If the current immigration practices had been in effect back then, after building a business, a home, a family, and a life here, at the outbreak of the war my father unquestionably would have been deported — not to the breathtaking Adriatic coast, romantic Venice, fashionable Milan, beautiful Tuscany, the grandeur that is Rome, or bustling Palermo, but to the only place he had any connections, where he might be able to barely eke out a living — the hardscrabble, impoverished Sicilian village where he had been born.. My mother and I would in all likelihood have gone with him. She would never have abandoned him.
That remarkable woman, my mother, was also born in Sicily. Unlike my father’s family, hers was fairly affluent, so she had the advantage of a privileged childhood. However, that ended abruptly when she was twelve. Her parents died within six months of each other, and an unscrupulous relative somehow managed to confiscate the money her father had left. Because her two older sisters were betrothed to young men who had already planned to come to the U.S., their grandparents made the painful decision not to split up the children and to send all of them — my mother, her three-year-old sister, the two older engaged girls, and two older brothers — to America, under the sponsorship of friends who had become established here.
My mother often spoke of how her last memory of her grandmother was seeing her faint at the dock, as the ship that was carrying them here pulled away. They knew they would never see, or even speak to, each other again. Only the very rich could afford transatlantic phone calls back then, and they no longer were rich. The only communication would be by letter, which would take weeks to traverse the Atlantic. The siblings’ heavy hearts exacerbated their constant seasickness during the long, harrowing boat trip which finally brought them past the Statue of Liberty to Ellis Island.
Despite her sadness and fear of the unknown future that awaited her, the sight of Lady Liberty had a profound effect on my mother. In years to come, whenever she spoke of that first sighting, she always had a catch in her throat and tears in her eyes. But back then, she had little time to dwell on such sentimentality. With no knowledge of English whatsoever, she was too busy trying to unravel the mysteries of Ellis Island. She spoke of the day that her panic-stricken sister Gerlanda rushed to her exclaiming, “Quick! We have to hide Madelena!” (three-year-old Madeline, who had developed a fever). “They put sick people in a cage that goes into the ground!” Gerlanda cried. When I visited Ellis Island decades later, I understood. The “cage” was an open elevator with wire mesh walls that descended to the basement infirmary.
Despite the misunderstandings, they survived Ellis Island and their first uncertain years in an unknown land where people ate weird things like mayonnaise and sliced bread that tasted like cardboard. My mother, who was extremely bright and could have run Microsoft if she had had the education she and my father provided for me, quickly learned perfect English and excelled in math but was able to stay in school only a year because of financial constrictions.
At eighteen she met and married my father, and I was born a year later. They loved me beyond reason and beamed with pride at my every minor achievement. I think they believed I was a genius because I learned to inhale and exhale as soon as I was born. They were ecstatic when my high school teachers insisted I should go to college. This was way back when that was extremely unusual for a girl —and unheard of for a daughter of struggling immigrants.
They had to make tremendous sacrifices to pay the tuition, even though it was just a tiny fraction of today’s astronomical fees. My father got still another part-time job, and my mother trimmed the household budget to an impossible minimum, buying only discounted, misshaped vegetables and preserving even more of the summer garden bounty to feed us through the winter. They felt the sacrifices were worth it. They had never dared hope that a child of theirs would go to college! I was the personification of their American dream.
Shortly before my mother died, friends were reminiscing about the happiest days of their lives. When they asked my Mom what hers was, they expected her to cite one of her carefree childhood days in Italy, her wedding day, or the day I graduated from Boston University, which they had often heard her recall with pride. Instead, her immediate response was "The day I became an American citizen." My father, too, was always vocal about his gratitude for his hard-won citizenship. You could not find two more loyal, patriotic Americans anywhere. Our country was enriched by their presence here.
We should never forget that we are a nation of immigrants, the overwhelming majority of whom, like my parents, contributed so much to America’s rich culture and strength.
As for the argument that those who want to come to the U.S. today should apply through proper channels, many of those people are desperate refugees seeking asylum from unspeakable conditions, even death in some instances. Unlike my father, they do not have the luxury of time to “go through the proper channels.” When they come, they are stopped at the border, their traumatized children ripped from their arms, and they are immediately sent back to the hell they are trying to escape.*
I haven’t been to New York Harbor recently; but if I were to go there today, I think I would find that Lady Liberty is weeping.
©2018 Rose Madeline Mula for SeniorWomen.com
*Liberty's Fate
Canadian artist Anita Kunz speculates humorously on the fate of American liberty at the start of the twenty-first century in this Fourth of July cover design for The New Yorker. The mountain climber who audaciously scales the face of Lady Liberty suggests the possibility of unexpected, unwelcome assaults on the free democracy symbolized by the Statue of Liberty. The drawing displays Kunz’s polished technique in gouache and her ability to engage viewers’ minds with provocative perspectives on powerful symbols.
Library of Congress; http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/swann-gallery/exhibition-items.html#obj11
Pages: 1 · 2
More Articles
- Nichola D. Gutgold - The Most Private Roosevelt Makes a Significant Public Contribution: Ethel Carow Roosevelt Derby
- Oppenheimer: July 28 UC Berkeley Panel Discussion Focuses On The Man Behind The Movie
- "Henry Ford Innovation Nation", a Favorite Television Show
- Merrick B. Garland Administers the Oath of Allegiance and Delivers Congratulatory Remarks at Ellis Island Ceremony in Celebration of Constitution Week and Citizenship Day
- Julia Sneden Wrote: Going Forth On the Fourth After Strict Blackout Conditions and Requisitioned Gunpowder Had Been the Law
- Jo Freeman Reviews: Gendered Citizenship: The Original Conflict Over the Equal Rights Amendment, 1920 – 1963
- Jo Freeman Writes: It’s About Time
- Jo Freeman Reviews: Lady Bird Johnson: Hiding in Plain Sight
- Women in Congress: Biographical Profiles of Former Female Members of Congress
- Updated With Key Takaways: Watch on YouTube House Select Committee Hearings at House on January 6th: "So many citizens are downplaying on what happened that day"
