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Story 22: Melting Pot

I am I melting pot of several different ethnicities. My mother’s parents are Irish, 

English, Scottish and German, as well as, a small amount of Welsh, Dutch, 

Scandinavian and French. My father’s mother is Irish and Dutch  and his father is 

Persian. I asked my grandma about some interesting stories of our ancestors. I picked 

the people that are from the areas near where I have been, like Fort Steuben or 

Western PA.

My grandmother lives in Eastern Ohio, and we visit her often. She is very 

interested in genealogy, has researched our family tree back to the early 1600’s, and 

has entered it into ancestry.com. At first it didn’t seem that interesting, just looking at the 

dates of people’s deaths or where they were born, but as she started to tell me the 

stories it became more exciting. Maybe it was because I started to imagine them as real 

people instead of just names and dates.

The first story I chose, from the many she has shared with me I picked because it 

took place during the French and Indian War. We had already studied that in class, so I 

had some background knowledge. When the war started, many settlers wanted to move 

to land outside of government approve areas. On their own they moved farther west into 

Pennsylvania and settled land in Indian Territory.  The state tried to stop this because 

they didn't want to upset the Indians of western PA.  My ancestor, John Martin (my 7th 

great grandfather), was one of these settlers. In the summer of 1755, the Indians carried 

the war across the Allegheny Mountains.  On November 1st, they attacked the pioneers 

at Big Cove, (now in Fulton County – then it was called Cumberland County, PA).

 At the time of the attack, John Martin was on a trip to Philadelphia taking his 

horses with him.  His oldest son, Hugh (my 6th great grandfather), was 17 years old and 

was away from his home warning neighbors of the impending attack.  Upon returning 

home, he saw his cabin in flames and a band of Indians ransacking it. His Mother, two 

brothers and three sisters were held captive. Since he was unable to help he kept 

hidden.  When it was safe he traveled eastward, to meet a group of armed men and 

returned to the Cove. He was too late and his family was gone. John Martin came home 

and they rebuilt their cabin. The Mother (my 7th great grandmother) was held captive for 

a short time, then taken away from her children.  The French took her to Quebec, 

Canada where she worked as a servant.  She was eventually able to secure her 

freedom.  During this time a French merchant of Quebec who was trading with the 

Indians secured the little girl, Janet Martin (youngest child), and took her to home. Mrs. 

Martin saw her there, recognized her and legally claimed her.  After a few years they 

were able to sail to Liverpool, England and then return to Philadelphia and their home at 

Big Cove.

Mary Martin, the oldest, would not adopt the Indian ways, so she was beaten to 

death by the squaws.  Martha, James and William Martin were held captive for about 

nine years.  They traveled as far as the Scioto Valley in Ohio. Somehow their father, 

John, learned their lives had been spared.  After the Indians defeat in 1763, John Martin 

and other families returned to them at Fort Pitt. Besides the historical connection, this 

piece of my family history makes me thankful I didn’t grow up in that time period, and 

I’m amazed at the perseverance that Janet showed. She was probably very scared and 

lost her hope. “When you are going through hell, keep going”, Winston Churchill.

The second story I chose was also from around the same time period and from 

the Scots-Irish part of my family. Sarah Clark was born, 1766 or 1767 near Carlisle, 

Cumberland County, PA.  Her father, John Clark, died when she was young and she 

was not close to her mother.  Sarah worked as a servant starting at 11 years old. She 

worked for several families including the home of John Douglas. It was here that she fell 

in love with his son, who happened to be love with Ann Carothers.  Ann was the 

daughter of John and Mary Carothers (my 7th great grandparents on the other side). 

Sarah decided to remove the object of his affections. She obtained work in the 

Carothers' household. As time passed, she plotted her scheme to get rid of Ann and 

bought some white arsenic. However, she didn't want to hurt any of the others in the 

family, just Ann.  She put the arsenic in the leaven which they used to make bread.  

Unfortunately, all of the family living in the house became ill. John Carothers died, 

February 28, 1798 and Mary Carothers died June 3, 1798.  Andrew Carothers, son and 

brother, suffered long-lasting health issues but did not die.  Ann also suffered ill health. 

