Wait for letters from our old nanny Maryana. The problem of attitude towards older people according to B.P. Ekimov “We ​​didn’t have to wait for letters from Maryana, our old nanny” (Unified State Examination in Russian). Essay based on the text by B. Ekimov

Essay based on the text: “There was no need to wait for letters from Maryana, our old nanny.” Ekimov B.P.

What does it mean to treat old people well? The writer B. Ekimov made me think about this eternal problem.

The text tells a common story about how one wealthy family places an old nanny in a certain “wonderful shelter with a perfectly organized life.” The narrator, whom she raised, one day decides to visit Maryana with his father. The author shows how glad she is to meet her family, how she cheers up with all her might, tries not to show her melancholy and loneliness, convincing them of “how nice and good her life is.” And the young man’s heart sank, and out of shame he could not raise his eyes to his beloved nanny.

The writer leads us to the idea that a good attitude towards old people cannot be limited to their material support.

I share the author's point of view. Man does not live by bread alone! People, and older people in particular, need another luxury - the luxury of human communication. Sometimes it is enough to simply listen to an elderly person or be with him. Old people should be confident in their need, and not feel like a hindrance or a burden to the “youth”.

I remember the heroine of K. G. Paustovsky’s story “Telegram”, who every time postpones her trip to her sick single mother and even forgets to answer her letters. Having received news of Katerina Ivanovna’s illness, the girl again hesitates and does not find her alive. This is the case when nothing can be corrected, and the pangs of conscience are unlikely to subside over the years...

Thus, B. Ekimov’s text teaches how not to make annoying and bitter mistakes in life.

Searched here:

• Should we be strict about the mistakes of older people? essay

Composition:

Should a person be responsible for his loved ones? The Russian prose writer and publicist Boris Petrovich Ekimov makes you think about this question in his text.

The author talks about how a family decided to visit an old nanny who now lives in a nursing home. Maria Ivanovna tried with all her appearance to show that she was living well, but, according to the hero-narrator, the family understood that if they offered her to leave with them, she would agree. Next, the author talks about the news of the nanny’s death. The fact that the family missed the funeral, moreover, they do not know where Maria Ivanovna is buried. This makes the heroes ashamed.

I share the opinion of B.P. Ekimov. A person should be grateful to the one who devoted at least a small period of his life to him and be responsible for him.

Very often this problem finds its place in the works of Russian writers. K.G. Paustovsky in the story “Telegram” examines a similar problem. Katerina Petrovna’s daughter has not visited her mother for many years now. The daughter lived in the city, and the mother in the village. Katerina Petrovna was ill and her main desire was to see her daughter, perhaps for the last time. But Nastya was never able to find time for her own mother, for the closest person in her life. The mother died without ever seeing her daughter.

In A. De. Saint-Exupery’s work “Planet of People,” the author talks about the accident that happened to the pilot. About how he, lost in the snow, forces himself to crawl forward, not paying attention to the pain. The pilot was saved by a sense of responsibility for the people close to him.

B.P. Ekimov considers the current problem. The most precious thing in a person’s life is time, and if someone devoted at least a part of their time to us, then we should be grateful to him for it and not forget it.

Text by Boris Petrovich Ekimov

(1) There was no need to wait for letters from Maryana, our old nanny. (2) My father and I decided to visit her.

(3) A well-kept nursing home for former party workers stood in a sparse suburban forest. (4) Maryana came out of the house to us with her usual joyful smile from ear to ear. (5) But only this wide smile and even the bearish clumsiness of her movements remained from the completely gray-haired nanny. (6) Moreover, as before, she grinded with her tongue without interruption.

(7) It turned out that she quickly got bored of sitting with her hands folded here, and she asked to be an assistant in the kitchen. (8) The servants had long ago guessed that Maryana did not belong to either the Soviet or party workers, but belonged to the category of complete simpletons, and they accepted the free worker into the kitchen without any delay. (9) The nanny was very pleased with her career.

- (10) And then it came in handy! - she boasted, holding out her trembling hands in front of us. “(11) In the morning, with these hands I’ll peel a bag of potatoes... (12) Our ward is as big as a church,” she continued. - (13) For four. (14) But one grandmother died, and now the bed is walking around. (15) And it’s better for us, freer!..

