America’s 250th anniversary is meaningful to me for a personal reason. I recently celebrated my 50th year as an American. My journey began in December 1975 when I left the Soviet Union with my mother and grandmother. At the time, my mother was divorced, and my grandmother was widowed.
We spent several months in Vienna and Rome before reaching Los Angeles on April 28, 1976. This arrival was timely, just before the U.S. bicentennial celebrations. I was only six years old then.
Today, reflecting on these years, I realize I’ve witnessed 20 percent of America’s history. My gratitude to my mother and grandmother is immense for the opportunities they’ve provided. Celebrating July 4th brings vivid memories of my first Fourth of July parade in Boston in 1976, a time filled with hope and new beginnings.