"The Unknown, Belonging Nowhere
"The Unknown, Belonging Nowhere"by Isabel Almeida Ferreira on Monday, August 3, 2009 at 11:09pm
It was a sad, dark morning back then in May 1968. I knew my life would change forever, and it would be the start of a long journey ahead. That morning remains sky clear in my mind, as the beginning of a new day, in the lives of all of us. Being the oldest of four sisters, I felt the responsibility of carrying them hand by hand, through streets, and sidewalks, to the airport terminals, then to my mother’s arms. Many memories were being left behind in that small village of Portugal, and my grandmother who never told us how ill she was. Instead with a smile, she said for us to go and be happy with our parents, who immigrated a few months earlier, to establish themselves, and wait for us in the United States of America. We cried with her early that morning, while saying goodbye, not imagining it could be the last time for some of us. Everyone in the village was still sleeping; one could only hear the sounds of tears, and the sobbing of four young girls. There was also the strength and determination of an older woman, to let her grandchildren go and follow the same path, their parents had taken just a few months before. She knew they were ready for us, and longing some happiness at their new home. My grandfather would take us to Lisbon, the capital of Portugal, and eventually to the plane that would carry us to Boston, and also to Mom and Dad. It was a very long day, which extended itself into 2 time zones, and carved too many feelings in the hearts of 4 teenagers. Everything was happening so fast; there was joy, happiness, fear and sadness. Leaving the village before sunrise was to me very disappointing, as today I don’t remember it with the bright sun it was known for, when everyone gets up in the early morning, to start a brand new day.
Driving south to Lisbon, all I could think of, was my grandmother, childhood friends, school, family, customs and traditions, the church, those long summer nights, the moon and the sun, our grandparent’s house. All was so vivid in my mind; all was changing in a flash! Driving through historical cities and towns we had never seen before was beautiful as well, and I basically wondered if someday, I would get another chance, to study all that history again. It was getting lighter, as the sun was rising, we could feel and hear some awakening along the way, as house windows would open, and sounds could be heard, those of people and animals reacting to the beginning of the day. Cars were starting to move along the quiet, narrow roads, and we also could hear the sound of the train far away. It was a bright, sunny day, when we finally got there. Lisbon was a big city, metropolitan, cosmopolitan, with so much to offer, we were tired and asked if we could stop. It was indeed amazing, to be able to see and experience the New World, just the way I read about it, in my schoolbooks.
The capital, according to my geography and history teachers, was the center of all major happenings, where the decisions of the government were made, the birthplace of the first navigators, and even where my favorite theater and television celebrities lived and entertained. We had never been there before, yet not very far from us, considering how small the country was. Just a few months before, we all had traveled to Porto, another big city in the north, and more commercial and academic, only to get our passports and visas, so we could go to America. Another world it seemed where everyone there was talking about going to France, England, Germany, and more. We became very surprised, curious and inquisitive at times, to see so many people waiting in line, talking with certain pride, while trying to get the right documentation, to leave one country, and enter another.
Everyone in the 60’s seemed to be looking for new horizons, some prosperity in their futures, reaching for the stars, aiming high, and aspiring dreams and goals. Somehow I couldn’t understand why, as all to me looked and seemed just right. I was 16 years old, happy with my surroundings, and like many of my age had a dream too. Why was all that being taken away? At times my life seemed to be shattering into pieces, but all I could do for now, was to trust the judgment of others, and follow their belief in those new and better things. I held to that thought for as long as I could, as it provided food to my soul, minimized my fear. After all I could speak some English, it would help me while encountering any unbearable difficulties, or conquering new goals, pursuing life endeavors, meeting new friends, help my parents and sisters in any possible way. I felt very strong, like I was on top, and able to achieve and accomplish just about anything.
