David O’Malley

I came to the U.S. in 1993 from Dublin while attending college in Dundalk. I had uncles and cousins in the U.S., so I had some family connections here. I had initially applied for the first round of Morrison Visas and was granted a green card but didn’t take it up because I needed to finish college. When the second round came, I applied again and was accepted.

To validate my green card, I worked a summer job in New Jersey. While there, someone gave me a contact at New York Life. I went for an interview, didn’t hear back for a while, and assumed it wasn’t going anywhere. Just as I was preparing to start my degree at DCU, I got a late-night call from New York Life offering me a job. I accepted immediately, withdrew my college application, and moved to the U.S., initially living in Connecticut and commuting to New York City.

“Back in the 1980s, opportunities in Ireland were limited. While education was free, job prospects were not great.”

However, there was always a strong culture of travel—many graduates went abroad for work, whether to France, Germany, America, or Canada. I even studied Japanese in college, thinking I might go to Japan to teach English.

When the opportunity for a green card came up, it felt like the right thing to do. There was an economic motivation—many were looking to earn enough to put a down payment on a house back home—but for me, there was also a sense of adventure. The job at New York Life was a fantastic opportunity, and at just 20 years old, I felt very lucky to have that chance.

One of my strongest early memories is forming bonds with other Irish people. Back then, long-distance calls were expensive—about $2.50 a minute—and there was no internet, so staying connected to home wasn’t easy. You had to create your own community. I joined an Irish football team, even though I had never played before, simply as a way to connect with people.

Another unforgettable experience was the 1994 World Cup. I had barely settled in the U.S. when Ireland arrived to play, and it was incredible to be part of that atmosphere. We went to the Meadowlands for the games, and I’ll never forget seeing a huge Irish flag flown from a plane—someone had ensured the orange was the proper shade so it wouldn’t be mistaken for red. Celebrating that moment with a community of Irish immigrants was unforgettable.

Even though I had a job and a strong group of Irish friends, there was still an element of loneliness. It’s one thing to be surrounded by people, but it’s another to feel like you truly belong. In the pre-internet era, simple things like getting an Irish newspaper or calling home were difficult.

That changed when the internet arrived. Working in technology, I was an early adopter—I had a modem, a personal phone line, and access to email. The Irish Times was one of the first newspapers to go online, which helped me stay connected. Still, despite these adjustments, there was always the reality of being in a different cultural environment, away from family, and that never completely goes away.

Moving to the U.S. shaped my life in ways I couldn’t have imagined. Initially, I always thought I would return to Ireland. By the late ‘90s, opportunities back home were booming, and I could have easily gone back. But life unfolds in unexpected ways—I eventually became a U.S. citizen, bought a home, met someone (who wasn’t Irish), and my plans naturally shifted to staying here.

“One of my proudest achievements was becoming a volunteer Emergency Medical Technician (EMT). Around the time I was considering U.S. citizenship, I felt a need to contribute to my community.”

One day, I saw a sign about EMT training, called the number, and found out a new class was starting that night. I decided to go.

That decision turned into a seven-year commitment. I eventually became the head of volunteers and served as president of the volunteer wing. The most significant moment of my service was on September 11, 2001. That day, as a uniformed professional, I was called in to respond. We had no idea what was happening—communication was down, cell networks were jammed—but we were told to report in. It was a day of unimaginable tragedy, but I was grateful to be able to serve and contribute in some way. That experience left an indelible mark on my life.

Beyond 9/11, the skills I learned as an EMT have stayed with me. I’ve used them in everyday life—helping people in emergencies, even saving my own daughter when she was choking. The ability to stay calm under pressure isn’t something you’re born with; it’s something that is trained into you.

The Morrison Visa wasn’t just an immigration policy—it was a lifeline to opportunity. America is often called the ‘land of opportunity,’ but opportunity only exists if there’s a pathway to it. The Morrison Visa provided that path, not just for me but for thousands of others. Some arrived with legal status, while others had been living undocumented and were finally able to come out of the shadows.

For those of us who benefited, the visa changed the course of our lives. It allowed us to build careers, families, and communities here. It gave us access to opportunities that wouldn’t have existed otherwise. The legacy of the Morrison Visa is not just in the individuals who received it but in the contributions we’ve made to the U.S. in return.

As the program turns 30 in 2025, I think about all the lives it has impacted. It wasn’t just about giving people a chance to move—it was about giving them a foundation to build something bigger. And for that, I am incredibly grateful.