This is a story about immigration; it is not the typical
story of late about suffering and hard times; about anguish and separations; about
people living in the shadows in constant fear of being found out… No; this one
is a little different…
After years of coming to the USA frequently to visit in leisure trips,
in 1992, this man and his family applied for visas to come to live permanently
here in the USA. They went to the USA Embassy in their country of origin, met
with an embassy worker, acquired the application forms, filled the application
forms and submitted them with all the pertinent and required supporting documentation.
One of the reasons why they used to come to the USA as often as they did is
that he had a sister living in Houston who had moved to the USA for reasons or
marriage. The other reasons were to continue their education by frequently attending medical
seminars… When they submitted their applications for resident visas, his
sister provided an affidavit about her being financially responsible for them
and therefore, under no circumstance would they become a burden to the
government (housing assistance welfare, food stamps, etc.) In the process they
went for several interviews with Embassy officials or diplomats all as part of
their permanent residence process…
At the time he was a 40 years old Medical Doctor
(Gastroenterologist) and his wife was a 39 years old Medical Doctor
(Pathologist); they had four kids all still in school and living at home. He
had a private practice, rather successful, and she worked at the University in
their Tropical Medicine Institute (doing research). They calculated that they would need to put themselves
to school for about four more years to become fully license doctors here in the
States; consequently, they figured out how much money they needed for their schooling,
their children schooling and overall living expenses for four years; saved
their money and put it in the bank to be ready for the occasion…
Years went by, life went on and – meanwhile- they were
always looking forward to the day when they got their permanent visas… During
that time things changed… The kids grew up, got out of school… One, also a
doctor, got married and moved to the USA with her USAir Pilot husband; today
she practices medicine in McAllen, TX. Another one, a lawyer, got married and lives
– and practices law - in Santiago, Chile. The others have similar stories with
the bottom line being, that all the kids sought greener pastures… Also during
that time, the political and economic situations changed and, little by little
they started to eat into their savings in order to maintain their lifestyle…
One day last fall, after 23 years of waiting, they got in
the mail the news that their application had been approved, welcoming them to
the USA… Woot woot! Time to celebrate!
Well, not so fast… He’s now 63 and his wife 62; if they
decided to come and go through the schooling they need to become fully
accredited doctors in the USA, they would be ready to start a career when they
are 67 and 66; hmmm… Also, all their savings are gone; therefore, they could
not go to school anyway; so what would they do here? What kind of professional
start would they be able to achieve at 63 & 62? He/they refuse to be a
burden to either his sister (now an elderly woman herself) or to their daughter…
After a long time of deliberation, they decided to say thanks, but no thanks;
decided to stay where they are and continue to wait, this time for the sunset
of their lives…
I wonder, what kind of administrative process takes - legitimately
- 23 years to complete…? Coming out empty-handed with an answer, I can reach only
one conclusion: the system is seriously screwed up!
His name is Dr. Manuel J. Gomez (a.k.a. Manolo), and her
name is Dr. Miriam Naranjo de Gomez. He was my next-door neighbor, childhood
friend (two months my senior!), and classmate through elementary, middle and
high schools in Carúpano, our home town in Venezuela; he’s still my dear friend…
I can assure you not having this caliber of people amongst us is a real loss
for the good ole U.S.A.
