Leibel could only look at the man and nod once with a teary smile

After the death of their father, Fischel’s brother Leibel left for America.

He had never been on a ship before, and the constant rocking motions made him sick to his stomach. Doubled over in pain for most of the trip, he almost perished during the long journey. When at long last the ship docked, he stumbled off, barely alive, and began looking around for help.

Everyone around him spoke in a foreign language, and he felt despair washing over his weary bones. He stopped several people and tried expressing himself in the few English words that he did know, along with hand motions. People just walked away from him, some of them even smirking and chuckling at his foreign accent.

“I look and sound like a meshugener to them…” Leibel murmured to himself, looking down at his worn and tattered clothing. A blast of cold air traveled up his spine and snuck its way into the holes in his shoes, causing his already aching feet to clench in pain.

“I need to sit down before I pass out…”