"To read the story of our immigrant forebears as it is summarized on the base of the old statue is to read our own story, and maybe it is only when we see that it is our own story that we can really understand either it or ourselves."(F.Buechner "Listening to Your Life" p. 166)
The summer before my senior year of high school I went to American Legion Boys State. It was basically a conference about civics and was in many ways a great experience. One goofier moment that I recall was waiting for a film to start and they were having technical difficulties. For some reason someone shouted "I'm an Italian-American." This was followed by a multitude of other hyphenated Americans, until I finally shouted "I'm a WASP." To which everyone laughed.
The truth is that I don't have a fabulous immigrant story. No love for some other country that I've never visited let alone lived in. I'm not even an American mutt. My ancestors have been in this country since the 18th century.
When I visited Ellis Island, as a history major, I found the place fascinating. So many stories. And then I thought about the history of each of those waves of immigrants. Each one seen as lower forms of life by the established population. And yet in time each of those nationalities becoming "American" eventually. With all the rights and privileges and all the heartbreak and headache that come with it.
And I believe it is those foreigners in our midst that continue to make the fabric of our nation so wonderful. And while I love being who I am in that context, I learn much from my encounters with the non-WASPS. And as a Christian, I share in the hope of another promised land.
Blessings,
Ed
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