Livia Bitton-Jackson - Hello, America

Hello, America

SIMON & SCHUSTER BOOKS FOR YOUNG READERS
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Childrens Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright 2005 by Livia Bitton-Jackson
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part or in any form.
S IMON & S CHUSTER B OOKS FOR Y OUNG R EADERS is a trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Book design by Greg Stadnyk
The text for this book is set in Bembo.
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jackson, Livia Bitton.
Hello, America / Livia Bitton-Jackson.
p. cm.
ISBN 0-689-86755-7 (Print)
ISBN 978-1-4424-4652-6 (eBook)
1. Jackson, Livia Bitton 2. JewsNew York (State)New YorkBiography. 3. Holocaust survivorsNew York (State)New YorkBiography. 4. Refugees, GermanNew York (State)New YorkBiography. 5. ImmigrantsNew York (State)New York
Biography. I. Title.
F128.9.J5J33 2004
940.5318092dc22 2004014495

Chapter One
NEW YORK HARBOR!, 1951

Chapter Two
MY FIRST DAY IN AMERICA

Chapter Three
BROADWAY

Chapter Four
ARE FAIRY TALES REAL?

Chapter Five
PASSOVER PREPARATIONS

Chapter Six
AMERICAN PEERS

Chapter Seven
MRS. RYDER

Chapter Eight
MY FIRST JOB

Chapter Nine
AM I IN LOVE?

Chapter Ten
TUNA FISH, MILK SHAKE, AND BAGELS AND LOX

Chapter Eleven
PICNIC IN THE LIVING ROOM

Chapter Twelve
MOTHERS OPERATION

Chapter Thirteen
I AM THE DOCTORS ASSISTANT

Chapter Fourteen
END OF A FAIRY TALE?

Chapter Fifteen
WHATS THAT NUMBER ON YOUR ARM?

Chapter Sixteen
MOTHER HAS A JOB

Chapter Seventeen
A HOLIDAY IN THE CATSKILLS

Chapter Eighteen
A BLIND DATE

Chapter Nineteen
ALEX IS BACK

Chapter Twenty
OUR NEW HOME

Chapter Twenty-One
THE MOVE!

Chapter Twenty-Two
THE POCONOS

Chapter Twenty-Three
CAMP MASSAD

Chapter Twenty-Four
YISHAI

Chapter Twenty-Five
CULTURE SHOCK

Chapter Twenty-Six
A CHANCE MEETING

Chapter Twenty-Seven
MY AMERICAN HIGH SCHOOL DIPLOMA

Dedicated to the United States of America and to the young women and men who do their share to defend this most mighty bulwark of freedom and democracy.

I have received literally hundreds of inquiries from young readers about my life in America. Their intelligent questions, eager curiosity and touching concern served as inspiration for this third sequel of my life story. I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude for the wonderful gift their letters have given me.

Simultaneously, I wish to thank VP Brenda Bowen at Simon & Schuster, my editor Alyssa Eisner, and my former editor Jessica Schulte for their brilliant, enthusiastic guidance and encouragement.

The day breaks as the SS General Stuart rapidly slices through the mist toward New York Harbor. With baited breath I watch the coastline approach. A moist wind slaps my hair against my cheeks, and my fingers feel numb from the intensity of my grip on the rail, testing reality. Is this a dream, or am I really standing on the upper deck of the ship drawing nearer and nearer to America? Today is Sabbath, just like when we set sail eight days ago. We started our journey on the holy day of Sabbath and we are completing it on Sabbath. God, is this a divine message... an omen?

The waters near the shore are calm, and I feel wonderful. The seasickness is gone. The turbulent ocean with its infinite majesty is behind us, spanning the abyss between our past and our future. Between homelessness in Europe and the promise of a home in America.

America, will you be my home? Will you embrace me as a daughter yearning to belong, an equal among equals, or will I forever remain a stranger, as on the other side of the ocean? Will you grant me my fervent desire of going to school once again? Will you grant me my secret ambition to become a teacher?

Am I dreaming too wild a dream?

Elli, my little sister... always impetuous... always dreaming... with your head always in the clouds. Its my brothers voice; I can hear it as if he were standing next to me. My brother Bubi! Oh, I cant wait to see him! How soon will I see him?

The pier is not too far now, and I can see a statuesque image gradually precipitate out of the fog. The Statue of Liberty! There is no mistake about it: As the boat moves along the pier, she emerges out of the haze in her full glory. How beautiful she is! I can see her clearly now. I can see her right hand holding the famous torch... the torch of liberty.

Look, Mommy. There. There, on the horizon. Can you see it? The Statue of Liberty! Oh, Mommy! Did you think wed live to see this sight?

Yes, Mother says softly, and there is a catch in her voice. I can see it.... Its so hard to believe. And yet it is true. Thank God for having reached this moment.

I put my arms about her. Oh, Mommy. I cant believe weve made it!

Others have seen the statue too, and a cheer rises among the ranks of refugees storming the rails. Several men whip off their caps and someone begins to sing, and the cheer turns into many different songs, many different anthemsa basket of melodies rising into the mist.

The American anthem, I shout. Who can sing the American anthem?

But no one hears me. No one knows the new anthem of our new homeland: The refugees keep singing the anthems of their hearts in different languages, a cacophony of tongues. The deck is full now... men, women, and little children... singing, faces red from the wind and wet with tears. It is one songthe song of the refugees coming home.

Oh, Mommy. I cant believe weve made it!

Not yet. We havent made it yet. Gently she frees herself from my embrace. Elli, lets go and gather our things, she says cheerfully. Lets hurry. We shouldnt be among the last to step ashore.

I nod. Lets hurry and be among the first!

We go below to pack our things, and as we maneuver our luggage toward the upper deck, Mother is caught up in a human tide sweeping her toward the gangway.

Mom, wait! I cant go yet. I cant leave without saying good-bye to Captain McGregor and Steward McDonald. Pushing against the current, Mother and I manage to reach the staterooms. But the officers are nowhere to be seen. As we drag our luggage toward the mess deck, I hear a familiar voice in the crowd.

There you are! Look at you! All recovered. The captains eyes sparkle with playful good humor. All peachy pink and ready to go!