My Grandmother’s Immigration Journey

“Love can only be found through the act of loving.” quote from Paulo Coelho, a Brazilian author of such books as The Alchemist and The Pilgrimage

Russ and I played many roles in my parent’s lives, one of Russ’s roles was chauffeur. My mother enjoyed taking car trips in Florida, where Russ would drive us for hours before reaching our destination. This is something my parents wouldn’t have had the time for in Chicago. We were my mom’s captive audience on these trips and she savored the opportunity to share her memories with us. Her mother’s immigration story was her favorite tale to recount. Before she’d begin her memory she looked at me seated in the rear of the car with a serious expression, saying “Hallee, you must remember these stories, and tell them to your children. If you don’t we all die.” With the car windows rolled up and the air conditioning on my mother seemed to enter a hypnotic state as she prepared to tell her mother’s story.

“My mother grew up in a small village in Poland called Grudner, near the popular shopping area called Zugarnigosh. My mother, loved living there with her parents and two siblings. She grew up in a cozy community of like minded Jewish people. It was a beautiful memory for her and she spoke of it often to me.’

‘My mother’s fianće, Moshe, planned to marry her after they immigrated to America. Eager to live in the United States and aware of the danger brewing in Poland, he left first to establish himself in New York. My mother stayed behind to work and save money for her passage. Two years later, with enough money, she sailed to start her new life with her cousin Edie. Edie had also waited in Grudner for her husband Joe to send for her.”

“When my mother arrived at Ellis Island, she was scared. She had never traveled and she’d always been taken care of. In Grudner she worked as a seamstress, so she did have a skill.”

“Upon leaving Ellis Island, my mother searched for Moshe. Edie spotted Joe right away and the cousins kissed and hugged as Edie was led away. Finally, my mom saw her fianće. Moshe was late and didn’t look the same to her. He was dressed in a grey suit with spats! When Moshe saw my mother he realized their marriage was not going to be. My mother told me Moshe felt she was too “green”, meaning not up to date as he presented himself. So, he told her she should stay with Edie until he could find a family she could stay with.”

“My mother was heartbroken, and started walking the streets of New York to pass the time. One day, she decided she was going to climb to the tallest building she could find and jump off. However, she had a toothache and with a quick change of mind looked for a sign with a tooth. At this time, people spoke many languages, the way they found various services was by pictures hanging from the buildings.”

“My mother entered the dentist office and to her surprise the dentist was from Poland! When she told him her sad story, he said he would help her. He knew of a family in Rock Island,Illinois, who had a seamstress shop and were looking for help. He wrote to the couple and they welcomed her.”

“She worked for Tati Simi, who had hair down to her waist, and her lazy husband, Albert, for a year. They loved her like their own daughter. My mother, wanted to get married and she asked Tati Simi if she knew anyone in Rock Island from Grudner.”

“”No, Tillie, I don’t know anyone from Grudner, but I did do some work for a man who works on the Rock Island Line, (railroad). I remember he told me he had lived in a village near Grudner. His name is George, and I believe I have his address.””

“My mother wrote to George asking if he would like to meet. He wrote back that he was interested. Then my mother wrote again and said, “George, I don’t want to be a pen pal. I want to get married. If you are interested in matrimony, let’s meet. If not, please do not respond to my letter.””

My dad, George, not only responded but took the next train to Rock Island to met my darling mother. Now to describe my parents. My mother, Tillie Marder, was about five feet tall in shoes. She had sparkling blue eyes and a porcelain complexion. Her hair was blond but turning grey at twenty, and she loved to laugh. My dad, George Yelin, was six feet two inches, a man of big build, with blue/green eyes depending on the light. His hair color was a sandy blonde at this time, but he lost his hair at thirty. The reason he fled to America was; his father had remarried and the new wife was cruel. He wanted to escape. At sixteen, he boarded a ship as a stowaway, and it brought him to Galveston, Texas. In Galveston, he learned the railroads were looking for help. He applied and was hired by the Rock Island Line as a cabin boy.”

My parents were soon married and they moved to Humboldt Park, in Chicago, Illinois. They found a third floor walk up facing the park. The apartment layout was long like a train car. They had a front sun room, living room, a railroad style kitchen, two bedrooms that only could fit a double bed nothing else and one bathroom. Their furniture was found on the street.

My father, went to work selling candy from a truck, and my mom stayed home. Soon, she was pregnant with my sister Sara Lee. Sara Lee was a beautiful, smart child. But, my mother really did not enjoy her. She was still mourning for Moshe, and was having a hard time bonding with George. When I came, along four years later, everything changed because my parents realized how lucky they were to have found each other.

My father adored me, yet he really wanted a son. He’d take me to the barber and have my hair cut in a bob, a boyish style. He’d also take me in the truck to deliver candy. This was my favorite time, I recall I developed a great fondness for Baby Ruth’s chocolates.”

At this point in her story, with the mention of Baby Ruth’s, my parents would start giggling as their eyes would meet in a shared memory of their past.

“I grew up in a melting pot community. I had girlfriends from every country in Europe. I learned about different foods, religionist traditions, and family dynamics. I was tall for my age. When I started kindergarten I was placed at the back of the room, next to another girl who was my height. We looked at each other and decided we would be best friends forever, and we are!”

At this point in her story, she would take a break to go on to the next chapter of how her mother found my dad, Sol, for her darling daughter.

These stories were told to us over and over, she never missed an opportunity to relive her and her mother’s past. I am so grateful for these memories. However, as I retell this story I realize how many holes there are. For example: Why didn’t I ask her about how life was in Poland for her mother, and father before they immigrated. When my grandmother and her cousin arrived at Ellis Island what was their experience? In other words, why did I ask more, because now there is no one to ask. The moral of this story is to ASK!