Freedom…At Last!

By Solly Border

FREEDOM..AT LAST chronicles the journey of an ordinary family of immigrants arriving to United States from Communist Romania.
Held captive for than twenty-years by a dictatorship regime, the author discovered the benefits of freedom in his country of adoption, and walks boldly through plenty of experiences.
The author wrote this book with the belief that the reader would voyage with him from the first day when he left his native country, sharing impressions compiled over the years of adventures, travels and observations. He cant pretend to be an ordinary person lucky enough to fulfill his dreams.
In order to validate not only the travel experiences, but also the events that converged in their day to day life, the book touches the authors financial and social status evolution in America. It would encounter his struggles of making a living, successes and defeats, a tragedy, and many other events told with wit or sadness-as they happened.
A typical biography would start from the first days of a persons life, yet this narrative began only when Border family arrived in the free world and ended thirteen years later, when their son Lt. lee border lost his life in the service of US Army. From now on, life will never be the same.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469140384

Solly Border

not provided

Book preview

FREEDOM…

AT LAST!

by Solly Border

edited by Edwin Labre

Copyright © 2012 by Solly Border.

ISBN:          Softcover                                 978-1-4691-4037-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-4038-4

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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Contents

Acknowledgment

Preface

Freedom… At Last!

First Trip Abroad

A Strange Tennis Match In Tel Aviv

Emigrants… Tourists

The Honeymoon Is Over

Vacation To Colorado

Returning To Israel With A Mission

Back To Europe

The Ecstasy And The Agony: My First Business Opportunity

The Second Emigration

Beginnings In The Bay Area

Journey To Vancouver

Was Fired!

Searching For Financial Independence

London: Silver Anniversary

Bizarre Experiences In New York

An American In Paris

Changing The Suit And Tie For An Apron

Westpoint Graduation

Visiting Washington, D.C.

Getting Rid Of The Apron

Celebration

Back Again For Business To Romania

Selling Romanian Pots And Pans In America

Yellowstone National Park

The Memorable Trip

The Tragedy

Glossary

Author’s Profile

Readership

Acknowledgment

Asking myself, where my burning desire for playing with letters and words came from, I wondered if it started during the high school years. After serious consideration, I arrived at the conclusion that this assumption must be wrong, because if my English teacher would have found that I became a writer in Shakespeare’s language, he’d turned in his grave. So, if writing is a hobby, that became later, a therapy, does not have roots in the high-school years, I started searching through my family roots.

Looking through an old closet, I found a few pages of a memoir, scribbled by my father. Unfortunately, he passed away before he could achieve his goal. Reading the few pages, I found out that both his parents died, when he was only six years old, and all that he inherited from his father was a cart, a horse and a bunch of debts. A compassionate relative raised my father, encouraging him to attend school. After finishing four high school levels, he was considered to have had a good formal education during those times.

Trying to make a comparison between my father and me, the difference consists only in the nature of the inheritance. While he got only a cart, a horse and some debts, he bequeathed to me the desire of becoming a writer!

Among many other reasons, I am grateful to my father because he was inspired to change his family name from Oisie, an old Galitian Jewish name, into Border. His action would later allow people in America to pronounce my name at ease. It significantly will help me later as an author.

Learning to speak English at age forty wasn’t an easy process. However, trying to write in English at age sixty-five became a much more difficult task. I’d still be in square one without the help and dedication of my good friends Gerda Fisher, Prof. Howard Hoyt, Dick Oliver and my sister Ella.

My partner for life, Rose, has always been a factor in my achievements, and I commend her, whether she agreed or disagreed with many of my ideas, endeavors and adventures.

_____________________

Preface

History needed more than half a century to get rid of an artificial way of life, and would probably never test communism again to find out whether the philosophy was wrong, or the Soviet model was inapplicable. It failed mostly because people are considering a free thinking option, instead of following things ordained by the State.

