America is something else entirely. My grandmother in America was Lithuanian who had been born in St Jo, Missouri. My grandfather, Max Mauser, had been born in Germany in a place called Bad Kreuznach, I think. And he left Germany when he was 14, I think, in about 1906 or 1907, perhaps a bit earlier, no probably in the early... in the early 1900s, and came across the Atlantic on his own at the age of 14 to meet an uncle who lived in St Louis and from then on he made his way as best he could, and it wasn't all that good, in America and became very American. Meanwhile his brother was left behind in Germany and was killed fighting for the Kaiser in the First War. Max became extremely American. 

My parents met in Chicago in 1930 on Christmas Eve, a romantic occasion my mother always used to tell me, and my father's dancing and British accent and various other qualities certainly charmed her. My father had gone to America because after Molly and her child had been paid by his father to disappear he was, I think, more chagrined than grateful, although he was certainly grateful to be disembarrassed of this woman and her child, and he said to my grandfather and, I presume, my grandmother, though she would probably be less interested, that he would marry the first Jewish woman that he met who didn't have a moustache and who had decent legs. My mother didn't have particularly good legs though they were quite long and she always thought they were very thin but she was a beauty and she didn't have a moustache and she was a young girl of 19 and my father was 30; not a great age after all.