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My Grandpa, Jake Pasternack was a young man living in a shetetl
( Jewish town) in the Ukraine area which was part of Russia in the early 1900's. He was sent a notice that he would have to serve in the Czar's army; and at that time if you were inducted as a Jew you had to serve for 20 years minimum and you could never progress higher than a private. Sooo, he decided to escape and imigrate to see his brothers in either Argentina or Canada.On his way across the Austrian border ( he was hiding in the false bottom of an egg wagon) the men told him he had to pay more $ to be smuggled across. Jake refused and said that he would tell everyone in his home village never to do business with them again.. a bargain was a bargain! So they took him across at the original price and it took him 6 months of walking and doing odd jobs to get to Brennen Germany. The first ship available was to a place called Baltimore Maryland.. so he went! When he got to the USA this farmer was told the only jobs available were in the textile field so he tired to use a sewing machine...he was terrible and was fired! Then he got another job as clothing finisher and hated that too ( and was probably unsuccessful). Taking almost all his money he decided in the cold month of January to take the train up to NYC and try his luck in the Lower East Side area where Jewish immigrants lived. There he was with only 25 cents in his pocket and STARVING ( Aunt Pauline tells me it was 50 cents)and he decides to go into a snackshop and get a cup of coffee and a kaiser roll using up all his money. Slowly, very slowly , he takes a small sip of hot coffee and a small piece of roll. If he gulped down his food he would quickly be thrown out with no place to go and no money to spend. Looking out of the glass window in front, who does he see but a former resident of his old shetl who left 4 years ago to come to America. He quickly ran out of the snack shop yelling Shieyl, Shieyl and then it gets "yucky." (My Grandfather told me this story when I was in high school and I can remember going yuck out loud to him!) Grandpa Jake, and Sieyl, and his wife shared a double bed for 6 months while he saved up money and worked as a window washer. One small double bed and three people sleeping on it . He got up at 3 am every morning, had a quick schnaps to warm his belly and went out to wash windows. The couple then had their apartment to themselves as they continued to sleep without my Granpa sleeping and snoring with them! It gets even better, apparently this guy Shieyl knew young Jake and did not like him, but felt he had to help a fellow townsman.My Grandfather Jake worked hard, saved $, and eventually brought over his girlfriend Frieda so he could marry her. Would you believe that Frieda was this man Shieyl's younger sister??? Can you imagine how hard it was to share a bed with a young man you did not like, who had promised his younger sister to wait for him and then come over to a new land to marry him? Granpa eventually became a very successful Window Washer in Hempstead New York. He got up at 3 am every day, had his drink, and continued ( but never over the 3rd floor!) to wash windows. Even during the depression he had a good business. This is my story about how a russian immigrant came to the USA, almost starved, and then through the help of others develped a good business and married the girl he loved!

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I was born in Nebraska. My parents were children of immigrants from Poland and Ireland. I grew up in an ethnic neighborhood in Omaha, which is now another ethnic neighborhood of Latino and Asian immigrants.

I joined the Sisters of Mercy in 1953 and from that time to today (2010) I have had many journeys throughout the United States, Europe, Asia, Australia, Central and South America, the Caribbean and the Pacific Islands. People are the same everywhere -- they all want a home, work, and a good life for their children. My work with them has been a privilege and a blessing.

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From the earliest I can remember my family has lived/moved to many different states in America. This constant traveling had a lot to do with my fathers career that is intertwined with the government. I was born in Nevada where we lived 6 short months. We moved to Wyoming For many of my younger years. I ve been told that we lived in a house that was designed by the infamous Frank Llyod Wright. We then moved back to my mother's home state, Ohio. This and my current home state of Maryland are where I recollect a majority of my memories. Since branching off on my own I have lived in Virgina and Colorado. All of these places have many wonderful things to offer. Never hesitate to check out what your state has to offer!

