When I Came To America

The United States of America, a land of dreams and opportunity, has proved itself to be far from that since my arrival. I, a twelve-year-old boy named Aldo, and my family decided to leave our home of Italy due to religious prosecution, widespread poverty, and political disturbances occurring there. Also, we boarded the steamship to America in hope of starting a new life, one where we succeed in preserving favorable jobs and one where our family could come to grow and prosper. Upon our arrival in America, we came to realize that it was not the land of dreams we believed it to be. Instead, we found many many more struggles and difficulties in this new land. Living conditions were not any better than in Italy and the various jobs did not present

To get to America, we had to endure a two-week journey on a very uncomfortable steamboat. The boat was crowded, cramped, and very unsanitary. My family and I were forced to share a small room with another family of six. Disease spread rapidly among the occupants of the boat and fresh air was not accessible at any point of the voyage. Also, on the sixth day of the journey the boat was battered by a two-day storm, making sleep impossible. Upon arrival in the states, we were processed at Ellis Island with thousands of other immigrants, a very difficult and grueling process. My family and I were inspected, forced to answer multiple questions, take an immigration test, and to present the money requirement. Even after suffering through this, my aunt and uncle were denied access to the states and were immediately sent back to Italy due to a disease they were suspected to possess. Overall, the processing system to get into the United States at Ellis Island was not a great first impression for the alleged "land of

When we arrived, we did not find this at all. My parents were easily able to find jobs, but they were very low paying due to employers taking advantage of immigrant labor. My father soon became a street vendor on the streets of our neighborhood and my mother started working at Triangle Shirtwaist Company. Both of my parents were forced to work long hours that involved very difficult and very dangerous hours. I was usually left in charge of watching my siblings all day, and our only activity usually consisted of playing in the bustling streets of our neighborhood. When we reached the ages of about twelve, my siblings and I became laborious workers. We worked long, strenuous hours in the Triangle factory with my mother. Work conditions there were not safe at all as the government did not regulate them. One day, when my siblings and I were not required to work, we were surprised with the news that our mother had died in a major fire at the factory. A large fire broke out and the women could not escape due to locked fire exits that the factory kept locked to keep out union associates. My mother and many others burned to death or jumped to their suicide in the factory building. This heartbreaking tragedy further pushed me to believe that America was not the land it previously seemed to