"Two people are talking about democracy," the 27-year-old Russian immigrant says. "One is American and one is Russian. The American tells the Russian: 'We have freedom in America—we can stand next to the White House and call our president stupid without fear of being punished.'"

After a pause, Gluzman continues: "The Russian replied, 'We also have freedom in Russia. We can stand in front of the Kremlin and call your president stupid without being punished, too.'"

Not that he believes President George W. Bush is stupid. On the contrary. Gluzman says he supports the president and wishes other Americans would do the same.

The joke, he explains, simply illustrates one of the things he likes most about America: if they so choose, people are free to criticize anything they want—even themselves.

Gluzman moved to the United States with his parents in 1993, when he was only 16 years old. Since he arrived, he's come to appreciate the country, the freedom it stands for and the opportunities available to him and his family.

But in some ways, he wasn't a willing participant in the move.

Gluzman had no idea he was coming to America until he was just about to leave. His parents chose to hide their intention from him until it was absolutely necessary.

"I was really surprised when my parents told me we were moving," he says. "They knew about the move for a couple of years, but didn't say anything until the papers were approved."

He says he was allowed to tell his friends that he was leaving, but he couldn't tell them where he was going, because his parents were afraid of what would happen to them.

"We're Jewish," he says. "And it was tough time for Jews in Russia. Some people might have gotten jealous of us."

At the time, Russian society was experiencing a surge of nationalism, he says. After the fall of the Soviet Union, instead of everyone wanting to live together, slogans like "Russia belongs to Russians" could be heard everywhere. And discrimination against Jews was rampant.

His sister had a hard time getting into the university because she's Jewish, he says. And he had a difficult time graduating from his own school because of his ethnicity.

"Even professors at schools had problems," Gluzman says. "If a Jewish professor accepted a Jewish student, people would talk about how Jews only helped Jews."

So the family left Russia to seek greener pastures.

When he arrived, he says, it was quite difficult for him at first. The language and new culture were a bit overwhelming. But with some work, he learned to accept his situation and love it as well.

Today, he runs the Russian Bistro on Bascom Avenue with his family, a business he's only too glad to be a part of.

"My life has changed 200 percent because I grew up in the United States," he says. "Here, I've learned the value of life. I know how to make money, but I also learned how easy it is to spend money."

He says the Fourth of July represents a lot more to him than fireworks and barbecues. It's a day he gives thanks to the country he now calls home.

"The future in America for myself and my kids will be much better than it would have been in Russia," he says. "If my parents didn't bring me here, I would have gone into the army. And I would probably be dead right now. My life would have ended nine years ago."

Russia has long been engaged in a brutal conflict in Chechnya, where he feared he might have been sent if he had been drafted.

He's proud to show his appreciation for the United States by flying an American flag over his Campbell home. Moreover, he even makes it a point to buy only postage stamps with American flags on them, which, he says, has come as a surprise to people trying to sell him other designs.

For almost 400 years America has been a magnet for immigrants like Gluzman who have been drawn to a land where freedom affords them educational and economic opportunities. And many like Allen Au also see America as a way to start a whole new life.

The 53-year-old Au is a self-described victim of the Hong Kong real estate bubble's bursting in 1997. At the time a wealthy man with multiple properties, he saw his fortunes disappear as land prices, and the value of his holdings, began to evaporate. After a while, he found he had none of the wealth he had had before, and he had to face the possibility of starting his life all over again.

"He basically lost everything," his friend and colleague Guy Li says. "When you have a kingdom like that and then you suddenly lose everything, it's such a drastic change that you kind of don't want to go through the whole thing again."

Au decided he'd come to the United States for a fresh start, living quite differently than he did in his Hong Kong days.

"One of the best things about America is that if you choose not to be rich, you don't have to be," he says.

He currently works as the store manager for Scott Cao, 48, a violin maker who came to the United States in 1986 from mainland China.

When Cao left China, the Asian country was still relatively underdeveloped, Cao says. Already a talented violin maker in his country, he decided to come to America to further hone and refine his skills.

"If I stayed there, I don't think I would have succeeded the way I have," Cao says. "People have business opportunities in China, but not in my profession. To be a first-class, excellent violin maker, I needed to come here."

He says that in the United States, there is an environment that fosters communication and the exchange of information—two things very important for learning. Today his violins are known throughout the world.

"Some of us have achieved our dreams, and some are still trying," he says. "But we all have the opportunity to succeed."

Campbell African Foods Market owner Richard Payroda, an ethnic Indian from Fiji, also sees America not as a place to make a fortune, but as a place where he can simply live his life in peace. He had a taxi business in Fiji in the 1970s, but decided to leave it all behind because of the country's discrimination. He moved to the United States in 1979.

"I like it here," Payroda says. "It's a place where I can own a house and run a business without living in fear of someone taking everything away from me."

His family had lived on Fiji for more than 100 years. Formerly an English territory, the British government brought laborers from India to the island to work the sugar plantations. In 1970, the island gained its independence from the United Kingdom, and ethnic tensions between Indians and Fijians flared.

"The Fijians in charge of the government have passed many laws keeping Indians from getting in many government positions," he says. "And because of discrimination, Indians find it hard to get any kind of loans from the government to start businesses or buy homes."

In America, however, he is free to do whatever he wants, and he says he is thankful that the government makes life so much safer than where he came from.

In coming to America, Payroda has merely followed millions of others before him who've come to this country to find a better life. In a sense, every citizen in the United States is an immigrant. But some people can trace their lineage much further back than others.

Nancy Borowicz, for example, who lives on Monica Lane on the north side of Campbell, is a descendant of none other than Miles Standish, who made the trip across the Atlantic Ocean in 1620 on a small, 180-ton wooden ship called the Mayflower.

Standish was the military captain who's been called the Hero of New England. He helped ensure the safety of the Pilgrims who settled in what is now Plymouth, Mass.

With her lineage, which her mother has proven through years of research, she has entered the ranks of the Mayflower Society, which was founded more than 100 years ago to remember the Mayflower's journey. Today, there are tens of millions of these descendants in America.

But whereas her Mayflower ties bring to mind thoughts of Thanksgiving Day, on the Fourth of July she's reminded of some of her veteran ancestors. Borowicz is also a member of the group the Daughters of the American Revolution.

"My ancestors all made an impact on America in one way or another," Borowicz says. "The guys who fought in the American Revolution made their mark by ensuring we had our civil liberties today."

Despite her lineage, however, Borowicz downplays her pedigree.

"I'm no more American than anyone else here," she says. "I just think it's kind of neat. Kind of special."

That's why, like relative newcomer Gluzman, she flies an American flag outside of her house every day, she says.

"We should consider ourselves lucky and fortunate to live here and that we have the opportunities that we do," she says.

And like Gluzman, she considers the right to speak one's mind to be one of the most important elements of democracy.

"We can speak against our own city government without reprimands," she says with a slight laugh. Borowicz was among the hundred or so citizens who opposed a recent retail development on Hamilton and Almarida avenues.

"It feels pretty good to be an American," she says simply. "And I'm very happy to be one."