But a funny story, and the names, by the way
"It was somewhere in the 61-62 year. I was in college in 1905 with Natasha Khrennikov, daughter of the composer Tikhon Nikolayevich Khrennikov, and as it was invited to a birthday party at Natasha's parent's apartment. There were three or four boys, selected by the grounds whether beauty, or talent.
The door opened a beautiful, American kind and friendly lady called itself Clara Arnoldovna. As well, I thought, a rare name, it will be easy to remember, when it comes to say goodbye. I remember a huge grand piano, on which lay all sorts of papers, books, music, and was a huge jug of home-Georgian wine, a gift of some of the Georgian composer. Another memorable boss himself - a smiling, benevolent, whose music I knew was five years old when in 1945 he lived with his father an officer in the town of Eberswalde near Berlin, and where to come for a tour of the Red Army from the theater play "A long time ago." Dad took me to play in a small baroque theater, and all the time I explained something. He said, for example, that the horse on which sat a slender girl cavalry is not theater, but from my father's part, and the groom was obryazhenny Hussar, too, not an artist, a soldier from the same part that the horse was quieter. I memorized the entire show, was in love with the trooper - a girl, even remember the name of actress Fetisov. I remembered and all the music from the play, it seems for a while sounded from Electrostal loudspeaker.
In short, I have Khrennikov was warm and cozy, but we still opolovinili huge bottle, feeling a light pink wine lemonade. Drunk very quickly and we decided it is too late intelligently rasklanyatsya. As a sign of incredible gratitude for a wonderful evening, well, I'm pulled the tongue, and I blurted out, standing on the threshold: "Thank you, Sarah Abramovna. Only already starting to utter the name of the hostess, I realized that utter something awful.
With Tikhon I occasionally bowing when, at the end of life, after the death of Clara Arnoldovna, he moved to my neighborhood. He is very badly seen. I called his name, he shook my hand and said that he remembered me, and that Natasha had told him that turned me into a great artist. I remember how I was glad when I read in Benedict Erofeev: "Do not touch Khrennikov, it is wonderful melodist."