Ekimov Boris

By the warm sea

Title: Buy the book "By the warm sea": feed_id: 5296 pattern_id: 2266 book_

BY THE WARM SEA

Crimea. The seaside village of Koktebel is a well-known place. To the right rise the masses of Karadag, the Holy Mountain, to the left - the sloping hills of the steppe Crimea.

Autumn. Mid September. The holiday season is ending. The sea still breathes warmth, gently blue. The sun is hot during the day. The evenings are already cool and it gets dark quickly in the south. But people resting under the roof do not like to sit, and therefore on the embankment, on its small stretch, which has long been called "Piglet", idle people from all over the village gather. Walking lazily, talking. Along the banks of this quiet human river, on a granite parapet, on benches, near the green ivy of the veranda, the people who traded laid out and arranged their goods. They sell everything. Crimean souvenirs from sea shells; dried crabs; bracelets, beads, candlesticks made of odorous wood of the Crimean juniper; all kinds of painting: watercolors, canvases, on which, of course, Crimean, Koktebel landscapes: Karadag, Mount Chameleon, Golden Gate rock. There are many products made of Koktebel stone: carnelian, chalcedony, opal, jasper, agate. Rings, earrings, pendants, brooches, hairpins. Souvenir ceramics: elegant amphoras, bells, ashtrays, bowls. And even some "shmyndriks" appeared this autumn. Before they were not. And now I look - it says "shmyndriks". Funny clay and painted people stand in rows, not people, animals not animals - in a word, shmyndriks.

This is not a bazaar, but a vernissage, the Koktebel Montmartre. Masters, artists ... Idle people walk, look, marvel, buy as a keepsake.

Meanwhile, it gets dark. But people don't leave. Warmth blows from the sea, the splash of waves is heard. Walks well. Let's sit at home in the winter. Today - will.

There are many familiar faces here. They are from year to year. Pointillist artist Igor, hairy and bearded. For many years he has been surprising people with a white canvas of an unfinished painting with two or three dots. A handsome young mulatto man, sitting alone on the parapet, turned away from the people to the sea, as if he had not opened a suitcase with stone brooches for sale. And Rurik is no more, he died. And the famous "House of Rurik", over the cliff, now burned down, went to the owner. Some leave, others appear.

This autumn, an old woman appeared on the Koktebel "Pyatachka" with bunches of dry herbs. Every evening she settled on the edge of Piglet with goods that were not painfully showy: dry wormwood and a few simple flowers, of those that grow around. Something yellow and purple.

Hang it on the wall, she convinces rare curious people. - Hang up, they will smell so good.

But something I did not see that they took her products. Nearby - rings and earrings with carnelian, jasper brooches, landscapes with the sea, with the moon. Bring home - there will be a memory. Every person will understand: this is Crimea. What about dry wormwood? She is everywhere.

An old woman in a dark headscarf, in a shabby coat sits alone on the edge of the autumn, but still festive Crimean vernissage, sometimes explains:

Hang it on the wall... It smells so good.

Autumn. It gets dark quickly. Lanterns are now rare. They say that there is nothing and no one to pay for them. Time for ruin. Twilight "Piglet" is narrowing. The old woman disappears first. She has not left yet, but somehow faded, merging with gray granite and dark asphalt. People still walk and wander, looking at souvenirs, paintings, illuminated by lanterns. The old woman is in the dark, hunched over, near already invisible bunches of wormwood. Then she disappears altogether.

A day passed after my arrival, then another, then a third. Everything was fine, everything is nearby: the sea and the mountains, the road through the desert hills and down, along the very coast to the Dead and Quiet bays, a long climb to the top, from where a spacious view opens for many kilometers - not only to the sea, but also towards the mountains , to the valleys. There, in the evening, lilac twilight thickens early. Once I went there, through the mountains, to the Old Crimea. Now I look, I remember Lermontov's: "Quiet valleys are full of fresh haze ... Wait a little, you will rest too ..." No, this is not poetry and meditation about death. It's just about peace.

In a word, even now it is good in the Crimea, in Koktebel. Although the times are different, noisy. Along the embankment there are solid birdhouse shops with a bright motley of labels and wrappers, cafes, barbecue, snack bars. Dove-gray children, screaming music until the morning, at night sometimes the roar of firecrackers, shots, everywhere - mountains of garbage, packs of stray dogs. But remained - the sea, sky, mountains, steppe; their silence, the murmur of the waves, the rustle of grass - in a word, the main thing.