(16) In general, she was cheerful with all her might and was clearly trying to convince us how good and glorious her life was. (17) But I listened to her, and my heart sank, and for some reason my eyes did not want to look at Maryana. (18) It felt like if we offered her now to leave this wonderful shelter with a perfectly organized life and go home with us, she would go to the car without hesitation.

(19) Already when we were saying goodbye, promising to definitely visit her again, Maryana remembered one more thing.

(20) My pension is disappearing! She told her father with a permanent smile. - (21) The nurses will hide the glasses from the grandmothers and take away the money. (22) What will you do? — she caught herself, realizing that she was casting a shadow on the reputation of her magnificent establishment. - (23) They are young, fast. (24) Tell them to deposit my pension in the bank. (25) And when they bury me in the ground,” here she, as before, tried to stamp her foot dashingly, “give this money to the smaller one.” - (20) She meant my younger brother.

(27) The father, also apparently slightly emotional from meeting Maryana, began to say that she would live another hundred years. (28) But something new and serious crossed the nanny’s face. (29) And she interrupted her father:

- Not really...

(30) At the end of the summer they called from the nursing home and reported the death of Maria Ivanovna Mikolutskaya.

(31) It is unknown where she was buried. (32) None of us visited her grave. (33) And now you can no longer find this grave. (34) Lonely old women dying in nursing homes are not entitled to metal crosses or stone tombstones. (35) Most often they get a wooden peg with a plywood board on which the surname and dates of birth and death are carelessly written.

(36) But after a year or two, rain and snow take away the ink inscription from the plywood, the peg falls, the grave mound settles, and no trace remains that anyone’s bones lie here. (37) What remains is simply the earth, from which every spring night blindness, horse sorrel, burdocks and dandelions climb together.

(38) Now it seems to me that this is how it should be. (39) What else could our nanny turn into if not into simple earth overgrown with grass?

(40) So I tell myself and listen with suspicion to my own words: am I trying to calm my conscience?

(According to B. Ekimov*)

* Boris Petrovich Ekimov (born in 1938) is a Russian prose writer and publicist.

(1) It’s autumn in Moscow, and velvet season in Koktebel.

(2) Although times are different, things are good in Crimea today. (3) Along the embankment there are continuous birdhouse shops with a bright motley of labels and wrappers, cafes, kebab shops, and snack bars. (4) But the main thing remained - the sea, the sky, the mountains, the steppe; their silence, the murmur of the waves, the rustle of the grass - in a word, the main thing.

(5) And in the evenings there is a noisy embankment, from the veranda shaded by wild grapes to the Voloshin Museum. (6) Walking, talking, jostling. (7) Interesting trinkets on the parapet and trays. (8) You will look at something, buy something - for yourself or for family and friends as a gift.

(9) Everything is great. (10) And only an elderly woman with bouquets of wormwood disturbed me. (11) She was so out of place with her appearance - a shabby coat, a dark scarf, old age - and with her pitiful, useless bouquets. (12) In the evenings, she sat hunched over and alone on a bench at the very edge of the embankment. (13) She was superfluous at this autumn, but still holiday on the seashore.

(14) On the very first day, of course, I bought a bouquet of wormwood from her, after hearing: “Hang it on the wall and it will smell so good!” (15) I bought it as if I had paid off a debt. (16) But this didn’t make it any easier! (17) Of course, she did not come here from a good life. (18) She sits, then slowly wanders home in the darkness. (19) My old mother usually goes to bed before the sun has set. (20) She says that she is tired. (21) After all, I’m really tired: such a long life. (22) And such a long summer day is for an old man.

(23) Old people... (24) How many of them are now with outstretched hands!

(25) And this lonely elderly woman on the embankment! (26) Apparently he doesn’t want to beg. (27) Although they would have given her a lot more than what she would get for her pitiful dry twigs. (28) But he doesn’t want to ask. (29) Sitting...