After many decades of Marxism indoctrination in which people were made to believe that they could find heaven on earth through a philosophy. But today after the Soviet Communism had failed, they have to go back to the idea of finding heaven somewhere else. Something was wrenching about communism. Trying to transfer the obsolete terms of a former existence into something useful afterward is a complicated matter-like trying to exchange useless money into new currency! My constant suspicion about the communist dogma was that the people had to believe in ideas they could never accept. As a result, the whole experience was a terrible lie, in which many people started to lie even to themselves.

Among the many drawbacks of the Communist dictatorships, such as disallowing ordinary members of the society to travel beyond their country boundaries, was extreme. Only a small minority of the privileged regime’s Party members got permission to travel abroad.

Rose and I were almost forty years old when we left the communist heaven and obtained our first passports. This happened more than twenty years after petitioning my first application to leave Romania for good.

It is apparent that the desire to do what is prohibited is always built in the human nature and spirit. When we finally earned our freedom in America, we replaced this obsession with reality, and one of our priorities was to travel the world. As Americans, we traveled as much as possible, whether going overseas or crossing the American Continent. We had the opportunity to experience other cultures, enhancing our own perspective and, above all, gathered wonderful memories.

We also came to the conclusion that what we observed, whenever we looked at anything, whether a person, a form of art, a building, a city, or an entire country, was only a reflection of our world view, coming back to us slightly distorted and colored. We learned that the best quality of an observer is empathy, coming out of our judgment. No number of adventures or incidents can substitute for empathy. If we look with love and gratitude, we’ll get back the same. Equally, this is also true if we looked with anger, indignation or indifference.

I wrote this book with the belief that the reader would travel with us from the first day when we left our native country. I’m trying to share the impressions compiled over years of adventures and observations, telling stories like they happened. We can’t pretend to be art experts or experienced urban architects. We only claim to be a couple of ordinary people lucky enough to fulfill their dreams.

In order to validate not only the travel experiences, but also the events that converged in our day to day life, the book touches on our financial and social status evolution in America. It would depict our struggles of making a living, successes and defeats, a tragedy, and many other topics.

A typical biography would start from the first days of a person’s life, yet this narrative began only when Border family arrived in the free world.

___________________

Freedom… At Last!

The Second World War ended, and a few years later, the State of Israel became a reality on the Middle-East map. My firm belief and instincts told me that after centuries of persecutions and pogroms, and especially after the Nazi holocaust, the only solution for the wandering Jew was to settle in Israel. However, a quarter century has gone since then, and I was still in Romania, as a result of adverse circumstances.

This time, it is apparent that my chance to leave Romania had arrived. The situation leading to our departure from Communist Romania was complicated and hard to explain in this book. However, I may describe briefly a few issues. Due to a courageous, perhaps desperate action, in the midst of a dangerous investigation, I wrapped up a deal with the Romanian Securitate, the fearful Romanian Secret Police. We traded for freedom our parents’ property that miraculously escaped the Communist Nationalization of 1952. Our entire family was supposed to receive passports to immigrate to the State of Israel.

The nine members of our family, still terrified by the possibility of an unsuccessful promise, showed up at the Immigration Office in order to pick up the passports. Everybody got their hands on the brown passports without citizenship, except for me, my wife and son.

My sister, her son and husband used their passports and got out of Romania in a hurry. However, my mother and my in-laws, although recipients of passports, refused to leave until my situation would clear up. My dear mother thought she wouldn’t leave without her son; my in-laws, without their daughter.

It followed a dangerous and painful ordeal due to the last minute intervention. An investigation without arrest lasting in excess of five months, delayed my departure, and after being subject to unbelievable tension, I finally succeeded to also get the passports. However, this setback turned into a major impact on our family destiny.

