They heard the story about the land so far, far away. The land that gives new freedoms and opportunities. They packed their belongings and went on the dangerous, long trip through the ocean of fear and uncertainty. They left behind their homeland and all the spirits of their ancestors. They were going to America for a new life. .. if they were lucky to make it there alive.
As our little tourist boat was approaching Lady Liberty, I had a mental Power Point of images going through my head. These were the images from postcards, bird-view panoramas from popular movies and images of the shocking international news I saw one September afternoon in Kiev. The skyline filled with smoke, fire and distraction-it was calm and peaceful now.
I was standing there looking at the symbol of freedom for people all over the world and felt appreciation to the land that became a refuge for so many broken lives. This land gave people new beginning, success and sense of belonging. This was a miracle field that brought light in the hopeless eyes.
I wished I could go home that very minute, the home was so much closer from New York than from Utah.
My wish came true.
As we were walking down the Coney Island, we suddenly found ourselves among people who spoke Russian and Ukrainian: babushkas with little granddaughters taking a walk; ladies, eating sunflower seeds and talking about news; men, debating about latest business affairs with Moldavians. It was like a flashback from the past.
Brighton Beach – they call it a little Odessa because of the great population of Ukrainians and Russians. Old and young immigrants who found their new home here. What were their stories? What did they come here for?
On the bench that overlooked the ocean, I saw a lady who spoke Ukrainian on the phone. “I just need to hear Romchik, just to hear his voice”, she said with tears.
All they get here for family is telephone and internet connection. Family is a virtual reality - a payment to enter the miracle field of dreams.
