An Immigrant's Story

That's me sitting on my Grandmother Kamila's lap

My grandparents, Alfons and Kamila, met in America in Sag Harbor, New York after they had both made their way to America from Poland independently of each other back in the early 1900's.

Alfons, my grandfather, had been conscripted into the Russian cavalry after his older brothers fled to America to avoid service. He rode with his regiment across Siberia to fight in the Russo-Japanese War which had ended by the time he arrived there, and he later became a member of Czar Nicholas' Imperial Guard at his palace. When he finished his service, he went home to find that all of his family had either died or gone to America. So he went to America to work at the Fahys Watch Case Factory in Sag Harbor with his older brother.

My grandmother, Kamila, had a more difficult path to America. Her father, Jan Kuczynski, and mother, Jozefa, farmed a tiny piece of land in rural Poland. They couldn't even afford a horse. Jan came to America to work on the railroads. After an accident that took several of his fingers, he took his $200 disability settlement and returned to Poland, where the family continued to rack up debt. So he came back to America to work in the coal mines. A few years later, he returned to Poland a sick man with a lung disease and died shortly after that. The family scattered with her older brothers heading to Massillon, Ohio to work in the steel mills and Kamila getting $27 ship fare advanced to her from an aunt in Sag Harbor to come work in the Fahys Watch Case Factory.

After my grandparents met and established themselves here in the country, it was decided that they would head back to Poland to visit some relatives when the factory closed for resetting in the summer of 1908. My grandfather returned to America after the summer, but my grandmother stayed behind to settle my grandfather's family property and to prepare her mother and little sister to voyage to America.

As fate would have it, Kamila gave birth to Helen while in Poland. So when Helen was two years old, the four ladies trundled off to Hamburg to board ship bound for New York and a new, hopeful life. Jozefa, however, was diagnosed with an eye infection and was detained in port for six weeks with her youngest daughter. Kamila and Helen went ahead...

Here's what my Aunt Stephanie wrote about the voyage:

"During the ocean trip a measles epidemic broke out among the children and the ship was rerouted to Philadelphia. Helen along with other children were placed in the hospital in isolation. Two weeks later, Kamila was told she could have her child, but when the baby was brought in, it turned out to be a boy, whose mother had left for Chicago the week before, having been told that her baby had already died. Kamila had a hard time convincing the authorities that hers was a little girl, almost two years old. Finally she was told of the error and that her little girl had died and had been buried. She was offered the baby boy, but she refused and went back to Sag Harbor, broken hearted."

Finally reconciled with her husband, the two restarted their life in America by working hard to build a better life than that which they escaped.

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I share this as a way to let people know that immigration stories are unique human stories. When people come to this country, some can afford to follow established protocols, but others, may not have such opportunity. They may be fleeing intense poverty and seeking a better life, like my grandparents. They may be fleeing for safety and away from an endless cycle of violence. Regardless, each has their own reasons and their own story, the immigrant's story. Knowing my family history leads me to feel nothing but compassion and love for those, especially the children, who are being detained in mass at our border. Children wondering if they will ever see their parents again. Parents wondering if they will ever see their children again. My grandparents realized such trauma, and its impact resonates with me over a hundred years later.

God Bless America.