But once inside that plane some inner power stronger than myself took over and I felt for the first time, scared, weak, and like belonging nowhere. I never imagined at the time that the sensation I was feeling, would create such an impact in my life long after that. And I wondered if my sisters were feeling the same, although they were younger, not as introverted and inhibited as I was, as they seemed to be dealing with the situation just fine. They were playful at times, jovial, asking questions, interacting with each other, enjoying the moment, singing at times, experiencing the unexplored, teasing the oldest sister for her so many serious looks, grown up personality, and adult attitude. Yet, with such strong characteristics, I was also private, quiet, in deep thoughts most of the time, and continuously holding on to ways of how to find confidence, comfort, self-identity, security, and answers to my own questions. Little did I know that all that uncertainty would continue following me through life, in another country, under different culture, language, and values. I would have to find a new sense of direction, a new path, and start all over. At that moment I embraced my childhood hidden corner one more time for comfort, and this time I held it inside my heart, not letting it go, as I did with many other valuable things. I still visit that hidden corner at times, during difficult times, and remember how it all started on that early, sad morning. When I am there, I travel through time; I can hear the sound of many familiar voices, as if they are my guarding angels, to show me the best way. It is then that I feel the strong bond my grandmother instilled in me during the time we lived together while my parents were procuring a new life, a new home, for all of us to live in.
A friend of mine just recently told me, that success is not a destination but a journey. She also asked where the future would take me? Well, I will continue on the same path that I have been walking on, looking through the window glass, at each awakening of the day. So far it has been a good connection, in which I can see myself. The unknown is becoming clear, the sense of belonging is much more visible, and someday I will find my destination.
That was a long trip to the United States, as while in Lisbon we missed the direct flight to Boston. Saying goodbye to more family members caused more emotions, and a delay in arriving on time at the airport. Grandpa was still there with us, giving moral support, lots of affection, and last minute instructions. But just like Grandma did, he also had to let us go, as both were fully aware that we belonged to someone else. The plane tickets had to be exchanged, as now they inform us, we are going through New York City. Concerned on our behalf, my grandfather and airline personnel agreed that we should be provided with some adult supervision. They color-coded our tickets, which indicated minors were aboard, in need of special attention, and told some crew members to bring us to the next connection. It was a sky friendly flight, we seemed to enjoy it, laughing at times, and said yes to everything being ordered. Our English was basic; we couldn’t remember it all. Now we realize at this time, that we don’t really know the language well enough, as we encountered our first barrier for the first time. We couldn’t drink anymore Coca-Cola; it kept piling up, as we kept showing gestures of affirmative signs. It took a long time before we started drinking it again. We stopped saying “yes” to everyone, and “no” became our favorite word, as we decided it would be safer, instead of expressing something in the wrong way. There, in New York City, we definitely felt overwhelmed and cried at times. Everything was so different; people were taller than in Portugal, making it very intimidating, and I didn’t know if I could handle the situation. The flight attendant assigned to guide us through Kennedy Airport, took us to a shuttle bus, then to another airport, where we would be boarding a plane to Boston, and today I know it was LaGuardia Airport, because things are so much easier, after 35 years of residing in the United States.
But for four young teenagers at the time, the experience became fearful, endless, somewhat adventurous, exciting, simply creating memories for a lifetime. I knew that I had not reached the ultimate destination yet, even though I was already in America. Our long journey was far from over, as Boston and all seemed still so far away. Most people I met and spoke with in Porto, waiting for their passports to go to France or Germany, would have preferred America instead. They kept telling us how fortunate we were, with a certain irony, and I couldn’t comprehend why. Well, we finally got to America, I was 16 years old, and I was so perplexed. The feeling was so vacant, like I had just fallen into a deep cave, with no way out. Why was America so desired by so many, why do they call it the land of promises, opportunity, with thousand possibilities? I was so young that my imagination didn’t allow me to see what people were envisioning then. What is an opportunity I kept asking? What will that bring you? We were doing just fine in Portugal, and I felt I was the one missing out on everything, my friends, school, I still had so much to do. We sat nearby the gate as advised, someone would be coming to take us in 1 hr, but when I noticed the time going by, and no one in sight, I asked one of the agents walking by, if anyone remembered, that we were the minors on the way to Boston, with the color-coded tickets. In panic and astonishment, one ordered the other, to bring us to the plane ready for take-off. They acknowledged the mistake, offered an apology. They told us to hurry, as they phoned the crew to wait a few minutes more.
