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All that immigration The way I got my name is a small part of American history. My great-grandfather’s name was Samuel Levintonsky. He was born in Gluk-Hov, Russia. He was a Russan Jew. He came to New York as one of the thousands of immigrants wanting a better life. He must have felt encouraged when he saw the Statue of Liberty in New York for the first time. When he got to the immigration office, they shortened his name to Levinson. One of Samuel’s sons immigrated to Florida and shortened his name to Aaron Vinson for business purposes. Aaron had seven children, including my dad, Steve. When my dad grew up he changed his last name back to Levinson to carry on the family name. Steve had five children, including me, and immigrated to North Carolina. My brother and I will be proud to carry on the family name, and I hope never to immigrate again because “nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina.” Joshua Levinson |
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