Chapter One
A New Start in a New World

“To think that a once scrawny boy from Austria could grow up to become Governor of California and stand in Madison Square Garden to speak on behalf of the President of the United States that is an immigrant’s dream. It is the American dream.”

~Arnold Schwarzenegger

IN MANY WAYS, THE OLD USSR was not an especially idyllic place to grow up. Of course, it was the only life we had ever known, and it didn’t seem all that bleak at the time. As the capital of Ukraine, Kiev had many imposing and historic buildings, as one would expect in an ancient city. Then the Communist directives created a city of great contrasts.

During the Communist rule, there were no mansions or roomy condos in Kiev. Our family, like the majority of the other citizens, lived in a basic one-bedroom, 335 square foot apartment situated in one of many five-story brick buildings that dotted the landscape. There were beautiful, ornate churches, but no church services or any other religious celebrations were ever allowed. Every neighborhood had its own familiar convenience store, yet store shelves were frequently barren. Every family had a specific allotment of goods, as a central tenet of the Communist doctrine. The government was quite effective at blocking most of the media coverage of“Western living,” so we didn’t know much about life outside the Iron Curtain.

School was a central part of our lives, as it was and continues to be for most European children. We attended six days a week and always had a great deal of homework. At the end of each year, we were required to take exit exams before being allowed to move to the next grade. School was especially challenging for Jewish children, which was a major reason my parents stressed the importance of academics. In the USSR, Jews were graded on a difficult curve because of the anti-Semitism prevalent throughout the country. This seemed quite odd, considering that the USSR had been one of the allies during World War II and had liberated the Jews held in the concentration camps. However, it was evident nonetheless, and meant that no matter how well Jewish students performed, only a certain number of us could receive the highest grades. When I was in the fifth grade, I had a study session with a tutor to review a test on which I had received a“C.” During the session, the tutor could not explain where I made mistakes, because in fact I had made no errors. It turns out that, I got the C because teachers were allotted fewer good grades for Jewish students. I needed to be five times better than my peers to maintain average academic marks, which is what my parents always stressed.

Because of