Part One – Here
(Western Hemisphere)
CHAPTER FIVE – CONCERNS AND MEETINGS
Now, many years after moving, past events look like filming in an accelerated rhythm: we arrived, learned a language, learned a specialty, got settled, raised children, helped relatives to settle, communicated with friends and even traveled. But, in fact, life then, compared to now, did not flow briskly at all, but rather, on the contrary, slowly, like a recovery from a serious illness, when even walking is difficult at first.
Well, I’ll tell you from the perspective of “now” and not “then,” so tune in to vaudeville. Imagine light music, a lively pianist, a silent film, and away we go!
The first two goals of the new arrivals – food and housing – were achieved quite quickly – within a month. The first – thanks to social support from society, and the second – thanks to loved ones who helped with finding an apartment and lent money for rent. Of course, our position was not completely determined until we both began to work, but before that there was still more than one session of silent comedies to the encouraging music of a broken down piano.
Ana settled in the fastest – we took her to a nearby elementary school, where she began her American education. Well, perhaps, first we went with her to the nearest medical center and brought a certificate of approval of all her past Soviet vaccinations.
But when we say “settled down,” we mean something of our own, adult, busy and certain. However, what children experience when moving, studying in new schools and being surrounded by unfamiliar children, who also speak a different language, is – wow, what the stress! So the first member of our family who came under the stress of the move was our child. I think that back then we lacked an understanding of the difficulties of children’s lives amid our preoccupation with current problems.
Fortunately, Uncle Abel and his wife, Aunt Fanny, arrived soon after us. I’ve met them. I had to quickly pick up my mother’s gift – wooden hangers for us.
Here is how it was. One of my friends was thinking about a business: selling Soviet fifty-kopeck (at that time 2.5 cents) wooden clothes hangers in the USA for three dollars. Apparently, I told my mother about this in a letter, mentioning that wooden hangers are expensive here. Mom rushed to help her poor children. Abel, of course, did not want to bring hangers, but he did not dare to refuse. And imagine the picture: emigrants from the plane are heading to customs, and in their hands are bundles of empty hangers. Fun, isn’t it?
But the most important thing is that we supported each other. My aunt and uncle moved in next door and began helping Ana and me. Fanny picked her up after school and in warm weather walked with her in the park. I, in turn, together with my dad, took them to the offices – my dad drove the car, and I filled out the papers and translated.
I remember that I saw local school mathematics textbooks and was horrified. In those years they were as if for the underdeveloped. In elementary school, it was enough to at least occasionally glance at a book to reach this level. There was simply no “level”. There wasn’t much worry at school. It was enough to study English. Perhaps this is not so stupid, because the most important thing is communication.
My wife and I, following our daughter, started going to our “schools”, were studying English and were looking for a professional job. I must say that it was not easy for my wife either: she was worried about speaking with people in a different, new language for her. It was the same when my wife settled in Tbilisi. Well, I spent my whole life in one city, one school, ten years among my friends, and poor Lilya changed several schools in different cities, full of people who were not the most cultured and kind. In Moscow, we didn’t let Ana go to school, but anyway, the next year we returned to our home Tbilisi, where at least in first grade children didn’t fight or swear foul language.
Lilya quite quickly, immediately after finishing her English courses, began working in a medical office, doing billing for insurance companies. Perhaps it was the wrong direction, but at first we didn’t think about anything other than working in our specialty.
My profession required passing medical exams, and having plunged into preparation for them, I realized that this was a long, difficult matter, akin to a third education.
I must say that I always liked studying, but as it turned out, in order to answer questions with multiple answers well, I needed to know not just the subtle books of notes of the Kaplan courses, but a significantly larger volume of material, by analogy with a weightlifter who had strict pressed a heavy weight, instead of jerk a light barbell. What can I do, I remained a sports theorist even in another country.
But even here I had many friends and well-wishers.
Firstly, my close friend Sasha, who unfortunately lived on the other side of the country, but my friends from the physics department of our University lived here in relative proximity: Grisha and Oleg. Grisha, however, lived in the suburbs, but we (two families) sometimes went to see him with Oleg, who had a big car.
