I decided to deliver my first daughter in Serbia rather than in the U.S., which might sound like an illogical choice. But Father was an ObGyn, Mother would be there to take care of me and the baby when it arrived, and my friends would fill my batteries depleted of energy after the months of my voluntary exile.
In America I was a perfectly legal alien, a proud owner of a pink green card, able to work and pay taxes, but unable to vote and get social help. As we could not afford any type of medical insurance and I could not apply for Medicare, the most practical choice was to go overseas.
Everything was as I predicted: Mother pampered me and prepared my favorite meals; Father sequestered me into a room with the door closed to advise me on pregnancy matters; my friends took turns accompanying me on long walks in the park that inevitably ended with a short rest in one of the outside cafés, drinking Schweppes Bitter Lemon or tasty European Iced Coffee.
When she finally decided to emerge, my baby girl was more beautiful than I hoped, and everyone doted on her. I heard from my (first) husband in America that the phone had been cut off, that he could not pay the bills, that it was not fair of me to have abandoned him. I listened, bit my lips, shrugged my shoulders, and decided to stay where we were safe until he grew up. Once I became a mother, my priorities shifted.
I started teaching English in a high school, all those pounds that miraculously appeared in the last two months of pregnancy started to melt away, and I attended my tenth high school reunion illuminated by the halo of new motherhood, happy, excited, and looking forward to each new day.
Just picked California oranges
In June the rumors of UN Sanctions and NATO bombing started, and I was scared. The panic was spreading, and even though I knew I was going back to uncertainty and hardship, I bought the train tickets to Germany, where my sister lived with her husband, and left my country again, watching my family and friends run after the speeding train and waived, drowning in tears.
I borrowed enough money from my sister for a one-way ticket to America, and arrived in Detroit on a hot, muggy night in August, with nine-month-old Nina strapped to my body, hauling two suitcases behind me, barely able to keep my eyes open from exhaustion. My husband waited for me at the airport, and after we embraced and he got a good look at this new creature in his life, perplexed in thought that it belonged to him, asked me for $5.00 for airport parking.
That night I just dropped the suitcases at home and went to the store to buy milk and diapers. If my heart had not already been broken into a thousand pieces, I would have panicked. For the next three months I moved as if in a dream, answered the calls from collection companies and learned what happens when you stop paying the bills. I often went to the store and bought one apple and a container of chicken livers, the best I could afford for my daughter, and I ate broccoli from the garden my sister-in-law planted while I was away.
We still could not get any help as I was not a citizen. I could not work, because we could not afford to pay a baby-sitter, and what little money I managed to earn on the weekend working in a restaurant was not even enough to keep the light on and diapers coming. And then, in November, Mother arrived, and like a fairy, spread her magic dust all over me and Nina. I went to work full force, six, seven days a week, pulling double shifts and marathons, comforted in thought that my baby was in safe hands. I lived in the restaurant, coming home only to shed the food grime off my body in the shower and lay prostrate on the floor, while Mother massaged my cramped legs and shoulders, but no one was hungry any more.
Years went by, and those days are living in my memory like anecdotes. My ex-husband is a chef in a nice seafood restaurant in Southern Florida and he often sends crates of crabs to us. He loves his daughter, but I brought us up from the bottom, running on pure instinct and thinking only of her survival.
For a long time I forgot about hunger and the moments of desperation that kept me awake night after night. And then the recession struck and in one horrifying swipe erased our life in Ohio as we knew it. Everything we had disappeared almost overnight, and we showed up in California on a beautiful August day penniless, in a rented SUV, as our van died in western Illinois, just before the St.Louis arch appeared. Our kids got on the bus available only to poor kids and ate subsidized lunches. We barely had any household items as we could not afford to bring them over from the storage unit in Ohio.
Unable to cope up with the incessant barrage of bad luck, Husband fumbled and lost his footing, allowing despair to take over. Day after day, I woke up at 5:45, donned my uniform, and walked through the mall to a diner, hiding my tears and worries behind smiles as I greeted my customers and made them feel like the world was one happy place, one pancake at a time. And even though money was not really rolling in, in a few months we bought the car, brought our furniture from Ohio, and fed not only our girls, but their little Mexican friends whose father left them with a mother who could not speak English.
