Immigrant Stories

Over the past ten days, my husband and I have met with three groups of his cousins (mostly second cousins) to discuss family history for the book we are writing. We know some of the cousins, but met others for the first time.  It was fascinating to learn more about these branches of my husband's Croatian family.

Some of the cousins are 100% Croatian (except for a sliver of Czech) and, unllike my husband, who is only half Croatian, they have maintained many of their cultural traditions until today.  Many still attend St. Anthony's Croatian Catholic Church in Los Angeles.  I learned that this Church was built 100 years ago and that Mass was said there in their native language long before Vatican II did away with Latin for the Mass everywhere else. 

I learned that one of my husband's great uncles chose his bride from two pictures presented to him. He chose the one he thought more attractive, and she was notified in Croatia and then she emigrated to America.  I also learned that the husband of one of his great aunts died in Chile where he had gone to make money.  Of course, the cousins repeated a number of "family secrets" which were probably scandalous at the time but would bore people today- and laughed over the name the Croatian women called American women - "Chuhas."  According to one cousin, this was because they had noticed how many American women chewed gum. Don't know if that's true or not, but it made for a good story. 

I learned how a number of men tried their hand at farming, while others opened restaurants or worked for the railroad.  I learned that two brothers had a fight with each other in the street one day that left them estranged.  I learned how some of the women called their sisters-in-law "vixens."  I learned of some who died in the flu epidemic of 1918, and how others had died young for unknown reasons.  I learned how they helped each other when they first arrived in America - finding places for new immigrants to live, often offering rooms in their own homes, helping them find jobs, learn English, enroll their chldren in school. 

I learned that they came because there was no way for them to survive on the island of their birth, where an insect infestation had destroyed the vineyards, their main source of income.   One by one, they left their mothers and fathers behind, knowing they might never see them again.  And the parents encouraged them to go, knowing it was the only way for them to survive. 

It is an amazing set of stories, stories that are repeated in Irish, German, Italian, Mexican, Indian, and Chinese familes - the stories of immigrants who risked everything for a better life, and left everything behind.  It is the story of incredibly courageous people.