My father came to America in 1970 from India. He came alone, leaving his wife and two small children at home in India to get started. He originally tried to immigrate to Uganda, but they rejected him. Next in the alphabet is the United States.
When he arrived in New York he had $7 US dollars in his pocket. He did not know one soul in this country. Not a single friend, not a single contact. He spent the first 2 nights at the YMCA in Manhattan, and ran out of money. At the end of those nights as he was checking out of the Y with no money left, another Indian came up to him and said he had room in his apartment if he needed a place to stay. It was a stroke of luck, and they became life long friends.
He fondly tells stories about those first years about seeing anglo Hari-Krishna's in Manhatten in 1970 in Grand Cental Station and crying because it reminded him of home. Or being in Manhatten with the cold winter wind waiting for a bus and wondering what the heck am I doing here...
My mother and brothers joined my father 6 months later in 1970 and they settled into America. During the next years I was born, my father and mother both worked multiple jobs, and got their masters degrees. Even though we were never rich with money, we always felt rich because we knew the sacrifices they made to come to America. They left their families and friends to try and give their children a better life and education.
In time my parents brothers and sisters came as well. We became a clan of Indians in NY and NJ, taking funny vacations to Niagara Falls and Washington DC. As we got older we were blessed to get into good colleges, and my parents became more financially secure. My brothers and cousins met and married wondeful people both inside and outside the Indian-American community (that was rough sometimes) but in the end, we have been blessed with a wonderful family.
We had our trials and tribulations. One my uncles was murdered in a convienced store in North Carolina and other tragedies. But, through it all my father always kept his upbeat optimism for America...until the Bush administration. He felt that they took his country and put it to shame. The anger was palpable when discussing the Iraq war the needless deaths.
Last night, when reassuring my father that we were going to win this election he said:
It's not about the economy or the war. It's about looking at my grandchildren and knowing that in America, you can suceed to do anything based on your qualifications and character, not your background or color. This is my dream, and I will die happy if this comes true. Barack Obama can show the American dream to the world.
I then cried.