(30) A day passed, then another, then a third. (31) The sunny days, the warm sea, the blue sky, the bright flower beds of orange marigolds and fragrant petunias, and the greenery of the trees were also pleasing. (32) In Moscow it’s slushy, cold and even snowing, but here it’s a gentle summer. (33) During the day it’s good, in the evening it’s nice to walk along the embankment and stand on the pier near the fishermen.

(34) And every evening there was an old woman sitting alone near bouquets of dry wormwood.

(35) But one day, going out to the embankment, I saw that next to the old woman, on her bench, a couple was sitting: a bearded man was on the edge of the bench, on the fly, smoking peacefully, and his wife was animatedly talking with the old woman. (36) A dry bouquet in hand, some words about the benefits of wormwood and all sorts of other plants. (37) And conversations “about benefits” are very attractive.

(38) Near the old woman, near her bouquets, having heard something “about the benefits,” they began to stop. (39) The day is ending, no worries. (40) It’s time to talk “about the benefits.” (41) They are talking and, I see, they are buying. (42) It’s a cheap matter.

(43) I looked, rejoiced, and slowly walked on my way.

(44) And somehow my soul became calm. (45) It was so disturbing to see her loneliness, as if a splinter was piercing her heart.

(46) The next evening - the same picture: women talking, a bearded man calmly smoking next to him. (47) I hear that the old woman is already called by her first name and patronymic. (48) So, we met. (49) This is completely good.

(50) On one of the last evenings I saw both an old woman with dried flowers and her new friends. (51) The latter, apparently, were leaving. (52) The man was writing something down on a piece of paper. (53)Probably the address.

(54) The next day - thunderstorm, downpour, then drizzling. (55) I went out in the evening - no one. (56) And, of course, there is no old woman either.

(57) But then, on that last Crimean evening, and now, far from Koktebel, I remember the old woman without bitterness and sadness. (58) There were some kind people, they sat near her and talked. (59) What else does an old man need? (60) Now she is hibernating and waiting for spring. (61) Like all of us, sinners, we are waiting for warmth, whether heavenly or earthly. (62) Anything will help.

(according to B.P. Ekimov*)

*Boris Petrovich Ekimov (born in 1938) - Russian prose writer and publicist.

Text Information

Option for an essay in Unified State Exam format based on the text by B.P. Ekimov

(option 11 from the collection of I.P. Tsybulko)

Many of us, without a doubt, have people in our lives who give themselves to us without reserve, give their warmth, care, and are ready to do anything for us. Happy is he who has such close people! But the question is: do we know how to appreciate it? Do we feel responsible to these people? Do we understand that they too will someday need our support, our care, our attention? Do we understand??? It is precisely these questions that B.P. Ekimov makes us think about.

The author examines this problem, which is relevant for everyone, using the example of the fate of an elderly woman Maria Ivanovna Mikolutskaya, the nanny of the narrator character. A manifestation of the so-called care for her on the part of the narrator and his father was the placement of the “old nanny” Maryana in a nursing home for former party workers. Before us is an amazing woman! A woman who devoted her entire life to caring for other people, who managed to maintain the ability to believe in a person, to find joy in work, who carried to the end of her days love for those who betrayed her. Yes, he betrayed me! Is it possible to do this to a person who gave you his whole soul? The nanny's character is characterized by integrity and high morality, which, unfortunately, is becoming less and less common. The “ordinary joyful smile” that never leaves Maryana’s face exudes warmth and friendliness. Not a word of reproach is heard from the heroine towards the people who “took care” of her. Maryana even bequeaths her pension to the younger brother of the narrator character, denying herself many things. Isn't this a feat? A feat of human generosity! Talking about infrequent visits to the nanny, the hero of the text feels guilty before the woman who nurtured him. But it’s surprising: why did neither the narrator nor his father have a desire to find the nanny’s grave after her death? “Neither of us visited her grave,” these words-confession of the narrator sound like belated repentance. Too late, of course, the weak voice of conscience is heard. But the reader feels that the narrator is bringing this story to the judgment of people, and he is also judging himself.

It is impossible to disagree with such a point of view. In my opinion, you need to be able to appreciate the goodness that comes from others towards you, to understand that you have a responsibility for those people who have always been with you. You can't turn away from them!