My sisters playful as always laughed, and I cried. I felt they were telling me I couldn’t take care of them, as I never provided them with any answers. Of course I could not, I was just a little older than they were, and I needed comfort and support, as much as they did. While the 3 of them ate dinner, and said no to Coca-Cola this time, I visited my hidden corner, as I needed to be there again. I closed my eyes, and it was later on that I heard the word Boston, and the Captain announcing the approaching of the landing. I was ready for my mother, in need of much love, as I get a sense of relief knowing that she will be there, to shelter us from the fear, darkness, and all we had just lived through. But I also was proud to know that we all had been so brave, by staying together safe, during all this time, in a strange world we hardly knew anything about.
There, I see my parents waving their arms at us, with so much vitality, smiling, calling for our names, wanting to know it all. We waved back, with a lot to say, but we were tired and decided to wait. My feelings were real, deep and profound, when I silently marked that day, as a reminder to myself, that maybe someday I could tell it all in a more relaxing way. It is getting dark in America, I look at the sunset, the day will be over soon, and the night is on the way. And finally, the family happily together is on the way to their new home. With time, I saw my sisters hugging their destiny, embracing their fate, through their eyes and laughter, but yet I remained uncertain whether or not I had found my own, as just a while ago, I felt like I had landed in the ocean, somewhere between the two continents, not knowing whether to swim forward, or backwards. Today I still feel the weakness of the sensation I felt then, and I ask myself many times, where do I really belong? I never learned how to swim, let alone making the choice between the two. Although I have learned to walk each mile, and to discover each crossing of my journey during each accomplished success, the teenager I was on the plane stayed back frozen between the two time zones in a place called the past. The adult in me grew up following the miles ahead, looking for a way to link the two together in the new place called the future. It hasn’t been a successful task or a completed one, but I know I have been traveling in a memorable lane.
We all have been back at one time or another, we all have visited the village, and lived precious moments of pleasure. Many changes have taken place, nothing remains the same, our grandparents have passed away, life has definitely moved on for everyone who stayed, and for those who left in the discovery of new imaginings. Civilization, technology, immigration, progress and the birth of many other citizens after we left, have played a great role in the development and growth of the country. The village is no longer small, and the nights are no longer dark and long, life goes on continuously there. Time has brought in lights and music from big cities, to less developed and small towns, transforming them into great places to live in, as they continue to strive on old lessons and values, in conjunction with new modern ways, making their lifetime and history a unique experience to others.
We have been living different successes here in America, as each mile completed has been another step to a new dream or goal. Four teenagers who have long gone in separate ways, but still bonded by the same thread of life, which brought them here together back then in May of 1968. Each one of them has formed their own family, has grown up into a unique character, with a self-identity, personality, and respect for each other. With a story to tell, its reason and purpose in life, they are also continuing on, in this new tempo, so-called today. Many things have taken place during our journey; some difficulties and deceptions, along with many accomplishments, and unconditional love. We all accept who we are; nothing is taken for granted. We take pride for what we have become, we acknowledge each mile we have walked together, that will be continuing on for many years, never forgetting why we came and when. I myself recognize that now, and as the adult I am today, understand things much better, than as the teenager I then was. I respect and value the decision my parents made to bring us here, their sole maturity and drive for more prosperity, the efforts and sacrifices, and the love for us all. I honor my mother’s strong determination to make it happen, and my father’s constant struggle to find himself in time. One offered the other the sense of need to always try to make it better. My father’s lifetime journey came to an end in August of 2002.
