Coming to America

             Since my return to Poland from Finland in 1973 I longed for that western kind of life. Seemed to me that I got sprinkled with water of free and happy society, and being in Poland was like living in the barrel. Everywhere I looked, it was all the same. With time I noticed that people of Poland were sad for most of their lives and without any hope for the future. With my dad going to America in 1977, it gave me hope of better life, if only I could move to the United States. Somehow I knew that my future lay on the other side of the globe. I had friends and teachers bashing America and saying that Germany, England or France would be a better place to live than America. I didn’t care what they were saying, because I felt like there was a beacon calling me to come. I didn’t know when this would come, but was hoping it would happen sooner than later. I was getting older and the prospect of leaving Poland was becoming dimmer and dimmer. I was almost 17 and had to start planning my future in Poland. It was very depressing, because everyone I knew was drinking and smoking. I wasn’t any different. The mandatory military service was scaring me, because I knew that my chances were slim to nothing on being able to leave Poland after the service. And the longer I reside in Poland, I would become a part of everyone else.

               About the same time the “Solidarity” movement was becoming louder, which made the government very strict and more paranoid and controlling than ever before. My friend and I were sitting at the park, about 5 minutes away from home when Militia came and questioned us what we were doing in the park at this time. Because of the “Solidarity,” Polish government implemented a martial law. It went from 8pm-6am, which we obeyed for most part. It was dark and we were in the park at 8:15 and we were smoking cigarettes. After small conversations with them, rubber sticks (we called them BLONDIES) appeared in their hands. They started to beat my friend while he was running away. Then they looked at me, and I knew what was going to happen. There were 6 of them scattered over 30 feet. I knew that if I didn't start running I would be very sorry, but if they catch me, I would be sorry even more. I decided to run. I didn’t think that I could run so fast. I don’t know how many of them ran after me, but it took only one to swing the “Blondie” and hit me in my elbow. I didn’t stop and ran for a while. I caught up with my friend and saw that he had bad marks on his back, but he was okay for most part. My nerve was injured and I couldn’t feel my pinky for 2 months after that. We didn't leave home after 8pm for a long time after that. 

               At the beginning of 1984 a man came from America with papers from my dad and a proof of support I needed to be able to get the visa. Time was running short, because my passport was expiring in September of that year. The following week I traveled to Warsaw for a meeting with a councilor of the embassy of the United States. I waited outside the Embassy, in line, for six hours. From the place I was standing I was able to see American soldiers playing basketball. I was impressed at how buff they were and so American. I can’t tell you what was so American, but their look and their sound just was.

               The time came to talk to the councilor, which was the first time for me to speak to an American. I was pleasantly surprised how well she spoke Polish. She looked at all the papers and my passport, which didn’t have much time left for any longer travel. She asked me what I wanted from America and why did I want to go there. I told her that I just wanted a better life and I felt like I should go there. She excused herself for almost 10 minutes. She came back with a polish lady and started explaining a plan to me. They told me that my passport would expire in a few months and in November I would be 18, which meant that I wouldn't  be able to extend my expiration on my passport. They said that the only thing they could do is to give me a temporary visa or vacation visa for the remaining of my passport. You can imagine how sad I was, because I wanted to come for a permanent stay. I didn’t want to come back to Poland. The councilor continued with the plan: “We think that you would be a great addition to the society and to America. We will still give you a temporary visa, but at the bottom of the visa we will write a code which only people at the airport in Chicago will know what it means. And that code will tell them that you are here for a permanent and legal stay. But one thing you cannot do- you can’t tell anyone about this. Not your friends, not your uncle, no one. Not even when you are on the plane at the airport in Chicago. As long as you are on the plane, you are still in Poland, even if the plane is on the ground in Chicago.” I felt like an agent, from the 007. I was getting excited and nervous at the same time.

               I came home and told my mom all about it; she was scared, but happy for me. I wanted to tell this to my friends, but I wouldn’t dare jeopardize my chance of leaving Poland. It was my only chance of going to the west.

               After doing all the exams and taking all the shots I was required to take, the time was approaching fast for my date of departure. We took the train from Łódź to Warsaw. I was traveling with my mom, my 2 sisters and 2 friends of mine. All that was left was to go through the customs and all the military check points at the airport, and after that I said goodbye to my family and friends. I had to talk to the military officer at the booth. He was looking at my passport, the dates, visa and me. He asked me if I was planning on coming back, because there was not much time left for a visit. I told him that I was just going to see my dad and that I would be back, because I want to serve my country and do the military service. He looked at me, smiled and stamped my pass. I was on the way to the plane.

               After many hours in the air, we were approaching Chicago O’Hare airport. Through the window of the plane I saw the building and felt like I was watching TV show, Starsky and Hatch or a Kojak. I couldn’t believe that I was in America. All those years of anticipation for this moment and I felt normal. I thought I would be jumping out of my skin, but I was just fine.

               Once I left the plane I walked through the gate and the customs, and was checked to make sure that everything was right. The person who was checking my passport looked at my visa and walked away for a while. When she came back, she said, “We've got another one!”

               Now I was an American, without the ability to speak any English, and with $24 in my pocket. It was time to try an American experience and live the American dream.