Appreciation of incorruptible calligraphy works
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Photo 4 of incorruptible calligraphy works
Honesty story
An old man shook the grain out like sand.
I remember him as an old man. It seems that he has been an old man for as long as I can remember. He is too old to have teeth and hair. I can't remember the outline of his face or how many years have passed since he died. The old house where he once lived has collapsed, and his descendants have moved out of the gloomy old house in my memory.
The old man is in poor health and has many old problems. His father is a country doctor, and he always goes to that old house to give him injections or infusions. Later, the old man died, and the evening scene was a bit bleak. I couldn't even pay my medical bills when I left. I felt a burst of emotion at my father, and his father looked a little gloomy and sighed and said, This is an honest man, otherwise his family would have been rich many years ago! ?
Father said that although the old man's evening scene was bleak, it was once brilliant, and he played an important role in the small group formed in the small mountain village in his hometown. At that time, it was still the commune period, and the food in the village was piled up in public houses. The old man is the custodian of public houses. When food is taken back, the old man is in charge of management. If he is like those people who can play tricks, as long as he wears rain boots every time he goes in, the food he takes out of his shoes is enough for the whole family to eat. I looked at my father in surprise and asked, Did anyone really do this? Father's answer is yes, and a lot.
In that era of material scarcity, the old man did a really fat job. As long as he wants, there is a lot of oil and water, but the old man doesn't do that. Every time he steps on scattered wheat grains, he always takes off his shoes when he comes out, and then shakes the trampled wheat grains out, just like shaking the sand in his shoes.
I don't even want to take away the food I accidentally stepped on in my shoes, let alone steal or practise jobbery in other ways. No one sang carols for him, and the word incorruptible was not written on his epitaph. Today, many years later, I can't remember the outline of his face, and I can't remember how many years he has been dead. Even the old house where he once lived collapsed, but I still remember my father telling me about the old man's past. I can't even sing a carol.
However, in this vigorous era, in the study room on anti-corruption, or listening to a speech, I always think of the old man, the old man who has been dead for many years.
Dragging shoes, like shaking sand, shake out all the food you accidentally stepped on in your shoes.