There is a drawer in my cabinet that I seldom open. It contains very old files. One of those files holds letters in a language I cannot read. The letters were from my Grandmother to her family whom she and my grandfather left when they came to this country
I was fortunate to know and visit with all of my grandparents, there were four all of whom came to this country legally. I thought of them and of a conversation I had today at lunch with a friend who had returned from a trip with her daughter. My friend told me of her visit and the places she had not seen since childhood. She spoke of the memories she recalled and how startled her daughter was to hear about those memories.
My sons knew first hand of their great grandparents. They knew too of the memories and the circumstances that had brought their great grandparents here. Among those memories were stories of turbulence and persecution and vicious edicts. Memories that included kindness, help and the opportunity they found in their new country.
I thought of all this when I opened my newspaper and saw the pictures of the immigrants at this country's borders. The same words and actions that were used against my grandparents are used now but for different people.
How we treat and understand the stranger in our midst will color our lives. The memories my friend shared with her daughter also included memories of neighbors and neighborhoods. Memories that were joyful yet may have been harder to recount but are stored now in the memories of my friend's daughter.
It is time to recognize that we live in a period of major world-wide migration. How shall we recognize this historical moment? With bellicose words and saber rattling? Or will we have the wisdom to learn about the memories of the people making up this migration?
REMEMBER TO VOTE NOVEMBER 6, 2018
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
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Beverly, you write so eloquently, and have such an understanding of people.
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