Semion Pavlych, pt 1

It's cold outside, about 15 F, or -9 C. But I can't even think the thought "It's cold out" without hearing another voice break in: "Cold. You call that cold? I'll tell you when it was cold. November 7, 1941, our troops were gathered on Red Square to set out to face the Fascists, and it was -22 C (-8 F). Now that's cold for you." In Russia, you must understand, the WWII generation is even more revered than in the Brokaw generation: everything was more heroic then, even the weather.

This was the voice of Semion Pavlych, or Senya, dedushka (grandfather) extraordinaire. It was the fall of '97, I was in Moscow doing research and living with a young self-declared radical intellectual in an apartment belonging to his grandfather, Senya. Senya was happy to see me. The 200-odd dollars I gave him a month was the most money he had ever earned. So he was thrilled to provide me with his version of bespoke service. When he saw me haul a 5-liter dispenser of distilled water into the apartment, he proposed -- for the same price -- to bring me water from the spring out on the farm where he lived a couple of hours away. So that's how I got my drinking water, personal delivery by train, then subway, then bus: probably 24 hours work for about 8 dollars, and he loved each and every one of them.

Note that it was all made possible by deeply subsidized public transportation, one of the many subsidies so taken for granted by the Russians that it can't be taken away. Like our mortgage interest tax deduction.