My parents were born into a secular country. They met in Turkey's

Hear now the words of Elif Batuman, who speaks not only of her lineage but of the weaving of history and destiny: “My parents were born into a secular country. They met in Turkey's top medical school, moved to America in the nineteen-seventies, and became researchers and professors.” In this utterance is carried the weight of migration, the striving of generations, and the quiet heroism of knowledge. She invokes Turkey, America, medical school, researchers, and professors—words that mark both place and purpose, both root and flowering. Her quote is no mere recollection of family, but a mirror of how identity is shaped by both inheritance and transformation.

Her parents, born in a secular country, carried within them the spirit of a republic forged by Atatürk’s reforms—a land where faith and modernity were carefully balanced, where the pursuit of knowledge was exalted as a means of national rebirth. In meeting at Turkey’s top medical school, they embodied the dream of a generation that sought to heal the body while also lifting the nation’s mind. Their union was not only of two people but of two paths aligned toward service: the discipline of science and the promise of discovery.

When they crossed the sea to America in the nineteen-seventies, they joined a river of migration that has, across centuries, carried countless seekers of opportunity. Like many before them, they bore the weight of leaving behind familiar soil for an uncertain land, yet they did so with courage. There, through toil and perseverance, they became researchers and professors, figures of wisdom and guardians of knowledge. Their journey testifies to the truth that migration, though marked by loss, can also be a vessel of renewal, bringing gifts not only to those who arrive but to the nations that receive them.

Consider the tale of Albert Einstein, who fled a homeland darkened by tyranny to seek refuge in America. There, he offered not only the brilliance of his mind but a vision of the universe that reshaped all of human understanding. Like Batuman’s parents, his crossing was not merely geographic but transformative; it proved that knowledge transcends borders, and that the gifts of the migrant enrich the whole world. In this way, Batuman’s family story is not singular, but part of a larger saga written across the ages.

The meaning of her words, then, is profound: they remind us that identity is not bound by a single nation, but is instead a tapestry woven of many lands, many choices, and many sacrifices. Her parents embody the spirit of service that comes from devotion to learning. To be a researcher is to search endlessly for truth; to be a professor is to plant that truth in the minds of others. Their journey shows that knowledge is the bridge between worlds, the light carried across oceans and generations.

The lesson is clear: honor the sacrifices of those who came before, and continue the labor of learning they began. If your parents or ancestors left familiar soil for unknown shores, carry forward their courage by living not in fear but in striving. Seek out knowledge with the same fervor, for it is the one treasure that grows greater the more it is shared. Recognize that migration is not merely exile, but also the forging of new possibilities.

Practical action follows: invest yourself in education, whether as student or teacher. If you inherit the blessings of those who sought greater opportunity, repay them by using your gifts to heal, to teach, to build. Look with respect upon those who arrive from distant lands, for within them may dwell the next discoverer, the next healer, the next professor who will enrich all of humanity.

Thus Batuman’s remembrance becomes not just personal history, but timeless teaching. The journey of her parents is the journey of countless souls who left one land to build a life in another. Let it be known that knowledge belongs to no single nation, but to all who dare to seek it. And let it be remembered that from such unions of courage and wisdom, the world itself is renewed.