The Story of Me Part 7

Let’s continue this thriller -biography section (for a complete listing go here)   I got my first job when I was 14. I was sitting home by myself, it was cold outside, and I wasn’t in school. I don’t remember why exactly I wasn’t in school, probably some type of break, who knows. So under unknown circumstances, I was sitting home alone and decided that I’m sick of relying on money from my parents, and having to explain myself (because, you know, at 14 you’re practically an adult), and thus I needed a job. I was fully aware that I...

The Story of Me Part 6

Continued from here The Story of Me. And yes there are 5 more parts to this. School started. To this day I’m not sure how we got myself signed up. But we sort of located the nearest school and I think mostly using our hand gestures explained that we would like to partake in this fine institution of theirs to which they handed me a schedule and advised to come back on a given day. The school was your typical public Brooklyn high school. And it is typical for me now, but at the time it resembled fenced off premises...

The Story of Me Part 5

Continued from here The Story of Me So, after the initial excitement settled down. There came some more excitement. Food related. Coming from a post-soviet union country, a lot of western products were deemed as evil and taboo. Now, we had an unlimited access to them. Potato chips were the object of my undivided love and committed attention for the longest time, which in the end cost about 20 extra pounds. Ok people, to prove my point – I have an actual photo of me with a bag of potato chips, one of them ginormous bags from Costco. I am...

The story of me Part 4

Continued from here. Don’t be lazy pants and read all previous sections first. We landed. Due to previously intelligently conducted arrangements, we had some people that were meeting us at the airport. These were not relatives, nor acquaintances but some people from my mom’s hometown that migrated to New York some years back, were identified by some word of mouth, haunted down and asked for help. For whatever strange reason they agreed. However, now I know that once an immigrant it will become your automatic duty to assist all the new arrivals. I’m letting you in on secret local, native-born...

The story of Me Part 3

Continued from here and here (in that order, if you wish for it to make sense (your call, really)) I was going to end my travels to America there, and skip to when we landed. Which would be a logical thing to do. But then it was my first time flying and what the hell might as well share with ya’ll (somehow, a southern accent seemed appropriate here). Getting through security was very intimidating. I think at the airport security school that is exactly what they teach them – to look intimidating. I can’t get over the feeling to this...

The Story of Me Part 2

Continue from here The Story of Me – Beginning We got in a car and were driving from Western Ukraine of my home town Ternopil (look it up) to Warsaw. Then we were getting on a plane to New York. Why our travel arrangements were so elaborate perplexes me to this day. But that is how it happened. The drive was uneventful. What is worth telling is my first brutal introduction to the civilized society we were about to join. Our driver was an unfamiliar man who made a business out of driving people to Warsaw who were flying to...

The Story of Me – Beginning

I’m sure many of you are eager to know more about me. So, I’m creating a new piece to my blog. I shall call it ‘The story of me’. I’ll be posting my memories as they flood back to me. Stay tuned and they might even follow chronological order. So, where does one’s journey begin in life? The first memory? First lost tooth? Getting your period (for girls, I would imagine its wet dreams for boys (don’t quote me on this)). Did you think I will provide you with an answer, or arrive to a logical conclusion here? Not that...