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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.