The Jewish emigration process from Romania was an unpredictable enigma. Pending on the political barometer, the leader’s moods, and especially the greed for foreign currency in exchange for the right to emigration, almost four hundred thousand Jews left Romania during last twenty-five years. Along many interruptions and persecutions, a deal between the Jewish Agency and Romania materialized like in the old days of slavery, human beings were exchanged for currency. The deal required that the immigrants fly directly to Israel with El-Al Airline.

Although my burning desire and intention to immigrate to the Jewish State did not change, a good number of events, coincidences and calculations allowed me to circumvent the rule, and when the Securitate finally cleared me up, we landed in Italy. I didn’t change my mind about Israel as a final destination, but since this was our first trip abroad, I thought it would be a good opportunity for us to visit a Western European country, and thereafter to join the other family members in Israel. As I would explain in the stories that follow, I consider my first and only abandonment of ideals was committed after I left Romania.

___________________

First Trip Abroad

The departure from our native country was a matter of life or death for the Border family. There were only two alternatives for me, either I would be spending the rest of my life in prison—I mean this literally—or proving my innocence in confrontation with the Romanian Secret Police, and then be allowed to get out of Romania.

After complicated and frightening allegations and challenges, I achieved the latter, and a couple of brown passports, affixed with all necessary exit and entry visas, were in my hands. However, because nothing was meant to go smoothly in our lives, we ran into another hurdle. When presenting the passports at TAROM Airlines to purchase the tickets, the agent asked me to pay in foreign currency! Surprised by his request, I replied that it was illegal for me to carry foreign currency; and if I were caught handling that kind of money I’d be arrested immediately.

The agent arrogantly said, When you carry this type of passport you’re no longer a Romanian citizen. We have been instructed that the Jews have rich relatives in America who will pay in foreign currency for their passports!

I left the Airline Agency confused but determined to resolve my case as urgent as possible. I must find a way to pay with Romanian lei in order to receive the tickets. After I went knocking on a few doors of friends in influential positions, they intervened in my behalf and paid five thousand lei for three tickets.

The asinine emigration Romanian laws allowed us to take out of the country only sixty kilograms of luggage per person, no documents, not even pictures, except the brown passports without citizenship. In order to reduce the weight of our suitcases, we manufactured a couple of large blue bags made of a hardy fabric bunged with zippers. We crammed inside it only items of strict necessity. We also prepared a couple of handbags filled with several cartons of Romanian cigarettes, two bottles of plum brandy, and a couple of hard salamis. This was a precautionary measure, since we were not allowed to carry any foreign money. It would be our safety net when we’d arrive penniless at Rome Airport. We eventually might sell the merchandise in exchange for a few Italian liras.

We have had some information about the existence of HIAS, an organization helping Jewish immigrants to relocate. The main HIAS office was located in Rome, but because of my precarious situation with the Securitate, I was afraid to contact the organization prior to departure. Although we knew its address, we still needed some money to get by on arrival. So, I was ready to become a peddler vendor of plum brandy, cigarettes and salami outside the Rome Airport.

Before stepping onto the plane at Bucharest Otopeni Airport, we went through another moment of shock. The plane was supposed to depart at eight in the morning. We already hugged the friends that accompanied us, when the airport loudspeakers announced a two-hour flight delay. After all my troubles prior to obtaining our passports, I suspected that the delay was due to me, and the Securitate agents will show up to get me again. Suspiciously and fearfully, I started to look around to see the guys dressed in leather coats While in that state of fear and anxiety, someone informed that the delay was not because of me. The Romanian tennis star Ilie Nastase supposed to fly to Rome to play in a tournament. The spoiled son of the bitch forgot his passport at home, and the flight was delayed until Nastase returned with his passport! Imagine what would have happen if an ordinary fellow like me would have forgotten the passport at home!

Cramped in our narrow seats inside the huge aluminum bird, we were holding hands, counting every second until the airplane would be in the air. Prior to stepping inside the aircraft, we still doubted that our ordeal would end. Only when the Romanian stewardess announced, ‘Fasten your seat belts’ and we heard the squeaky noise produced by the airplane’s wheels touching the runway asphalt, we started to believe that indeed our nightmare ended.

