My name is Harry Byron. I was born into a Jewish family in Russia 1903. The first fifteen years of my life are years that I live to forget. I lost my parents and my sister, my only sense of family, at a very young age to disease, like many other people in Russia during that time. I was forced to grow up with my aunt, who even though she was family, loved me no more than a stranger. Outside of my family, life was only worse. Being Jewish during that period in Russia was a death sentence. Everyday I was persecuted purely because of my religion. All I knew was that I needed to get out, and I hung onto that idea for years. Finally, at the age of 15, my opportunity came and I knew I needed to take it. I had a chance to escape and come to America to start a new life, and nothing was going to stop me. Pretending to be 17 in order to get a job, I was able to come over through Ellis Island. I stayed with some of my cousins in Washington D.C.. I worked at a deli and did okay for myself but I didn’t feel like I got what I wanted yet. I only spent a couple years there before we moved to Hartford and settled down. I opened up my own gas station and ran it myself. I worked hard every day, just trying to earn enough money to support myself. Then one day I met a beautiful woman at a house party. What seems like only minutes later we were married. We had 3 wonderful kids who then went on to have 6 kids of their own making me a grandfather. I had to work very hard, always 6 days a week, but none of that mattered because I had what I was looking for; a family of my own to love. When I’m not working I spend all my time with my family; seeing them happy is the best thing in life for me. I’m just very thankful that I was able to come to America and start a life that I was never going to be able to have back in Russia. I very much take pride in everything that I do, from owning my own gas station to having a house with my lovely wife and kids.
