I'm five years old, and I am very proud. My father has just built the best outhouse in our little village in Ukraine. Inside, it's a smelly, gaping hole in the ground, but outside, it's pearly white formica and it literally gleams in the sun. This makes me feel so proud, so important, that I appoint myself the leader of my little group of friends and I devise missions for us. So we prowl from house to house looking for flies captured in spider webs and we set them free. Four years earlier, when I was one, after the Chernobyl accident, the rain came down black, and my sister's hair fell out in clumps, and I spent nine months in the hospital. There were no visitors allowed, so my mother bribed a hospital worker. She acquired a nurse's uniform, and she snuck in every night to sit by my side. Five years later, an unexpected silver lining. Thanks to Chernobyl, we get asylum in the U.S. I am six years old, and I don't cry when we leave home and we come to America, because I expect it to be a place filled with rare and wonderful things like bananas and chocolate and Bazooka bubble gum, Bazooka bubble gum with the little cartoon wrappers inside, Bazooka that we'd get once a year in Ukraine and we'd have to chew one piece for an entire week. So the first day we get to New York, my grandmother and I find a penny in the floor of the homeless shelter that my family's staying in. Only, we don't know that it's a homeless shelter. We think that it's a hotel, a hotel with lots of rats. So we find this penny kind of fossilized in the floor, and we think that a very wealthy man must have left it there because regular people don't just lose money. And I hold this penny in the palm of my hand, and it's sticky and rusty, but it feels like I'm holding a fortune. I decide that I'm going to get my very own piece of Bazooka bubble gum. And in that moment, I feel like a millionaire. About a year later, I get to feel that way again when we find a bag full of stuffed animals in the trash, and suddenly I have more toys than I've ever had in my whole life. And again, I get that feeling when we get a knock on the door of our apartment in Brooklyn, and my sister and I find a deliveryman with a box of pizza that we didn't order. So we take the pizza, our very first pizza, and we devour slice after slice as the deliveryman stands there and stares at us from the doorway. And he tells us to pay, but we don't speak English. My mother comes out, and he asks her for money, but she doesn't have enough. She walks 50 blocks to and from work every day just to avoid spending money on bus fare. Then our neighbor pops her head in, and she turns red with rage when she realizes that those immigrants from downstairs have somehow gotten their hands on her pizza. Everyone's upset. But the pizza is delicious. It doesn't hit me until years later just how little we had. On our 10 year anniversary of being in the U.S., we decided to celebrate by reserving a room at the hotel that we first stayed in when we got to the U.S. The man at the front desk laughs, and he says, "You can't reserve a room here. This is a homeless shelter." And we were shocked. My husband Brian was also homeless as a kid. His family lost everything, and at age 11, he had to live in motels with his dad, motels that would round up all of their food and keep it hostage until they were able to pay the bill. And one time, when he finally got his box of Frosted Flakes back, it was crawling with roaches. But he did have one thing. He had this shoebox that he carried with him everywhere containing nine comic books, two G.I. Joes painted to look like Spider-Man and five Gobots. And this was his treasure. This was his own assembly of heroes that kept him from drugs and gangs and from giving up on his dreams. I'm going to tell you about one more formerly homeless member of our family. This is Scarlett. Once upon a time, Scarlet was used as bait in dog fights. She was tied up and thrown into the ring for other dogs to attack so they'd get more aggressive before the fight. And now, these days, she eats organic food and she sleeps on an orthopedic bed with her name on it, but when we pour water for her in her bowl, she still looks up and she wags her tail in gratitude. Sometimes Brian and I walk through the park with Scarlett, and she rolls through the grass, and we just look at her and then we look at each other and we feel gratitude. We forget about all of our new middle-class frustrations and disappointments, and we feel like millionaires. Thank you. (Applause)