And in the evenings - noisy "Piglet" from the veranda shaded with wild grapes to the Voloshin Museum. Walking, talking, hustling. Amusing knick-knacks on the parapet and stalls. See something, buy something. Gift for yourself, family and friends.

Everything is nice. And only an old woman with bouquets of wormwood disturbed me for some reason. She was so out of place and in her appearance: a shabby coat, a dark scarf, old age, - and her miserable, useless bouquets. In the evenings, hunched over, she sat alone on a bench on the very edge of Piglet. She was superfluous at this autumn, but still a holiday on the seashore.

Immediately, on the first or second day, of course, I bought a bunch of wormwood from her, after listening to: "Hang it on the wall ... It will smell so good." I bought it like I paid off a debt. But that didn't make it any easier. Of course, she did not come here from a good life. He sits, then drags himself home in the darkness. My old mother usually, before the sun sets, goes to bed. She says she's tired. After all, she was really tired: such a long life. And such a long summer day - for an old man.

Old people ... How many of them are now with outstretched hands! And this one, on the shores of the warm sea. Apparently he doesn't want to beg. Although they would give her a lot more than she will help out for her miserable dry twigs and flowers. But he doesn't want to ask. Is sitting...

A day passed, another, a third. The Crimean summer was dying down: sunny days, warm sea, blue sky, the last roses, bright flowerbeds of orange, yellow marigolds, colorful zinnias, fragrant petunias, greenery of trees. In Moscow it's slushy, cold and even snowing, but here it's summer. During the day it’s good, in the evening it’s nice to walk along the embankment, stand on the pier near the fishermen waiting for the autumn coming of the fish.

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

But one day, going out onto the embankment, I saw that a couple was sitting next to the old woman, on her bench: a bearded man was smoking peacefully on the edge of the bench, and his wife, his girlfriend, was talking vividly with the old woman. A dry bunch - in his hand, some words about the benefits of wormwood and all sorts of other plants. And talk about "benefit" is very attractive.

Here, nearby, is a respectable man who briskly sells dried herbs, roots, clearly labeling each one: "from the head", "from the heart", "from insomnia", "from oncology". They buy all over.

So, near the old woman, at her bouquets, having heard something "about the benefits", they began to stop. The matter is evening, the day is running out, there are no worries. It's time to talk about the benefits. They talk and, I look, they buy. It's a tricky thing.

I looked, rejoiced, slowly wandered my way. And my heart somehow became calmer. And then after all - like a splinter.

The next evening - the same picture: the women are talking, the bearded man calmly smokes nearby. I hear that the old woman is already called by her first name and patronymic. So, we got to know each other. This is completely good.

Days flowed. Though long, the Crimean summer was coming to an end. Complain that this year it was rainy: in August - solid rains, cold. It got warmer in September. But autumn is slowly creeping in from the north. So bad weather in Kyiv. Will get here soon. And therefore every day is a joy: the sea, mountains, warmth. How not to rejoice, because winter is ahead, we will still get cold. Here we go...

In the last days of September, it became sharply colder. It rained, the sea stormed for a day, the water became cold in winter. The people were leaving, the embankment and the whole village were empty before our eyes. Cafes and restaurants closed. The music stopped. And it's time for me to leave. Another day or two - and goodbye.

Before leaving, in the last days, everything is somehow acutely felt, you see. And although you know that he came for a short time and, probably, not for the last time, it still seems to ache in the soul. Still, it's good here: the sea, its smell, the waves are splashing, nearby are the mountains. Peace.

One of the last evenings I saw an old woman with dried flowers and her new friends. The latter must have left. The man wrote down something on a piece of paper. Probably an address.

The next day - thunderstorm, downpour, then drizzle. And in the evening, everything seemed to have washed away: summer, vacationers, noisy "Piglet" on the embankment, Koktebel's Montmartre. I went out in the evening - no one. And my old lady, of course, is not.

But then, on that last Crimean evening of mine, and now, far from Koktebel, I remember the old woman without bitterness and sadness. There were kind people, sat next to her, talked. What else does an old man need? Now she hibernates and waits for spring. Like all of us, sinners, we are waiting for warmth, whether heavenly or earthly. Any help.

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

(2) Although the times are different, even now it is good in the Crimea. (3) Along the embankment - solid birdhouse stores with a bright motley of labels and wrappers, cafes, barbecue, snack bars. (4) But the main thing remained - the sea, sky, mountains, steppe; their silence, the murmur of the waves, the rustle of grass - in a word, the main thing.

