If I lived in america in the late 1700s I would have been very angry with how people would pay different amount of taxes. Paying taxes would be hard enough without someone charging me more than usual and charging others barely anything. For me any of the laws for paying taxes would have made me angry, from paper, to sugar/molasses, and definitely tax on everything!
The day was finally here. It was November 11, 1990, the day that our family was to go to ¡®Land Of Liberty.¡¯ I heard so many different things about this country called United States of America and I was warned that it would be nothing you¡¯ve expected. The plane ride did not seem as long as it was; partly because I was lost in my own thoughts with hopes and anxiety. I thought about what I will become in this massive country I was headed and how soon I will adapt to this new culture and people.
An american story is a story revolving around his or her lifestyle, culture and everyday habits. This is about past experiences, accomplishments, and biggest downfalls. I will be discussing not only my biggest accomplishments, but also my biggest failures that I have occurred in life. What will my american story be? Keep reading to find out.
Coming to AmericaThe year was 1948, and my grandmothers aunt and uncle came for a visit from Chicago to Germany to see their family. They had no children and had come to ask my grandmother if she would be interested in coming to Chicago to possibly live there w ith them. The idea of going appealed to her very much since her home city, Saarbrcken, was still partially destroyed from the WWII bombings. She always had the wanderlust in her blood coming from both sides of her family, so thinking about the towering skyscrapers, the bustling city streets, and the glamorous movies from America was quite enticing to my grandmother. With all off these wondrous thoughts swimming through her head, she enthusiastically agreed to go.Now, it was time to prepare
It’s been a little over a month since I got to America from Mexico. I live in New York City now. It’s nothing as I expected it to be people in the city are very rude, one day I was walking to work which is a clothing factory a teenage boy, who looked very wealthy told me, “go back where you come from” and “you don’t belong here.” That’s when I met the nicest woman I have ever met, her name’s Jane. She saw everything that happened, she knew I was scared of the boy and that’s when she gave me this flyer. She told me to come to her organization meeting at this church where she would help me adjust to New York. Surprisingly, the meeting was during a time I didn’t work and I heard a couple of the girls that I work with chatting about it. So, I
Before I move to the states I had no idea of diversity here. Like many foreigners I knew nothing about north and south as too cultural concepts. The picture of an American in my mind was a white or black person. There were no place for other ethnicities. To be honest the picture of whites was dominant. As all I knew about here was through media and Hollywood movies which normally have white heroes. The only Americans I had meet before were American soldiers in the border of Iran-Iraq when I was traveling Iraq for a visit and the US embassy officers in Turkmenistan who did not waste my time in visa approval process. They all were nice and first realistic picture of an American to me. At the same time they were similar to and different from Americans that I met in the US. For sure 321,000,000 are not the same although that they may have features in common. In fact this is how we
The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.
This semester I had the opportunity to interview a person who immigrated to the United States. I interviewed my friends mom, Betty, who is from Greece. I have known this family for over five years but before this interview I had no prior knowledge about the country Greece. After this conversation with her I have a better insight on what it is like growing up there.
Being an American can mean a number of different things. The most important however, is freedom. As an American citizens, we have freedoms that many others do not. We have the freedom to vote for our president, freedom of speech, religion, and more. Being an American doesn’t just mean you were born in the United States, you can become a citizen by taking a test about our country. Our country is unique because we are made up with people from all around the world. We all have different religions we follow, languages we speak, as well as where we come from. Unlike other countries who might split apart and come up with different names, because of diversity, we embrace our differences.
Growing up in Ghana, I had heard a lot of things about the U.S. This was a country I had always wanted to visit; my prayer was answered when I got the opportunity to travel there. Arriving in a new environment came with many experiences. Adjusting with food, language and the weather was not easy. With the passage of time, however I have been able to0 adjust and fit it. This write-up therefore is to elaborate on my experiences since coming to U.S.
Looking back on it now, my parents did a lot to get us here in the United States we immigrated from Montego Bay Jamaica to Jacksonville Fl. When I was about six years old. It was my mother, father, my two older sisters and I who all came together it was a long process but well worth the wait, there is a lot of paper works, shots and pictures that had to be taken just to leave my homeland, man it was so tiring watching my parents fill out paper after paper about each one of us individually.
As I got on the plane I knew my life was changed. The moment when I entered the US it was a new beginning for me. As most migrants would say; this is the land of opportunities, it was totally what I expected.
Sixteen months ago, I embarked on the most incredible and terrifying journey of my life. Moving back to the country of my birth after twelve years of living in the United States. With just the clothes on my back and a few in a box, I came here with nothing, hoping to discover a new life complete with new and exciting experiences. This voyage has surpassed all of my expectations and the places I’ve seen, the people I’ve met, and the adventures I’ve had along the way have shaped the person I’m becoming. But my life is missing a few key ingredients including: A fulfilling occupation that I enjoy and can be proud of. So it’s with mixed emotions and a little trepidation, that I leave the IT field and return to America to start the next chapter of my life. Here’s how I got here, Why I’m leaving, and Where I’m going next…
On July 11th, 20011, my life was forever changed. In that day, I moved from Congo to the United Sates. It was excitement and fear at the same time, because my life was no longer the same. When I arrived in Atlanta, I realized how much efforts and sacrifices I had to make to adapt the American culture.
Every year hundreds of thousand, legal and illegal immigrant from around the world come to United States. These immigrant have many different motivations, some enter the United States hoping to get a chance for a better life, and other are refugees escaping war and prosecution from their home country. Many people believe the United States is a best place to go because there is more freedom, protection and benefits. Some believe the large number of immigration is affecting the current citizens of the United States. Others believe that immigration can be dangerous to the environment which blame as crime, poverty and overpopulation. In fact there would be no America if not for immigration because everyone and even the “Native American” is an immigrant from other country who first settle here on
up the phone and rang my Tom’s father to thank him, and for me and Tom