Tuesday, June 26, 2018

Unless youre Native American; you have a Chain of Immigration

Over 118 years ago my great grandmother took her 5 children to a White Star line Ship (same company of Titanic) and shipped them off before her from Nivola Finland to escape the Nazi's and the Russian Red Guard. Four daughters and one brother made it to New York and my grandmother vividly recalled "once you saw statue of liberty" you knew you would be safe; America accepts anyone it was magical." They didn't know English or anything all they had was what they were wearing and a little money from their parents.  My grandmother is first on the left; her oldest sister on far right ran the whole show. They immigrated eventually and settled into Hancock Michigan and the rest is history.  

I often take this story and cherished picture to heart throughout my life; how lucky I am to be American and have free will to do whatever I like pretty much. Whenever I feel sorry for myself I pull this up on my phone and changes everything in a instant. I often wonder could I pull off what they did?

The President rode on "Make America Great Again"; his immigration Policy is fueled by scare the public and having a "us against the Rest of the World". His heart is on Building the Wall; by the time its gets done maybe many of us will be climbing that wall to get the hell out of here! All he is doing is causing a police state and creating more unneeded unrest. I like to remind him his ancestors were foreigners as well; not to mention two of his wife's as well. I usually stay out of cranking about politics but what the hell is really going on now. I am glad my Grandmother is not alive to see this nor her sisters or brother, they would be heartbroken in disbelief. America can you hear us, see us or feel us? Where are you......signed souls of hope and freedom
   I leave you today withe inscription on the statue of liberty:

 Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
MOTHER OF EXILES. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"