Still intent on killing Ann, Sarah purchased yellow arsenic, and her plot was discovered.  

Sarah was apprehended, imprisoned, eventually tried and found guilty. She was 

sentenced to hanging and her confession spoke of her remorse for her crime. "That may 

be an awful lesson to all young women, in the desire of a martyr of contending 

passions."  The story itself seems like a Lifetime movie, however a lesson can be 

learned from her confession. Don’t let unhealthy emotions like envy or jealousy cloud 

your judgment.

  My grandmother and I had talked about going on a road trip around 

Pennsylvania this summer. She wanted to go to some court houses, graveyards, 

churches and libraries to research some records and expand her family tree knowledge. 

Initially, I just wanted to go on a trip with my grandma and get more driving experience. 

Now I’m looking forward to learning more of my family history and expanding my 

knowledge of my Ethnic DNA. Hopefully, not all the stories will be tragic.

Story 21: An Incredible Journey

Everything here is so different! I just arrived a couple of months ago, and I’m staying in my cousins’ house. I came because my family and I got the residence about 6 months ago. By the time I’ve been staying here, I’ve been able to see that USA is an incredible country, and Columbus, Ohio a really cool city. However, I really miss my country.

I miss my country not because of the way it is or the things it has, because if it would be because of that, USA has much better things than Perú; I miss it because of the places... like Machu Picchu, that is one of the 7 wonders of the world (sadly, I’ve never visited it) or the incredible, incredible beaches of Piura, the city of the eternal heat; I miss it because of my school, that although it wasn’t the best one, it gave me a good education; I miss it because of the food; but more than everything... I miss it because of my friends, those friends who I’ll never forget because they are part of my life.

In Perú I used to wake up, and as soon as I went out of my house for going to my school, I smelt the delicious smell of the bread taken out from the oven some minutes before (I could smell it because there was a bakery right next to my house), after  school I used to go to sing with a lot of students from different schools, because all of us were in the Peruvian National Choir. And then, I used to finish my day going to my home to do my homework. But not everything was studies; on Saturdays, some friends and I usually went to play soccer to the park where all the little children were also playing other games, and where birds whistle as trying to sing a song no matter what. I can remember those moments as if I was still living them, as if those activities had never stopped.

Perú is an incredible place where a person could go to spend their vacations, it has the best food of the world (it had been already proved), so a person could enjoy the delicious taste of the “CEBICHE”, that for most of the peruvians is their favourite food, and that includes me. But is not the only meal you could enjoy, there are plenty of them. However, food is not the only thing you could delight with, there are also lots of places where you can go, as the one I’ve already mention it, Machu Picchu, or even Piura, where you can enjoy the delicious "chifles"; Ica, where you can see the Nazca lines; Lima (the capital), where you can find the government palace; Ayacucho, where you can go to visit the 33 incredible churches (each one represent each year of Jesus' life) built by ancestors etc. All of those have a lot of our culture and you could learn many new things from them, as is the fact that my country is a really religious one.

My family and I were informed on December of 2013 that the government process were close to end, they gave us a date on July of 2014 for an interview, which will determine if the US Embassy will give us the residence, that had been transacting since I born (practically). Happily, we got the residence, and on November, 27 we were already taking 3 planes to came to the US, we found it hard to communicate with north americans in the airports; but it wasn't the first time I had spoken to a native american, because I have a lot of family who is from here, so... it turns a little easier. When I went down from the last plane, my face changed totally, my first impression was the fact that everything here was bigger and more modern, I felt as if I had taken a rocket and arrived in another world. Just by looking around the airport I could see the new amazing experience that I was passing by. Then my cousins' cars and house. I felt as if I were going to live in a mansion.

A week after that I found myself studying at Dublin Scioto High School. I'm so glad because I don't have much time here and I already have a job, a debit card from "Chase", my cousin is starting to taking me to the gym with him, and I'm so excited also that just in 2 more months I could be driving with a license. Now, my parents and my siblings are searching for a new house where all of us could live, I don't know if I'm going to keep studying where I am right now, but wherever I'll go I know it will be helpful for me anyways.

