Dylan’s Story:
My family moved to
Philadelphia from Cardiff, in Southern Wales in 1983 because the
y,
like many immigrants to the United States, had visions of the
“American Dream.” My family could be described as a “traditional”
Welsh family. We lived in the largest city, Cardiff, and my father,
like many men in Wales, was employed in the mining industry. My
father worked 6 days a week helping to transport coal, and had
dreams of a better way of life for his children. His older brother
had moved to Pennsylvania about a dozen years earlier, so my father
packed up our family (including my mother and two older brothers),
and we left for the United States.
I remember being very excited about coming to the U.S. as a child. It was a new experience, a journey I could not wait to embark on. And I was not let down! As a young child I embraced everything “American”—I even had a birthday party at McDonald’s. When my family first arrived I had a pretty strong Welsh accent and got made fun of a bit in primary school, but I had pretty much grown out of it by the time I began middle school. I got along well with other kids my age, and being teased for my heritage was never really an issue for me growing up. My friends today occasionally make a Welshman joke (typically involving sheep), but I recognize it is all in good humor.
The Welsh Flag:
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