I cannot tell how I knew it.
I felt a stirring, a straining in my father's letter.

It was there, even though my mother stumbled over strange words, even though she cried, as women will when somebody is going away.

My father was inspired by a vision.

He saw something--he promised us something.

It was this "America." And "America" became my dream.
While it was nothing new for my father to go far from home in search of his fortune, the circumstances in which he left us were unlike anything we had experienced before.