Story 20: Armenia

Promises of good fortune and tellings of a good life in their homeland reached the ears

of my great­grandparents, two Armenians living in Aleppo, Syria. The year of 1946 brought

the call of the motherland to their ears. They made the great decision of moving to Armenia

that year — the home to all the Armenians across the world and the cradle of an ancient, rich

culture and history. Upon getting there, my great­grandparents were shocked. During those

years, Armenia was a part of the Soviet Union under the reign of Joseph Stalin, and paranoia

and fright were ransacking the country. A few months later, my great­grandparents were

exiled and forced to move to Siberia along with many others under the command of Stalin.

Disheartened and dispirited, they made the great move and settled in a small village in

Siberia, all alone.

They lived in awful conditions; they resided in a dug­out shelter which was rooted deep

in the ground and covered in mud to protect against the harsh, biting cold of the Siberian

winters. My great­grandfather served as a lumberjack and cut trees. Lack of transportation led

him to travel everywhere by foot, and when he was at work, he had to face the possibility of a

wolf attack. In exchange for all his hard work, he was paid a very low wage which barely

provided enough food for him and his wife to survive. Their first­born baby boy died when he

was only a few months old due to pneumonia and the absence of proper medication. Months

later, they had a daughter, my grandmother, who later became a teacher.

After living in Siberia and enduring hardships for seven years, the family was finally

allowed to return home to Yerevan, Armenia. Years filled with more difficulties flew by and

soon, my grandmother met my grandfather. In 1972, my dear mother was born. In 1989, my

great­grandparents moved to Los Angeles, California, being the first people from our family

tree to move to America. My mother met my father further down the road, and after they

married, they made the great decision of coming over to America in 1999.

At that time in Armenia, my father was working as a surgeon, but was making around

11,000 drams each month, which is the equivalent to a mere $20­$40. My parents were living

with my grandmother from my father’s side as well as my uncle and his wife in a very small

apartment. They knew it would be extremely difficult to raise a child in those conditions. The

allure of America was very tempting, however it felt far­fetched for my parents. They knew all

about America — it is the land of opportunity that draws everyone in with the flash of its

beacon and the bright flicker of Lady Liberty’s passionate flames. It murmurs softly about life,

liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, things that were foreign to so many people. My parents

had made a very difficult decision — one that forced them to part from their families, their

close friends, and their beloved country. My parents moved in to a small apartment located in

Los Angeles with my great­grandparents, who still live there. About seven months later, a

baby girl entered their lives, and they named her Elen.

My parents were so much more affected by the move than I was. My mother was a

stay at home mom and still is to this day. My father had to work multiple jobs tirelessly, but it

payed off when they rented out their first apartment. Since my father came from a foreign

country, his medical license was no longer valid. This was a major setback which led to even

more complications. My mother had no help raising me, and yet she did a flawless job. Since

my father was out a lot trying to provide for us, my mother and I spent more time together and

we formed a really close bond. She would keep in contact with our relatives in Armenia by

videotaping and photographing everything I did and sending the VCRs and pictures there.

Even though all my relatives are on the other side of the world, they saw me grow up and

mature and become who I am today.

In 2004, my grandparents came to live with us in America to help my parents out.

When they first arrived, they were just two total strangers in the airport. Yet, they knew all

about me due to the dozens of videotapes that were sent to them. My grandfather tried to

apply for many jobs to help my father, but he was rejected every time. He was even turned

away when he offered to work as a volunteer. I’m sure the fact that my mother had her

parents by her side really gave her a sense of comfort. The road was rocky at first, and it

definitely took time to get used to everything, especially the two strangers who were living in

the same house as me.

I come from a long line of extremely hard workers which makes the pride within me

swell. My entire family put together a great effort to make a comfortable and secure

environment for me which I am eternally grateful for. My grandmother temporarily worked at a

bagel shop; my grandfather worked as a taxi driver and then worked in a warehouse making

billiard cue sticks and tips. I began school with no knowledge of the English language

because I had grown up speaking and only hearing Armenian and only watched Armenian or

Russian children’s shows. But I am a quick and avid learner, so I had no difficulties. We

relocated to a new and bigger apartment and a few years later, my brother, Allen, was born,

and we relocated once again. My father started to study for his board exams, and that meant

sacrificing a lot of family time. Meanwhile, my grandparents moved out into an apartment of

their own, and my grandmother began going to a community college. In 2012, after passing all

the board exams successfully, my father was accepted into a residency program in Ohio,

about 3,000 miles away from our home. I remember the day I found out like it was yesterday.

