Yury Kuznetsov in Photo from Yuri Kuznetsov's archive
Kuznetsov called: Happy New Year and all that … Well, I answered him: «With new happiness.» I kind of joked about new happiness. Not original, but what can you expect from my current one, battered by the second coming of the covid.
Kuznetsov at the other end of the line whinnied happily:
“You guessed it. There is such a thing. I've got myself a tuxedo. ”
“ What the hell, Yura, a tuxedo? ”
Yura whinnied even more impetuously and, I would say, defiantly.
My friend Yuri Kuznetsov, a St. Petersburg journalist, is still a piece of cake. However, up to 16 years old, having spent more than 30 years in the PNI, he was considered more of a “vegetable”. He, an orphan who passed from an orphanage on a direct course to PNI for life-long life, was diagnosed with “mental retardation at the stage of debility,” just in case, with a short summary “unteachable.”
In addition to the proposed circumstances of life, Yurka was provided by fate for eternal use, cerebral palsy. And if even ten years ago he could move with the help of a cane with dexterity, honed by a chronic lack of outside help, now he plows across the expanses of Peter in a cunning wheelchair with a motor or in a taxi. Cerebral palsy, damn it, is spinning my friend into an ever-aching spasm more and more. And it's getting harder and harder to breathe.
Kuznetsov is my hero.
Photo from Yuri Kuznetsov's archive
He pulled out his freedom with his teeth, restored his legal capacity, left the PNI with despair of helplessness and an incredible thirst for life. Life believed in him, and he became a journalist and public figure. The editor of the information service of the television channel «St. Petersburg», a freelance advisor to the chairman of the Committee on social policy of St. Petersburg, a member of the coordination council for disabled people under the governor of St. Petersburg, author and director of the documentary film «Plantain» — this is a small part of his deeds.
Yura is a hedonist. For a deeply disabled Russian such a choice of fate is not only impossible, it is also defiantly arrogant. , with chronic gratitude in the face and faith (better Orthodox) in a soul wounded by trials.
My friend is a workaholic — gouge, with a pathological passion for sweets, collecting a mess and a thoughtless willingness to get involved in any project, where
he will blot out the word «disability» with an editorial hand almost to the ground, replacing it with the word «opportunity», albeit special.
Returning to the tuxedo.
For many years before the broadcasts, Kuznetsov takes a taxi a couple of times a week and goes to have breakfast at the Teplo cafe, famous in St. Petersburg. There, in addition to divine millet porridge and pancakes, he has a lifetime (like a Parker's pen) 50 percent discount on all menus.
Over the years, healthy and not harmful to retirement breakfasts, my friend got a lot of pleasant acquaintances and fleeting friendships in the cafe. The ease with which he can start a conversation with anyone he meets betrays in him a secular person and a witty interlocutor. Thus, luring another visitor of the cafe into the snare of his charm, Kuznetsov unobtrusively poisons him with the bacillus of social responsibility, which for many becomes a start in small charity.
Someone leaves after breakfast at a dog shelter, someone volunteers at PNI, and someone simply transfers money for a good cause.
The owner of the cafe, Maria, has become, who would doubt, his friend. And a couple of months ago, after another breakfast, the waiter told him: «Go to the manager, there is an envelope for you.» The envelope contained a farewell note from her. Maria, as it turned out, sold the cafe. And there was also a certificate in the envelope for tailoring a men's suit in an elite atelier. Paid.
Yura went nuts. He remembered how one day, while sitting with her over a cup of coffee, he dropped his jacket on the floor. And she raised her, looked critically … Kuznetsov said:
“Well, yes, not shikardos. You see, it's terribly difficult for me to find a suit for myself. I'm all crooked. ”
— I went to the atelier. You have no idea what it is. I have never seen such fabrics in my life, and I didn’t know that they exist. I thought I would be damaged by my mind while I chose. And how the measurements are taken there, this is a separate number. In short, they sewed me a three-piece — gray-blue, from linen fabric. Do you even believe that I am handsome? .. Are you silent? I'll send you a photo in an hour.
Photo from Yuri Kuznetsov's archive
A photo of Kuznetsov, who looks like a prosperous, but tired of success, director of not our cinema, flew into the WhatsApp. The cane, on which he was leaning, in this context was defined visually not as an orthopedic product, but as a fashionable accessory.
Kuznetsov continued: “We said goodbye to these lovely guys. How much this suit costs, I never found out, they were silent. And then the owner of the atelier, Kirill, called and said: “We still have your measurements and all the patterns here. Would you like to order something else? » I thought for half a second. “Yes, I yelled into the phone. The tuxedo! Can I have a tuxedo ?! » Then we butted on the phone for two months. They wanted to give me a tuxedo. I objected: «You must understand, this is not the first necessity, not the second and not even the tenth …» I wanted to pay for it myself. Do you believe in my ability to pay? In the end, I persuaded them. But I was tricked anyway. They charged me only 30 thousand for a tuxedo. Here's how to believe people after that? ”
I impatiently interrupted him with an obsessive question:“ What the hell, Yur, do you need a tuxedo? ”
Kuznetsov paused indulgently. “The tuxedo is life-changing. You can't even imagine how much a tuxedo changes life … Now I go to breakfast in «Teplo» in a tuxedo. Everyone smiles at me. So do I.
I began to love people much more authentically. That is, not by the fact of sympathy, but by the coincidence of the feeling of happiness. Do you understand? «
… I looked out the window, fogged up from my breath, at the street torn apart by dirty snow, my nose rubbed with a runny nose itched with a sentimental tear.
And Kuznetsov whinnied into the phone:» Do you know, What girls asked me to take a picture yesterday ?! Fairies! «
from Yuri Kuznetsov's archive