The complexity of all the past events seem now to have a lighter scope, but still important to me to understand that immigration in the 60’s was a necessary, usual thing to do for many people, whereas today consideration of same is little. It makes me proud to know that the country is in a much better social, economical, and political status, and people live in a higher comfort level. The world is getting closer; we can now see anyone on the Internet, via links of the super information highway. I can now live my longtime dream, enjoying my dual culture, language and tradition more openly, and perhaps help in the expansion and knowledge of the same. Indeed, life is much easier nowadays, as time has brought in progress and technology to the more underdeveloped, and providing them with chances of equal growth. Humanity has also played an important role in the closeness of cultures, by promoting and bringing them the arts and all important things in life, once more admired in the good, old days.
I am sure all this started back then, on the day we all were waiting in line, in many embassies of the world, for our visas and passports, reaching high for a star. Even though at the beginning I didn’t think it would be easy for me to adapt, I am glad I was given the chance to come to this country at a such young age, to hear about freedom, independence, justice, and to learn that I am fortunate to be here and understand that I am part of a melting pot of the world, where everyone from all walks of life is accepted and given the opportunity to belong. Being able to cope with the change of life, accepting the new land, new words and sounds, is quite a victory. It takes many years to achieve that, more for some than others, depending on such factors as age, emotional stability, ambition, and self-recognition.
Many immigrants are faced with various challenges, tests of courage and individual strength, determination. Some go on to succeed, and others do not. It has been a long, difficult process for me, perhaps because I haven’t allowed myself to accept it. At times, I still feel the lost teenager in me, and the eagerness to pull her away from the deep ocean. Other times I feel she has reached shore and the victory she has been aiming for. And perhaps most of all, the adult in me, who asks what it would have been, if life had gone on as usual in that small village, had the night never been interrupted early on. I never really lost my old culture, or have I ever accepted my new one. I don’t really know if I belong entirely to either, as time has erased many cultural traits of the older one, and time again has not engraved the entire new one.
I still remember my grandmother’s perseverance, my grandfather’s ulterior authority, and all of what was left behind, from the simple taste of oranges grown in any household backyard, to the candles lit in church processions, to the cultural aroma, sensibility, charisma, ethics and values of daily life. But I also can never forget all the stars counted through the years, in the land where I live today. For the new generation I have formed, who depend on me for many years to come, my daughter and my grandchildren, and for everything that resulted from learning what opportunity means in this nation of such magnitude. Life is indeed a long journey, filled with many mysteries, much success, surprises, and many times deceptions, which can be overcome, when accepted by all. The future lies ahead, and within the hope and the dream, for a more peaceful world, where everyone stays together, living each day knowing who and where they are. For some people, life only gives them a short journey, very few crossing miles, who will never see what awaits for them, at the next turning light .
Others are born with a longer timeline, and they will grow up learning through enlightened inspiration, so they can teach others what they came here to live for. One needs to inherit all the knowledge and wisdom during the end of one’s journey, and begin to explore what will be their own, but not everyone is gifted and strong enough, to look in the deep inner self of one another. Life itself is a narrative play, learning and teaching experience, with each one of us as the main living characters. Life is also an open book never to close! A book everyone should read, turn at the end of each page, until the last story line is learned. Many pages still to turn, but for now I do know, that my book can always be found up in the attic, where memories can be shared, inspiration is felt and passed on, and moments of time are to be treasured. Remembering When shall never be forgotten, Living Now must be unfolded, Knowing What crossing to follow leads the way to the next generation. Finding Who we are is never to forget the first day of our journey together and the milestones we took to get where we should be. We may not be able to start over, but we always will know who was there, as their usual shadow continues to guide us, at every instant of the night, bringing a new sunrise, in pursuit of day light, ensuring us one more time.
This story is dedicated to my grandmother who died on August 17, 1971.
