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Immigration
woes
This
month’s cover story deals with an issue that I
am very familiar with — the problems of immigration.
For our September issue, we felt that the topic was
especially timely since it is the first anniversary
of the terrible terrorist attacks in New York and Arlington.
Outrage over them is sparking a rethinking of immigration
in general. Should foreigners be allowed to get plum
jobs in the U.S.? Since economic globalization is inevitable,
shouldn’t we welcome foreign-born people to the
Old Dominion?
The
topic is so personal for me because this September,
I celebrate another anniversary. My Russian-born wife
Marina and I have been married for 14 years. We met
in 1987 when I was a U.S. correspondent in Moscow, and
my relationship with Marina was to take me to the very
core of many nettlesome immigration issues. It was the
Cold War and after seeing each other for a few weeks,
Marina began being “invited” for interrogations
by the KGB, who thought I might be a U.S. spy. Because
of our relationship, Marina lost her spot as a student
at a teacher’s college.
After
a few months, the secret police left us alone. But the
following year, bureaucrats made it hard for us when
we tried to get married. After standing in line for
eight hours to register at Moscow’s “ZAKS”
or “Wedding Palace,” we were turned away because
my documents showed I was born in Philadelphia, but
my passport said I was born in Pennsylvania. I was obviously
trying to pull a fast one on the Union of Soviet Socialist
Republics.
Our
marriage prevailed and some months later, Marina was
in the family way. The U.S. Embassy doctor, however,
refused to offer prenatal care as they did for spouses
of other U.S. reporters. We wanted to avoid Soviet doctors,
so during Marina’s fifth month a London friend
helped us arrange for a checkup in England. Since Marina
was a Soviet citizen, she had to stand in line for two
days at the British Embassy to get her visa. As a U.S.
citizen, I could simply hop a plane for the U.K. Eventually,
our daughter was born at my family home in North Carolina,
as was our second daughter.
In
1993, when we were back in Moscow for another tour,
we got news that Marina’s application for U.S.
citizenship had been approved. We flew to New York for
the induction ceremony. I was immensely proud as I stood
by her side while she took the oath. The federal judge,
an African-American woman, congratulated the new citizens.
Then she warned the rest of us that unless we took the
inductees out to dinner that night to celebrate, she’d
come after us with bench warrants.
Nearly
10 years later, Marina has graduated with honors from
a highly rated U.S. university and is teaching art at
a school in Chesterfield County that our daughters attend.
She is very happy that she finally got to pursue her
career in education.
So, when I hear about foreign nationals, their H-1B
visas and all the hassles they might have to endure,
well, let’s just say I know where they are coming
from.
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