My American story started when my parents, sister, and I, along with about 100 other Hungarian refugee families sailed past the Statue of Liberty, on January 31, 1957, in a small, moth-balled WWII army carrier. In truth, it began a week earlier, when we first boarded the General Eltinge. We learned our first English words while on board; we also tasted our first American ice-cream, and saw our first American movie, and said our first Pledge Allegiance. Our American education continued our the week-long stay at Camp Kilmer in New Jersey, where we stayed until my father's aunt and uncle came to get us. In the camp we discovered cold homogenized milk. How delicious. I was 12. After our years in Communist Hungary, where everyone was afraid of everyone else, for the first time we felt free to speak our minds.