And to my father who died on August 17, 2002
Personal Story
 |
| Representing the 4 innocent kids that we were back then. |
It was a sad, dark morning back then in May 1968. I knew my life would change forever, and it would be the start of a long journey ahead. That morning remains sky clear in my mind, as the beginning of a new day, in the lives of all of us. Being the oldest of four sisters, I felt the responsibility of carrying them hand by hand, through streets, and sidewalks, to the airport terminals, then to my mother’s arms. Many memories were being left behind in that small village of Portugal, and my grandmother who never told us how ill she was. Instead with a smile, she said for us to go and be happy with our parents, who immigrated a few months earlier, to establish themselves, and wait for us in the United States of America. We cried with her early that morning, while saying goodbye, not imagining it could be the last time for some of us. Everyone in the village was still sleeping; one could only hear the sounds of tears, and the sobbing of four young girls. There was also the strength and determination of an older woman, to let her grandchildren go and follow the same path, their parents had taken just a few months before. She knew they were ready for us, and longing some happiness at their new home. My grandfather would take us to Lisbon, the capital of Portugal, and eventually to the plane that would carry us to Boston, and also to Mom and Dad. It was a very long day, which extended itself into 2 time zones, and carved too many feelings in the hearts of 4 teenagers. Everything was happening so fast; there was joy, happiness, fear and sadness. Leaving the village before sunrise was to me very disappointing, as today I don’t remember it with the bright sun it was known for, when everyone gets up in the early morning, to start a brand new day.
Driving south to Lisbon, all I could think of, was my grandmother, childhood friends, school, family, customs and traditions, the church, those long summer nights, the moon and the sun, our grandparent’s house. All was so vivid in my mind; all was changing in a flash! Driving through historical cities and towns we had never seen before was beautiful as well, and I basically wondered if someday, I would get another chance, to study all that history again. It was getting lighter, as the sun was rising, we could feel and hear some awakening along the way, as house windows would open, and sounds could be heard, those of people and animals reacting to the beginning of the day. Cars were starting to move along the quiet, narrow roads, and we also could hear the sound of the train far away. It was a bright, sunny day, when we finally got there. Lisbon was a big city, metropolitan, cosmopolitan, with so much to offer, we were tired and asked if we could stop. It was indeed amazing, to be able to see and experience the New World, just the way I read about it, in my schoolbooks.
The capital, according to my geography and history teachers, was the center of all major happenings, where the decisions of the government were made, the birthplace of the first navigators, and even where my favorite theater and television celebrities lived and entertained. We had never been there before, yet not very far from us, considering how small the country was. Just a few months before, we all had traveled to Porto, another big city in the north, and more commercial and academic, only to get our passports and visas, so we could go to America. Another world it seemed where everyone there was talking about going to France, England, Germany, and more. We became very surprised, curious and inquisitive at times, to see so many people waiting in line, talking with certain pride, while trying to get the right documentation, to leave one country, and enter another.
Everyone in the 60’s seemed to be looking for new horizons, some prosperity in their futures, reaching for the stars, aiming high, and aspiring dreams and goals. Somehow I couldn’t understand why, as all to me looked and seemed just right. I was 16 years old, happy with my surroundings, and like many of my age had a dream too. Why was all that being taken away? At times my life seemed to be shattering into pieces, but all I could do for now, was to trust the judgment of others, and follow their belief in those new and better things. I held to that thought for as long as I could, as it provided food to my soul, minimized my fear. After all I could speak some English, it would help me while encountering any unbearable difficulties, or conquering new goals, pursuing life endeavors, meeting new friends, help my parents and sisters in any possible way. I felt very strong, like I was on top, and able to achieve and accomplish just about anything.
