New York has always been a place where immigrants enter the country. They come in, grab a toehold and hope for a better life.
My father was an immigrant. In 1950, he came in a boat to New York, knowing no one and having no money. He built a life and created a family. He changed his name from Rolf to Ralph and worked to lose his accent. (I was named Ralph Jr. after him.) Fortunately, my dad is still alive and well, living in Florida.
The presence of immigrants in New York is visible by the ethnic names floating around. Today, I was on my way to court and saw this sign. The name on it is striking, don't you think?
Do you have any immigrant stories? When did your family come to this country?