I Am American - Pt 4
I grew up in Morgan County, Colorado, surrounded by members of Immanuel Evangelical Lutheran Church. My grandfather was a co-founder of the church. I considered the church, its members, and the slew of activities surrounding it as my personal family. Every summer there was Bible School, every Easter many young people, about 14 years old, would join the church after standing in front of the congregation and reciting what they had learned from one, sometimes two, years of Confirmation classes. It was consistent, predictable, and welcoming – I was part of something I loved.
My mother’s oldest sister, Katy would never know that kind of acceptance, however. My grandfather viewed Katy’s refusal to marry the neighbor’s son as a rebellious act directed against him. Grandpa’s pride had been wounded, embarrassing him; Katy’s behavior usurped his hard-earned authority. I think the only way he could save face was to remain angry with her, thus showing the community that he was strong and powerful enough to punish his own daughter. That was not good enough, though for the jilted son of a crooked farmer.
Katy married and remained steadfastly dedicated to her husband, even though Grandpa treated her badly. Grandpa pressured my grandmother to turn away from Katy, but Grandma always found ways to talk to her, be with her and the kids, and to let Katy know she loved her. There came a time, though, that a mother’s love was not enough.
Katy fell ill and her doctor could not diagnose her illness. At his advice, Katy and her husband called the Mayo Clinic in New York City. She was accepted but had to find a way to travel there. Grandpa, still angry with her for her youthful defiance, refused to pay her way, even though Grandma pleaded with him to relent and give Katy the money. She and her husband saved every cent they could and for weeks as her health declined, they held out hope that Grandpa would come to their aid and loan them the money. He did not.
My Aunt Marie was engaged to a successful, willful, and very stubborn man. Uncle Henry soon offered Katy and her husband the $40 for the round trip train tickets to Rochester, New York. She made it to the Mayo Clinic but died a short 2 weeks later, leaving behind a confused family, two small boys, and a husband who would never understand his father-in-law’s behavior.
About the same time as Katy's death, the neighbor who had successfully gained them entry into the U.S., contacted the United States customs, local law enforcement, and Canadian immigration. He advised them all that my grandparents and their children were in North America illegally.
My mother was only six years old, Aunt Marie was engaged to be married, and now, the authorities were going about to send the family back to Russia. The catch? By birth, my mother is a U.S. citizen. Governmental red tape did not allow for sending an infant of American citizenship out of the country with non-citizens, even though they were her parents. Arrangements were made for my mother to stay with a family friend; she didn’t understand that she would probably never see her family again.
My Uncle Henry once again stepped forward offering his assistance by going to Denver and hiring a competent lawyer who helped my mother’s family obtain the necessary papers allowing them to remain in the United States.
Katy died many years before I was born, however, my mother talks of her often. I have seen only a handful of photos of her, yet I know her through my mother’s six-year-old eyes.
Grandpa struggle as a farmer but became successful, Grandma loved Colorado but lived only another 19 years - long enough to watch her oldest daughter die from a virtually unknown blood disease that today, threatens my mother's life, as well.
Patti (Pinxter)
My mother’s oldest sister, Katy would never know that kind of acceptance, however. My grandfather viewed Katy’s refusal to marry the neighbor’s son as a rebellious act directed against him. Grandpa’s pride had been wounded, embarrassing him; Katy’s behavior usurped his hard-earned authority. I think the only way he could save face was to remain angry with her, thus showing the community that he was strong and powerful enough to punish his own daughter. That was not good enough, though for the jilted son of a crooked farmer.
Katy married and remained steadfastly dedicated to her husband, even though Grandpa treated her badly. Grandpa pressured my grandmother to turn away from Katy, but Grandma always found ways to talk to her, be with her and the kids, and to let Katy know she loved her. There came a time, though, that a mother’s love was not enough.
Katy fell ill and her doctor could not diagnose her illness. At his advice, Katy and her husband called the Mayo Clinic in New York City. She was accepted but had to find a way to travel there. Grandpa, still angry with her for her youthful defiance, refused to pay her way, even though Grandma pleaded with him to relent and give Katy the money. She and her husband saved every cent they could and for weeks as her health declined, they held out hope that Grandpa would come to their aid and loan them the money. He did not.
My Aunt Marie was engaged to a successful, willful, and very stubborn man. Uncle Henry soon offered Katy and her husband the $40 for the round trip train tickets to Rochester, New York. She made it to the Mayo Clinic but died a short 2 weeks later, leaving behind a confused family, two small boys, and a husband who would never understand his father-in-law’s behavior.
About the same time as Katy's death, the neighbor who had successfully gained them entry into the U.S., contacted the United States customs, local law enforcement, and Canadian immigration. He advised them all that my grandparents and their children were in North America illegally.
My mother was only six years old, Aunt Marie was engaged to be married, and now, the authorities were going about to send the family back to Russia. The catch? By birth, my mother is a U.S. citizen. Governmental red tape did not allow for sending an infant of American citizenship out of the country with non-citizens, even though they were her parents. Arrangements were made for my mother to stay with a family friend; she didn’t understand that she would probably never see her family again.
My Uncle Henry once again stepped forward offering his assistance by going to Denver and hiring a competent lawyer who helped my mother’s family obtain the necessary papers allowing them to remain in the United States.
Katy died many years before I was born, however, my mother talks of her often. I have seen only a handful of photos of her, yet I know her through my mother’s six-year-old eyes.
Grandpa struggle as a farmer but became successful, Grandma loved Colorado but lived only another 19 years - long enough to watch her oldest daughter die from a virtually unknown blood disease that today, threatens my mother's life, as well.
Patti (Pinxter)
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