith”, “Truth”, “Extra”, “Slavic Nabat”, “Cathedral”.

Some did not last long in the years, mainly due to material difficulties. This is a newspaper of the Saratov diocese. That is, I want to emphasize that the three newspapers that I opened issued the first numbers as the responsible secretary of the technical editor, and now exist now. This is: the “Volga railway” since the summer, the “oil refinerian” since spring, “Orthodox Vera”, which was first released as the liner to the newspaper “Oil Program” since November, route work in the newspapers has not satisfied.

I was immersed in literature, but I felt that poetry and prose were not my direction. I have different thinking. On the advice of one of my friends then, she entered the Literary Institute in Moscow, who was the only university in the world who prepared professional writers, critics, and dramators. I went to the seminar of criticism.