The Adamec's : My Immigrant Family

 

Michael Adamec was born in the year 1920 near Yonkers, New York. His mother Susie was an immigrant coming in from Yugoslavia. Daddy explained that she was actually from Slovenia, and her people lived "in the mountain regions somewhere in the north".  I'm not sure of the location but she was clearly of eastern European origin.

My grandmother Susie came to this country seeking a better life. I know nothing of her family or her past. As a child I saw her maybe 2 or 3 times. Once when we visited my grandmother in New York, as a 5-year-old-little-girl, I thought she was a sweet lady and a very nice grandmother (even though the only grandmother I ever knew at the time was my mother's mother in North Carolina).  The photo above is US Army Paratrooper Michael Adamec while home on leave during WWII.

The Relatives Came to visit. In my elementary school years Grandmother Susie visited my Grandmother Annie's farm-- 2 maybe 3 times during the summer vacation season. Along with Susie were my Dad’s half siblings and their families. As Yankees from the North, they were impressed with simple things like Grandaddy's watermelons and fruit trees, his bee hives, and Grandmother Annie's vegetable garden. All the cousins and in-laws were amazed that my family drank milk right from a big red Jersey cow kept in a pasture behind the barn. I have photos of my cousins sitting on the cow's sloping back, pretending to be cowboys. They were a little confused that cowboys ride horses, not cows! 

Grandmother Susie spoke very little English. As a small child from Wadesboro, NC,  I couldn't distinguish English from Russian, Greek, or Yugoslavian and no one in the family actually identified her heart language. Because Susie's second husband was a Ukrainian Russian, the family all spoke some form of Russian, a Slavic language, and maybe Yiddish. Everyone in the neighborhood spoke a different language. My Daddy didn't speak English until he was enrolled in a New York public school around 1926. Once again, this was the amazing gift of language which is easily accessed by children.

I barely remember Susie, but she was kind and gentle and my Dad loved her. He helped her financially as a young boy while working as a golf caddie at a private club near Long Island. He always spoke respectfully of her and I know he missed her after her death. 

Susie was an immigrant.  I just thank GOD that she managed to make the trip to the United States, struggle through the Great Depression, face the fears of a son deployed to Europe during World War II, and teach my Dad the important values of a good life.