We only knew then that we’re getting out of our native country for good, and that the immediate destination would be Rome, Italy. We had no idea yet, which country of immigration will grant us the asylum where we would live in freedom and not in fear. We did not carry regular passports like other international travelers. The Romanian government issued us passports without citizenship that upon arrival to Italy will become useless. Before departure, we were forced to give up Romanian citizenship. Ironically, we paid a hefty sum of money for the privilege of getting rid of citizenship. In truth, we preferred to be citizens of the world, than that of a communist country! After waiting for twenty-one years for this day, our focus now was strictly on the departure. We left behind friends and the graves of our ancestors, yet nobody could take away our memories from us.

Except for a few ups and downs due to air turbulence, the flight went along normally. Three hours later, the plane landed at Rome main Airport. We were among the first passengers that cleared the airplane; lined up in front of a booth, an Italian customs officer asked us a few pertinent questions. He calmly stamped our brown passports without citizenship, inviting us to move next to the conveyor where the customs control operation would take place. We didn’t have a lot of luggage and nobody bothered us regarding the salami, the cigarettes or the plum brandy stocked in our hand luggage. As soon as the formalities were behind us, we were asked to move to a large lobby that we assumed was on Italian territory already.

Although stepping on Italian soil was a great feeling of relief, we were apprehensive as to what will happen next. We picked up our strange looking blue bags, ready to move out of the airport. Our lifetime adventure has just begun. Through the lobby’s large windows, we could see outside a large number of people waiting for and greeting the incoming flow of passengers. We noticed a tall man holding a banner written in Romanian, ‘LOOKING FOR GOLDENBERG FAMILY!’

Suddenly, Rose, extremely excited started to shout,

"I know the man holding the banner. We used to be colleagues at the Editing Company in Bucharest His name is Frantuzu!"

Obviously, this was a thrilling moment. We have not set foot yet on Rome’s streets, and already have met an acquaintance! Frantuzu recognized Rose also, and moved hurriedly toward her. They embraced affectionately and a moment later we found out that we wouldn’t have to go out in the streets to sell our precious merchandise, the cigarettes, salami and the plum brandy. After the greetings and introductions, Frantuzu informed us that he is employed at HIAS and came to the airport in order to meet the Goldenberg family, a couple of immigrants who were expected to arrive. Frantuzu explained that he and his wife are trying to immigrate in Switzerland, a country that rarely grants permanent visas to immigrants. It will take longer to resolve their case, so HIAS has employed him to greet new immigrants from Eastern Europe at the airport. He drove a van parked outside the airport on a curb.

How about that? We stepped into the Free World with the right feet! If Mohamed couldn’t come to the mountain, the mountain had come to Mohamed!

The Goldenbergs approached Frantuzu, and the entire group moved outside towards Frantuzu’s van. Ready to step into the vehicle, I noticed an abandoned Italian banknote on the sidewalk. Since in Romania people believe that the streets in the West are paved with gold, I almost bent to pick up the banknote. However, I changed my mind telling myself, ‘Let’s not start working on the very first day!’

Before stepping into the van, Frantuzu handed us several hundred liras, explaining they are an advance pocket money. As we sat comfortably in the van, we wondered whether this coincidence was for real. The van traveled through the monumental sites of the ancient Rome, left the Coliseum behind and, half an hour later, the van moved through a couple of narrow streets. Soon, it stopped in front of a two-story building on whose facade was a sign that read: Pensione Europa.

Frantuzu got out of the van and exchanged a few words with the Pensione’s manager. We started to unload the luggage but in the process, the zipper of one of the blue fabric bags broke! Shirts, underwear, and shoes got scattered all over the place! Collecting the items from the pavement, I heard a passer-by saying with dismay, "Quel mizeria!"