In fiction one can find confirmation of this idea. Recently I re-read V. Rasputin’s story “Money for Maria”, in which we see the image of a simple Russian woman, a rural worker, a mother of many children who is in trouble. Living by the principle of “doing good to people,” Maria assumed responsibility for the entire village - to conduct trade in the store. This is the heroine’s response to the requests of her fellow villagers. Maria and her entire family are beset by a disaster of enormous proportions - a shortage of a thousand rubles in the store. In my opinion, Kuzma, Maria’s husband, who instilled the concept of conscience in children from an early age, deserves respect. Did Kuzma leave his wife in trouble? No! Maria devoted herself entirely to her family, her husband and children, not sparing her poor health, she took care of her relatives, and of strangers too. “We will turn the whole earth upside down, but we will not give up our mother,” says Kuzma, because he feels responsible for Maria, a loved one.

L. Petrushevskaya’s story “I Love You” also depicts the image of a husband who takes care of his paralyzed wife. The hero's behavior in the first half of the story is the cause of many problems that have arisen in his family. Cheating on his wife, inattention to her and children, despite the fact that the wife gave all of herself to her family. All this was the cause of the heroine’s illness, who found herself bedridden. It is the husband, realizing his responsibility for the person who loves him, who takes upon himself all the care of his sick wife.

B.P. Ekimov made us, the readers, think deeply about the attitude that we show towards loved ones and relatives, and appealed to the voice of human conscience. Following the author, I would like to say that we must remember our responsibility for those who have dedicated their whole lives to us.

“I very often remember our sincere meetings, warm conversations in your small and cozy house. You write that I calmed you down, could cheer you up, but I myself came, ran to you with every new event, with every news. In Kalach, I didn’t have any more dear and close people than you,” these are lines from a letter from Marianna Grigorievna Blokhina. For the last few years she lived in Rostov-on-Don, near her son and sister. She died there.

Maryana Grigorievna was known in every Kalachev house. Two generations studied with her. Although she was not a teacher at all, but a “part-time” music director, that is, on half the salary. Kindergarten and school. The noise orchestra I was talking about, dance groups, several choirs, a drama group, vocalists, reciters.

– Kalachevsky children are very gifted. Very! Plastic is amazing. Vote…

It’s hard for me, now a native Kalachevo resident, to disagree with this. This is about me too. But before Maryana Grigorievna, there was no person who saw this, felt it, said it out loud.

Kindergarten, school... We have to be on time everywhere. Maryana Grigorievna is like a squirrel in a hectic school and kindergarten wheel.

“At eleven I started a junior school choir, then they asked me to play at a pioneer gathering, then a dance choir. After lunch I gather the soloists. In the evening - dramatic. Who won't come? Lena? Why? Disrupt the rehearsal?! What happened to her? Now I’ll run and find her!”

The high school students, those who knew her better, simply called her Maryana among themselves. She was not a teacher by training at all, but, it seems, an electrical engineer. But she played the piano well and loved music. She ended up in kindergarten and school by accident: war, evacuation, a foreign village, she needed a job. It seems like it happened by accident, but for the rest of my life.

Now, from a distance, one can see: what a crazy job she had! After all, the main thing at school is: mathematics, Russian and so on. And here is Maryana with her rehearsals. And to her: either there is no place, or the necessary people are being taken somewhere. Or suddenly these nice people disappeared somewhere. Look for it, Maryana! The soloist has an unhappy love, and she has no time for songs. Persuade, Maryana... And Maryana has her own children at home. And the salary is a pittance. More than once she threatened to give up everything and leave. But fortunately, I couldn’t leave.

Late evening. Empty school. The rehearsal is over. Tired. “Would you like me to play something for you?” - “Play, Maryana Grigorievna...”

Open piano. Music. Let's sit next to each other and listen. The cleaning lady, leaning on a mop, stands and listens too.

Then, after a long time, in my adult years, this cleaning lady, meeting me, asked me: “How is Maryana Grigorievna? Haven't you heard? – She shook her head. - What kind of person...

In her last years in Kalachev, Maryana Grigorievna lived in the school annex, in a tiny room, and never received a normal apartment.