We left behind our old lives and moved to Ohio where we are living now. All my family’s hard

work will be payed off in only five months when my father graduates from his residency

program and receives the license he greatly deserves.

Being a first­generation American has not been difficult because my parents and

grandparents are the ones who have absorbed all the blows. My parents’ decision to move

West made all the difference in our lives. My life would have been completely different had my

parents stayed in Armenia, and I’m sure it would’ve been laden with difficulties. My brother

and I grew up in a sound and very sheltered environment, and we received the best possible

provided by our family. I am thankful and blessed to have the life that I have. My family’s

immigration story inspires me in every single way, and I hope that I can carry on their legacy

of hard work and dedication.

Story 19: Gujarat

Did you know where India is located? Did you know in what ways India was different? I was living in Ahmedabad,Gujarat which was a great city. Gujarat was a state in India. The life there was different then it is in U.S. I remember the life there every morning I wake up and ready to go to school at 7:30a.m. The schools were totally different like we had to sit in one class and teachers had to change classes. In Addition,there were no school buses in our school but there was some type of means of transportation.I miss how all the vehicles would honk their horns without any reason. I remember how we had classes,besides our school and how my friends came to pick me up. In Addition,in the evening we all friends would gather up and play different types of sports. We used to celebrate festivals by gathering friends and having fun.

There were three seasons:Summer,Monsoon and Winter. Summer was during February through June,Monsoon was during July through September,Winter from October to January. In summer it was too hot as the temperatures were around 50 degrees Celsius. In Winter its not much cold it used to be around 20 degrees Celsius. In that I loved Monsoon season as it rained there and when it rained severe our schools would used to be closed.If the schools were closed then my friends would come and we used to go for walk in the rain and accumulated water on the roads. When it rained there was a famous food that all the people would eat when it rained was Dalwada. I remember the smell of Dalwada coming from the restaurants in the rainy weather. I loved to eat Punjabi food that was popular in my country. I used to eat Punjabi food every another weekend.

There was a beautiful old structure in my city named Shaking Minaret(also known as Jhulta Minar). Shaking Minaret was a structure with two pillars around a big place in behind the two pillars. That structure was built in such a way that if there is an earthquake and if the four pillars would fall it wouldn’t damage the structure in middle. I remember there were more modernized buildings and less old structured buildings. There was a lake named Kankaria lake which was really amazing.I remember how it was so quiet when I would go there. There were nine bridges on the river Sabarmati that connect eastern and western regions of Ahmedabad. There was a newly developed place on the banks of Sabarmati river called Riverfront it was a great place I remember how we friends would go there before our classes, sometimes after classes and we would  hangout/play there. There was a Hotel named Patang Hotel which was the only revolving hotel and was like a skyscraper in whole country. I had been there once and it was amazing view from the top of the hotel as I could see whole Ahmedabad from there.

It was the month of February and I was preparing for my final exams of my Sophomore year. It was afternoon and I collected the mail and there was a letter from the U.S. Embassy letting us know that we were called for collecting our U.S. Visa. I heard that and was so excited that I am going to U.S. and stay there forever,however,I was unhappy when I knew that I had to leave my friends.I was 16 years old when I came to U.S. for the first time.I came here on May 1st , 2014.That was the first time I had traveled 22 hours in flight from India. I thought it would be amazing to travel 22 hours in flight,but it wasn’t like what I thought. I was annoyed with the clouds that were the only thing I could see outside the plane. I first came to Houston, TX on 1st May, 2014 and on 22nd July, 2014 I moved from Houston, TX to Dublin,OH. I miss my country.On the other hand,I love this country too.

