Let's laugh!

I love antique shops. Probably because they cater to my need of keeping a little the past into the present. Every time I visit one, I leave the shop satisfied and content with discovering a book or an author that I would not normally find in a regular bookshop.
Here's my latest

(At ease! Let's laugh! by Cristi Vecerdea-Criv, published in 1990 at the Military Publishing House)
Published in 1990, the drawings from this book easily seem to fit the present, be it military or not. 

(And be careful, darling ... don't make a move while in front line)

Excerpt from Chapter 5 - Fairytale-like anniversary (The Three Jolly Tiddlekins, by Vlad Mușatescu)

'Pop Tilică, tell me, please, how can one recognize a poisonous serpent?... '

Scratching his nape and giving it a little thought, our friend answered:

'Well, dear child, to give you a simple answer: if a serpent bites you and you live longer than 30 minutes, than it wasn’t poisonous! If not, then you can no longer find out, and frankly, there’s no reason to it... Do you understand?'

Tiddlekin Babacu nodded somewhat satisfied. Then, in a bout of curiosity, Pop Tilică asked Babane, the eldest of the Ostrogoths:

'And what are you studying in school these days?'

'Physics, Chemistry, Maths, Foreign Languages, French, English, and now Advanced Algebra... '

Amazed by the many things that Babane was studying, Pop Tilică exclaimed:

'Good for you! And how do you say 'good afternoon' in that algebra?... '

Mommy, Eme doesn't know how to turn on the TV

I'll be modest, sincere and straight to the point. My nephew is wondrous. 

Since he was a little boy he started reminding us about a face of dignity we forgot it existed. He never does a thing just because someone tells him he has to or because 'it's the nice thing to do'. You either give him some arguments, or you leave it alone! And I must say that those arguments must be good. He's skittish, stubborn, and stands out from a crowd of adults when asking if he could help. He's turned 6 glorious years and juggles already with two foreign languages. I might as well admit it - I'm proud of him!

But most of all, I like the glow in his eyes when I give him an answer to one of his questions. The way he looks at me has serious repercussions on my self-esteem. I remember that some time ago I was trying to teach him how to snap his fingers. He was fascinated about the sound that I made using my thumb and middle finger. I am older, and then this is somewhat a certainty that I can do things that he cannot. Yet.

On a Sunday, we were laying on the couch (after trying to put together some puzzle pieces), and my nephew remembered it was Scooby time. Considering that he did not know how to turn on the TV, he asked me – the adult – to work the magic. Surely I’m not the most nontechnical person in the world, but once they started to use two remotes for a TV set, I found another reason not to use it anymore. But I told myself that I should at least give it a try for the sake of my nephew. And I did. Two tries. And then I pressed a button on the second remote. A red light flickered from the TV set, but the screen remained as black as ever. If at the beginning, my nephew gave me a somewhat trustful look, when I pressed a button on the second remote, it was clear to him that I was ‘the adult’ only when it didn’t come to the turning on of the TV set. Still, he quickly overcame the disappointment and concentrated on finding a solution. Making towards the kitchen, he called out to his mother:

‘Mommy, won’t you come?! Eme doesn’t know how to turn on the TV.’

It seems that the time of glory ‘I’m and adult and I have answers to your questions’ might soon come to an end. I got to be quick about it and teach him one more important thing. Namely, how to blow a bubble with chewing gum.

Addition

Excerpt from Chapter II of the novel 'The Three Jolly Tiddlekins' by Vlad Mușatescu
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'Have you asked for the check? Perfect... Three coffees, fifteen lei...'
'Well, there's only two of us!' I tried to determine him to come into contact with reality.  
'No way! I see three, therefore you are three...'
Aunt Ralița, wanting to put an end to it, paid the amount, fearing not to start a quarrel with the drunkards, and turned to leave. Still, having a golden heart, she asked the maitre d'hotel: 
'How will you get home, dear, being so exhausted, if I may say so?'
"I've got a car, ma'm! Utomobile, presonal proprety...'
'Good for you! But today, I think it's better if you took the bus!' tanti Ralița advised him.
'No can do! Impossibel, as the English would say...It doesn't fit into the garage!' said the maitre d'hotel, wiggling like a mast in the storm.
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I want it all. And I want it now!