(5) And in the evenings - a noisy embankment, from a veranda shaded with wild grapes to the Voloshin Museum. (6) Walking, talking, hustling. (7) Interesting trinkets on the parapet and trays. (8) Consider something, buy something - for yourself or your family and friends as a gift.

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

(14) On the very first day, of course, I bought a bunch of wormwood from her, after listening to: “Hang it on the wall and it will smell so good!” (15) I bought it as if I had repaid a debt. (16) But that didn't make it any easier! (17) Of course, she did not come here from a good life. (18) He sits, then slowly wanders home in the darkness. (19) My old mother usually, the sun has not yet set, is already in bed. (20) She says she is tired. (21) Indeed, she is really tired: such a long life. (22) And such a long summer day - 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 does not want to beg. (27) Although they would give her a lot more than they will help out for their miserable dry twigs. (28) But he doesn’t want to ask. (29) Sitting...

(30) A day passed, another, a third. (31) Sunny days, warm sea, blue sky, bright flowerbeds of orange marigolds and fragrant petunias, greenery of trees were also pleasing. (32) In Moscow, it’s slushy, cold and even snow has passed, 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, 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 a couple was sitting near the old woman, on her bench: a bearded man, on the edge of the bench, on the fly away, was smoking peacefully, and his wife was talking vividly with the old woman. (36) A dry bunch - in hand, some words about the benefits of wormwood and all sorts of other plants. (37) And talk of "benefit" is very attractive.

(38) Here, near the old woman, at her bouquets, having heard something “about the benefits”, they began to stop. (39) The day is running out, no worries. (40) It's time to talk "about the benefits." (41) They talk and, I look, they buy. (42) It's a cheap deal.

(43) I looked, rejoiced, slowly wandered my way.

(44) And my heart somehow became calm. (45) After all, it was so disturbing to see her loneliness, as if a splinter pierced her heart.

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

(50) One of the last evenings I saw an old woman with dry flowers and her new friends. (51) The latter, apparently, were leaving. (52) A man wrote something down on a piece of paper. (53) Probably an address.

(54) The next day - a thunderstorm, a downpour, then it drizzled. (55) I went out in the evening - no one. (56) And the old woman, too, of course, no.

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

(according to B.P. Ekimov*)

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

Text Information

After reading a lot of texts, we have fished out the most popular problems regarding old age. All of them will be useful in writing an essay on the exam in the Russian language. The arguments, selected by us taking into account the specifics of the criteria, form the basis of this work. All of them are available for download in the table format at the end of the article.

1. A.S. Pushkin in the story "The Stationmaster" writes about Samson Vyrin, who was abandoned by his daughter Dunya, leaving with a young officer. The old man missed her very much and wanted to take care of her, but the kidnapper of his daughter simply pushed the visiting parent out the door. Some time after the death of the caretaker, some lady came to the place of the grave with three children and lay there for a long time. After that, she gave a nickel to the son of the brewer, who accompanied her there, and left. It was the same Dunya who could not get used to the idea that with her indifference she killed the grandfather of her children
2. K. G. Paustovsky in the story "Telegram" writes about an elderly woman Katerina Petrovna from the distant village of Zaborye. She had only one daughter, who lived in Leningrad, and they did not see each other for three years. The old woman did not want to interfere, so she almost did not get in touch. The daughter only sometimes transferred money to her. Once Katerina Petrovna asked Nastya to come, but she did not have time: she ended up in the village only on the second day after the funeral. The daughter felt guilty before her mother for her lonely old age, and stealthily left the village so that no one would see.

The role of old age in human life

1. The German writer Hermann Hesse in the text "On Old Age" wrote that old age is a new step in a person's life. According to the author, people should accept and recognize their old age. At this stage, you need to perform a large number of tasks, no less than at a young age. If a person eludes them and despises his old age, he will turn out to be an unworthy representative of this stage of life.
2. In Leo Tolstoy's epic novel War and Peace, the old prince Nikolai Andreevich Bolkonsky is present. Despite his advanced age, the hero of the work is full of vitality. He is constantly working: writing memoirs, making calculations from higher mathematics, gardening, looking after buildings. In addition, the prince is interested in what is happening in the field of politics and the military situation in Russia. Old age does not at all prevent Nikolai Bolkonsky from leading a busy lifestyle.