Story 18: Immigrant Story

I started to cry when I started to say goodbye to my family and friends. The tears would not stop and they kept dripping from my eyes.  It has been about four years since I have left Korea.  When I landed in America, it felt fresh and confusing.  When I lived in Korea my life was fantastic!  I was able to hang out with my friends every day and eat the foods that I liked.  My favorite foods were chicken marinated with soy sauce, pizza that was made with sweet potatoes topping, rice cake with spicy sauce, and my last favorite food was the spicy ramen noodles.  I would eat these foods often with my friends.  These are one of my favorite part of my memories.  Also, I had a lot to do, but I loved doing all of it that I was able to work hard without much effort.  One of my favorite things was to go to many places with my friends that represented Korea.  First I went to old houses that were built in the 1900’s called Jeonju Hanok Village ( 전주한옥마을 ).  Jeonju was the city where I lived.  Jeonju is not the capital of Korea, but there are a lot of interesting facts about it to make it so special.  For example we have a type of paper that is called Hanji.  This paper is really hard to rip and is very strong.  Also, the Hanok Village is located in Jeonju. This village is very famous to the foreigners that one must visit this area when they visit Korea.  Now they changed lots of things and also they have many different kinds of menus and interesting places to take picture so that the visitors can have fun and have a good time.


There are many differences between America and Korea.  The foods, culture, and the education system are the biggest differences.  In Korea, they like spicy foods and they make sure that the taste is strong so the spiciness is stimulating.  Also, Korea has pizza or chickens just like American fast food, but they taste different.  Meaning that they different flavors compared to American chicken, pizza, other foods, etc.  Korea has more flavors to their food.  Example, they have potato and sweet potato pizza.  They have chicken flavors with spicy chicken with sesame seeds and also soy sauce.  Even McDonalds, Burger King, and Popeyes have different menus compared to the ones here in the US. The taste can also be different since Koreans like to use a lot of garlic.  These are only a portion of how they are different from each other.  Another difference would be the delivery system.  Most of the restaurants or fast food restaurants deliver 24 hours.  Even McDonalds deliver in Korea.  This is one of the most comfortable things in Korea.  The most popular food is the Kimchi. Korean people eat Kimchi every day with rice.  It took some time to get used to not having rice or Kimchi in the lunch lines at school.   

When I went to school here for the first time, I was really surprised because of the education system. In Korea, high school students are supposed to go school at 7 am and they stay at school until 10 pm.  There would be students who would have tutoring after school, then they would stay up studying until 12 or 1am.  America on the other hand, they go to school at about 8am and school ends at 3pm which made me really confused and surprised.  Here in America, we choose the classes that we want to take, but in Korea the schedules are already set for the students so they have no choice.  The school I went to in Korea was really fun because we are all crowded in the classroom and we would wait for break time.  I loved that all classrooms are together and were shared.  Korea is a small country, but there are many buildings and they are all higher than America’s buildings. In the capital of Korea, which is called Seoul, we have the highest building in Korea that is called 63 building, meaning there were 63 floors in total.  I was really confused when I first got here, but I had to adapt to my new home in America.  I really miss my family, friends, and everything in Korea.  I think my life is changing slowly so that I am happy here even though my loved ones are all not here.  I want to keep studying here in America and live a successful life.

Story 17: Home Sweet Home

I can still remember my small town, my home sweet home.

“Maravatio” comes from the P'urhépecha word Marhabatio, meaning a precious place or thing. I was born in Ohio but my parents have always move back and forth from Mexico and United States. I have lived half of my life in the US and half of it in Mexico. I think if you want an interesting life you should live in Mexico, there’s so many things to do, you never get bored and people is so kind and humble; but if you want a good and quality life you should live in the US. Changing your residence is a hard thing but it gives you lots of life lessons and opportunities to know what you really want in your future.

Thinking about my beautiful Mexico all I can imagine is nature, rivers, flowers, animals, crowd streets, some old buildings, parties, different food smells and very good tasting.

Maravatio is a small town where most of the people are traders, their economy is not the best but they live well as they can, life is cheaper compared to lot of places and we have lots of near cities, like Mexico City, Queretaro, Guanajuato and beautiful blue beaches. There is also a place named Angangueo that is a  monarch butterfly biosphere reserve where butterflies fly from Canada in winter it is really fun to go and visit because you see lots of orange dots in the trees and they are all butterflies, you can’t even walk!