She was from Odessa, from the Sokolovsky family. Apparently they were fleeing from the Germans. And after the war they ended up in Kalach. Fima Naumovna is the head of the family, old, gray-haired. Two daughters: Marianna and Lyubov Grigorievna, the latter died immediately. I don't remember her. She is survived by her son Felix. Maryana has a son, Sergei. That’s how they lived, the four of them: Maryana worked, the boys studied, Fima Naumovna ran the house.

One case. Aunt Nyura and my mother told me about him more than once. This was in '47 or '48, after the war.

Times are hard: hunger, devastation. And Fima Naumovna and Maryana, in their family, had money. I remember - five thousand rubles. (The amount was large for that time. Monthly salaries were thirty rubles, fifty rubles, seventy.) They said that this was a gain from a “state loan.” Winning means winning. Fima Naumovna and Maryana saved this money, without spending it, for the orphan Felix. When he grows up, this money will help him start his life. In the meantime, they are saving money, I don’t know whether it’s in a savings book or at home.

But many people know about “five thousand”. And times were difficult: they did not eat enough bread. And therefore, when the pressure was on, people went to Fima Naumovna and asked to borrow money, for some short period of time, in order to “get by.” Many took, and all gave. Only one person did not return the money. I remember his last name, but I won’t say it. He borrowed money to buy a heifer. And then he said: “I won’t return the money.” That's all. Who should I go to complain to? And How? No document, not even a receipt. And in those very days, someone I knew urgently needed money. It seems like Shklenniki. Also refugees, whether Poles or Latvians. I remember the children’s names: Eduard, Vitaus and Yulia. The schoolchildren hoped. And here is such a story that became known to everyone. But Shklennik still came to Fima Naumovna, because there was nowhere to go. He came and said: “I know that you didn’t get your money back. But I have nowhere else to get it. But need dictates. I wrote a receipt, and the witnesses will sign...” Fima Naumovna stopped him. “You don’t need any receipts,” she said. “If one bad person deceived us, how can we not trust all people?” That's all.

Everyone in Kalach at that time knew Maryana Grigorievna and remembered her for a long time. Fima Naumovna too. “What good people…” my family said. “This is not the Rosenzweigs...”

The Rosenzweigs are also Odessa refugees, from Ili. They evacuated there with a wagonload of shoe goods. They organized an artel in which exiled Poles worked. Throughout the war, the Rosenzweigs lived happily ever after. And then they returned to Odessa, as they said, with a wagonload of money. But this is different, almost the same as today.

Maryana Grigorievna is from another time, it’s not for nothing that she loved our old house and its inhabitants. Lines from letters: “I remember Kalach and your sweet little house... You and Anna Alekseevna are always so kind, sympathetic, affectionate towards all people... With you it was easy and free for me...” “...here, even with the closest ones... I somehow don’t feel by oneself. In their opinion, I don’t know how to live, I don’t know how to get settled, achieve things... they have already said more than once that I am an idealist, a naive woman, I groundlessly believe in all the good things in life, in people. Who knows, maybe this is true... But people always seemed good to me in most cases.

No, I think I was right. And you, my good friends, continue to be kind to people. Don't lose faith..."

Our old house, its family albums, yellowed photographs. Kindergarten, school. Cheerful children: dancing, singing... Somewhere there, nearby, is our Maryana. And this is an older one: a drama club. Venya Boldyrev, Valera Skrylev, Valya Zhukova, Masha, Raya, Galya and I... In “May Night” we were the “leading actors”. And this is even older, and the people are different, but also a drama club: Egor, Mitya, Yura Mogutin, Valya Popova and I, already grown up, this is probably the tenth grade. Bright, sweet faces. And Maryana is with us. And now my younger brother, Nikolai - he is ten years younger - is also with Maryana Grigorievna. A whole bunch of kids. The starlings are singing.

I look at the photographs. None of our brethren became musicians, actors, or artists. This was not even in my thoughts. We studied, we worked, we lived, we live. What about “Teacher, raise a student”?.. What did Maryana give us? Moments of joy in childhood and youth. And one more thing: “Kalachevsky children are very gifted.”

Thank you, Marianna Grigorievna.