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In the early 1700s, my family emigrated from Germany and Switzerland to America in attempts to escape religious persecution. They were a part of specific religious groups that had separated from the Catholic church in order to practice their own personal beliefs. After generations these beliefs are still exemplified in the Amish. Currently, my family still lives in the state that my ancestors originally came to live. Although my own immediate family has chosen to no longer follow the Amish traditions, we still embody many of their values. It is a very rich heritage in not only religiously but also culturally.

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I was a child on my first visit to the Smithsonian Castle. What I remember is seeing "OWNEY" the postal service dog and the First Ladies Ball Gowns. About 35 years ago I moved from Clifton, NJ to Rockville, MD.
I take advantage of having DC and the Smithsonian Individual Museums. I was excited on one visit to run into the "OWNEY" exhibit.

My favorite museum is the National Portrait Gallery and I'm still not use to the new name.

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My grandparents came from the Alace-Lorraine area of France and Germany in the late 1800"s. My grandfather was in the milk industry and moved from NJ to Bordon's headquarters in NY city. All my 3 uncles were involved in the milk industry. I would visit my one uncle in the summer and go to his milk factory. I would watch the farmers bring in their milk in tall tin milk cans and dump them in a big bin. I think the milk was then pasturised. Every several days milk tankers would take the milk to have it further processed. My uncle would test the milk to make sure it was of good quality. He would also go visit the farms and inspect them. My aunt worked at a near by cheese factory.

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My great, great grandfather owned a tobacco plantation in Greensboro, NC. Lightning struck the tobacco during a bad storm and all the tobacco burned down. Back in those days they lived on credit and you paid all your creditors after the harvest. So when it burned down the family was a poor as church mice. My grandmother said that we treated our slaves well and educated them and taught them a trade and how to read. The slaves took the last name of the plantation owner, which was Gentry.

Since the planation burned my great, great grandfather got a job with the railroad. He went to Texas where my grandmother was born. They went back to North Carolina and then to southern Indiana probably looking for work.

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The Journey Stories Exhibition at the Hazlehurst Depot Museum was a life experience for me. Through my job at the Copiah County Office of Cultural Affairs I was put on loan to the museum for the exhibition. I work through the Senior Aids Program from Co-Lin College in Wesson, Mississippi and the assignment was a surprise to me. This was the first time I’d ever been a docent. At 81 years old, it wasn’t something that I necessarily had on my bucket list, but I love new experiences and this one is one I will always treasure.

Since I’m a people person, the visitors were my particular enjoyment. We had people from all walks of life. The older people said they remember what life was like back then or told stories that their parents told them about their early days. There were a lot of railroad men who came to the exhibit. They stayed the longest retelling stories about a time gone-by. The younger children were amazed to see how hard life was. They liked to see the stories about the wagon trains and cattle drives--about the Trail of Tears by the Native Americans and were touched to know how many lost their lives on that long march. The little ones liked to punch the buttons to hear the voices and families would stand together listening to stories.

My father worked at Ford Motors in Michigan when I was growing up and I found the Ford display especially relevant to me. It brought back memories of my father taking me to River Rouge Plant when I was very young. My strongest memory is seeing hundreds of people standing outside a building. He said that he brought me with him because he wanted me to see “The biggest strike in the history of the United States.” There must have been good reason for the strike. In the photographic display the people looked like they had worked hard for a long time. I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Some of the visitors commented on the harshness of how the people looked in the photographs.

As a docent for the Journey Stories Exhibition I learned something new every day often from the visitors who would tell their own stories. None of the visitors who came to the exhibit knew what to expect. We live in a small rural community in Mississippi and exhibitions like this are for the cities. It was interesting for me to see visitor’s reactions to the beautiful standing, interactive pieces that the Smithsonian had sent us. I was surprised that everyone seemed to get something new from each display and those new ideas broadened my own view. When visitors were leaving they often said they wanted to come back and hoped that we would be chosen to receive another exhibition. Everyone had something nice to say. I urged visitors to come back again because one look just wasn’t enough.

Laura Taylor
Docent
Copiah County Office of Cultural Affairs