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My name is Jennifer and I was born in the United States on January
22, 1974 in Monterey, California. My mother, Shirley, was born in
Salinas, California and my father, John, was born in New York
City, New York. My father grew up in New York City, went to
college and decided that he didn't want to live in the city
anymore. He had college friends who lived in Colorado, so he left
New York and moved to Denver. From there, he moved to California
to work with migrant workers (farm workers) and their families. At
the time, many mexican families would work in northern California
in the fields (picking vegetables, etc.) for six months and then
move to Southern California and Arizona to work there for the
other half of the year. The migrant workers lived in poor
conditions next to the fields where they worked. As a result, many
families did not send their children to school. It was my father's
responsibility to try to find solutions to educate the migrant
children. It was here that my father met my mother. She was also
working for the Monterey County office of Education.
My mother's parents grew up in the time of the depression. My
grandfather, Charles, was born in South Carolina. He was one of 13
children. Due to the depression, his family had no money. One day,
on his way to school, he ripped his only pair of pants and was too
embarrassed to go to school with no pants, so he quit school. He
was in the third grade. He began to work on the farm and at the
age of 18 he joined the "Civilian Conservation Corps
(CCC)." It was one of the programs designed to lead America
out of the depression. My Grandfather was asked to build bridges,
highways, roads, etc. The CCC moved my Grandfather out to
California where he met my Grandmother, Lorene. My Grandmother,
Lorene, was born in Oklahoma. She had a brother and a sister,
however her brother died at the age of one. At the age of 7, my
Grandmother's parents were forced to leave Oklahoma because of
poor farming conditions. They lived in what was later termed
"the dust bowl." Huge winds and rain had washed away all
of the soil and therefore, farming was no longer possible. My
Grandmother's parents packed their car, put a matress on top of
the car, and set off west to California. They drove as far as they
could during the day, and slept on top of the car at night. When
they reached California, they did not know anyone. They set up
camp on the beach, where they lived for three months before
finding a place to live. They survived by the help of others and
eating fish from the ocean. Their story is told by John Steinbeck
in the "Grapes of Wrath." My Grandmother recently
donated family photos to the recently built Steinbeck museum in
Salinas, California. My Grandfather is buried in the same cemetary
as John Steinbeck.
 My
father's father was born in a small town in Russia along the Volga
river. As far as we know, all of our relatives from that town
starved to death. I never met my Grandfather because he died
before I was born. He left Russia and arrived in America in the
1920's. He arrived in New York, but soon left to move out west. He
was hopping freight trains (jumping on cargo trains without paying)
with some friends. One day, he missed the train and his friends
kept going. He was in Chicago at the time, so he stayed and went
to the University of Chicago. He later finished his studies and
moved back to New York to become a Methodist minister. He married
my Grandmother, who grew up in Boston. Her relatives were from
England and Ireland, but had been in America for a few generations
and had felt superior to the recent immigrants. My Grandmother had
been educated at Harvard (Radcliffe at the time for women). Her
family did not approve of her choice of marriage. My father grew
up living in the church where my Grandfather preached.
Jennifer
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