The pressure was still on, but that gnawing feeling right below my sternum stopped from time to time and I allowed myself to relax. For three years I made the same trek through the mall and back, not looking around, aware that all of those beautiful clothes and shiny boots were out of my reach. But we were not hungry.
I left for Serbia last summer only to find out the night I arrived that Mother is seriously ill. I spent four months there taking care of her, crying hidden in the corners, not ready to see her so weak and fragile, this woman who carried my whole world on her back for years. It broke my heart to have to leave her, but my girls were in America way too long without me. A month after I returned we moved again to this beautiful town on the ocean, and I felt that I finally belonged for the first time since we arrived to the west coast.
The girls liked their new school and I started making friends and exploring ethnic stores and farmers’ markets. We bought bikes and I oiled an old pair of rollerblades. I placed badminton, tennis rackets, and volley ball in the corner of the kids’ room for easy access and made daily pilgrimages to the beach just a few blocks away. Life could not look rosier from where I stood, perched on the wall overlooking the blue expanse of the majestic ocean.
But the Fates were not done with us. It happened again, the panic, the despair, the sleepless nights, the feeling as if a baby elephant were taking a nap on my chest. The hunger looms again, showing its ugly head between fluffy stuffed animals, grinning victoriously, as if challenging me to a duel. But all I need to do is look at the two pairs of differently shaped blue eyes to know that I will prevail once again. And this time I intend to fight to the end, to press the “delete” button and erase completely that sneering impostor that threatens my little family.
Yesterday I watched a video of , a 107 year-old woman who came alive from the Terezin concentration camp smiling, holding her young son by the hand. She continues to smile every day. She finds life beautiful and considers it a present. She does not perceive her hardships in the camp as terrible, but as an experience which only made her richer. She thinks that when she laughed with her son in the barracks, he forgot there was no food. She does not hate anyone, but greets each morning with a sense of wonderment. And then she goes on to practice piano for three hours.
For a long time I just sat there, unable to form a cohesive thought, embarrassed by the moments of self-pity I allowed to creep into my stream of consciousness. And then I decided that I will not let my girls see worry in my eyes, that I will greet them with a wide-open smile reaching all the way to my eyes every day they burst through the door, filled with teen excitement and angst. I will go out into the world and once again conquer the ugly with the indomitable strength of motherly love. And we will never be hungry again.
My dear friend brought me a paper bag full of oranges from her neighbor’s yard. I could not think of a better way to bring smiles to my daughters’ faces and brighten our home than to make this beautiful cake I saw at one of my favorite blogs, Life’s a Feast. Jamie is an American, married to a Frenchman, and lives in the quaint (at least to me, as I have never been there) city of Nantes. She is my sister by pen, and we connect as if we were separated at birth.
I love her writing and I love her food. You can feel the love she pours into everything she makes for the men in her life – her two smart sons and her talented husband. Every time I visit her blog I stare longingly at the perfect delicacies she bakes and wish that I could whip out something as good. And this time I did. The cake was moist and buttery, infused with the bold scent of orange zest, with freshly squeezed juice offsetting the sweetness. It was like a ray of sunshine, like a gift from a Candyland store, simple, and yet unbelievably satisfying. Dusted with some powdered sugar and sprinkled with some more bright specks of orange zest, it was the perfect after-school snack.
ISABELLE’S ORANGE CAKE (adapted with permission from Life’s a Feast; for original recipe click here)
Ingredients:
- 4 medium oranges, scrubbed and dried – if they come from your neighbor’s tree you can be less vigorous) – you may need more or less, depending on how juicy your oranges are, but you should end up with 2/3 cups of juice
- 200 g (7 oz) granulated sugar
- 230 g (8 oz, 2 sticks) unsalted butter, sliced into chunks
- 4 large eggs
- 200 g (7 oz) all-purpose flour
- 1/2 tsp coarse salt
- 1 ½ tsps baking powder
Orange Syrup: - 2/3 cup freshly squeezed and strained orange juice, about 4 medium oranges (that’s how many it took for me to get 2/3 cup of juice that the recipe asks for)
- 2 Tbsp granulated sugar
Odlican post, tako zivotan…hvala na iskrenosti, nadam se da ide na bolje i da je ovo zadnje ruzno poglavlje iza vas!
