Oh, yes. When I was in Jerusalem I visited Yosef, the restorer. They had buried Leya’s mother, Praskovia Ivanovna, only the day before. I think I told you about her. She was the old lady in a shawl who made the sign of the Cross over the food on the Sabbath. Apparently she was a priest’s wife, a simple woman from a Russian village who had immigrated with her daughter to Israel and was very homesick. When she died they naturally wanted to give her an Orthodox funeral. They went to the local Orthodox Church but the priest there was a Greek and refused to conduct her funeral service because, although Greeks are Orthodox, they are some different variety. Then Yosef and Leya went to Jerusalem. They wanted to bury her at the Moscow Patriarchate, but they said they didn’t know her and would need to see a certificate of baptism. You can imagine, the old lady was christened 80 years ago in Torzhok. Next they went to Ein Karem, where there is an Orthodox monastery and cemetery, but there they demanded so much money, there was no question they could not find it. Land is very expensive in Israel. Five days passed without them finding anywhere to bury her. In the end they appealed to a Catholic priest who is a monk at the Carmelite monastery and he buried her in the Arab cemetery in Haifa. There is an Arab Catholic Church there where he had already buried many stray Christians, but then they stopped. The cemetery was small and they were concerned that soon they would have nowhere to bury their own people. Yosef and Leya took the coffin to Haifa but the cemetery watchman came out and would not let them pass. Yosef says he was in desperation. There was nowhere else to turn. Then this priest got on his knees before the watchman and said that if they wanted, they could throw his body in the sea to the fish, but they should bury this old lady. He let the car through, they quickly dug a grave, and the priest conducted a funeral service. Yosef said later that the funeral service in the Orthodox Church is one of the best of all services, but what he saw that day was a real celebration before the Lord. The whole point is that this Catholic priest is a Jew from Poland. I wondered, Esther, whether it was him you were talking about, the interpreter who helped the Jews to escape from the ghetto in Emsk. I wouldn’t be surprised. Israel proved such a small world and everybody is either related or neighbors.
Oh, yes. Yosef got your book and said the miniatures were remarkable but he is working on a large commission at the moment and will not be able to start very soon. I said there was no hurry, the book would wait.
My table is right by the window. When I look out I forget everything. If I can get that job at the park, it will be just wonderful. Grisha says I would do better to stay at home, but I am completely unaccustomed to living without a job. Of course, it would be ideal if it wasn’t fulltime, but I’ll have to take what I can get. Full-time jobs are easier to find.
I’m looking forward greatly to seeing you again. I hope you won’t put it off and will visit us soon. Remember it’s best to come here during your hottest months. We don’t get really hot here. We will drive to the ocean. The scenery is marvelous and the town is very pleasant, too. As for the vegetation, there is nothing to compare with it in Boston. Real great forests with paths and streams. It’s a paradise.
All my love, dear Esther. Grisha says to say hello and invite you to come and stay.
See you soon,
Your Ewa
23. 1989, Berkeley
L
ETTER FROM
E
WA
M
ANUKYAN TO
E
STHER
G
ANTMAN
Dear Esther,
I cried all night and couldn’t get a moment’s sleep. Grisha is not here. He has flown off to a conference in Germany. Alex went off with friends for two days to San Diego to visit some boys who are also making a film on their own. Before he left he wrote me a letter. I am sending you a photocopy. I can’t bring myself to paraphrase it. I felt a sense of release but at the same time a new burden of responsibility. I am terribly saddened and really don’t know what to do.
Now it seems to me that yesterday when nothing had been said, things were easier. There was still hope. Alex is a very good boy. I don’t want him to be unhappy, but I do not want my son to be gay.
I may just have to adapt.
Lots of love,
Ewa
24. 1989, Berkeley
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ETTER FROM
A
LEX TO
E
WA
M
ANUKYAN
Mum! I haven’t been feeling right recently so I have decided to tell you a truth which you already suspect. I know you will be disappointed in me: I have chosen a path in life which simply doesn’t fit with your outlook. I know, though, that honesty is one of your main principles in life, and so in my situation the most difficult thing would be to lie to you. You always taught me to question myself and answer honestly, in every sphere of life. I remember when you left my father you told me you had fallen in love with another man and Ray had disappointed you. I was very upset by your bluntness at that time but now I understand that it was right.
You may protest that what I am talking about now is not honesty but falling into sin, but I have never felt more honest than now when I make this admission to you and, even more than that, to myself.
How many nights I have spent turning in my bed sleeplessly, trying to answer the question of who I am and what I want. All sorts of ideas came to me. For example, what a gap there is between what we think about ourselves, what other people think about us, and who we actually are. How great it is when these three dimensions more or less coincide, and how painful existence is when they don’t.
I kept thinking how important it was to discover this truth about myself. When the question of my sexuality first arose, I very much wanted to be the same as everybody else, I wanted to believe that everything was in order in me! I was “straight,” arousing suspicion in nobody, including myself. The whole problem is that, quite simply, I have no real sexual experience. I am altogether without sin in that respect! Gradually, though, the realization came from inside me that I was lying. The time came when I could not lie to myself any longer, and it had simply been a trap.
There is a Greek word, “skandal,” whose primary meaning is “a piece of wood.” This wood then became a trap for animals or enemies. Two thousand years later, in the Gospels, the word was always translated as “temptation.” Is it any wonder I have found Greek so interesting?
Every morning when I woke up I had to put myself together bit by bit, and I dragged this unresolved question around with me, afraid that everybody could see it. From morning to evening I monitored every word I spoke, every gesture, every behavioral reaction. I wanted to dissolve, to disappear, I wanted other people not to notice me at all.
In the evenings, I put off the hour when I would have to go to bed and find myself alone with my demons. I sat at the computer, listened to music, and read. Do you remember how many books I read as an adolescent? The whole of world literature is full of love. Taking a break from my books I saw you and Grisha bound by such vital passion. I was so attracted to Grisha. Now I can recognize the nature of my feelings, but then I did not understand.
In the end, I had to admit defeat. I surrendered. Whether that was good or bad, I am what I am. Now I have to tell you. For a long time I did not have the courage because this concerns not only you, but all those people I love and respect and who, to put it mildly, disapprove of homosexuals.