As a young girl my maternal grandmother Anna left the Polish village of Griva to live with relatives in America.

Atypically, as a young adult, she went back. Who ever went back?  She did.

And became a local celebrity. Most everyone had to visit.  A rare opportunity. Firsthand knowledge of America.  Available perhaps for the first time in Griva.

My grandfather was a visitor, a suitor, and then a husband. They married agreeing to live in America.

And so they did. Arriving in 1906, and settling in the tenements of New York. 

My grandfather learned to operate a sewing machine, and spent his working life in  a sweatshop, providing for his wife and  ultimately 5 children. One was my aunt Ruth.

And now we  flash forward 75 years.

Ruth, on a vacation trip, decided that she wanted a corned beef sandwich for dinner. In Mexico City.

A deli existed.

And a conversation in Yiddish with the owner ensued.

The owner observed that Ruth spoke Yiddish with an accent and inquired about the origin of her parents.

“Well”, she replied, “ they were from  Griva.”  “Griva, I am from Griva!”

Astounded, their conversation continued. Ruth spoke of her mother, the girl from America. And then the owner, visibly shaken, began to cry. “Why are you crying?”, she asked.

“You see, I was a little boy. It is my earliest memory   --  my parents took me to visit the girl from America.”

 

– Michael J. Schwarz

Relationship:  Grandchild of im/migrant Grandchild of im/migrant