A Missive From Moscow--in the Spirit of <i> Glasnost </i>

Glasnost is a word all of us know from its presence in the news; it is a word that inspires hope for a freer world. But Averill Munger of Playa del Rey has reason to feel its effect on a personal level.

My wife and I first met Munger and his then-wife, Dorothy, on a trip with a Museum of Art group to Moscow and Leningrad. That was 13 years ago. We found the Muscovites generally apprehensive of contact with Americans. Though they seemed like a warm and buoyant people, they avoided fraternizing with us in public places.

Once when we were going down the steps to the subway we saw a young woman having trouble with a brand-new toy wagon. She had probably waited months to buy it, and was taking it home to a child. She was pulling it down the steps by the tongue, but it kept rolling ahead and bumping her in the ankles. My wife hurried to her side and offered to carry the wagon; but the woman didn’t look at her, didn’t thank her. She turned away and went on bumbling down the stairs. She was obviously afraid to be seen talking with an American on the street.

Munger and his wife had a happier experience. In the opera ticket line they met Olga, a woman who spoke English, being an interpreter of American government documents for the Soviet government. She invited them to visit her apartment. They got there by streetcar, bus, subway, and a long walk. By then it was 11 p.m.

Olga and her son prepared borscht for them. Olga insisted on escorting them back to their hotel, since she knew they couldn’t find their way, and no taxis were available. Munger figures it must have been 3 a.m. by the time Olga got home again, and the next day was a workday for her.

Munger had promised to send Olga’s son a calculator when he got home. But he decided to write first, wanting to check the reliability of the mails. He never received an answer. Then, the other day, 13 years later, a letter came. It was addressed to Dorothy. (Dorothy had died in 1983, and Munger had remarried, a woman from England whom both had known.)

The letter read:

“Excuse me that I didn’t answer you in 1976. I invite you now to come to live here in Moscow one or two months. One room in my flat is free; my son has now his flat. I have now two children of my son (10 years and 5 years old), he is 31 years old.

“I live here with my mother. She is 82 years old, but she is all right, my son is the candidat of mathematical sciences. I (enjoyed) your visit to me in Moscow too. Sorry it was so short. What would you like I send to you? We are having hot weather here. I have now your letter and photograph in November, 1976.

“I am on pension. I am 59 years old. I have translated Germany (economic texts) and English while 30 years (sociology). I had your letter. . . . Write me please the names of our friends . . . . My pension is 100 rubles.

“Dear Dorothy, you have many children. I think 7. Write me please about them. I graduated the Moscow University (economic facultat and the Institut of Foreign Languages in 1955, German and English). You can spend here in Moscow your holidays.

“Regards,

“Olga Jakowlewa”

Munger has replied, saying he and his wife hope to visit Olga next year, when he has vacation time. Obviously Olga’s answer implies that for the first time in all those years she feels free to write.

I can’t help thinking though, that if Olga was a translator of American documents for the government, it’s no wonder we’ve had such a hard time understanding each other.