But once inside that plane some inner power stronger than myself took over and I felt for the first time, scared, weak, and like belonging nowhere. I never imagined at the time that the sensation I was feeling, would create such an impact in my life long after that. And I wondered if my sisters were feeling the same, although they were younger, not as introverted and inhibited as I was, as they seemed to be dealing with the situation just fine. They were playful at times, jovial, asking questions, interacting with each other, enjoying the moment, singing at times, experiencing the unexplored, teasing the oldest sister for her so many serious looks, grown up personality, and adult attitude. Yet, with such strong characteristics, I was also private, quiet, in deep thoughts most of the time, and continuously holding on to ways of how to find confidence, comfort, self-identity, security, and answers to my own questions. Little did I know that all that uncertainty would continue following me through life, in another country, under different culture, language, and values. I would have to find a new sense of direction, a new path, and start all over. At that moment I embraced my childhood hidden corner one more time for comfort, and this time I held it inside my heart, not letting it go, as I did with many other valuable things. I still visit that hidden corner at times, during difficult times, and remember how it all started on that early, sad morning. When I am there, I travel through time; I can hear the sound of many familiar voices, as if they are my guarding angels, to show me the best way. It is then that I feel the strong bond my grandmother instilled in me during the time we lived together while my parents were procuring a new life, a new home, for all of us to live in.
A friend of mine just recently told me, that success is not a destination but a journey. She also asked where the future would take me? Well, I will continue on the same path that I have been walking on, looking through the window glass, at each awakening of the day. So far it has been a good connection, in which I can see myself. The unknown is becoming clear, the sense of belonging is much more visible, and someday I will find my destination.
That was a long trip to the United States, as while in Lisbon we missed the direct flight to Boston. Saying goodbye to more family members caused more emotions, and a delay in arriving on time at the airport. Grandpa was still there with us, giving moral support, lots of affection, and last minute instructions. But just like Grandma did, he also had to let us go, as both were fully aware that we belonged to someone else. The plane tickets had to be exchanged, as now they inform us, we are going through New York City. Concerned on our behalf, my grandfather and airline personnel agreed that we should be provided with some adult supervision. They color-coded our tickets, which indicated minors were aboard, in need of special attention, and told some crew members to bring us to the next connection. It was a sky friendly flight, we seemed to enjoy it, laughing at times, and said yes to everything being ordered. Our English was basic; we couldn’t remember it all. Now we realize at this time, that we don’t really know the language well enough, as we encountered our first barrier for the first time. We couldn’t drink anymore Coca-Cola; it kept piling up, as we kept showing gestures of affirmative signs. It took a long time before we started drinking it again. We stopped saying “yes” to everyone, and “no” became our favorite word, as we decided it would be safer, instead of expressing something in the wrong way. There, in New York City, we definitely felt overwhelmed and cried at times. Everything was so different; people were taller than in Portugal, making it very intimidating, and I didn’t know if I could handle the situation. The flight attendant assigned to guide us through Kennedy Airport, took us to a shuttle bus, then to another airport, where we would be boarding a plane to Boston, and today I know it was LaGuardia Airport, because things are so much easier, after 35 years of residing in the United States.
But for four young teenagers at the time, the experience became fearful, endless, somewhat adventurous, exciting, simply creating memories for a lifetime. I knew that I had not reached the ultimate destination yet, even though I was already in America. Our long journey was far from over, as Boston and all seemed still so far away. Most people I met and spoke with in Porto, waiting for their passports to go to France or Germany, would have preferred America instead. They kept telling us how fortunate we were, with a certain irony, and I couldn’t comprehend why. Well, we finally got to America, I was 16 years old, and I was so perplexed. The feeling was so vacant, like I had just fallen into a deep cave, with no way out. Why was America so desired by so many, why do they call it the land of promises, opportunity, with thousand possibilities? I was so young that my imagination didn’t allow me to see what people were envisioning then. What is an opportunity I kept asking? What will that bring you? We were doing just fine in Portugal, and I felt I was the one missing out on everything, my friends, school, I still had so much to do. We sat nearby the gate as advised, someone would be coming to take us in 1 hr, but when I noticed the time going by, and no one in sight, I asked one of the agents walking by, if anyone remembered, that we were the minors on the way to Boston, with the color-coded tickets. In panic and astonishment, one ordered the other, to bring us to the plane ready for take-off. They acknowledged the mistake, offered an apology. They told us to hurry, as they phoned the crew to wait a few minutes more.
