America

My father and his family emigrated to America in 1951 after spending years as displaced persons due to WWII. I grew up hearing stories about the war and how the family settled into American life. The contrast between hearing that my daddy once was starving so badly he ate a jar of ants and seeing how happy and successful he and his brothers became made a huge impression on me. The war also made a huge impression on our household. We couldn't waste a scrap of food or money. Our bookshelves were packed with WWII books and if my dad had control of the remote, he usually landed on "Hogan's Heroes". If we were under hurricane watch or storm watch, we were okay - our dad survived WWII. I was convinced that during my lifetime, I'd see war come to America's shores. Since I only knew one type of war, I noticed places where I could hide my Jewish friends. Not all the family stories we were told were about triumph over the odds. We heard the stories full of heart ache, regret and disappointment.

As I was being teased in school for having a weird foreign name, I was learning at home what being an American meant. Our home wasn't 100% English speaking but I did learn the words for candy and ice cream pretty darn quick! My life was full of odd contrasts. I missed the whole "Dirty Dancing" craze because I spent the summer touring Europe with my family. That trip really opened my eyes to what my life could have been if my father hadn't emigrated. I saw Russian tanks and a soldier with a AK47 went through my suitcase. Even though we weren't rich in America, we were millionaires to our European family. It was the first time I ever felt shame over having something. I was amazed how warmly we were greeted just because we were family. Also, the card game War transcends borders and language barriers.

Even though I had traveled through a country where I wouldn't be teased over my name, I never felt a yearning or wistfulness. I am American. I am an American who wouldn't exist without this country's generosity. I am an American who grew up hearing stories about how my life could have been if it wasn't for America. I am an American who smiles when she overhears a foreign language spoken because it reminds her of her childhood, surrounded by many languages. I am an American who sometimes gets disillusioned or angry about the direction the country is going. I am an American who was brought to tears by the Abu Ghraib photos. I am an American because this country gave entire generations of emigrants a chance to rise up and work toward their dreams. That dream will never die because we are all Americans and we have work to do.