FOUR WOMEN, ONE STORY!

By Sofya Stearns

Forty-one years ago, on August 13th, 1985, a family of 4 women, with one half empty suitcase filled only with photographs, stepped off a plane at O’Hare Airport, their long journey escaping Moscow, Russia has finally ended. The 4 women were, my twin, Olga, our mom, Natasha and grandmother, Izabella.

Our journey began on July 5th. I can still see the airport in Moscow, the gray light, the stale air, and the roar of more than fifty people saying their final goodbyes to us. Final

hug. Final kiss. Final smile. We knew we would never see any of them again. Horrific beyond any words can explain, but necessary, because our mom and grandmother wanted for Olga and I to have a chance at a future, get an education we wanted, not the education and career that would be forced by Soviet government. Back then, being Jewish and picking a school of your dreams never really worked well for a lot of Jews.

As we were saying our final goodbye to our best friend, he gave Olga a note just saying,

“I’ll miss you girls so much. And just remember, you will learn the language, but for now

remember two words, “Yes” and “Thank you.” At the security point, an agent sees a

note, and without even reading the note, takes my sister and detains her. Tells her to get

undressed and proceeds padding her down, looking for any other notes. My poor

mother is begging agent to let her go, and the note has no meaning, and our flight is

about to depart. She tells my grandmother “Take Sofya and go, at least half of us will be

able to escape Russia.”

My grandmother, strong, loyal, stubborn in the way only love can make a person,

refused to leave her daughter and granddaughter behind. As the last announcement

echoed through the room, “The gates are now closed,” the hysteria overtakes my

mother. “Officer, I’m begging you, please let my child go,” and with the smirk on his

disgusting, red from alcohol face, the agent lets Olga go. By the grace of G-d, we made

our flight to Vienna.

Vienna was a blur, a hotel filled with Soviet refugees, faces hollowed by fear, unknown

but with hope. Two days later, we were herded to a train station with all Soviet

refugees, placed into a single train car, soldiers with Uzis guarding the doors, and taken

an overnight ride to Rome. From there, a bus carried us to Ladispoli, a seaside town,

outside of Rome. During the ride, my mom and grandmother were trying to figure out

where to go and buy all the essentials for the apartment, for our month stay. As we

arrived, I saw a women running to my grandmother, “Bella, Bella, Izabella, you are all

here.” It was one of my grandmother’s oldest friends, Kira. They lost touch, as Kira and

her family became refusniks like us, (Jewish families who tried to flee Soviet Union but

were denied by Russians, which cost them their jobs) and neither Kira nor my

grandmother wanted to compromise each other family’s safety.

“I saw your name on the roster of the incoming immigrants, and I couldn’t believe my

eyes,” Kira couldn’t stop hugging my grandmother and us. “We are leaving tomorrow for

New York, we got our papers and I’m leaving everything behind for you, sheets, pots,

pans.”

Later that evening, my grandmother told Kira about losing her husband, of 40 years that

November, my grandfather Arnold, and now for the sake of her 3 girls, she left behind

her beloved husband’s gravesite, her only leaving sister and brother.

Now as an adult, I cannot fathom the strength it took for my grandmother to walk away

from her entire world, for the sake of her beloved daughter and grandchildren.

Fast forward, a month in Ladispoli, not knowing what to expect in America, we made it

to Chicago. Our grandmother always lived with us, we were always the four

musketeers, always cheering each other up and being each other’s support. In 2001,

our beloved Izabella passed away.

2 adults and 2 teenagers with no word in English, no money, not a slightest idea what to

expect made it. Freedom didn’t hand us a life, it handed us a chance. A chance to

become who we wanted to be, to choose our own path, to work where we wanted to

work, to build something from nothing. Freedom and labor walk side by side; one gives

the possibility; the other gives it shape.

When freedom is given to you, and you have perseverance and you know not making it

is not an option, you do absolutely your best and everything in your power to make it.

You push, you fight, you rise. Because otherwise, what would be the point of escaping

and leaving everything and everyone you ever knew.