Une jam 5 vjec, dhe jam shume krenare. Im ate sapo ka ndertuar nje banjo jashte me e mira ne fshatin tone te vogel ne Ukraine. Brenda, nuk eshte vecse nje grope ne toke qe mban ere te keqe, por jashte, eshte laminat ne ngjyre te bardhe dhe shkelqen ne diell. Kjo me ben te ndjehem aq krenare dhe e rendesishme sa qe vetezgjidhem udheheqese e grupit te vogel te shokeve te mi dhe caktoj misione per grupin. Keshtu, ne sillemi verdalle nga nje shtepi ne tjetren per te gjetur miza qe kane ngecur ne rrjetat e merimangave dhe i clirojme. Kater vjet me pare, kur isha nje vjec, pas aksidentit te Chernobilit, binte shi i zi, dhe floket e motres time rane tufa tufa, une kalova 9 muaj ne spital. Nuk lejoheshin vizitore, keshtu qe ime me i dha para nje punonjesi spitali. Ajo gjeti nje uniforme infermiereje, dhe futej cdo nate ne spital qe te rrinte prane meje. Pese vjet me vone, nje rreze drite e papritur. Fale Chernobilit, ne fitojme azilin ne Shtetet e Bashkuara. Jam gjashte vjec, dhe nuk qaj kur largohemi nga shtepia dhe shkojme ne Amerike, sepse pres qe te jete nje vend me gjera te rralla dhe te mrekullueshme si banane dhe cokollata dhe camcakez Bazooka, Camcakez Bazooka me letra te vogla filmash vizatimore brenda, Bazooka qe ne mund te hanim vetem nje here ne vit ne Ukraine, dhe qe nje cope na shkonte nje jave. Keshtu qe diten e pare qe mberrijme ne New York, une dhe gjyshja gjejme nje monedhe 1 cent ne dyshemene e qendres per te pastrehe ku po rri familja ime. Vetem se ne nuk e dime qe ajo eshte qender per te pastrehet. Ne mendojme qe eshte hotel, hotel me shume minj. Keshtu, ne gjejme kete monedhe paksa te fosilizuar ne dysheme, dhe mendojme qe nje njeri shume i pasur do ta kete lene atje sepse njerezit e zakonshem nuk humbasin leke. Dhe une e mbaj kete monedhe ne dore, qe eshte e ndryshkur dhe ngjitese, por ndjehem sikur po mbaj nje thesar. Keshtu vendos qe te blej nje cope camcakezi Bazooka per veten time. Dhe ne ate moment, ndjehem si milionere. Rreth nje vit me vone, me ndodh te ndjehem perseri keshtu kur gjejme nje qese plot me kukulla pellushi te plehrat, dhe papritmas une kam me shume lodra sec kam pasur ne gjithe jeten time. Dhe perseri ndjehem keshtu, kur degjojme nje trokitje ne deren e apartamentit tone ne Brooklin, dhe aty eshte nje shperndares picash me nje kuti pice qe nuk e kishim porositur. Keshtu ne e marrim picen, picen tone te pare, dhe i kullufisim te gjitha copat nderkohe qe shperndaresi i picave eshte akoma te dera dhe na shikon. Ai na kerkon qe te paguajme, por ne nuk flasim anglisht. Ime me vjen te dera, dhe ai ia kerkon asaj leket, por ajo nuk ka mjaftueshem. Ajo kalon 50 rruge cdo dite per te shkuar ne pune vetem qe te mos harxhoje leke per autobusin. Ne ate moment afrohet komshija jone, dhe behet e kuqe flake nga zemerimi kur kupton qe ata emigrantet e katit poshte kane shtire ne dore picen e saj. Te gjithe jane te zemeruar, Por pica eshte shume e mire. E kam kuptuar disa vite me vone se sa pak kishim. Me rastin e 10- vjetorit te ardhjes ne Shtetet e Bashkuara, vendosem te festonim duke zene nje dhome ne hotelin ku kishim ndenjtur kur erdhem ne fillim ne Shtetet e Bashkuara. Burri qe ishte tek banaku qesh dhe thote, Nuk mund te zini dhome ketu, kjo eshte qender per te pastrehet. Dhe ne u shokuam. Bashkeshorti im Brajan ka qene gjithashtu i pastrehe kur ishte femije. Familja e tij humbi gjithcka, dhe ne moshen 11 vjecare, ai duhet te jetonte ne motele me te jatin, motele qe ua merrnin te gjithe ushqimet dhe ua mbanin deri sa te ishin ne gjendje te paguanin faturen. Dhe nje here, kur me ne fund ia kthyen kutine e tij me Frosted Flakes, ajo ishte mbushur me buburreca. Por ai kishte nje gje. Ai kishte nje kuti kepucesh qe e merrte me vete kudo qe kishte nente libra komike. dy ushtare prej lodre te pikturuar si Njeriu- merimange dhe pese robote. Dhe keto ishin thesari i tij. Kjo ishte armata e tij e herojve qe e mbajti larg nga droga dhe bandat dhe nuk e la te hiqte dore nga endrrat e tij. Do t'ju tregoj dhe per nje tjeter anetar te familjes sone qe ka qene i pastrehe. Kjo eshte Skarlet. Me pare, Skarlet perdorej si karrem ne luftimet me qen. Ajo lidhej dhe leshohej ne ring qe te sulmohej nga qente e tjere ne menyre qe te beheshin me agresive perpara luftimit. Ndersa tani, ajo ha ushqim organik dhe fle ne nje krevat ortopedik qe ka emrin e vet te shkruar mbi te, por kur i japim uje per te pire, ajo prape na shikon dhe tund bishtin ne shenje mirenjohje. Nganjehere, une dhe Brajan shetisim ne park me Skarlet, dhe ajo shtrihet e rrotullohet ne bar, dhe ne e shikojme dhe me pas shikojme njere tjetrin dhe ndjejme mirenjohje. Harrojme te gjitha problemet e reja te klases se mesme, dhe zhgenjimet, dhe ndjehemi si milionere. Faleminderit. (Duartrokitje)