Immigration Is Our Heritage

Every family in America who is not a Native American came from somewhere other than this country. We came from someone who crossed borders. My story isn't that different from so many others but all of our stories are important. They're important to tell and retell for family and broader audiences because they speak of experiences and courage. They also help us understand how we're all connected through shared values of looking out for future generations and how our ancestors struggled to make things better for their daughters, sons and grandchildren.

My story begins with a little girl playing near a lake in Ireland. She would play dress up by covering her hands and arms up to her elbows with mud from the lake, showing the other children her fancy made up formal gloves like the well to do women would wear. She was the daughter of a hardworking woman and a father who was a baker by trade. The family had dreams of going off to America as other Irish families had. Bridget grew into her teens and one day went off with her younger brother and sister to begin that trip. The three young people waved to their mother and father who they would never see again and began a walk of twenty some miles to the coastal port of Sligo. They boarded a ship and began their journey to that land of hopes and dreams.

Bridget became Beatrice, changing her name hoping that work would be easier to find with a more Anglicized name. She worked scrubbing floors and cleaning offices. She became a housekeeper at a fancy hunting and fishing club and found her future husband, a guide at the club. The guide's name was Bob and his family had come from Scotland and Ireland but many years before. Some had fought in the Civil War. The two eventually married and moved to New Jersey. Beatrice cleaned rooms at Seton Hall for young seminarians and Bob worked as a mail room clerk and janitor at a large company.

Others of my ancestors came from Germany and moved quickly into German neighborhoods in the Williamsport area of Pennsylvania. Hard working butchers and grocery clerks, who again made those long trips across the Atlantic ocean not really knowing what to expect or how they would find work. Their approach was to find communities of other immigrants and relatives and to stick together, working to provide services to each other. As their families grew so did their experiences and talents. They became tradesmen - carpenters, plumbers. They worked with their hands and backs as bakers, gardeners, and janitors.

I grew up learning from these immigrants. I learned about their love for their homeland as well as their love for America and what it provided to them even though there were struggles for basic needs and jobs at different points. They all went through some level of discrimination and non acceptance by other, more established citizens. Immigration is our heritage and every once in awhile we need to look back and honor it and those who paved the way for us.

And now, today, I'm sure there are little girls and boys playing near a lake or next to a river, thinking about and dreaming about a better life. Maybe putting mud on their arms and prancing around like the fancy people that they've heard about wearing evening gloves or suits and dresses. They may not speak English but they speak an understood language of just wanting and trying to do and be better. Let's embrace and welcome them.