The Letter

I was watching a video posted by an online acquaintance from Siberia, and it brought back a memory that I find amusing. 

My first wife was Russian. I don't mean her ancestors were from Russia. She was. Born and raised. To make matters more interesting, she grew up in the old Soviet Union. We had a lot of cultural differences to contend with, at every level. Those who might have been around us then will probably remember that she and I did not get along at all when we first met. In fact, within minutes of meeting each other, we got into a shouting match. It wasn't the last. 

One day I saw her waiting for a bus as I drove by, going in the opposite direction. I honked and waved, trying to be polite and friendly. Later, she gave me hell for not turning around to offer her a ride. It wasn't like I might have had something more important to do - like work. 

One night I ran into her at a party. Her presence made an already unbearable social situation worse, so I started making plans to exit early. She saw me making my way for the door, stopped me, and asked if I could drive her home. She too was less than thrilled with the party.

Being a numbskull who happens to place stock in manners, I agreed. 

I paid for it.

To this day I can't say for certain if she just has a lousy sense of direction, or she got us lost on purpose. This was well before GPS. "No, turn HERE" and "Oh, we should've turned back THERE" became the ongoing conversation. For almost an hour. (It should've been a ten-minute drive) Finally, I pulled over and was tempted to give up and call her a cab. I was over it.

Then we started talking. Just talking. Not directions. Not insults. Just talking. We found out we had a lot more in common than we ever would have guessed. We became pretty inseparable after that. 

 The Cold War was over. We both had grown up with our different propagandas. I was surprised to find out just how much bullshit we'd been fed about the USSR, and she was equally amazed at how skewed the information she'd heard about the US was. Her hometown used to be called Leningrad. It has since reverted to St. Petersburg. From everything I know about it, it's a beautiful, very cultured and educated city. 

Her parents sounded really interesting. Her father initiated my fascination with Siberia. Especially Lake Baykal.

After a year or two, we discussed marriage. In retrospect, we each married the wrong person for all the wrong reasons - but this story isn't about that. It's about a letter I wrote.

Let's be clear. I don't speak Russian. Sure, I know a few words and phrases. I have since learned the alphabet (however I'm much more comfortable with the original Bulgarian Cyrillic rather than Russian). At the time, I knew "nyet" "da" and "yellow blue bus" (IYKYK). I knew nothing about the alphabet, grammar, etc. Again, allow me to remind you that I believe in manners, and am rather old-fashioned about some traditions.

If we were going to get married, I wanted to ask her parents' blessing. My bride-to-be was thrilled at this! Now comes the problem: How do I do this? 

A crash course in Russian might have been the best route - but I don't believe the local community college, library, etc. offered such a thing. I did the next best, most Metzger thing I could. I bought an English/Russian translation dictionary.  After a few weeks of trying to grow accustomed to the language, I spent over four hours writing a letter, in an alphabet and language that I really didn't know or understand, to her parents, requesting their only daughter's hand in marriage.

OK, I'm not totally stupid (which many might argue). I asked her to proofread it before I mailed it. The letter itself was a few pages long, handwritten on standard notebook paper. With tears of joy in her eyes, amazed that I took the time to even attempt this, she read the letter.

Then came the laughs.

Reader take note: Most translation dictionaries, apps, etc., SUCK. If you stick to absolute basics, you'll be OK. But the moment you attempt to translate your native language, word for word, into a different language - all hell breaks loose. 

Syntax matters. Certain capitalizations matter. GRAMMAR RULES are called that for a reason. 

I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that my attempt at Russian was hilariously bad - but very well intentioned. She suggested writing some 'helpful notes' in the margins, so her parents didn't think they'd just received a letter from a lunatic. I agreed wholeheartedly with this idea. The next day I went to the post office and sent it. Sending a letter overseas was much cheaper back then. Honestly, I miss snail mail.

It took about a week/ten days for the letter to arrive. Again, faster than I expected. Then came the phone call.

Her parents had phoned her and were both very touched by my attempt. Linguistics was a point of pride in her family. Her father spoke no less than five languages fluently. Her mother, three. My bride-to-be, five. Personally, I was embarrassed by my linguistic limitations. English, sure. A little French. I can swear in Italian. I used to speak German decently - provided I had access to a time machine. The "Deutsch" I'd learned from older relatives was mostly early-to-mid-19th-century common language, heavy on the slang. I've since found that most of my German friends today can't understand most of it. Again, if I stick to basics - Ich bin gut. Past that, mucho schlecht. 

We phoned her parents over in Leningrad and I got to speak to them for the first time. Her father spoke English well, except with zero affect. Completely monotone. But we took the time to understand each other. Her mother spoke no English, and chattered on, my bride-to-be listening in and translating, welcoming me to the family. 

To this day, I've not learned Russian. Our marriage only lasted two years. I lost any reasons I might've had to learn it. Yet it's now 2026 and I've been studying Bulgarian for a few years. I'd say my skills are improving, although I'm certain that a conversation between me and a monolingual Bulgarian would be positively exhausting - for them. I still routinely screw up even the basics. But, as I always say, "Опитвам."

Like with most things between people of different cultures, putting in some effort is always greatly appreciated. Hopefully my fellow Americans will remember this any time they speak to someone who might not have a strong grasp of our language and culture.