Unexpectedly, in the endless phone call, an old voice came in. When the other party announced the name, I stood up involuntarily holding the microphone: that was Mr. Mooney, my Chinese teacher when I was in middle school 30 years ago. He said on the phone that during the Spring Festival 30 years ago, my classmate Cao Qi and I drew a greeting card for him. That New Year card was lost at the beginning of the Cultural Revolution. The old man said, "Can you make up a painting and give it to me as the most precious collection in my later years?" The old man's voice trembled with sincerity.
When I put down the phone, I immediately decided that this would be the most meaningful thing in my busy year-end activities.
When I sat at my desk, I saw the happy and miserable middle school life in the early 1960s. At that time, many excellent scholars were strangely hidden among middle school teachers. I remember that in the first grade of junior high school, the tutor of our self-study class was a famous scholar, Mr. Zheng. Now it is almost a sense of luxury. When I switched to high school, there were still many scholars. My English teacher, Mr. Sun Jue's dual accomplishments in English and China's classical literature are rare even among college teachers today. Mr. Mooney is also a man who has seen the world. At least at that time, we saw the works published in his youth in the second-hand bookstore. For some reason, he hid in a middle school as a Chinese teacher. I remember when he taught us Chinese, my composition won the grand prize in the city competition, which attracted teachers from other schools to come to our class one after another. Teacher Mooney was very excited, and the course content was in-depth. He asked me some particularly difficult questions on the spot. Once I could hardly answer, and the situation was very embarrassing. I complained to myself: Mr. Mooney, you know there are so many people in class, why don't you ask me such a difficult question in advance? Later, I finally figured it out: this is a scholar, not clever at all.
Even a pair of immature eyes can roughly distinguish the brilliance of knowledge and personality. We were only fourteen or fifteen years old at that time, and we were always thinking stupidly about how to thank these teachers. According to the children's intuition, these teachers seemed to be more or less burdened with politics at that time, and their lives were very unsatisfactory. During the winter vacation, I finally had an idea. The whole class unanimously agreed to visit all the teachers' homes on New Year's Day. At that time, middle school students couldn't afford New Year cards, so they had to draw a few pieces of white paper by themselves and then send them to families on foot in groups. As he spoke, he couldn't eat anything from the teacher's house. He timidly knocked on the door, quickly took the native's New Year card, said a few words to him and left. There are many teachers and they are all sweaty. On the festival street, a group of young worshippers hurried.
Cao Qi and I draw New Year cards on behalf of the class. Cao Qi painted better than me. He should draw more. I'm in charge of writing. No matter what you draw or write, you can't surpass the level of middle school students over the age of/kloc-0. However, it was that childish scrawl that was deeply engraved in the heart of an old man, and it has been engraved here for 30 years.
Today, Cao Qi is a well-known painter and works in an art publishing house. I have seen his works printed in calligraphy anthologies and even on calendars. There are also his exhibitions in the gallery. As soon as he heard Mr. Mooney's request, just like me, he immediately stopped his work, chose a good rice paper, respectfully drew a New Year's map, and then quickly sent it to my college. I have polished a thick inkstone, filled the whole story on the frame, stamped it and sent it to be mounted. Now, this scroll of calligraphy and painting has been sent to Mr. Mooney.
Teacher, please forgive us. We have forgotten the pen and ink 30 years ago and lost the unrepeatable purity. We will use two pairs of middle-aged hands to roll a roll of ups and downs for you for 30 years.
In front of you, writing for you, we all shook off our names and titles, leaving only two sincere students. Only in this way can we transcend the hubbub and experience some kind of human feelings that span time and space.
With this feeling, I am qualified to say to today's young friends as a middle school student 30 years ago: remember, you may have created some kind of eternity. Some things you do every day will be regretted immediately, while others have been weighed for decades.