Secondly, at the Kaplan courses, where I prepared for exams, the newcomers quickly developed friendly relations. We studied together, took exams and visited each other. There were many smart, educated and motivated doctors there.
Thirdly, we had relatives. Dad and his wife, Aunt Leah and her husband Zhorik and their two daughters. A few months after us, Uncle Abel and Aunt Fanny arrived, and then others followed.
And, finally, friends, such as the foreign language teacher Greta or Doctor M, with whom we had dinner once for Easter. Perhaps it is worth telling; it is an interesting story.
We received a call from NYANA and were told that our family had been chosen by a wealthy donor to invite to his house in suburbs for Easter dinner.
“He is a doctor, and he chose from our list of recently arrived Soviet doctors. The choice fell on your family, you were lucky. Be dressed well.”
To be honest, I didn’t really like this type of invitation, but I was interested in meeting the “locals” and chatting with them, and yes – we had formal clothes. In Georgia it was an important element of culture. In a word, we agreed.
At the agreed time, Doctor M drove up to the house and the three of us got into his car. At that time I didn’t yet understand car brands, but this one was elegant inside and out. The doctor looked at us kindly, and we drove out of town, to the area of rich mansions. The house was one story, but it went on and on. As I learned later, this was a sign of wealth.
Here we met the doctor’s family: wife, son, parents. At first, we all sat decorously on the sofas in the living room to chat. The first thing the old grandfather, also a former doctor, told me was:
“My son wanted to bring emigrants for Easter dinner, but he was worried that they would be unkempt people in headscarves and sheepskin coats…
“I Understand. Hollywood,” I said.
“Yes, stereotypes,” grandfather confirmed, “But I told him: you’ll see, there will be people like us! And they will be dressed the same way we are,” he touched my jacket, “Wool … English?”
I nodded silently. The tailoring before leaving was expensive, but the suit fit like a glove.
“All people are the same…” continued grandfather, “Want to hear my story?”
Of course, I wanted to.
At the beginning of the twentieth century, the M’s family lived in Hungary, more precisely in Austria-Hungary. The First World War began and grandfather’s dad went to the front and was captured. In Russia, he was interned in Siberia, where he worked on railroad construction until he contracted typhus. Almost dying, he asked a friend from the camp to take his watch to the men and exchange it for a medicine. Among the bearded men was Yakow, a Jewish merchant from Germany who entered Russia through Japan to trade. He took care of the man who had Jewish engraving on his watch.
So the great-grandfather survived and returned home through Japan, China and Turkey. He invited Yakow to visit and became friends with him. A few years later, the great-grandfather’s son grew up and went to Yakow in Germany to study medicine. There, in Germany, he fell in love with a girl who turned out to be from a very rich family of factories owners. In the early thirties they moved to the USA. Grandfather’s family and Yakow’s family remained in Europe and perished in the Holocaust.
And the grandfather was among the first emigrant doctors to pass the newly introduced exams for foreign doctors in America. So he understood me quite well…
Then there was lunch, quite homely and, I would say, modest, at least in comparison with our Tbilisi feasts and dishes.
As we learned, doctor M.’s wife was engaged in charity work – she wrote out huge sums of donations to various organizations… This was still the legacy of factory owners from Germany.
We never saw M’s family again, however, a couple of years later his father, an old doctor, died; then a year later, his old mother died and Dr. M called us, offering to remove any furniture and dishes we wanted from his parents’ Manhattan apartment. We were still poor emigrants and agreed – there was enough for four families of relatives and friends…
NYANA brought us together with another American doctor, or rather with two brother dentists, when it was looking for a dentist for Ana. This turned out to be a useful acquaintance for the whole family, since everyone’s teeth were deteriorating. But was interesting that the brothers owned a children’s summer camp, where Ana was invited for free for this summer. This was her first summer in America, and then we bought vouchers there for more than a few years. It was good there. There Ana met a girl with whom she is still friends to this day. Perhaps it’s hereditary… I also became friends with Sasha in the camp.
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