A favorite story about adapting to life in America:

Growing up in Durham, North Caorlina, my first encounter with who I was and that I was different was on the first day of school. I got alot of stares and alot of whispering behind my back. I didn't realize that I was different. After all, my family had lived there my entire life (all of six years) and my elder brother and sister had already started school. I went home in tears after being called "a chink". I went home and asked my father what a "chink" was. He never really explained it, he just shrugged. My brother told me later, its a wasn't a nice word.

I always felt as if I was the outsider. I was always the last to be chosen for anything. No one ever wanted me on their team. I always felt ostracized in the school yard and the class room. All of the caucasian children knew each other and played together outside of school But my family lived in the business section, with no playmates near. After school, we went home (over the laundry) and worked. We did our homework after all of the chores were done. And belive me there was always alot of those. It was a family owned business and all of us worked. I was only 6, but my job was to sort the socks into pairs, match them up and put them in piles, pin them and pile them by orders. I folded clothes, sheets, towels, and worked hard. Dinner was usually late into the night after all the work had been completed. Then homework, baths and then bed. We did this every night. We thought everyone worked like this. I didn't realize we were different ,until the other children asked me to play with them outside of school. We were never alllowed out though. I never went to anyone's home for play, or for birthday parties. When we did get time to play, it was just the four of us children from the laundry and then we usually played in the back yard parking lot.

It was a big treat to go to the movies in town. At the time, there were 4 movie theatres. The movie theatres use to put a movie marquee into Dad's laundry window. They would give us two free tickets for every poster. So we saw alot of movies. My mom couldn't speak English very well, but she could tell you each movies stars name. She especially loved John Wayne and Elvis Presley.

On feeling truly American:

My father is a veteran of the United States 7th Army. He recently passed away. I was always very proud of him and his devotion to this country. As a child, I remember putting together the poppies that the VFW would sell over the Memorial Day weekend. My father would bring them home from a meeting, and it was the chore of 3 of us children to put them together. Now, whenever Memorial Day comes around, I always make a point to purchase one in honor of my Dad and all of the other Veterans.

At his funeral, the Veterans Association provided a flag to drape over his coffin. I thought that I held up very well during the funeral, after all he had led a full life, raised 5 children, and lived to see his grandchildren grow into adults. He was almost 80 and I knew that the time was coming. In the past few years, his health had deteriorated and he wasn't in the best of health. So he death came as no surprise to me. The funeral went smoothly, with friends and family members paying there last respects. As we were leaving the funeral home and getting ready to depart for the cemetary, my fathers' flag draped coffin was brought out by the pall bearers. And there, about 50 feet away stood a lone gentlemen who just happened to be coming out of the local grocery store. He stopped and saluted my fathers' flag covered coffin. It was at this point, that I burst into tears. Seeing this stranger salute my father made me realize what sacrifices so many veterans gave to this country. I just balled my eyes out.

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