Be Good to Us

Tribute to my new country.

--Welcome to America--

(Happy Birthday, America!!)

"Be good to us" — those words lingered in my ears. I walked where the immigration officer directed me, through one door, then another, then yet another, but the plea stayed with me. In my head, another tune kept surfacing, that disco line, "please, be good to me..." by SOS.

It became one of those moments you never forget: a few words said just before stepping into a summer that would remain unforgettable. There was no escape from the heat and humidity, and little shelter to be found. My immigration papers and I were inseparable — a folder, a man, and the echoing words "please be good to us" with every step I took. Tears of emotion were hard to tell apart from the sweat in the heat. Newly married with no placard, I knew I was making memories — the kind that never leave and mean absolutely everything.

At 19, everything seemed easy... I was there with my life and the world spread out before me. What could hold me back? The gateway of probabilities was thrown wide; I simply needed to pick and cross it. Life felt fresh, and I knew this was a new beginning.

My eyes were wide with curiosity and surprise. The hormones of youth tingled with adrenaline and the promise of unnamed delights; a fountain of experiences to come.

It was one of those things that stay with you forever: words, just a few words, before walking into a world that felt merited those words.

Just married. No placard. But I knew I was making memories. Those that never leave. The ones that mean the world.

Autumn-Summer of '81

Welcome to your life in New York…

(and "please be good to us".)