To Russia annually, with love

When Terry Murray held orphaned babies last year at the Abandoned Children's Hospital in Pskov, Russia, they were empty-eyed, lethargic.

"There was nothing going on, nothing at all," says Murray. "It jarred us into action."

When she returned to the same hospital this summer, the babies were happy and active toddlers. Even better, many had been adopted.

The change was thanks to an innovative program introduced by Murray and her friends.

It has been a decade since Murray first went to Pskov at the behest of a colleague. She returned from her ninth trip in August, and her love affair with the city and its people is obvious in both her good deeds and the mementos inside her Plymouth home - from traditional painted bottle holders to the artwork on her refrigerator by a Russian friend's daughter: "To Terry with love, Anya." There are also the haunting photos of the children she saw this summer, still waiting for a home.

"Instead of going to the Cape for vacation, I go to Pskov," says Terry, also known as Therese Murray, Massachusetts State Senate president. Murray, a Democrat who represents the South Shore and Cape Cod, was elected president in March; she had been head of the powerful Ways and Means Committee.

But in her off-hours, she's busy helping another city that reminds her of her hometown. "Pskov," she says, "is very similar to Plymouth. It's the oldest city in Russia, 1,102 years old. Plymouth is America's hometown, and Pskov is Russia's hometown. People come from all over to see it."

Murray's relationship with Pskov began 10 years ago when Senator Stanley Rosenberg, a Democrat from Amherst, asked her to join him, Senator Marc Pacheco, a Democrat who represents the first Plymouth and Bristol districts, and others on a trip to Russia. They had been approached by the US Agency for International Development (USAID) to work with legislators in Pskov on health and human services issues. Murray hesitated: She'd always been fascinated by the country, but was it safe to go?

She went, and she gave lectures on welfare reform. At the time, the Russian economy had all but collapsed. The ruble was completely devalued, and pensioners were left penniless. Murray spent time talking to Russian legislators, comparing the two systems.

"They want exactly what we want for our families," she says. "They work hard and live in very meager circumstances. The top physician makes $300 a month."

Murray thought that would be her first and last trip. On the way home, her group stopped in St. Petersburg, where the interpreter told them if they threw a rock in the sea, it meant they would return. Just to be polite, Murray threw a rock.

The next summer she was back, and she has returned each summer since. (On her own, not with taxpayers' money, she stresses).

During their stays, she, Rosenberg, and Pacheco have made friends and formed networks. They've helped arrange for Boston-area doctors, nutritionists, and social workers to visit Russian hospitals.

On her first trip, Murray had noticed disposable needles at the children's hospital being soaked for reuse. When she got home, she arranged for boxes of disposable needles to be shipped over. That was just the beginning. Since then, supplies such as diabetes test strips, blood pressure cuffs, and TB and asthma medications have been donated, along with old equipment from Boston hospitals.

"The children were sharing atomizers," she says. "All they had were Band-Aids and aspirin."

This summer, Murray and Rosenberg gave a lecture with Russian social workers on adoption, foster care, and the laws regarding child abuse and neglect. But Russia is ahead of the United States in some areas, says Murray, including substance abuse programs for young people.

Many of the Russian children adopted in the Boston area come from Pskov; sadly, the Russian culture does not encourage local adoptions of their own children. Those empty-eyed babies that broke Murray's heart last summer resulted in her group helping to start a "grandparents program," in which retirees, students, and others go in and hold and play with the infants and toddlers.

Moreover, they introduced the Russians to the idea of adoption; now the children's hospital has a public service program similar to Tuesday's Child, in which children available for adoption are featured in "I Want To Go Home" ads.

"The phones started ringing," says Murray. "So far, 17 have been adopted." Murray and her political and medical allies have teamed up with Rotary International to raise money for a reproductive health program in the Pskov schools. They've begun a medical project and public awareness campaign around stroke, diabetes, and vascular disease. They've gotten grants to set up a food sciences program at Pskov University.

They're tackling a tourism exchange program and a cranberry growers exchange. Students from Pskov and St. Petersburg are now studying at the University of Massachusetts. "Friends of Pskov" raised money for an immunological clinic; last year, it served 23,000 people.

There's much more to do. But Murray is heartened by the changes she sees each year. People are more prosperous. There are supermarkets. Toilets instead of privies. The work ethic is improving as people move away from cradle-to-grave jobs provided by the state.

"Every year we go things look better," she says. And yes, she plans to return next summer. That one rock she threw into the Baltic Sea all those years ago has had quite the ripple effect indeed.

Columnist Bella English of Milton can be reached at english@globe.com.