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Not unlike many immigrants, I only know pieces of my family's story, all from my Father's side.

My grandparents met in Kiev, Russia; married, then came to the United States in the early 1900's, settling in Philadelphia.

Part of a large immigrant and family based community, they settled in South Philadelphia, where my Grandparents made a living buying, repairing, and selling clothing "seconds" to the local factory workers and their families. Too poor to have a store, they did all of this via a stand on the corner; day after day, year after year, in the heat and cold, until the cousins grouped together to form a storefront.

I can still recall the piles of clothes in my Grandparents basement when I would visit them...and my Grandmother's sewing machine.

They had little, but they did have community and family. They did their best, raised three children, the oldest being my father, Bernie. Without the opportunities that the United States provided, their story, and mine, would be different.