Voyage to:
Ellis Island
((Part Two of Three: From the Baltic))
Slowly the ship plowed through the last part of its voyage, through the Atlantic waters of the ocean, to New York City’s harbor, whereupon, the youthful and somewhat willful Russian lad named Anton (also known as Anatolee, or Anton Siluk), saw for the first time, the most famous, Statue of Liberty, and nearby Ellis Island was at arms length, the two most celebrated pieces of gossip onboard the ship, it would be where he’d process through, he—likened to thousands of others coming to America.
As he would go through the processing at Ellis Island, he would take a physical first, at which time, to his surprise, he would find out he had a rash on his stomach, legs and upper portion of his arms. The authorities, were taken back a bit, and ready to return Anatolee back to the ship and back to Russia—dismayed, Anton yelled in what little English he knew, and had picked up on the ship from the Russian Jews: “No, no scik, excitied, ecited, no scik, no scik! (He insisted, screeched out, in a near panic-stricken way.)” Yet somehow he maintained a smile on his face through all this, that stretched from ear to ear, which might have been the deciding factor for the Captain, whom was the doctor in the facility. He looked suspiciously into his eyes, Anatolee almost froze when he did so, and tears filled the rim of his lower left eyelid: “Okay, O.K…hmmm,” the doctor, a bit unsure, and waved him on through to the next inspector. It was an electrifying event, moment to say the least.
[August 3, 1916] And then came August, it was August 1, when Anatolee arrived in St. Paul, Minnesota by train. He had witnessed his father’s death a year prior (who had fallen off a roof on his farm)(born in 1874 died in 1915); now Anton had endured a trip across the Atlantic, to New York City’s Ellis Island, and a train ride all the way from New York City, to St. Paul, Minnesota. He would never, ever move again, and would never return to Russia again (but sent to his mother money occasionally, which now lived in Warsaw). Matter-of-fact, he would never leave Minnesota other than going back to Europe, to fight in WWI in 1917-1918, with the American Army. He would marry twice, divorce his first wife for being a drunk, and have nine children with his second, whom would die at the young age of thirty-three years old (the same age Christ and Alexander the Great died at). He’d live his days out in Minnesota (never driving a car, never leaving the state, never complaining about the hardships in America, he was so very proud to be an American). At the age of sixty-three-years old he’d help raise two grandchildren, Dennis and Mike, and die twenty-years later.
Written, July, 2006 (reedited for publication, 9-2009) taken from the Manuscript (an extract), “From the Baltic”
Ellis Island
((Part Two of Three: From the Baltic))
Slowly the ship plowed through the last part of its voyage, through the Atlantic waters of the ocean, to New York City’s harbor, whereupon, the youthful and somewhat willful Russian lad named Anton (also known as Anatolee, or Anton Siluk), saw for the first time, the most famous, Statue of Liberty, and nearby Ellis Island was at arms length, the two most celebrated pieces of gossip onboard the ship, it would be where he’d process through, he—likened to thousands of others coming to America.
As he would go through the processing at Ellis Island, he would take a physical first, at which time, to his surprise, he would find out he had a rash on his stomach, legs and upper portion of his arms. The authorities, were taken back a bit, and ready to return Anatolee back to the ship and back to Russia—dismayed, Anton yelled in what little English he knew, and had picked up on the ship from the Russian Jews: “No, no scik, excitied, ecited, no scik, no scik! (He insisted, screeched out, in a near panic-stricken way.)” Yet somehow he maintained a smile on his face through all this, that stretched from ear to ear, which might have been the deciding factor for the Captain, whom was the doctor in the facility. He looked suspiciously into his eyes, Anatolee almost froze when he did so, and tears filled the rim of his lower left eyelid: “Okay, O.K…hmmm,” the doctor, a bit unsure, and waved him on through to the next inspector. It was an electrifying event, moment to say the least.
[August 3, 1916] And then came August, it was August 1, when Anatolee arrived in St. Paul, Minnesota by train. He had witnessed his father’s death a year prior (who had fallen off a roof on his farm)(born in 1874 died in 1915); now Anton had endured a trip across the Atlantic, to New York City’s Ellis Island, and a train ride all the way from New York City, to St. Paul, Minnesota. He would never, ever move again, and would never return to Russia again (but sent to his mother money occasionally, which now lived in Warsaw). Matter-of-fact, he would never leave Minnesota other than going back to Europe, to fight in WWI in 1917-1918, with the American Army. He would marry twice, divorce his first wife for being a drunk, and have nine children with his second, whom would die at the young age of thirty-three years old (the same age Christ and Alexander the Great died at). He’d live his days out in Minnesota (never driving a car, never leaving the state, never complaining about the hardships in America, he was so very proud to be an American). At the age of sixty-three-years old he’d help raise two grandchildren, Dennis and Mike, and die twenty-years later.
Written, July, 2006 (reedited for publication, 9-2009) taken from the Manuscript (an extract), “From the Baltic”
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