My parents came to the US from India in the 1960s, along with other immigrants from India. Back then, there were few Indians anywhere around the US. My father came to Kansas,where he would get his Ph.D. Six months later, my mother came with the three of us kids — my sister, my brother, and me. We were just six,five and three years old then.
It was the very first winter when we were in Kansas. It was so cold,but we didn’t have heavy coats or warm clothes. We didn’t have a concept of how cold it really could be in the Midwest, and there was a new surprise every day. We didn’t have a car or anything like that, and my dad didn’t have a US driver’s license. But anyway, my father was studying for his Ph.D., and he would walk up and down a big hill to and from the campus on a regular basis.
Since I was three years old, I didn’t go to school, but my sister and brother were in school. My father had to walk down the big hill to take them to school every day and then walk back up the hill to go to university.After about three weeks of living like this, a woman called Valerie,whose son John was in the same class as my brother, started noticing them. On a very cold snowy morning,when they went to school as usual,Valerie passed by. She pulled up and said, “I see you on the way every day. Don’t you feel cold without coats?”My father responded,“We didn’t expect the weather would be so cold in Kansas.”Valerie said,“Maybe I can take your daughter and son to school. Would you like a ride?”
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Hearing that, my dad nodded with great joy.
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Later, Valerie and her family became so dear to my family.
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