A few words from the childhood.
I was six years old, my grandmother took me in Gorky Park, Kharkov, Ukraine, it was in May and the upcoming holiday was approaching. I already knew that it was Victory Day, but I did not know what war is. And at the intersection of Dzerzhinsky and Mayakovsky streets, near dairy shop I ran in with it. With the war. As a polite boy I shook hands with it, and as my grandfather taught me, I asked: "Josy, how are you? How are your parents doing?" The meaning of these questions then I did not understand, I had to grow up a little to understand it.
The one, to whom I spoke looked at me, recognized and began to tell how he went with his mommy to the market to buy shoes for the school,  that tomorrow he and Daddy will go to the zoo to ride a pony, and in the summer, the whole family, they will travel to Kherson.
Guys, I was really scared! Before me stood a tall skinny man, completely gray, neatly buttoned with all the buttons like a schoolboy. He chatted about various worldly nonsense and wept. Lips talked about ponies and Kherson, and tears flowed from his eyes. But worst of all was the kettle. Which kettle? Brass Kettle, three liters, filled with small change. Got the picture? It was famous in the whole center of Kharkov "Josy with the Kettle". Creation of war, the conscience of our area. Every day he went to the intersection of Dzerzhinsky and Mayakovsky, stood at the dairy shop and looked at the second-floor balcony of the 76th house, holding his kettle. The kettle served to Josy as a purse and a shopping bag and pouch for documents. Even lowest of the street yobs considered as a shame to pull from the kettle at least a penny, and were brutally beaten for it. Everyone knew the story of Josy.
The story was as follows. When the Germans first entered the city, Josy's family did not have time to evacuate. Their apartment in the second floor of the house attracted two German lieutenants. And they decided not to
dawdle long, and at the same time "finally resolve the Jewish question," and hung Josy's parents from their own balcony. Before their death, mother  put the kettle in Josy's hand, with some money in it, and showed him through the back door, allegedly to buy some milk. What could six years old kid understand? O.K. he went for milk. He was at the store in front of his house and saw it all, and when he realized what happened, his hair turn grey and he lost his mind. From that day on, he always was six years old, and he always waited at the dairy store for his mom.
Josy was hidden by several families till 1943. After the liberation of the city, he again took up his post. You ask me why it was necessary to start talking to him and asking about his parents? It was the only way to get Josy from his stupor, take home, feed, put him in order. And the money in the kettle was not for charity, no. My grandfather said it was tears of ill conscience.
Last time I saw Josy with the Kettle, was spring of 1990. The same gray haired and neatly buttoned, he stood at the dairy store. And Holiday was coming again.

Kalash, do you have a link to his story, or pictures?

Quote from: Solar on June 20, 2015, 02:11:32 PM
Kalash, do you have a link to his story, or pictures?

https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=261122724060651&id=100004887760897
It is in russian. One of the comments said:
"I  sent this post to my father.  And received the answer:
"About Josy: When I was in Kharkov  in military school I remember this man, and the whole Kharkov knew him. We had a rule that when being on a leave, if you see him, be sure to put a money in his kettle. Not for charity, not because of obligation. Our school was on Chernyshevsky str. and Dzerzhinsky str. was parallel to our (now the street. Mironostsev). We often saw him there. "
The house #76 doesn't exist anymore, on this place now stand some supermarket.

Quote from: kalash on June 20, 2015, 02:38:59 PM
https://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=261122724060651&id=100004887760897
It is in russian. One of the comments said:
"I  sent this post to my father.  And received the answer:
"About Josy: When I was in Kharkov  in military school I remember this man, and the whole Kharkov knew him. We had a rule that when being on a leave, if you see him, be sure to put a money in his kettle. Not for charity, not because of obligation. Our school was on Chernyshevsky str. and Dzerzhinsky str. was parallel to our (now the street. Mironostsev). We often saw him there. "

How very sad, yet fascinating.