A summer holiday in Cape Town does not often go in the same sentence with a sandy chicken. So be it. 

My mum and with her two siblings and parents went on holiday in Cape Town, South Africa from Johannesburg. For a picnic on the beach, they had bought a chicken. My grandfather, her father, had picked up the chicken to cut it. Then came the dog (the detail of how large the dog was is always left out of this story). My mum, who was six at the time, was scared out of her wits. Her father moved suddenly to protect her and to shoo the dog. In the mix, the chicken was dropped in the sand. Though the chicken was deemed inedible by my mum and her siblings, it was still eaten, for they did not have enough money for a second chicken.

This story is often told in my family as an example of how the family got along while they still lived in South Africa, their financial situation at the time, and for the humour of life even through tough times. 

My great grandmother was born in Kitzbuhl, Austria in 1888.  Her father made leather goods like suitcases and saddle bags.  After they moved to America he once made saddle bags for Teddy Roosevelt.  They went back and forth to New York and settled in Newark in 1902 when she was 14.  She had finished school by then and she went to work in the millinery department of the local department store.  She also acted in her church's Shakespeare productions and loved to play comedic heroines.  Around 1909, she noticed her future husband at church and started to walk outside his pharmacy on her lunch breaks until he noticed her and came out.  They married in 1911 and had their first of 4 children in 1913.  One of those children was my grandfather, Fredric Louis Feind Jr.. Katharine Kauffner Feind also lived to see 9 grandchildren.

 

My mug represents me because the mug is creative. For example, the mug has many patterns based off my cultural heritage, as well as traditional patterns from my cultural heritage! The main pattern consists of red lines arranged to make diamond-like shapes. This is based off of traditional Swedish patterns. Part of my cultural heritage is Swedish, and this is so important to me because since most of my extended family is in Sweden, so my family has to remember our heritage in a place where not as many people are of Swedish heritage.

I do think my piece was successful. Even though I believe that my final product was aesthetically pleasing, that is not what I believe is most important in success. I believe that the effort that you put into something is how to rate success. I worked very hard throughout the mug project. I smoothed out all of the creases to the best of my ability, I was creative, and I am proud of what I have created. I am most happy with the work I put into carving out the irish designs onto my mug. I was very careful with every scrape, and I think that it shows the work I put into it.

If I had to pick something to do differently next time, it would be to go even further with a creative shape. My mug was a bit curvy, and if I were to make another mug, I would continue to embrace the curve.

I have worked with clay before, at my old school, so there was not very much that surprised me. The only thing was the ability to fix the clay back into shape in the case that I poked a hole through with a tool. I was impressed with the clay’s durability.

I don’t think there was any more instructions needed. I really like the way that you gave instructions enough to make a mug, but not for everyone to make a uniform mug. The open ended directions left a lot of room for creativity, which I appreciate.

My mug describes me through its shape. I made the mug to have a gentle curve, and no hard edges. I feel as if that shows who I am because I have no hard edges either. I never get into arguments. The shapes I have engraved and painted onto my mug show a lot of curves, and very few sharp edges, very similar to my personality.

My great, great Grandpa came to America on a boat. He came from Ireland, and had a strong accent. My family does not know his original last name, but he changed it to Galle to get jobs more easily, due to a lower hiring rate for Irish people. All of his neighbors liked him, because on Saint Patrick’s Day, he dressed up like a leprechaun and threw candy. He always went all out. My entire family knows Adamnan (changed to Adam) Galle for throwing candy on saint patties day.

I stood at the back of the boat waving to my family. I didn’t know when I would see them again, if ever. Honkkkkkkk. Off I went from the port in Abruzzi, Italy to a new land in order to help my family. I was fifteen and immigrating to the U.S. to find a job and help my family. My childhood friend had immigrated to Boston and worked at a small masonry company… I figured that I would be able to have a job there, but the issue was getting from New York City to Boston once I arrived. 

I finally arrived at Ellis Island with fifty dollars in my pocket and hope for the future. After being cleared by the immigration officers, I found the railroad tracks that lead to Boston. With now, only a little less than fifty dollars in my pocket, this was my only option. I decided to walk from New York City to Boston stopping along the way to work and make some money. It was long and strenuous, but I knew I had to get there.

After quite a while walking down the railroad tracks making pit stops along the way, I finally reached the city of Boston and, luckily, got hired right away. We were just a small construction company but did good work and made a low but steady income. I enjoyed my job and enjoyed seeing my friend for the first time in a long time, but I missed my family and Italy dearly. After about one year of hard working and homesickness, I finally made enough money to send for my wife to immigrate to the U.S. 

Many years later, our construction company became much bigger and was honored the job of building the brick buildings on the Boston University campus. Years later I had children and was raising a family with my wife. I still missed Italy but enjoyed time with my family, especially my grandchildren. My granddaughter, Lisa, and I used to walk from Boston to Revere Beach. On those walks I think back to when I was fifteen years old and on a boat heading to a new land with nothing besides a little money. If it wasn’t for walking I probably wouldn’t have the life that I had. 

 

Family Heritage Story

On my dad’s side, I am Scottish and German, and on my mom’s side, I am Italian and Syrian. My grandmother was telling me about my grandfather’s mom, who was Syrian. My great-grandmother Mary immigrated from Syria. She immigrated from Damascus, the capital of Syria. Her family was from theres, and I am not sure if they immigrated with her or not. She was not a kid, but young, when she came over. Then in America, she met my great-grandfather, and they had my grandfather.

Heritage Story

“I came to America with $20 in my pocket.” My Nana would say.

“I came with $10 in my pocket!” My dad would say.

And on and on these dialogues would continue. Nana would always remind me about how fortunate I am, and always lecturing me about how I am so spoiled and I have my own phone. I always get mad at Nana and my dad the moment they yell at me, but I’ve gained a respect for them. They both came from poor families and made enough money to come to the US. I love listening to their stories about how hard things were for them before they came to America.

Story: 
A story that my grandmother once told me is about her life as a little girl. She was born in El Salvador and lived there with her family. However, her father was not happy with the politics in their area, he decided to move to America for more opportunities. He took her father, mother and brother with him, and left my grandmother alone. The reason for this is that there was a low supply of houses in California where my grandmother, Olga’s parents were moving.  

My grandmother was left alone in El Salvador with her grandmother and sister. She missed her family dearly as she spent around four years without her parents. When she finally got the opportunity to join her parents in California, she was overjoyed. She moved to California from El Salvador and had to accommodate to all the changes. She had to make new friends, learn a new language and go do different schools, but the great thing is that she was with her family. Eventually, my grandmother got used her new life, but we will never forget where she comes from and her heritage
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Story:
My grandmother was one of the 1.5 million people (Wikipedia), including many children, who were evacuated from London during the blitz in World War II. She was only a few years old and was sent away from her home without her mother. She was slightly higher social class than my grandfather, even though they grew up a few doors down from each other. My grandfather had to stay in London while buildings collapsed all around him during the Nazi bombing raids. When he grew up, he joined the Royal Air Force (RAF) and worked his way up to being a non-commissioned officer and squadron leader flying tankers. My grandparents married in England in 1959, had four children, and moved to Canada in 1975 after my grandfather retired from the RAF.  They now live in Calgary.