When I was around six years old, and we were living in Norman, OK, Donna -- my Mum -- brought home a couple of children's storybooks from the college bookstore. I was reading literally every thing I could get my hands on at that time. I was obsessed and delighted with this new thing I could do, read.
These new storybooks though were from the Soviet Union, and were written in cyrillic. I had no idea what the text meant. I secretly hope now that it was pure unadulterated party propaganda (except I severely doubt it.) I explained to Donna how I could not comprehend the book, and Donna sweetly told me that I should use my imagination, looking at and absorbing the pictures and the beautiful Russian letters, and make up my own story of what the books said.
(And, you gotta love the fact that my Mum was getting that Soviet Commie stuff to me at a very early age! In Norman, OK! In 1974! Indoctrinated, indeed!)
Happy International Workers Day, everyone!