My sisters playful as always laughed, and I cried. I felt they were telling me I couldn’t take care of them, as I never provided them with any answers. Of course I could not, I was just a little older than they were, and I needed comfort and support, as much as they did. While the 3 of them ate dinner, and said no to Coca-Cola this time, I visited my hidden corner, as I needed to be there again. I closed my eyes, and it was later on that I heard the word Boston, and the Captain announcing the approaching of the landing. I was ready for my mother, in need of much love, as I get a sense of relief knowing that she will be there, to shelter us from the fear, darkness, and all we had just lived through. But I also was proud to know that we all had been so brave, by staying together safe, during all this time, in a strange world we hardly knew anything about.
There, I see my parents waving their arms at us, with so much vitality, smiling, calling for our names, wanting to know it all. We waved back, with a lot to say, but we were tired and decided to wait. My feelings were real, deep and profound, when I silently marked that day, as a reminder to myself, that maybe someday I could tell it all in a more relaxing way. It is getting dark in America, I look at the sunset, the day will be over soon, and the night is on the way. And finally, the family happily together is on the way to their new home. With time, I saw my sisters hugging their destiny, embracing their fate, through their eyes and laughter, but yet I remained uncertain whether or not I had found my own, as just a while ago, I felt like I had landed in the ocean, somewhere between the two continents, not knowing whether to swim forward, or backwards. Today I still feel the weakness of the sensation I felt then, and I ask myself many times, where do I really belong? I never learned how to swim, let alone making the choice between the two. Although I have learned to walk each mile, and to discover each crossing of my journey during each accomplished success, the teenager I was on the plane stayed back frozen between the two time zones in a place called the past. The adult in me grew up following the miles ahead, looking for a way to link the two together in the new place called the future. It hasn’t been a successful task or a completed one, but I know I have been traveling in a memorable lane.
We all have been back at one time or another, we all have visited the village, and lived precious moments of pleasure. Many changes have taken place, nothing remains the same, our grandparents have passed away, life has definitely moved on for everyone who stayed, and for those who left in the discovery of new imaginings. Civilization, technology, immigration, progress and the birth of many other citizens after we left, have played a great role in the development and growth of the country. The village is no longer small, and the nights are no longer dark and long, life goes on continuously there. Time has brought in lights and music from big cities, to less developed and small towns, transforming them into great places to live in, as they continue to strive on old lessons and values, in conjunction with new modern ways, making their lifetime and history a unique experience to others.
We have been living different successes here in America, as each mile completed has been another step to a new dream or goal. Four teenagers who have long gone in separate ways, but still bonded by the same thread of life, which brought them here together back then in May of 1968. Each one of them has formed their own family, has grown up into a unique character, with a self-identity, personality, and respect for each other. With a story to tell, its reason and purpose in life, they are also continuing on, in this new tempo, so-called today. Many things have taken place during our journey; some difficulties and deceptions, along with many accomplishments, and unconditional love. We all accept who we are; nothing is taken for granted. We take pride for what we have become, we acknowledge each mile we have walked together, that will be continuing on for many years, never forgetting why we came and when. I myself recognize that now, and as the adult I am today, understand things much better, than as the teenager I then was. I respect and value the decision my parents made to bring us here, their sole maturity and drive for more prosperity, the efforts and sacrifices, and the love for us all. I honor my mother’s strong determination to make it happen, and my father’s constant struggle to find himself in time. One offered the other the sense of need to always try to make it better. My father’s lifetime journey came to an end in August of 2002.
The complexity of all the past events seem now to have a lighter scope, but still important to me to understand that immigration in the 60’s was a necessary, usual thing to do for many people, whereas today consideration of same is little. It makes me proud to know that the country is in a much better social, economical, and political status, and people live in a higher comfort level. The world is getting closer; we can now see anyone on the Internet, via links of the super information highway. I can now live my longtime dream, enjoying my dual culture, language and tradition more openly, and perhaps help in the expansion and knowledge of the same. Indeed, life is much easier nowadays, as time has brought in progress and technology to the more underdeveloped, and providing them with chances of equal growth. Humanity has also played an important role in the closeness of cultures, by promoting and bringing them the arts and all important things in life, once more admired in the good, old days.
