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The Love Story

Ariel Kaluzhny's story posted on June 21, 2012 at 7:08 pm. Ariel emigrated from Moscow, Russia to Boulder,Co, United States in 1991

The story is written bt Camp RSM @ Sunapee Counselor Ariel Kaluzhny.


My great uncle was the first to immigrate to the United States. Once he established himself in the United States with his family, he was able to buy tickets for my father, my uncle, and my aunt to move as well. At age 29 my father was all set and ready to immigrate to the United States. To prepare for his move to America, he took English classes before leaving. At the class he met my mother, who had to take the class in order to work as a computer engineer. Although my father was supposed to leave a few 


 After about a year, the American Embassy told him that he could not delay any longer: he could immigrate now or never. My father had to pack all of his belonging, his whole life, into a maximum of two suitcases which could not exceed a certain weight. He first came to Boston to stay with his brother but soon found work in Colorado. My father was soon able to buy my mother a ticket and she joined him in Boston. Despite a leaky transmission, and a being rear ended in New York, my parents made it to Colorado after five days of driving.


My mother came to America on a visitor’s visa, meaning she was expected to go back. Eventually she was able to obtain the paperwork to stay in America and now both of my parents are American citizens. Even now, over twenty years after she immigrated, my mother has never been back to Russia. She says she is afraid that she will not be able to come back.


After about a half a year in America my parents were able to have a Jewish wedding and invite anyone that they wanted. Back in Russia, people may not have come simply because it was a Jewish wedding. My father’s parents, who had immigrated to Boston, were able to attend the wedding, but nobody else in either of my parent’s families was able to attend.


My mother has always said that she knew that she was Jewish, because it said so on her passport. But living in America, being Jewish could mean something more than a stamp on a passport. In America, I have never been discriminated against for being Jewish. My parents were rejected from Universities for being Jewish, but when I applied, I had the opportunity to get in anywhere. I was able to have a Bat Mitzvah, a Jewish ceremony for coming of age. I was able to learn Hebrew and read the Torah without being afraid.


 My mom learned to read Hebrew too, something she never would have done in Russia. Although I am not religious, I go to synagogue on high holidays. I may not appreciate it as much as I should but my mother reminds me that it is important; neither of my parents went to synagogue in Russia.  My parents’ immigration was not as much about wanting to practice their religion, but about having the freedom to do so if they so chose. They want to be able to be themselves, and not be discriminated for it. They want to be able to honor their ancestors. They want to have opportunity for themselves and their children. My parents came to America because it was a better place, and I am blessed that they did. 


1 Comments

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Jane S.:

very good story--thank you,

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