After eight years living in Mexico I never imagined my life in Ohio again, so when I heard my parents talking about coming back again at first I was really excited because I thought having a “new life” was going to be fun. Then I notice changing everything is not as easy as you think, it is a very big challenge.

I enjoyed every single day that I had left in Mexico because my parents didn’t tell me exactly what day we were going to leave.

One of the hardest thing for me in Ohio has been coexist with people that are different than me but the good thing is that I had already lived here so I was a little accustomed to here.

Sometimes I can  feel the taste of the awesome spicy food like tacos, burritos, pozole, tamales and I can also taste the sweet fruit in my mouth. At the morning you can hear birds singing and if you go downtown you can see that it is really crowd, you can see all types of people, most of them always have a smile in their face.

The most important thing is the place I am now in a place where everyone is different, a place where each day you learn something new.

Story 16: Michoacan

Just because I’m hispanic people think I do drugs and go to parties 24/7... WRONG! Not all of us go to parties that often and some of us have never even touched drugs ,LIKE ME! By the way,my name is Emma,and  I am from Maravatio Michoacan. A lot of you don’t know where that is or have never heard of it before, it is in Mexico.  I was born there I don’t really remember how is was I moved down here when I was 4 ½ , so I was really little, but I have heard so many great stories about back home.

My mom has told me that coming here was one of the hardest things because she had to live behind her mom and her sister  and her cousins and her friends, but she said that she made the right choice. How we go here was the hardest way we had to go throw big hills and we had to cross a big gate, my real dad put me in his sweat shirt so they could walk for days and days. My mom said I didn’t make a noise they had to ask me “ estas bien”, every once in a while. My mom say that even the guy that was guiding us carried me so my parents could walk faster and so they wouldn’t get caught, when we got here my mom said that she took me a shower like she had not seen water in years.

I like living here but I feel like my life would off been better in Mexico, because there my whole family is there in my language is spanish and it would off been easier to learn.  My hair was down to where it almost touched my butt, but she had to cut my hair really short because the teachers said that it was taking too much energy away from me, I remember seeing my mom crying when they were cutting. When I started school it was really hard for me, because I didn’t understand anything. People said that I didn’t even talk, I started school in  Wright Elementary and there was this one teacher that tried to help me she said that she could never get me to say one word. My mom moved me to Riverside Elementary and they put me back in kindergarten because I didn’t speak an english, it to me along time to learn it and write, it but look at me now I can speak it and read it and write it. People now see me and say WOW your english is really good or some people can’t get me to be quiet . I am kinda glad my mom decided to move down here so I can learn something new and see how different life is here in Ohio.  Oh did I mention I had never seen snow in my whole life  because where I’m from it never snows at least not where I’m at, when I saw snow I was like “qué es esto” my mom and dad where like “no lo sé” and then my uncle came outside and said “se llama nieve” I was like “really surprised”, but now I see the snow and  I’m like when will it go away or I’ll be like I wonder if we will have school today or tomorrow. I have almost 12 years here and I’m still not use to the cold weather or should I say the wired weather of Ohio.  

 

My mom say that in mexico there are people that sell food outside schools like chips,soda, sometimes even.. YOUR LUNCH! My mom says that the food in mexico is so good that the smell of it is like you are living in a dream because it smells so good.  My mom says that she used to walk home from school, she says that there is this park near where she lives that she use to go with her friends or even with her boyfriend, she says that you could hear people laughing and talking and even people ice cream they use to sell it there.  I would love to live in Mexico life would be much easier. I love living here to but I have family down there and I wish I could go visit them but I can’t. :( I love all my friends here but I wish I had more hispanic friends or a least hung out with more, that way I can speak my own language. I have some but I usually talk to them in english because it easier and faster. But sometimes when I’m talking to my friends some words come out in spanish and they’re  like “what did you say” and I have to try to explain what I said in spanish to them. It would be easier if they understood what I said but I guess I have to get use to explain my sentence to them again.

