My mothers name is a traditional Russian name, much like her brother. Similarly, she gave my brother a common name used in Russia: Sasha. I am never allowed to call him by his Russian name; my father strongly dislikes it. In english, it translates to Alexander, and Alex for short. My name, however, was googled. My mom and dad wanted a name that would be easy for me to fit in, but not a name that would be too common as well. They stumbled upon Amanda Nicole. My last name comes from my father whose ancestry can be traced back to Ireland. In fact, there’s a castle in Ireland called “Barry Castle” which helps us conclude that my last name is quite Irish.
Through many months of relocating, my family on my mothers side finally made it to America. They came here for the same reasons as many other immigrants, for the pursuit of better education for their children (my mother and uncle) and to escape anti-semitism in the Soviet Union that is current day Kiev, Ukraine. My mother experienced harsh bullying because she was jewish in a primarily atheist nation. To begin the journey to the U.S., my grandmother's parents, her and her husband, and their children, all sat in a long line for days. This was where they had their bags checked because there were things that were not allowed to be taken outside the country. My grandmother was able to smuggle one thing across the border, her coral necklace that she put on my mother who was bundled in a fur coat. To pay the men for checking their bags, my grandmother brought vodka and a stick of salami. I questioned at first why didn’t she just pay with the currency? She explained “Because they didn’t want our money. They wanted the nice branded vodka and salami instead since we didn’t have American dollars.” But rather than just taking the fair amount, they took all she had. This left them without anyway to pay back for people to transport their bags. Unlike moving nowadays, they could only take what they brought and this was before the invention of nice suitcases on wheels. So my uncle and his father were in charge of carrying most of the 12 large army sized duffle bags. The heavy, large bags were carried through the border, and to the train where all six of them sat together with the bags. They later spent a week in Vienna, Austria and afterwards spent a few months in Rome, Italy where they awaited to here of a city in America willing to accept them. That’s how they ended up flying to Louisville, Kentucky where a synagogue took them in and rented an apartment for them so my grandfather could find work.
Through many months of relocating, my family on my mothers side finally made it to America. They came here for the same reasons as many other immigrants, for the pursuit of better education for their children (my mother and uncle) and to escape anti-semitism in the Soviet Union that is current day Kiev, Ukraine. My mother experienced harsh bullying because she was jewish in a primarily atheist nation. To begin the journey to the U.S., my grandmother's parents, her and her husband, and their children, all sat in a long line for days. This was where they had their bags checked because there were things that were not allowed to be taken outside the country. My grandmother was able to smuggle one thing across the border, her coral necklace that she put on my mother who was bundled in a fur coat. To pay the men for checking their bags, my grandmother brought vodka and a stick of salami. I questioned at first why didn’t she just pay with the currency? She explained “Because they didn’t want our money. They wanted the nice branded vodka and salami instead since we didn’t have American dollars.” But rather than just taking the fair amount, they took all she had. This left them without anyway to pay back for people to transport their bags. Unlike moving nowadays, they could only take what they brought and this was before the invention of nice suitcases on wheels. So my uncle and his father were in charge of carrying most of the 12 large army sized duffle bags. The heavy, large bags were carried through the border, and to the train where all six of them sat together with the bags. They later spent a week in Vienna, Austria and afterwards spent a few months in Rome, Italy where they awaited to here of a city in America willing to accept them. That’s how they ended up flying to Louisville, Kentucky where a synagogue took them in and rented an apartment for them so my grandfather could find work.
Fast forward to today and now my family lives in Wilmette, IL. I was born in Atlanta, but raised in Dallas, Texas. Due to my dad receiving an excellent job offer, we moved to Illinois. My parents chose Wilmette specifically because our incredibly close family friends live only a mile away now. Being the second move in a year, my parents really wanted to make it easier on my brother and I by having us live near family to ease the transition one more time.
The story of my mother immigrating here to America is a story that’s told year after year to remind my brother and I of what we have. That we are fortunate enough to grow up in a country that celebrates freedom of religion. It also reminds us of the value of hard work. My mother and her family came here with no currency, only their belongings. The value of hard work is drilled into my brother and I because nothing is given. It’s all worked for.
The story of my mother immigrating here to America is a story that’s told year after year to remind my brother and I of what we have. That we are fortunate enough to grow up in a country that celebrates freedom of religion. It also reminds us of the value of hard work. My mother and her family came here with no currency, only their belongings. The value of hard work is drilled into my brother and I because nothing is given. It’s all worked for.
Your history is so interesting! It is cool to hear about all the places and different cultures you and your family have experienced. I would have never guessed that your family was so international given your first name, however as noted in the first paragraph I see that your parents wanted you to fit in. Your background is so fascinating and you did a really nice job of relaying it!
ReplyDeleteLove the fact that your mom keeps telling you the story every year. This is so important!
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