Whenever we arrive to the conclusion that there is only one thing missing that hinders our happiness, panic sets in. Looking through the holes in our neighbour's fence, we realize that the piece missing from our puzzle is the neighbour's stunning display. And bang! Over the roof goes our desire to obtain as soon as possible what we see in the display. But it must be the exact replica. Or, to be modest, it wouldn't hurt if we obtain a better replica (so as to take revenge for the hole in the fence).

In a nutshell, a piece will always be missing from our puzzle. I have everything, but I don't have kids. I have everything, but I haven't found my match. I have everything, but I don't have a job. I have everything, but I don't have enough money to go on trips. I have everything, but ... And what if we could juggle with this sentence?! I don't have kids, but I have everything else. I haven't found my match, but I have everything else. I don't have a job, but I have everything else. I don't have enough money to go on trips, but I have everything else. I don't have ..., but I have everything else.

It's tough keeping calm when your inner self is a child that squirms on the floor, hysterically crying over a lollipop that is in the hands of another kid. A responsible parent would never grab the lollipop from the kids' hands and hand it to her/ his hysterical kid, squirming on the floor. It's a matter of principle.

Furdui Iancu is everywhere

It's easy to lose yourself while walking through the streets of Tyumen. The cherry plums are in bloom, and the smell accompanies one from one corner of the street to the other, having one sole rival - music. Small speakers throne high from the poles, murmuring sweet arias. What can be more enchanting than to walk under blooming trees, listening to Frank Sinatra?!
Yesterday, though, a change occurred. I was waiting for the extraordinary transformation of red into green, at the crossroads, when a deep voice interrupted my daydream. For a short moment, I thought that it was a song sang in Romanian. The singer's voice was similar to the one of Furdui Iancu's; the same vibrant sound and, I imagined, the same facial expressions. Who is Furdui Iancu? Well, I'll tell you what's written in my registry - my mother's favorite folk music singer. Probably this explanation doesn't do much for you, does it?! Inevitably, I arrive to a conclusion - every country has its own Furdui Iancu.

The Three Jolly Tiddlekins by Vlad Mușatescu

Today marks 93 years since the day Vlad Mușatescu was born. I couldn’t let this day pass by without celebrating his memory. I have learned that experiences turn into memories and they are the most precious asset we’ll ever have. Dear master, I want to thank you for all the smiles your books have given me! Each and every one of us can be the character of a comedy, we just have to stop taking ourselves so seriously. I smile therefore I evoke you.

Excerpt from Chapter I

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Finally, after killing, in cold blod, the last of the mosquitos flying around my flat, after unwillingly listening to the noise of trams, buses and all other means of transport making their morning rounds, I was waiting for the Sandman to come. My eyes were focused on the screen of the clock, just to make sure that the Sandman arrives on time. And he did. Around nine thirty.

Just one tiny detail, it wasn’t him. Somebody else was knocking at the door. And doing it with such force and obstinance that I thought for a moment that the building would fall down. As a matter of fact, had this person use the doorbell, I would have been more satisfied. Because it was out of order. To be exact, it was so from the moment that my aunt Ralitza forced her finger into the place were the button was missing.

              ’Who is it? ’ I asked in a sweet voice, even though I was boiling on the inside.

                ’Well, who do you think it could be? It’s me, Ralitza, your aunt! I have been yelling since seven o’clock, and you don’t hear me... ’

Of course, I urgently invited her in. I was afraid the neighbours would lynch me. Extremely intrigued, I immediately asked her:

 ’I don’t get it, aunt Ralitza! If you have been here since seven o’clock, why haven’t you knocked at the door, instead of yelling? ’

My aunt squinted at me, and then explained:

’Al, sonny, it’s not human what is happening with you, and neither with this building you are living in... At what door was I supposed to knock since I was stuck in the elevator? I was blocked between floors, and just five minutes ago I was able to get out...’

Jiggered by what I was hearing, I asked aunt Ralitza to excuse me for a moment, until I got dressed. When she, benevolently, agreed and gave me a piece of advice:

’Listen Al, sonny, it would be perfect if we went into the kitchen after you got dressed... Due to so much excitement, I am so hungry I could even eat expanded concrete.’

’All right! We’ll do that... And what is your heart’s desire?’

’Well, nothing complicated; just something to eat... Some sandwiches, let’s say five of them, with cheese or bacon, and a glass of water...’

’Don’t you think it’s a little too much? Maybe you should keep a diet, like I am...’

’Mhm! You might be right. Then I’ll have the sandwiches, without the glass of water!...’

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