I was only 10 when my father left for the shores of Los Angeles following the dream that his father before him and his before him had chased. My mother always swore that she would not allow me to go down the same path and so I was enrolled in the best schools we could afford and my friends were carefully chosen from families with no ties to the darker side of humanity. My mother never spoke ill of my father - in fact she always told me that even though he wasn't there he loved us and was taking care of us with the money he sent home - but she always urged me to understand that the path he had chosen was a dark and dangerous one and would only end in pain and suffering. 

I tried to follow my mother's advice, I really did, but the world seems to have different plans for me. Just today I received a letter from a friend of my fathers in LA that said he had been gunned down standing for his "family". The first thought that ran through my mind was one of revenge, but then I read the second letter that was attached - the last letter my father would ever send me: 

If you are reading this then I have met the end that I knew would come one day. I do not know who 

it was that pulled the trigger, but know that it was I that signed my death warrant the day I swore an

oath to The Dunder Mifflen Paper Company. In accepting my place within this wonderful family I swore

that I would stand with them until my last breath - and that is an oath I am honored to say I will never

break. I know that if you have the temper I had in my youth that you will be looking for a fight - I beg

you do not do this. A vendetta will bring you nothing but death and will not bring me back - it would only

result in your mother losing her son as well as her husband. Instead, promise me that you will take care

of the family and look out for your brothers and sisters no matter what. I am writing this as hostilities

break out and I know that you are still young, but your childhood is over - it is time to be a man. 

The last lines of my father's letter brought reality crashing down. Our family had always depended on the money sent home from my father and it was now gone. My mother would certainly try to make ends meet but the reality is that there are many more looking for work than there are jobs to fill and a middle aged house wife isn't exactly in high demand. So, ignoring the tears in my mother's eye's I boarded a boat to Los Angeles. I can't help but wonder if it is the same boat that my father boarded 7 years ago and I can't help but wonder what will await me when I step off the boat. The letters my father sent were always full of excitement and the promise of a great life once he earned enough to bring us all over with him. I wonder, will I find the vibrant cities that my father spoke of, or the death and dismay that my mother warned me of? Either way, the excitement of a new journey, a journey in the footsteps of my forefathers, is now beginning to take hold as I look over the horizon to a new life.