Do you realize you're living in a Dreamland?
If not, I can explain it to you.
I was born in a communist country in 1963 – 18 years after WW2 ended.
Can you imagine that number? Only 18 years. It’s nothing compared to the universe.
Russia had been totally exhausted by this ordeal.
People mourned the loss of thousands: brothers and sisters, parents and friends, entire families. The country was recovering. Everyone was looking with hope to a bright future. Working hard, endlessly studying, helping each other, getting marrying young, welcoming newborns.
But hope always comes with a big disappointment.
To get a telephone line for a home you had to wait 10 years. There were waiting lists for apartments, sewing machines, televisions, and cars. Even kitchen cabinets, carpets. To buy mayonnaise, sour cream,or a piece of meat or cutlets, people started lining up before sunrise, long before the grocery stores opened up.
My parents were surviving every day with minimal wage jobs working as an engineers at an aircraft factory. But we had daycare and elementary school, colleges and universities, emergency and medical care, all for free.
After I graduated from high school, I went to Art college. Then I got married and worked in a factory for a few years. I had my son. Marriage didn’t work out.
That’s when I started to understand my parents. Yes, when I become a parent. Staying in line for three hours to buy my toddler son two pairs of children’s tights.
Deciding to continue an art career, I went to University for five more years. Even though I had a university diploma as a Fine Art teacher, I still wasn’t able to find a job for months. I could only afford a minimal amount of daily food.
When my son was in high school,some immigrants from another republic bullied him. One day, I sent my son to a grocery store. He came back beaten up by skinheads. Another time, I got a broken nose, when a drunk man hit me while I was walking home one evening.
After all of that,I had the crazy idea of leaving the country. To save myself and my only son. The idea haunted me for days and nights. It become an addiction: run, run, run as far as we can.
My high school teacher helped me to come to America in1997 as a live-in nanny. I called my ten-year-old son weekly, and sent money to my family back in Russia. It was difficult for both of us. I returned to Russia in 1998.
For a permanent living situation,I came here 2004 by a marriage visa, and my son followed me. My husband helped me in the beginning.
But I've had to remember—if I’m having problems here, it was my choice to leave my country for a better life. And I’m working on it, trying to build my career as a Fine Art teacher at a private school.
Everybody has an equal chance here, and there are a lot more possibilities. We have great weather, beautiful nature, variations of food, different cultures, and many places to visit. Life here is more enjoyable—no more five month of snow. No more mud in the Spring and Fall.
Yes, we've had to work hard. To study a different language so we can somehow communicate. To make new friends, to assimilate in America, to become a citizens and to be able to get a jobs. Many people from all over the World are taking any little chance they can get to come here. We are the lucky ones.
Americans don’t realize how special it is here, they take everything for granted. They can’t imagine it could be somebody's Dream to live here. To have bread on a plate, to feel safe,and to be loved.
For me, it is a Dreamland.
- What about you?
March 2020
Спасибо за лайки и подписку на мой канал. До новых встреч )