Puno pozdrava
Maja
You need to write a book. Yes, you do. This is a great piece of work and you should be so proud of you and all of your family.
I’m speechless. This was stunning, laced with feelings I know so well. Wow.
wow, what a story. I am with Liz on the book suggestion…and this cake? I can smell citrus through the screen:)
Odlican, iskren post! Znam o cemu pricas jer sam i sama osetila glad. A osim gladi osetila sam i rat, onaj pravi… Ali nadam se (iza mene i za tebe) da je sve to iza nas…
Ti si jako hrabra zena!
Lana, I am blown away by your story and the obvious courage it took to write it (and live it). Thank you for sharing this with us. I have to say that it puts my mundane gripes into perspective. xo
Everyday I am thankful for my husband. He makes my cancer journey so much easier by being there in every way. I know not everyone is so fortunate.
You have shared a remarkable story. I hope for good things in your future .
Oh Lana – your words and photos and cake are really a treasure. I think I know where those oranges came from
and am so glad you are lifting yourself up determined to live life as you want to! Bravo.
Lana — thank you for sharing! This is such a beautiful piece and so moving about the choices you have made while keeping your priorities straight. You are raising two amazing daughters…:)
Lana, I’m speechless reading your story. You’ve been through so much. Thank you for sharing your story. You’re a very inspiring woman.
What a beautiful and honest post. Thank you for sharing yourself so honestly with your readers.
I feel like I just lived every moment. I really do hope your stories are preserved in book form. They are a priceless reminder of how precious life is.
Lana, thank you for sharing your touching story which took so much courage to tell! I’m so glad I met you! Wish you the best in the future! xx
oh ps. love the orange cake too!
I’m blown away. This is truly the most inspiring thing i have read all month. Thank you Lana!
I totally agree with whoever said you need to write a book. You have a talent for writing! An inspirational post Lana! Loved every word of it! <3 <3 <3
one needs a lot of courage to speak out story of life! This is so emotional for me and I am so glad that you dealt with it and you are dealing with a smile.
I love citrus cake and this cake sounds delicious!
Oh Lana, you are such an inspiration
Dear Lana,
It’s wonderful to get to know you via this post. It’s one thing to go through so much and face it as boldly as you did. It’s another thing to share with it with everyone. I feel truly inspired after reading your post. Thank you for sharing this.
Pragati
Lana,Such a well written and beautiful piece ! Fate throws us off balance when we least expect it,this speaking from my own experience.Just face it ! And I know you will..
You are an amazing lady. Your story brought stinging tears to my eyes. Never think that you are alone in your struggles, love. For you are not.
Wrapping you & your girls in love & prayers.
What a beautiful story of inspiration, survival, perseverance and love. We all have our own compelling stories and I am glad that you have shared yours with us. xoxo
Lana, your story telling is so moving and authentic. Your spirit is so high and true. I know that good things are on the way. Much love.
Lana, this is such a powerful story. Your children are so, so lucky to have you. Sending hugs and prayers your way, friend!
Lana,
Like others I’m very touched by your story that threads despair, courage, perseverance and love into your journey. Maybe because I know some of the same journey; albeit different characters and different experiences. I know you are going through a difficult time and I’m called to ask…what can I do? What do you need? How can we help? I wish I could wave a magic wand and fix the world but that’s sadly not possible but if I can help even in some small way…you know how to reach me.
I love you Lana, I really do; There are parts of your story that are much too familiar and were lived in another lifetime but know that I am in your corner. And when life feels as if you cannot take one more step, understand that there is a community here who cheer you on, lift you up and hold you in good thoughts, prayers and anything else we can send your way. (((hugs)))
Thank you for sharing your story. You are inspiring beyond words. Your children have one of the best role models in you. Hardships come in various forms and times and I appreciate your making us part of your story.
Lana- it is an interesting and wrenching thing to be pulled between place and people. So much in your story reminds me of the other American dream- the one we don’t hear about as often. I’m so sorry for all of the difficulties, but your tenacity- your desire to keep going and go harder remind me so much of my mom and those values of being thankful, working hard & not giving up that she has shown me through example again and again. Sending a hug to you in your Oceanside town. Xo
I am so moved by your story. Thank you for this.
