Posted 3 августа 2021, 13:29
Published 3 августа 2021, 13:29
Modified 24 декабря 2022, 22:37
Updated 24 декабря 2022, 22:37
The signs of the slaveholding system in the Soviet Union are well known, and the most noticeable of them was, of course, the institution of registration, which, by the way, has not disappeared to this day - which speaks best of the deep essence of the Russian government, regardless of what slogans it proclaims on people. Without a residence permit, and especially without a Moscow residence permit, life in the country of the victorious proletariat was impossible: no work, no home, not even a legal spouse! Just like in a pre-revolutionary Russian village, the inhabitants of which could marry and get married only with the permission of their landowner. That is, the new government, according to the old habit, also looked into the bed of its slaves...
“Today is our Wedding day. Not a round date, and therefore no pomp. There are no photographs left of the "celebration", where the elegant bride and groom, joyful guests, cars with dolls on the hood and other wedding nonsense. But it is impossible to forget this day, it is so unlike the usual weddings.
The Soviet institution of registration almost destroyed the birth of the future, as they said in the USSR, social unit. We, then young students, decided to get married. And it turned out that it was impossible to do this, because we do not have a Moscow residence permit. We were from the USSR, but not from the capital of the RSFSR, but from another SSR. And the registry office said to us: "If you want to get married, go to the place of registration".
That is, we had to fly to the city where we are registered only in order to apply, then return to Moscow, wait a month, and, after a while, fly back to the city of residence and register.
First, it needed money. And where did Soviet students get them from? Second, the school year was in full swing. Just at this time, the newspaper Komsomolskaya Pravda published an article about how well they help young families in the USSR, how they support those who want to get married. In general, we went to the newspaper, where they laughed at our naivety and repeated that the same as in the registry office: go to the place of registration.
And then it turned out that we have a relative in Lyubertsy near Moscow, and that one has a friend in the registry office in Malakhovka. The application was accepted there, they issued the long-awaited invitation for the Soviet newlyweds to a special wedding store, and two weeks later they got married. In a small rural registry office we were met by a burly employee who looked like Tatyana Doronina, led us into a small room and turned on the player.
Mendelssohn's wedding march began. Suddenly the record stuck. "Doronina" tried to start the turntable three times, but it was useless. Then she quickly uttered the words prescribed during registration, and we finally put on the rings..."