I didn’t care about the person’s remark, because I knew this was the moment when our mizeria came to an end. Frantuzu introduced us to the manager who accompanied us to the second floor. We got a key and then entered a reasonably large room with a bathroom and a small kitchenette. This would be our residence for the time being and we could only be thankful to Goddess Fortuna who helped us so graciously to have a good beginning in the most extraordinary adventure of our lives.

It was already dinnertime and we were invited to the dining room. An abundance of pasta sprinkled with vino Chianti completed the first day of our sojourn in Italy. We learned for the first time the nice sound of the Italian pronunciation of good luck and said in unison, Tanti auguri. We slept without dreams and, in the morning, we woke up in a different mood than we did twenty-four hours before.

After eating breakfast, Frantuzu accompanied us to the HIAS headquarters located within walking distance. We arrived at the organization’s office, at 18 Via Reghina Margherita. Frantuzu introduced us to Mrs. Bottone, the case manager from the agency, in charge of taking care of our family before we’d be assigned to the final destination. She’d prepare also the paper work required by the immigration process.

Mrs. Bottone, an older lady with a round face like a moon, invited us to sit down in her office, and we filled out a couple of forms. After reading and signing the forms, she asked us to explain the circumstances that allowed us to legally get out of Romania. Since by nature I’m a storyteller, I enjoyed the opportunity to explain the labyrinth of twenty years of political dissidence, and to describe the intriguing experiences that occurred during the last years before departure. I communicated with Mrs. Bottone in a mixture of languages, French, English and sometimes, when I didn’t find the right word, I pronounced it in Romanian! Mrs. Bottone listened carefully to my story, taking notes, interrupting often with pertinent questions. My experiences, perhaps unlike any other immigrant’s story, contains some incidents that could be hard to believe and could be seemingly ambiguous.

However, as a result of the interview, another miracle happened. Due to the complication of the entire matter, Rose’s parents remained in Bucharest, with passports having exit visas to leave for Israel. The poor old people felt betrayed because of the turn of events that allowed me, Rose and Liviu to get out of Romania via Italy. At that time, due to an agreement between Romania and Israel, the remaining Romanian Jews in the country, must depart only for Israel on board El Al flights. It was a shameful deal, the Communist Authorities sold Jews for foreign money. In fact, my family was listed among those paid for with many thousands of dollars to increase the Jewish State population, but instead I sneaked out to Italy.

Left behind, David and Maria were ready to fulfill the formalities in order to fly to Israel. Three days after the interview, Mrs. Bottone called us urgently to her office. She smiled and without any introduction asked us bluntly,

Do you want your parents to join you in Rome?

Stunned by her question, we replied in unison,

Of course, we do, but what can we do in order for this to happen?

Mrs. Bottone smiled again and said,

You just have to greet them in a couple of days at the Airport.

Incredibly, we have just arrived to the Free World and we had run into the second miracle. We swore that, from then on, we would believe in miracles. What had happened? HIAS was in touch with the Israeli Embassy in Bucharest. The Embassy was aware of my ‘change of direction’. Knowing about the family separation, it acted efficiently, announcing in a hurry to the old people, procuring visas and airline tickets for them to fly to Italy! A couple of days later, an unforgettable reunion brought us together.

Soon after our arrival to Chicago, we realized that the notes taken by Mrs. Bottone had a certain meaning. Many immigrants from Eastern Communist countries, were planted by the Communist government to spy in the Free World. This rationale was proven shortly after our arrival to Chicago, when an agent from FBI contacted us. He advised us that for a while I will be under surveillance. Most probably my ambiguous stories triggered Mrs. Bottone’s attention and she submitted them to the Bureau.

We were informed by Mrs. Bottone that our sojourn in Italy will last approximately three to four months, the time necessary for processing our entry in a country of immigration. We’d have the luxury of choice between, Israel, USA, Canada, Australia or New Zealand. During this period of time we’ll receive a stipend for housing, food and all other needs. Having a long stay in Italy