by Ethan Miller | Sep 11, 2015 | stories
My grandfather, on the left, interviewing the former Prime Minister of Romania, Radu Vasile, in 1998. My grandfathers’ lives could not have started more different. On my mother’s side, my “Zeida” was born in a small town in pre-war Romania. While on my father’s side, my “Papa” was born in Brookline, Massachusetts, right outside of Boston. And while their experiences in childhood were very different, they both lead lives driven by a sense of justice and doing what was right. After emigrating from Romania to the United States with my great-grandmother, grandmother and mother in 1973, my Grandfather Nestor Ratesh began working as a Journalist for Radio Free Europe, which broadcast uncensored news past the Iron Curtain. Eventually, he became the director of the service’s Romanian-Moldovan section, and continued working even as the two previous directors had been assassinated by the Romanian secret police. My grandfather was lucky however, and even after the Romanian Revolution of 1989, he continued to report the news. Growing up, I heard many stories from him and my mother about his work, and am continually inspired by his persistence under such terrible political conditions. On my father’s side, my Grandfather Michael Miller went to law school in Boston and started working for the National Labor Relations Board in Chicago. After a brief time at a field office in Milwaukee, he came to Washington DC as an Assistant General Counsel and eventually became an Administrative Law Judge for the agency. During his time as a judge, he issued over 200 decisions to uphold US labor law and ensure fair union election and bargaining processes...
by Nancy Lenk | Sep 7, 2015 | stories
All my grandparents were immigrants. Three were from Lithuania and one was from Scotland (although her parents had migrated there from Lithuania) My father’s father was a tailor in NYC and made men’s suits. He was a member of the Amalgamated Clothing Workers Union, and knew Sidney Hillman, the first president of the union who was also from Lithuania. My father’s mother was a seamstress, doing piece work in NYC. She was a member of the International Ladies Garment Workers Union. These immigrants, who knew no English when they arrived, were union members and were able to afford to buy a summer home as well as the home they lived in. Working families these days can barely afford an apartment in some cases. My mother’s father had a number of jobs including working at Grumman on Long Island. He also did landscaping and had an ice business before refrigeration. He later developed emphysema, which could be attributed to breathing metal dust. My mother’s mother, who dreamed of being a teacher was a domestic for a wealthy family and often had to work on holidays making food for her employer rather than her own family. They all worked really hard to make a life in the U.S. Both my parents were union members as well… my father was a pressman (printer) in a corrugated box plant and my mother was a civil servant working for Nassau county in...
by David Henderson | Sep 7, 2015 | stories
My Grandmother realized that the only way to better the lives of public service employees was to organize. As such, she became a member organizer within her institution for AFSCME. It was her courage and determination that led me to understand the value of belonging to a Union. Her efforts, and those just like her, enabled public service employees to gain dignity and respect at the work...
by Julian Aldana | Sep 4, 2015 | stories
Pulling onto the tarmac of my grandparent’s driveway was always one of the best feelings in the world – especially in the summer. The air would always be hot and dry, and the lush trees and flowers my grandparents were so skilled at cultivating smelled so fragrant, nearly incapacitating the senses. In the summertime, it was almost impossible to see their home from the unpaved street. Trees thick with peaches and nectarines concealed the humble two-bedroom dwelling my grandparents had raised 8 kids in. The flowerbeds with roses and tulips were also in full force, the damp soil beneath them probably flooded by the manguera. And if you looked hard enough to see beyond the abundant foliage, you’d still probably only see the bougainvillea flowers that draped alongside the house like thick braids of hair. During the day, the driveway gate would be open – a metaphor for the kind of people they were. There would always be a couple of cars in the driveway from visitors – sometimes the cars of friends, sometimes the cars of their kids, and later, the cars of their grandchildren. My grandparents were migrant farm workers, and they brought their green thumbs home every night to the land they purchased for $5000 in Fresno, California in 1967. My grandparents came to the United States from northern Mexico 10 years before that, following the crops from Florida to Washington state. They settled in California in the late 1950s, and had 8 kids over the course of 10 years. Despite being poor people for most of their lives, they were happy – because the most...
by Rosalie Regan | Sep 9, 2014 | stories
My Grandparents were German Immigrants. They were peasants on my grandmothers side of the family and my grandfathers family would be called middle class by today’s standards. They came to Sutton, NE because they had heard that the Burlington-Northern Railroad was building a line there thru Nebraska and a new depot in Sutton. The railroad never built the depot. My grandmothers father was a butcher and opened shop there. When she was 14 years old she married my grandfather at the disapproval of his family as the butcher also happened to be the “town drunk”. My grandfather’s parents gave my grandfather $1000 and a team of horses with a wagon and told them to leave town. My Grandfather bought land at Wolbach, Ne and farmed the land. My father left home at age 13 and was a hired hand on different farms. He went to work at BN railroad later and was laid-off just at the Great Depression. He then farmed and supplemented his income by working in the packing plants in Omaha, NE. There he joined the Union. When I started working for Northwestern Bell and was ask to join the Union, I told my father and he said “If you are lucky enough to have a Union where you work then you need to...
