I’m a child of an immigrant woman

This election feels like a setback.

My grandfather came here after World War II. He told me the story. I don’t know how accurate it is, but this is what he told me. He said he didn’t agree with the nazis. He was a Hungarian, and conscripted to fight for them. It’s entirely possible he knew Jews and didn’t like them, but I have no evidence to prove this. I know that my brother married a Jewish woman who is lovely and has pushed him to be a better man than he would be otherwise.

My grandfather came here though, because he wanted opportunity. He was leaving Hungary, abandoning the fight because he didn’t want to fight for Nazis and when he was in his apartment on the third floor of a building in Budapest (mabye) the building was bombed. He was trying to flee.

His nurse was my grandmother. She took care of him. He asked her “don’t ever leave me,” and she never did until she died a little over a year ago.

I was the last person in our family to speak with her. She didn’t understand what I was saying. I didn’t understand what she was saying.

I was on break from work at AT&T selling cell phones at Cici’s pizza in Georgetown Texas of all places. I didn’t know what to make of it.

But their story, the story he told me as a young adult man inspired me.

America, whatever you decide to do, this is a Republic. This depends on your voice. We can make this better. But, I don’t know what to do with myself here. This candidate, and likely President elect represents everything that keeps me from being an American. A real American.

I love this country. But I am heart broken, because while I’m here, and I will always be here, I don’t know that others would get here the way I did. And there’s value in giving people a chance.

Give people a chance. Give America a chance.

That’s all.

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