The problem of perception of old age

1. The story of K. G. Paustovsky “The Old Chef” describes an elderly man who is seriously ill, and is fully aware and accepts an imminent death. He wants to confess before his death, but is unable to invite a priest. Therefore, instead of a clergyman, a simple passer-by comes. He forgives the sins of the old cook and even grants a wish. With the help of music helps the dying person to see the past. The old man recognizes his name and calmly departs to another world.
2. MM. Prishvin in the story "The Old Mushroom" describes a man of advanced age who talked about old age. One day, his friend was called an old mushroom, and he remembered how he went to the forest. There was a russula, from which the birds and the narrator himself drank after the rain. That is, this mushroom was beneficial, and later had to give seeds in order to produce offspring. The comrade of the narrator was also useful, despite his old age.

Disrespect for older generations

1. A.P. Chekhov in the play "The Cherry Orchard" tells about an old servant named Firs, who loved, respected his masters and served them all his long life. One day, the residents of the house had to move. They were going to send an elderly man to the hospital, but this was far from a priority task for them. As a result, the gentlemen left, leaving Firs alone in the boarded-up house. There he died.
2. In the novel in verse by A.S. Pushkin "Eugene Onegin" mentions the uncle of the protagonist, who became seriously ill and lay dying. Eugene courted him, but it was a burden to him, and he thought to himself about how tiring such a pastime was. Onegin dreamed of the speedy death of the patient in order to quickly throw off the burden of responsibility and receive an inheritance. The author conveys the following thought of a young man: "What a low deceit to amuse a half-dead." However, such thoughts give off cynicism and expose the petty and selfish nature of the speaker. We, young and healthy, owe our lives and everything we have to these “half-dead” people.

Age discrepancy

1. In the story of I. A. Bunin "Youth and old age" we are talking about a Kurd who told a parable to a handsome Greek. The main idea was that a person should perform only his functions, not wasting his life on earning wealth and protecting it. Then mentally he will remain young, and will be old only in body. Kurd argues that you need to maintain humanity and dignity in yourself, then with age you will not become grouchy.

• Talented, smart people get lonely too
• Loneliness kills a person, especially if it is forced
• The reason for loneliness may be a person's views on the world around him.
• It is much more difficult for a single person to live than for someone who has family and close friends.
• Loneliness can be forced: a person becomes lonely due to terrible circumstances
• It is hard for a person who has no friends to live in society

Arguments

K.G. Paustovsky "Telegram". Daughter Nastya literally doomed Katerina Ivanovna, her mother, to loneliness. The girl lived a busy life in Leningrad. She did not even imagine that she could break away from work to visit her old mother. Nastya, receiving letters from Katerina Ivanovna, was also glad that the old woman was alive, because she could write. The girl realized too late that she left alone the only person who truly loved her - her mother. Nastya received a letter asking her mother to come, but did not take it seriously. Only after the telegram that Katerina Ivanovna was dying did the girl realize what a serious mistake she had made. Nastya blamed herself for leaving her old mother alone, whom she should have valued most in life.

A.S. Pushkin "The Stationmaster" The loneliness of Samson Vyrin was forced. Dunya, his daughter, ran away from home with officer Minsky, who stopped at their station. The desire to at least see his daughter prompted Samson Vyrin to walk to St. Petersburg. There he received only Minsky's promise to make Dunya happy. He saw his daughter later, but at the sight of her father she fainted. Minsky pushed the old man up the stairs. Since then, he had not heard from Dong for three years. Samson Vyrin died alone, never seeing his daughter. Dunya returned to her father, whom she condemned to loneliness, but it was already too late. She spent a lot of time at the grave.

I.S. Turgenev "Fathers and Sons". Nihilist Yevgeny Bazarov can also be called lonely. At first he communicates with Arkady Kirsanov, but soon the paths of young people diverge. The loneliness of Yevgeny Bazarov is connected with his view of the world. Far from everyone would decide to agree with the opinion of this person, the views of the hero are too far from what has been accepted in society for centuries. It is difficult for people to look at nature as a workshop, to deny almost everything they are used to. The hero has many followers, but we understand that none of them are truly devoted to nihilism. Therefore, Bazarov's loneliness, although natural, is to some extent difficult for him.

