My father was an immigrant. He escaped Germany and came to the United States in 1937. He didn’t talk much about his past, but he did tell about his first sighting of the Statue of Liberty. How beautiful, how great, how welcoming.
It’s not as simple as you may think, coming to a new country, leaving everything you’ve ever known behind, possibly forever. It takes courage and determination. It is not something a person does lightly.
My father was outgoing, kind, brave, and smart. He found a good life here, gave back to his new country, served in the US army, paid his taxes, and never did anyone harm. He taught me right from wrong, how to be kind, how to be fearless.
He died in 2005 and doesn’t have to see the division our country is facing now. He doesn’t have to see our lapse back into intolerance, prejudice, and hatred of strangers. He would have been appalled by swastikas on the bus or liars in the White House. He is gone but I will fight for him.
It is a scary time we live in now. I hope he does not do to much damage in his 4 years.
In spite of everything, I am an optimist, like my father before me.
Love is stronger than hate
Excellent write-up. I don’t remember that first photo—I see a lot of Mom in his face. Thank you for writing this, Mollie. Hope to see you soon. I’d like to plan that trip somewhere to get together with Marg, too. Love, Joyce