Beautiful story! You’re strength and courage are inspiring.
Lana. I can always tell from your words how strong you are. Your resilience always shines. But this writing today shows more than strength. It illustrates a power of heart that awes me. GREG
Lana,
I who what everyone else has said above. Hang in there. And please reach out if you need something. We are all here for you.
[K]
And by “who” I mean “echo.” #damnautocorrect
Lana, You touched my heart…you are such a wonderful writer! Whoever said you should write a book is right on! Hugs to you!
The best stories are the ones that seep from our memories in little droplets until we’re ready to open the floodgate. The best stories are the ones that make the reader’s eyes well up, then bring on a smile or chuckle moments later. You, my dear, did just that to me with your amazing story of love, courage and survival. Thank you for posting this xoxo.
Lana, I have always enjoyed your writing, but this is truly exceptional for so many reasons. I am inspired by your strength, determination, and ability to see yourself and loved ones through the challenges you have so eloquently written about. What a gift you are.
Kelly, both of us connect with people through our words and, of course, food. I am grateful to have found your blog a long time ago, and I definitely need a great dose of your sass right now (veracity is not a problem, though:) Thank you for your wonderful comment:)
@Majo, puno hvala na lepim rečima i podršci:)
@Liz, one of these days I am hoping to start making money off my writing:) Thanks for believing in me!
@Tricia, I so appreciate your words:) Every ounce of understanding means a ton to me!
@Elena, I am seriously thinking of writing a book (already compiling material and organizing my essays:) We’ll see:) And the cake is insanely good and very easy to make.
@Milkice, hvala! Znam nekoliko divnih žena koje su proživele rat i opet stale na noge snažnije nego ikad. Moje teškoće nisu tolike u poredjenju, ali se i ja nadam da će uskoro biti iza mene.
@Dara, thank you so much for your words! We all have to keep our situation in perspective – the world is full of sad stories, but also made of beautiful moments:)
@Barbara, it is so important to have someone close support you when you are undergoing a hardship. Knowing your story and long battle with cancer, I have to say that you are an inspiration. Thanks for good wishes:)
@Beth, thanks my friend, for holding my hand:)
@Rashmi, becoming a mother changes the priorities completely. My POV shifted overnight:)
@Karen, thanks for your comment! I am just trying to keep my head above the water. And finding other inspirational women around me helps immensely.
@Janis, thanks:) It felt scary pushing the Publish button, but now I am relieved that I had shared my story. It is easier knowing that people care.
@Cathy, your comments always brighten my day! Thanks!
@Sara, I am so glad to have met you, too! Pretty soon all this will be behind me and I am looking forward to sharing much happier stories:)
@Kulsum, your comment made me feel really good:) If I can inspire at least one more soul, I’ll be happy! Thanks! I am so glad we have met:)
@Thanks, Manuela! I’ll have to remember to write your name in the Acknowledgments!
@Kankana, thank you! Sometimes a smile is the only and the best weapon:)
@Mairi, I am hoping to inspire myself first, and at least a few people around me:) I am surrounded by California sunshine and it’s hard to feel blue:)
@Pragati, I am so glad we have met! Thank you for your kind comment:) Looking forward to getting to know you better:)
@Farwin, thanks for the encouragement! There are so many people out there experiencing hardships and their support means a lot. Especially the ones who rose above, like you did:)
@Wenderly, I almost feel your warm hug:) Thank you for listening:) It helps a lot knowing that I am not alone:)
@Gwen, thanks for reading:) I know that you are going through a painful phase right now, and I am sending you a virtual hug!
@Cathy, you know how much I appreciate your support. Thanks for the ideas and words of encouragement. Kiss that beautiful baby for me!
@Azmina, thanks for your warm comment:) Sometimes it’s scary to find out how much we can accomplish as mothers:)
@Barb, I am always grateful for having you in my life:) I know that magic wands are in short supply:) I might reach out to you with a technical question one of these days, as I am learning a ton of new skills (frightening for me, as they are all techie stuff, and I don’t even speak the lingo!). Thanks for being here for me!
@My dear Debra, I know that you experienced hardship in your life and you deserve every day of happiness with your professor:) Can I use him as an example of a good man for my daughters? I appreciate you as a friend and thank you for the support. It feels good not to be alone.
