30-year Anniversay

[Tamarika in Manhattan, 1987]

Thirty years ago I met the United States of America for the first time in my life. It was October 1987, and I was thirty eight years old. I came to spend a month here: Three weeks in Buffalo, where I was being recruited to study at the University at Buffalo, and one week in Manhattan with my beloved nephew, my Scrabble buddy.

I fell in love with the autumn colors of Western New York, and with the idea that I could change my life and afford my son opportunities I would never be able to do in Israel as a single mother. At the outset, I had absolutely no idea about how difficult the whole immigration thing would be. But I had hope for a future other than the life I was leading at that moment. I desperately needed to make a break for myself and my son, and leave behind the pain and hurt of my life at that time.

Much more importantly though, I needed to discover my self-worth, and how to believe in and validate myself. It would take many years of hard work and therapy learning to adjust to two different cultures: that of America, and the other of academia. Both completely foreign to me. I muddled along making many mistakes along the way. It was tough, even excruciating, and at times I thought I wouldn't make it.  

Thirty years ago as I sat in the yard of my professor, who was recruiting me, looking out at the woods behind his home, I imagined how it might be if I immigrated to the States. Now, alone in my office at work I type this post and raise my coffee cup in celebration of this anniversary. It's a milestone all right. In a few days, the final draft of the manuscript of my latest book will be on its way to the publisher. I have so much to be thankful for.

I made it through, thanks to my perseverance, the support of my husband, and a few outstanding friends, and am reminded of a poem by Langston Hughes that a fellow student and friend gave me during my first year in Buffalo, and which I have carried in my wallet ever since:

Mother to Son

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

 

Three years ago at Mining Nuggets: Changing the life script