I miss my family back home a lot and I’m hoping that I will get to go visit them one day in the future,  and I will take my mom with me so she can see her mom and her whole family that misses her a lot. I have already made my mom that promise and I hope I can take her one day. I hope my life keeps changing and I get to see more new things and discover more things and make new friends like I have until now.

Story 15: Mexico

Story 14: Family Tree

Story 13: John Howland

Story 12: Korea

I am Korean. My mom and my dad are both what you would call “purebreds”. I guess 

I could call myself a purebred, as well as my brother. I can proudly say that I am Korean 

thanks to my parents who take pride in their heritage. This story however isn’t about me, but 

my parents. My mother once said to me, “We [All of my family members who have moved to 

America] moved to live a better life, a new opportunity that is only available in America.”

The story of my parents begin. My mom never got to finish high school before 

moving to America, and stated that it was too difficult to start school again after moving. My 

mother worked jobs that took no very little to no need of the use of the English language. 

Although my mother has lived in America for over 26 years, the english language has 

always been a struggle for her, and the language barrier is still one of her greatest struggles 

today. My father moved to America 30 years ago and is still, like my mother, strongly rooted 

in Korean culture. My dad attended college in America for about two years, but never got to 

graduate because the language was too difficult to keep up with. In later years my dad 

created a system for trading and selling video games. He later opened a store called 

Starland with one of his best friends. He spent three years creating this system and ended 

up opening a total of ten of these stores! A company known as GameStop, wanted to buy 

this idea from my father many years ago, but the company ended up stealing it instead. My 

father did not know how to legally take back what he has once started and had to close 

many of the chain stores. One store still remains today, owned by his bud. Both of my 

parents had great struggles starting a new life in America but they pulled through! My 

parents had an arranged marriage and got married before moving to America. Both my 

moms side and my dads side of the family all moved to America. I grew up in a house with 

ten people in it, all heavily rooted. My parents worked very hard to keep the family 

financially stable and to keep both me and my brother aware of where we came from.

This new life living in America wasn’t a walk in the park for them, but you could say 

that they achieved the American Dream. No, you don’t have to be an American to reach the 

American Dream, the idea of living in a happy household can be achieved by any ethnic 

group. I can proudly say that I am of Korean descendent thanks to my great hard working 

parents, who have made it possible for me to live in America today. Thank you for reading. 

:)

Story 11: India 2

Story 10: Greek Heritage

Story 9: My Family's Story

Story 8: Traditions

Coming from an Italian and German family there are many traditions that I have grown to 

know. However, all of these traditions had to have began somewhere within my ancestors. 

In 1913 my great grandparents, Mary (Vinditti) Graziano, born on April 15, 1904, and 

Carmen Graziano, born on February 24, 1898,  left Italy to America. They took a ship 

together to the well known, Ellis Island. There they signed the book of all the passengers’ 

names and went to begin their new life. They married years beforehand, after each of their 

spouses had died, but had their eleven children who were born afterward keep their spirits 

alive. Their Italian attitudes are still here with us today by the way we celebrate our ethnicity. 

The elements of family, food, religion, music, and architecture are very popular within Italian 

culture. One component that stands out most in our family is the strong Catholic religious 

practice we portray. My grandpa, or mostly known as Papa, is a great example of this trait. 

Every Christmas for as long as he can remember, he has attended Midnight Mass at his 

local church with many of his brothers and sisters. Also, as any Italian, he has wonderful 

cooking skills descended from his past ancestors as well. Almost every holiday and special 

occasion we all make pizzelles, a famous Italian waffle cookie that were originally made in 

Ortona, Italy. Although time is passing each day, my Nana and Papa still visit Italy each 

year to reminisce through memories and explore more in depth into our family history. Even 

though we are still modernizing each day, our family still is tightly knit because of our 

common ancestors and traditions. They are what molded me to who I am today and make 

me proud to come from an Italian background.

