This month’s cover story deals with an issue that I am very familiar with — the problems of immigration. For our September issue, we felt that the topic was especially timely since it is the first anniversary of the terrible terrorist attacks in New York and Arlington. Outrage over them is sparking a rethinking of immigration in general. Should foreigners be allowed to get plum jobs in the U.S.? Since economic globalization is inevitable, shouldn’t we welcome foreign-born people to the Old Dominion?

The topic is so personal for me because this September, I celebrate another anniversary. My Russian-born wife Marina and I have been married for 14 years. We met in 1987 when I was a U.S. correspondent in Moscow, and my relationship with Marina was to take me to the very core of many nettlesome immigration issues. It was the Cold War and after seeing each other for a few weeks, Marina began being “invited” for interrogations by the KGB, who thought I might be a U.S. spy. Because of our relationship, Marina lost her spot as a student at a teacher’s college.

After a few months, the secret police left us alone. But the following year, bureaucrats made it hard for us when we tried to get married. After standing in line for eight hours to register at Moscow’s “ZAKS” or “Wedding Palace,” we were turned away because my documents showed I was born in Philadelphia, but my passport said I was born in Pennsylvania. I was obviously trying to pull a fast one on the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics.

Our marriage prevailed and some months later, Marina was in the family way. The U.S. Embassy doctor, however, refused to offer prenatal care as they did for spouses of other U.S. reporters. We wanted to avoid Soviet doctors, so during Marina’s fifth month a London friend helped us arrange for a checkup in England. Since Marina was a Soviet citizen, she had to stand in line for two days at the British Embassy to get her visa. As a U.S. citizen, I could simply hop a plane for the U.K. Eventually, our daughter was born at my family home in North Carolina, as was our second daughter.

In 1993, when we were back in Moscow for another tour, we got news that Marina’s application for U.S. citizenship had been approved. We flew to New York for the induction ceremony. I was immensely proud as I stood by her side while she took the oath. The federal judge, an African-American woman, congratulated the new citizens. Then she warned the rest of us that unless we took the inductees out to dinner that night to celebrate, she’d come after us with bench warrants.

Nearly 10 years later, Marina has graduated with honors from a highly rated U.S. university and is teaching art at a school in Chesterfield County that our daughters attend. She is very happy that she finally got to pursue her career in education.
So, when I hear about foreign nationals, their H-1B visas and all the hassles they might have to endure, well, let’s just say I know where they are coming from.

Peter Galuszka Executive Editor