M. Sholokhov "The fate of man." Andrey Sokolov was made lonely by the war. His entire family died: first, a shell hit his house, where his daughters and wife were at that time, and on May 9, at the very end of the war, his son Anatoly died from a sniper's bullet. Andrei Sokolov was left alone, without a home and family. Vanya, a little boy whose parents died, helped the hero find the strength to live and to some extent brighten up the loneliness. Andrei Sokolov introduced himself as his father and took the child to him. So two lonely people found each other, in whose fate the war mercilessly intervened.

A.I. Solzhenitsyn "Matryona Dvor". Matrena Vasilievna Grigorieva had neither a living husband nor children. There was only a pupil of Cyrus, tied to her. Matryona was doomed to loneliness. She could not even work properly, because from time to time she suffered for several days from a strange illness. People came to the woman only when they needed something. So part of the hut was taken away during life, without thinking about the consequences. But Matryona's kindness knew no bounds, it is rare to meet such a person. The woman did not refuse to help others when asked, even if she was unable to do so. Only after the death of Matrena Vasilievna did everyone care about her: everyone wanted to receive some kind of inheritance. The selfishness of people who doomed a person to loneliness during life, and after death began to divide property, is striking.

Jack London Martin Eden. Until Martin Eden was rich and famous, no one believed in his future, no one spoke well of his undertakings. When the hero began to build the future of the writer, he was alone and saved only by the love of Ruth. Soon the beloved turned away from Martin Eden. But when they started talking about him, when he had money, friendly invitations to dinners rained down, Ruth returned with a plea for forgiveness. Only for Martin Eden all this meant nothing. He realized that he had not changed a bit since the time when his work was still rejected. All the work had already been done by that time. Therefore, in the midst of everyone's attention, Martin Eden became even more alone than before. The world around him seemed disgusting.

D. Keyes "Flowers for Algernon". The history of Charlie Gordon is controversial. At the beginning of the work, we see him as a weak-minded person, an object of ridicule. Later, Charlie Gordon becomes a genius, albeit temporarily. But he is even lonelier than before. Everyone considers Charlie too smart, selfish, incapable of showing feelings and emotions. The intellectual abilities of a person, growing exponentially, do not contribute to communication with people. The hero is alone. It is much easier for an imbecile Charlie Gordon to live than a Charlie Gordon with an outstanding intellect. Mental abilities only push towards loneliness, although at first it seems to the hero that people communicate more willingly with an intelligent person. In reality, everything turns out to be completely different.

What is the tragedy of lonely old age? Why are older people especially vulnerable to life's difficulties and need the care and kindness of loved ones and others? It is these questions that arise when reading the text of the Soviet prose writer Sergei Alekseevich Voronin.

Revealing the problem of lonely old age, the author introduces us to the fate of a lonely woman who sold her house to help her daughter Tatyana, who needs expensive treatment. In fact, the story of this woman resembles an eternal plot - the story of Shakespeare's King Lear, who divided the kingdom between two daughters, and then became unnecessary to them.

Well, at least the youngest daughter, deprived of his inheritance, turned out to be kind and merciful and sheltered the poor father. In the heroine of the text, none of the daughters, even the one whom she helped, showed compassion for her own mother.

The author brings us to the idea that there is nothing sadder and more tragic than lonely old age, since it is the elderly who most of all need care, attention, support and help from loved ones, because the weak and sick old people most of all feel their social insecurity.

The most striking, in my opinion, story, where the tragedy of lonely old age is revealed, is the "Telegram" by K. G. Paustovsky. It is no coincidence that the German actress Marlene Dietrich, who first came to the Soviet Union, wished to see the writer who created such a touching story, she knelt before him and kissed his hand on behalf of all single mothers forgotten by children. The heroine of this work, Katerina Ivanovna, lives out her life in the village of Zaborye in the memorial house of her father, the artist, and looks like a lonely sunflower near the fence, which fades in late autumn and still cannot bloom. The only daughter, Nastya, has not come from Leningrad for three years, only sometimes she sends money to her mother. The girl did not respond to her mother's request to come to see her at least before her death. Weak, infirm Katerina Ivanovna needs the care and support of her daughter - the most dear person. It is sad that a single woman died without ever seeing her daughter.

The fate of another literary hero is also sad - Pavel Petrovich Kirsanov from the novel by I. S. Turgenev "Fathers and Sons". He lives out his life on the edge of someone else's nest, never creating his own. In his youth, the secular darling met the fatal princess R. and left the usual rut. His loneliness in his brother's estate, where he feels hopeless love for Fenichka, seems bitter.

We came to the conclusion that loneliness brings moral torment, especially to older people who need support, attention and care the most.