Lorică's Memories: The Cherries

Picture from 1966. Bottom row from left to right: Laurențiu (Lorică) Hurjui (b. 1950 Dreptu village - construction engineer for the chemical industry, machinery and installations), Gheorghiță Dascălu (b. 1948 Poiana Teiului village - army general), Vasile Bonteanu (nb 1950 Galu village - chemist specialist), Mitică Vasiliu (b. 1949 - d. 2011 Dreptu village, driver)

Upper row, from left to right: Petrică Olaru (nb 1951 - d. 2006 Dreptu village - priest), Dan Iosifescu (b. 1948 Galu village - accountant), Gheorghe Hurjui (my brother) (b. 1948 Dreptu village - ex-general prosecutor of Neamț county, now lawyer), Ștefan Chiorbeja (b. 1946 Pârâul Fagului village - driver), Petrică Chiorbeja (b. 1951 Pârâul Fagului village - driver for Neamț Court), a stranger who came to visit Vasile Gherasim family from Dreptu village 

This is the first story in "Lorică's Memories" series. These are my father's true stories of his childhood in the Romanian countryside. It is my pleasure and honor to write them down for him and make them sound... better :-) He claims he doesn't have the talent to write them himself, but I think he just doesn't have the patience. :-) I record him narrating, then I transcribe, cosmetically edit the stories and translate them of course. I hope this will give you a glimpse into the life of a child in the Romanian countryside. Here's the first one.

I can’t help but remember my childhood with great fondness… It’s true that the place I grew up in had everything to do with it. I was blessed to call home a most wonderful place… The hills were like the gates of Heaven sheltering all kinds of wild animals. The sky never ended and was rarely covered by menacing clouds on hot summer days. The stream’s song was more of an ode for passersby, and the birds’ trill was music to anyone’s ears. God left his mark on nature by giving us all the beauties that surrounded us, but the people blessed them and made them home. Even though the years have passed, I remember like it was yesterday every day of my long lost childhood, everything about this heavenly place on Earth.

It was the summer of 1961. My home village, Dreptu, sprouted with joy when June arrived, just as the rest of the villages did on the Bistrita River Valley. I was only 11, but I felt more as a child than ever. The first thing I always thought of when summer came was the cherries. It’s true that there were plenty around, even in our own orchard, but the best were the ones in this old hag’s cherry tree, woman whose name escapes me at the moment. She was an old hag like any other, about 73 years old, kind, fearful of God, but very poor. She didn’t allow anyone to take cherries from her tree for this reason, but those cherries were so tempting. They were black, sweet and as large as a man’s thumb nail. How can you not desire such fruit?

On a hot July afternoon, I went with my friends, Mitică, Mișu, Vladimir and Petrică, to the Popești’s Glade, upstream Dreptu village, on the right side of Bistrița river, close to Frumosu village.

First, Mișu and I sneaked through the corn to see if the old hag was in her cottage or anywhere outside so she wouldn't catch us. Sure that there was no sign of people, I called the others and we all climbed up the old cherry tree, more than 16 feet high. Once up there and surrounded by the heavy cherry branches that we had been dreaming about, I ate as many as I could on the spot, but we also made a lot of noise. The old hag suddenly appeared by the tree with a large stick that could cure anyone’s desire for cherries.

“Git down here, ye good-for-nothin’! Ye couldn’t find any other cherry tree? Ye had t’come to mine?” the woman yelled at us.

I can’t say we were afraid, but we were surprised that we hadn't spotted her before. To make fun of the situation, we crushed cherries in our hands and started throwing them at her so her face got stained black. Taking advantage that she was old, some of my friends fearlessly climbed down the trunk, giggling all the same, while others jumped off the lower branches. She couldn't chase every one of us at the same time, but me being the last and a little oblivious, the old hag managed to hit me so hard, I thought she broke my back. I immediately tried to take the stick from her and she fell down, so my friends and I ran until we reached the wooden bridge over Bistrița river into Dreptu village. We were relaxed thinking the danger had passed and we were laughing out loud about it. Lo and behold, the old hag caught up to us and she had brought the stick with her. I didn't realize it, but she recognized whose child I was. We ran to my house and climbed in the kitchen’s attic, blocking the access door. Eventually we heard the old lady’s voice:

“Ye good-for-nothin’! I know whose children ye are. Jus’ wait! I’ll climb up there en give ye what ye deserve!”

We stayed in the attic about an hour so the old hag wouldn't give us the promised beating. Fortunately, my Grandfather, Tanasă Hurjui, the village miller, showed up. He was old too having been born on April 28, 1892. He had fought in the First World War and everyone respected him. Seeing the old lady, he asked her:

“What’s with ye here, crazy ol’ hag? What are ye lookin’ for?”

“Well I came to ye naughty grandson, ye see. He stole from my cherries en broke off some branches.” She replied indignant.

Grandfather got upset when the old hag insulted me and continued sternly:

“Listen here, ol’ hag. Why don’t ye leave here or the Devil’s mother will come get ye! My grandson does not steal cherries becuz he’s a good child. Jus’ lemme git that stick en I’ll break ye back right away.”

“Ol’ man,” she answered, “God will punish ye for threatening an old lady like me.”

Seeing she wasn't getting anywhere, the women left. Later my father, Alexandru Hurjui (born May 7, 1922), the village blacksmith, showed up. He didn't run into the women who would have definitely complained to him about the son causing trouble, but Grandpa filled him in:

“Listen here, Alexandru. An ol’ hag came en chased the children in the attic.”

“But why? Has she not been a child like them too?” Father replied. “I wish I'd catch her here t’ask her. She never stole a cherry from anyone? O’ maybe she doesn't know that stolen cherries taste better.”

After all I've told you so far, we all came down from the attic and laughed about what happened. Even though Father and Grandfather knew we didn't do the right thing, they were glad we’d at least have funny childhood memories.

The End

A few notes:

1) It is very hard to translate from Romanian into English because we use a lot of expressions/idioms that make little sense in English. For instance, "The Devil's mother will come get you" is a very popular saying in Romania that basically means "You won't know what hit you." Also, some words that people use regionally have no translation into English whatsoever, and I'm pretty sad that I can't give every word the proper translation. I think it makes the story less... authentic.

2) The hardest part, though, is translating the dialogue. People back then, in that part of the country, did not speak proper Romanian, or used certain forms of a word that are used nowhere else in the country, sort of like hill billies or the black communities in the US. I tried my best to reproduce the "country" way of speaking, but I'm afraid some of the charm was lost in translation.

3) Old hag does not have a negative connotation in Romanian. It just mean an old lady who's grumpy at times. I could have just translated the world as "old lady," but I wanted to literally translate the Romanian word.

4) Stealing cherries probably sounds like a horrible thing to do, and my dad and his friends would probably go to juvie if this happened in the US. In Romania, however, it's just something kids do. It's a naughty thing to do, yes, but the worse that could happen is to get a good beating from an angry old lady. :-)

4) We use the word "Devil" or "Devil's mother" in cursing a lot. Instead of saying "God dammit," we say "to the Devil" or "Devil's mother." Romanian cursing 101. You're welcome! :-)