I am sure all this started back then, on the day we all were waiting in line, in many embassies of the world, for our visas and passports, reaching high for a star. Even though at the beginning I didn’t think it would be easy for me to adapt, I am glad I was given the chance to come to this country at a such young age, to hear about freedom, independence, justice, and to learn that I am fortunate to be here and understand that I am part of a melting pot of the world, where everyone from all walks of life is accepted and given the opportunity to belong. Being able to cope with the change of life, accepting the new land, new words and sounds, is quite a victory. It takes many years to achieve that, more for some than others, depending on such factors as age, emotional stability, ambition, and self-recognition.
Many immigrants are faced with various challenges, tests of courage and individual strength, determination. Some go on to succeed, and others do not. It has been a long, difficult process for me, perhaps because I haven’t allowed myself to accept it. At times, I still feel the lost teenager in me, and the eagerness to pull her away from the deep ocean. Other times I feel she has reached shore and the victory she has been aiming for. And perhaps most of all, the adult in me, who asks what it would have been, if life had gone on as usual in that small village, had the night never been interrupted early on. I never really lost my old culture, or have I ever accepted my new one. I don’t really know if I belong entirely to either, as time has erased many cultural traits of the older one, and time again has not engraved the entire new one.
I still remember my grandmother’s perseverance, my grandfather’s ulterior authority, and all of what was left behind, from the simple taste of oranges grown in any household backyard, to the candles lit in church processions, to the cultural aroma, sensibility, charisma, ethics and values of daily life. But I also can never forget all the stars counted through the years, in the land where I live today. For the new generation I have formed, who depend on me for many years to come, my daughter and my grandchildren, and for everything that resulted from learning what opportunity means in this nation of such magnitude. Life is indeed a long journey, filled with many mysteries, much success, surprises, and many times deceptions, which can be overcome, when accepted by all. The future lies ahead, and within the hope and the dream, for a more peaceful world, where everyone stays together, living each day knowing who and where they are. For some people, life only gives them a short journey, very few crossing miles, who will never see what awaits for them, at the next turning light .
Others are born with a longer timeline, and they will grow up learning through enlightened inspiration, so they can teach others what they came here to live for. One needs to inherit all the knowledge and wisdom during the end of one’s journey, and begin to explore what will be their own, but not everyone is gifted and strong enough, to look in the deep inner self of one another. Life itself is a narrative play, learning and teaching experience, with each one of us as the main living characters. Life is also an open book never to close! A book everyone should read, turn at the end of each page, until the last story line is learned. Many pages still to turn, but for now I do know, that my book can always be found up in the attic, where memories can be shared, inspiration is felt and passed on, and moments of time are to be treasured. Remembering When shall never be forgotten, Living Now must be unfolded, Knowing What crossing to follow leads the way to the next generation. Finding Who we are is never to forget the first day of our journey together and the milestones we took to get where we should be. We may not be able to start over, but we always will know who was there, as their usual shadow continues to guide us, at every instant of the night, bringing a new sunrise, in pursuit of day light, ensuring us one more time.
 |
| Who knows if someday the 4 of us can go back together? This time we won't be as lost. From The Unknown Belonging Nowhere To Hello World, let's go shopping in style! |
This story is dedicated to my grandmother who died on August 17, 1971.
And to my father who died on August 17, 2002
Personal Story
2 comments:
Is this the story from nostalgiastories.com?
Yes, it is. However, that site has been closed by the author. He paid me $99.00 for the story.He closed the site without any warning. I was surprised. He may have gotten ill or something. I was disappointed. I wrote 2 more for him, and I never got a chance to save them somewhere else.
Post a Comment