The Legacy

     Between 1890 and 1924, America experienced one of the greatest influx of immigrants to this country. Millions of people, many fleeing hardship, came with hope of a better future. America quickly became known as a “Melting Pot” of many nations. (A term coined by an immigrant, Israel Zangwill)

     People quickly changed their names as they walked through the gates of Ellis Island and other ports, fully embracing their new identity and exciting future. All people were considered Americans and everyone wanted to learn what it meant to be so. My grandparents were included in this population of immigrants.

     My grandmother was only three years old when she arrived here with her family from Sicily. Most of her memories were made here, very few remained of her home in Italy. They came because the financial situation in their little fishing village had become bleak. America offered the hope of a new life.

     My grandfather came much later. He was 17 years old when he boarded a boat to America. He was fleeing similar circumstances. Poverty cast a shadow over his village, and organized crime attempted to offer a better life there. My grandfather refused to succumb to that lifestyle and came alone to a country he knew nothing about. He did not speak the language but arrived with a piece of paper in his pocket, having the name and contact information of his closest relative here.

     When he arrived at Ellis Island, he too altered the name he was given to become more “American”. He quickly located family, got a job, and enrolled in English classes.

     My grandfather was never allowed the privilege of going to school in Italy. At a young age, he would help to work the family farm to make ends meet. So the fact that he became so proficient at learning the English language that he would substitute for the instructor on occasion was quite extraordinary. He was very proud of this accomplishment.

     When my grandparents met up again in America, they fell in love, married and began their life together. Connecting with relatives between New York and Baltimore and in search of employment that would support a family of four children, my grandparents traveled some before settling in Baltimore.

     This is where my story begins. My parents met here, fell in love, and raised a family of five children. 

     I’ve often thought about my grandparents and where I would be if they were unable to immigrate to America. Would I even exist? 

     When I think about our present state as a country, it saddens me to see that the “melting pot” that use to be a symbol for our all-embracing nation has become a boiling cauldron of intolerance, promoting a society divided by race, religion, nationality, and gender identity, resulting in blatant persecution of those who are different. The words “and justice for all” appear to becoming less of a reality.

     How do we respond as we experience one of the greatest influx of immigrants in the history of the United States?

     Compassion develops when we begin to know someone. Hearts and attitudes change when we hear someone’s personal story and get a clearer picture of their life.

     Where does your story begin? Are you the child or grandchild of an immigrant? How would your life be different if your family was unable to come to this country? 

“… I was a stranger and you invited me in.”Matthew 25:35

Stories changing lives!