Quad-Citians visiting needy Russians saw much struggle and grief, but they also found -- and mined -- a rich vein of humor.

Laughing for a good cause. Jean Mueller, of Bettendorf, tried to pretend to be a feeble old lady to get this walker on the flight to Russia. ``If my kids could see me now, they'd die laughing,'' she said. The walker made it.

The laughs actually started at Chicago's O'Hare airport, long before the group even neared Russian air space. Jean Mueller, a sprightly grandmother from Bettendorf, came down the concourse wheeling a walker and attempting to look feeble. She didn't succeed.

``If my kids could see me now, they'd die laughing,'' Mrs. Mueller said, dissolving in giggles while Kathy Johnson of Taylor Ridge and Pat Herath of Moline roared with laughter.

It was the same all week. When the atmosphere got heavy, someone did something silly.

Mrs. Herath and Ann Marx, of East Moline, threw themselves into pools of brightly colored balls at one orphanage, to the surprise and delight of watching Russian social service directors.

NewsChannel 8 anchor Jacqueline Getty went hatless into a small chapel where an old woman was selling icons and candles. With an impish smile, the woman told Ms. Getty she had to cover her head or go bald. Ms. Getty wrapped a winter scarf over her head and proceeded with the interview.

Mrs. Mueller and her roommate, Kathy Johnson, of Taylor Ridge, crowded into a tiny Russian car with two translators, a driver and the director of their orphanage for a bumpy ride through Oryol. They made circus clown jokes all day.

Argus/Dispatch photographer Terry Herbig put on a fashion show at an orphanage in Friazino. He slipped on a three-quarter length fur coat that belonged to translator Sveta Abramova and a black furry hat, then mugged for the cameras.

I even contributed a highlight when I tried (in Russian) to tell an orphanage director our lunch was delicious, but I couldn't eat any more because I was full. The look on her face, and the guffaws of the four Russian translators, clearly told me I had not said ``full.'' Instead, I had just told her I couldn't eat any more because, ``I am a saint.''

If anyone was a saint, though, it was Joyce Haskins, of East Moline. Her suitcase ended up with the Oryol volunteers, leaving her in Moscow with no clothes or medicine. She borrowed an outfit from her friend Nancy Edlund, and a dress from the mother of one of the translators so she could visit an Orthodox church. She earned the Russians' eternal respect and admiration by bearing it all with a smile.

``She is a real, true, good person,'' said translator Levan Galustov. ``She would make a good Russian.''