You simply must read Peter Schramm's reminiscence of coming to America from Hungary. It can't be summarized, but here are a few nice moments to entice you. When his father finally overcame his wife's resistance and insisted they flee Communist tyrrany, there was no question where they would go:
"We are going to America," my father said.
"Why America?" I prodded.
"Because, son. We were born Americans, but in the wrong place," he replied.
Once here, the language barrier led to amusing incidents. When his parents opened their first restaurant in the U.S., stuffed cabbage was the best-selling item on the menu, even though they rendered it, "stuffed garbage." He also recalls the precise moment he truly understood English (as opposed to merely functioning in it). It was when a high school English teacher compelled her students to memorize a Shakespearean soliloquy, and he chose "to be or not to be."
Unimaginative or not, I worked hard for many days to master these lines. The process of memorization was difficult and, when I finally got around to reading it aloud—letting my ears really hear the words, the cadence, and the rhythm—I recall a wonderful moment when the monster ignorance left me. I understood what I was reading, what I was hearing. I don’t mean that I understood the deep metaphysical meaning, but I finally understood that these were not wild and whirling words. They were beautiful, they had meaning, and I understood them. I was about 17 years old, and through learning Shakespeare, I knew that I had finally come to understand English. While I would still think in both Hungarian and English, my dreams were now in English. And Shakespeare, in and of himself, was a wonderful and magical discovery for me.
Isn't that lovely? If I continue quoting, I'll spoil your read, so go savor it yourself. Curtsy to No Left Turns.
