Marina's Story

Marina came to work with me in a small office back East in the mid-1980's. She was young, perhaps 20, short brown curls framing her cherubic face. She spoke with a very slight accent. Marina was a Russian Jew who had moved to the United States with her family-- father, mother, and a brother-- about a year before. She told me her story. Her father felt it was time for them to leave Russia. Knowing they would not be granted permission to leave, they made plans to "visit" her uncle in Israel. They took only what they would need for such a trip, leaving behind treasured family mementos and all other personal possessions, knowing that taking even such things as family pictures would arouse the suspicion of authorities and would likely jeopardize their plans. They did go to Israel, but spent only the time necessary to get visas to come to America. They left behind their former lives, family, friends and all but two weeks worth of clothing to come here. I was in awe.

I was also impressed with Marina's ability to speak and understand English. She had taken English in her Russian school, but said that most of her language skills had come as a result of signing up for classes at the local community college there in Maryland. Wasn't it hard, I asked her, to take classes having only a very basic understanding of our language. Well, yes, she said, it was, but she caught on quickly. And she was getting good grades, despite this handicap. Each new revelation about what she had been through amazed me further.

I asked her what some of the things were that she enjoyed here that she didn't have in Russia.

Gum.

Gum?

Yes, gum.

Didn't you have gum in Russia?

No.

Why not?

Well, the government didn't think it was necessary.

Strange, I thought. Something that I wouldn't even think of as significant, this girl thought was a treat. And what's up with that -- the government didn't think it was necessary?

What has been the hardest thing to get used to in the United States, I asked her.

The freedom, she replied without hesitation.

She went on to explain that her father had taken a job in another community when they first arrived here. After a short time, he realized that the job was not a good match for him. He wanted to change jobs. In Russia, she explained, they had little, if any, choice where they worked or where they lived. If they wanted to change jobs, they applied to the government which, if it decided was a valid request, would find the individual a new job and different living arrangements if the job was in a different area. Here, her father had to apply to various companies, go for interviews, decide which job to take, find a new place to live when he accepted a position with a large company in our area, make arrangements to move his family, and follow through. It was a daunting process to one who had never experienced this way of doing things.

I don't remember the rest of our conversation on these lines. I do know the things I've just written gave me much reason for thought and consideration for a long time.

More later...