First, a little about S.T.Romanovsky (1936-1996)

Stanislav Timofeevich Romanovsky is a Russian writer, since 1963 – a member of the Union of Journalists of the USSR, since 1972 – a member of the Union of Writers of the USSR.

Born on September 19, 1936 in the city of Yelabuga of the Republic of Tatarstan, the writer spent his childhood and youth years here. In 1949 he graduated from Yelabuga school No. 1 named after Lenin, then in 1954 – the Faculty of History and Philology of Kazan State University. After graduation, he worked as a literature teacher at the Yelabuga Library College. Since 1957 – Editor-in-chief of the newspaper “Ulyanovsk Komsomolets”. In 1964, by decision of the Komsomol Central Committee, he was transferred to work in Moscow as executive secretary, and then deputy editor-in-chief of the magazine Rural Youth. The decade for “Rural youth” was a period of prosperity and popularity. According to Romanovsky’s recommendations, for the first time in “Rural Youth”, the stories of V.M. Shukshin, with whom he was friends and whom he greatly appreciated, were published.

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Throughout his life, Stanislav Timofeevich carried love to his native land, to Yelabuga, dear to his heart, to his beloved Kama region. In the story “River Pearl” he writes: “You can’t love the whole earth with the same force – it won’t work, you won’t remember it all. But the fields, forests, rivers, springs, ravines and small depressions that are dear to my heart, I love with burning strength and tenderness.” In many books you will find amazingly true poetic descriptions of our rivers – Kama, Vyatka, Toima, Kriishi, Tanaika, Karinka, Anzirka, Umyak and even small channels, streams, you will learn a lot about more than 50 lakes on Yelabuga and Tanaevsky meadows, visit the Big and Small forest, wander around Tanaevsky and Mortorsky forests, get acquainted with different ravines, hills, hills.

Romanovsky’s heroes and characters are in love with their region and are doing everything to make our city and villages more beautiful, fields fertile, meadows abundant in grass, rivers and lakes clean and fishy, forests healthy, inhabited by animals and birds. In many publications in the newspapers “Republic of Tatarstan”, “Novaya Kama”, “Star of the Fields”, etc., the name of Stanislav Romanovsky was mentioned more than once along with such famous Elabuzhans as I.I.Shishkin, D.I.Staheev, N.A.Durova.

The reason I am making this post is for one short story with very far-reaching and important linguistic and historical implications. The story is called simply “Rus”. In modern Russian “Rus” is synonymous with “Russia” as a more poetic form of naming that vast land. But there is one more, older, meaning to this word (which will not come as a surprise to those, who listened to Lada Ray’s Forbidden History & Forgotten Origins Earth Shift webinars).

I found the story published on a site dedicated to children’s books, which is excellent as it is children’s books that build a person’s future love for history and a person’s morale compass. I wrote about it earlier in “Stolen Sun” children’s rhyme by Korney Ivanovich Chukovsky as a moral code of conduct

RUS

The word “Rus” has also another meaning, of which I did not read in books, but heard first-hand from a living person. In the north, beyond the forests, beyond the swamps, there are villages where old people speak in the old way.

Almost the same as a thousand years ago. Quietly and peacefully, I lived in such a village and gathered old words.

My hostess Anna Ivanovna once brought a pot with a red flower into the hut. She says, and her voice trembles with joy:

— The flower was dying. I took it out to rus — and it bloomed!
— To rus? I gasped.
— To rus, the hostess confirmed.
— To rus?!
— To rus.

I am silent, I am afraid that the word will become forgotten, that it will fly away — and won’t be there any more, and the hostess will deny mentioning it. Or did I hear it right? It is necessary to write down the word. I took out a pencil and paper. For the third time I asked:

— To rus..?

The hostess did not answer, pursed her lips, offended. As if saying, how much can I ask? Two mass services are not served for the deaf. But she saw the chagrin on my face, realized that I was not mocking, but I needed this word for business. And the hostess answered, singingly:

— To rus, sokolik (translator note: a caring way of saying “falcon”, used when addressing a younger lad by an older woman – similar to “deary” in English), to rus. To the selfsame, honest rus.

Ever so carefully, I ask:
— Anna Ivanovna, won’t you be offended by my importunity? I want to ask.

— I won’t, she promises.
— What is rus?

Before she even had time to open her mouth, the host, Nikolai Vasilyevich, who was silently warming himself on the stove, barked out:

— A light place!

The hostess took hold of her heart from his barking.

— Oh, how you scared me, Nikolai Vasilyevich! You’re ill, after all, and you don’t have a voice… It turns out that your voice came through.

And then explained it to me in all detail:

— We call for rus a bright place. Where the Sun is. Yes, everything that is bright or light, that’s what we call it. A blond guy (translator: “rusyj” lad). A blonde girl (translator: “rusaja” lass). “Rus rye” is ripe. It’s time to harvest it. Haven’t you ever heard of it?