@Helene, thanks for reading my story and offering the words of encouragement. I truly appreciate it:)
@Anneliesz, I can always use a good example of someone like you who was raised in hard times to feel comfort. My girls have been going without so many “normal” American things, but I know they will grow up to be strong and independent young women one day. Thanks for your support!
@Stephanie, thanks:) It feels good knowing that my story can touch so many hearts:)
@Amber, I am glad we have met, even under these circumstances:) The next time we’ll have to share a virtual cupcake or a glass of red:) Thanks for your words:)
@Greg, my oldest daughter thinks I am overly melodramatic and sensitive:) She might be right, but she is only twenty and my opposite:) I write from the heart and I connect to people via emotions, on paper and face-to-face. You know how much I appreciate your friendship:)
@Kim, you have been there for me almost from the beginning! You are my oldest friend in California and I am so grateful to have you in my life. We all go through hard times from time to time and knowing that I am not alone, means a ton to me:) XO
@Kathy, thanks for encouraging me:) There is a book hiding in all these stories. The hard part is going out there and facing the scary world of publishing, contracts, pitches, and marketing:)
@Lisa, I teared up reading your comment:) I am so glad we have finally met! I am looking forward to getting to know you better! I don’t intend to stay in the pits much longer:)
I will be first in line at your book signing. You already have adoring fans. Let’s get this show on the road!
LOL, thanks Adair! I hope that we can both be standing on the same side of the desk:)
Ma uspjet ces, jer si jedna divna i pozitivna osoba. Zelim ti sve najbolje i saljem jedan veliki cvrsti zagrljaj preko Okeana. Ako stvarno napises knjigu (da li na engleskom ili na nasem) ja sam musterija!
Hvala ti, Majo! Sad mi puno znači svaka podrška! A na knjizi, izgleda, moram malo više da poradim:)
Lana, you have what it takes to stand up and keep everyone standing up. You are a strong woman and I think the motherhood just makes women much more stronger than they know. It is amazing the way you create yourself from the ashes, again and again and again. Sending you big hugs…
Thanks, Ilke:) Sometimes I really want to curl up into a fetal position and chant “Happy Place, Happy Place”, but that rarely brings forth a solution:)
Your courage and perseverence are inspiring and your girls must be so proud of you. We lost nearly everything in the crash of 2008 and continue to struggle our way back. It’s not easy but I know if I face each day as it comes it’s not so overwhelming.
Love the cake and if you were closer I’d give you a big hug.
Maureen, so we are sisters in hardships:) My girls are all hugs and smooth cheeks next to mine right now:) And sometimes that is priceless!
Yummy! I will definitely try this, and a great story too.
Breese, thanks for stopping by:) The cake is easy and lusciously good (my friend Jamie knows her baking:)
Wow, you are really a very tough person. I hope that your kids will be able to get those traits of yours; it will help them out once they start living on their own.
Lana, this is a beautiful post. I have tears in my eyes and I am filled with gratitude for the foods that fill my home today. Interviews with holocaust survivors never fail to remind us to count the blessings we often take for granted. Thank you for the reminder today that I truly have so much.
(I’ll tell you now that I will be first in line to buy your book when it has been written.)
Lana, I am late to this post, was travelling when this was published but bookmarked it for later reading. Wow. Just blown away by your powerful story and your words. Thank you for being courageous enough to share your story with us. Sending hugs XOX
Thanks, Mardi! I thought for a long time before I pushed the “Publish” button, but it was cathartic:) I hope you are well!
Thank you for sharing your incredible journey with us. Your blog is one of my favorites to read because it’s about so much more than food. It’s about life. It’s the only food blog that makes me smile and brings tears to my eyes at the same time. It’s brave, it’s real, it’s raw and it’s so very strong. I truly admire what you do and find inspriation in your writing. It makes me want to be a better writer and examine not just the nice and fluffy parts of life.
I totally agree with Liz, that you should write books. I remember the first time I read your blog after we met at the FBLA cookie swap and how your writing completely captured me. I love to read and hope that one day I’m reading your printed word in a book that I can buy in a bookstore! You are so truly gifted with your prose.
And I have to mention your beautiful cake. Oranges bring me fond memories of my grandmother. I look foward to trying this. It looks simple and perfect.