This was circa 1970, in a beautiful home in Providence, Rhode Island. My father had emigrated to the United States months before bringing us here. That's me -- three years old, in the blue dress at the far right in this photo. My mother is in the silver saree holding my baby sister. And my big sister is in the back in the red dress. I remember this house vaguely. I do remember that it is here that my six year old sister first went to school, and came home with a black eye - she was beaten up because we were one of the few non-white families at that time. Providence has changed since then. We still have a photo somewhere of her smiling up at the camera through her swollen eye. Despite that sad incident, we moved to Cincinnati and my father made the acquaintance of some wonderful people who taught us that not everyone in America would resent us for being different. One of his friends, Norb Schutte, would later visit India with my father and become my Dad's dear friend. Norb and his wife (then girlfriend) Patti would visit us every Christmas and bring gifts for everyone in the family - our first lessons about Christmas and giving. They were truly kind and generous and embodied the spirit of love and friendship in every way. Norb would go on to become a medical doctor and they would have a beautiful family of their own. The landscape and face of America has changed so much since then - the immigrant experience today is not nearly what it was back in the '70s. But I struggled growing up with being different. Through it all, my older sister took the brunt of it - being beat up and getting into verbal altercations with other children who didn't like us, protecting me when I was ready to go to school. She is still sadly suffering the impact of that childhood today. I have some of my own sad memories - too personal to share. But I wouldn't change my Dad's decision for anything. Despite our early struggles, we persevered. We made friends and found the goodness in people. Most of all, we realized that we are American too, and America is part of us. And we realized that here is where we belong.
What an interesting and yet lovely story - thank you for sharing. I am grateful that times have changed. Not enough sometimes but hopefully we will all become more compassionate. We all are struggling.
Posted by: Peggy | January 27, 2011 at 06:12 AM
Dear, I'm and immigrant and a crafter myself. I was much older coming to the USA, so my experiences are different, but your story still prompted me to send you this note. I actually started crafting after I came here, out of feeling of homesickness and uprootedness. Slowly, the USA became my home, and I really love being here. I'm sending you hugs and best wishes, and looking forward to your future posts about crafts and memories like this one.
Posted by: Vesna | January 27, 2011 at 12:26 PM
It's too bad Providence was like that... I've become a tried and true Rhode Islander! I love this state so much - I grew up north of Boston. I can't imagine the trials and tribulations of coming to the states at any time. I'm glad the story has a happy ending. Thank you for sharing.
Posted by: Ashley | January 29, 2011 at 04:24 PM
I love your life story, your family look beautiful, warmly Doreen
Posted by: Doreen | February 10, 2011 at 12:12 PM
I just had to leave you a comment on your womderful post. It was touching, insightful and forgiving. It is unfortunate the 'melting pot' of the world was so unaccepting. My dad had a wonderful Indian friend when we lived in Oklahoma in the late 70's (I was 8), he introduced me to the wonderful food, that I still enjoy at The Spice House (yes I live in Hilliard too!). Hopefully, we had a similar impact on his life as Norb had on yours. Love your blog and your daughter is beautiful!!!
Posted by: Kristin Tierney | March 04, 2011 at 08:49 AM
Tears came to my eyes just imagining your sister as a six year old little girl coming home with a black eye. My family immigrated here in the late 60's and I can empathize...
Posted by: Linda Djokic | April 12, 2011 at 08:51 PM
lovely photo, touching thoughts.
i was born in Australia but my parents were new immigrants so growing up in the 70's in Sydney, we were still teased at school and made to feel different...im proud of my heritage and traditions which we keep strong in our hearts for the next generation to enjoy and participate.
Posted by: anastasia | April 19, 2011 at 01:20 AM