Story 7: Miracles Can Happen

Story 6: My Ethnic DNA

Story 5: My Grandfather

Have you ever heard the name Ron Wigg? When people see or hear my 

last name that’s usually the first thing that comes to mind, at least if you are in 

the soccer industry that is. I’ll get the generic questions asking if I’m his 

granddaughter or if I’m somehow connected to him. Most of the time my father’s 

name will trickle in there as well. All of these grand memories these strangers 

shared with my grandfather that they have stored forever in their minds yet I hold 

none. I have to base my depiction of him off of pictures and stories that have 

gone through a game of telephone. No one wants to tell me the bad so they twist 

and crumple up their stories like a piece of paper so you can’t see what truly lies 

within. I am only able to see bits and pieces of this story. This means I will never 

be able to formulate a rational opinion of this man. However, I do know for a fact 

that this man achieved extraordinary things in his short life. 

Born on May 18, 1949 in Great Dunmow, England, Ron was an English 

forward who played for a total of eight respectable professional football clubs 

including Ipswitch Town and Watford. Beginning his career at the age of fifteen, it 

was clear that Ron held an intense passion and love for the game. However, he 

ended his soccer career in America. After first moving to America he played for 

the Columbus Magic of the American Soccer League, scoring the first 

professional soccer goal in Columbus history. He ended the season with thirteen 

goals within twenty-seven games. His professional soccer career officially came 

to a end after a mere ten games playing for the Cleveland Force, a professional 

indoor team at the time. You may think that this is where the story ends but it’s 

not. Ron continued to spread his vast knowledge of the game he cherished so 

much through coaching professionally. To this day there is an award named after 

him called the Ron Wigg Award (the Wiggie Award) which is given to a coach of 

the Olympic Development Program each year. He was the Ohio South Soccer 

Association Director of Coaching and Soccer Education when he suffered a fatal 

heart attack on July 3, 1997. Today he is survived by his two sons, Daniel and 

Michael Wigg. Even with Ron’s sudden expiration, it would be an understatement 

to say that he impacted measureless amounts of people’s lives. 

Someone’s life that Ron continues to impact to this day is his very own son 

and my father, Daniel Wigg. At the tender age of fifteen Daniel commenced his 

coaching career under his father’s wing. It was clear he had an undeniable gift 

for coaching after he became the youngest person to successfully acquire the 

USSF Nation “C” badge at the age of nineteen. He continues to produce division 

one and MLS players through his strategic and passionate coaching. Now my 

father has told me a vast amount of stories about my grandfather but one always 

manages to stick in my head the most. My father was around the age of twelve 

when Ron, his father, took him out to an open soccer field in Worthington. Ron 

told him of the times when he would take a hundred soccer balls out onto a field 

and practice shooting his penalty kicks over and over again. He then told my 

father that he had the ability to hit the right post every time he struck the ball. As 

Ron began to shoot Daniel started to laugh because his overly confident father 

had missed every single shot. Ron was struck with confusion and was 

determined to figure out the problem. He carefully measured the position of the 

penalty spot and came to the conclusion that it was painted a few inches too far 

to the left. The ball was then placed in the “correct” spot and Ron began to shoot 

again. The next five shots hit exactly where he said they would, in off the right post. 

Out of all those people that Ron had effected throughout his lifetime he 

still manages to do the same to this day. This would include me. My grandfather 

has showed me that one can in fact achieve the unachievable. My father always 

tells me that Ron claimed that the day he stopped getting sick before a soccer 

game would be the day he would end his career. He is basically saying the day 

that that ends is the day he has lost his drive and passion for the game. This 

motivates me to do what I have a passion for rather than be a victim of the 

straight laced society that paves a path for the “realistic” way in life. He has 

showed me that it is okay to take the road less traveled. Occupations such as 

professional soccer player, singer and movie star seem as if they are at our 

finger tips when we are young and we were told to shoot for the stars. Now they 

sit us down and have us set “realistic” goals that can easily be achieved and 

laugh at the ideas of those occupations. At what point did dreaming big become 

impractical, childish and unobtainable? My grandfather has motivated me to 

dream big and to not settle for second best. That is why I wear my grandfather’s 

jersey number, ten, for both my high school and club soccer teams. I use it as a 

reminder that no dream is out of reach. It fascinates me that a man whom I have 

never met can influence my life so greatly and that is why I chose to tell his story.

Story 4: My Ancestry Story

Story 3: DAR

Story 2: India

Story 1: A Toast to the Toaster