This is a tale of a poverty stricken family. One who's governments were in turmoil and bread truly was the mana of life. Recently, there had been a country who was bestowed an honorable gift establishing a promise for everyone. They came with one bag each and their final dime was spent as steerage on a Trans-Atlantic journey.
The family knew people who took them in until they could get established. It wasn't long before they had their own farm and were not only productive but would offer up help to anyone who asked. The children grew.
One searched within herself, having been, for the times, a bit of a rebel. She chose to become a nun after witnessing the good the convent was doing for the poor. As a nun, one has to choose the name of a saint to be their patron. She couldn't decide on one to describe her or that felt right. So she said the next thing she sees will be her name. They'd passed a box-car with the name Hilaire. And so it was. She went on to become a large part of the Native American communities. She was a teacher and a student. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke of a different culture and how wondrous it is to be part of humanity where we all, at heart, believe the same thing so little things like religion or color of someone's skin "doesn't make one darn bit of difference". If you met her, you'd swear she was full Native.
Another went on to be a family woman. Although she worked around the house and with the kids she also put in hours at the family store. She was both loved and feared by her children. Their father was the eternal "kid at heart". The family became known around town for their incredible generosity; many people were fed with no expectations in return. They believed in strong education and the arts. So, many things the family could afford were donated to the school which, in turn, allowed it to grow it's various departments such as music, athletics, math and science. The local high school honored them by naming the athletic field in their name. It is still there to this day.
Their children grew up to do various things. Several became establishments in the golden age of Hollywood as well as the jazz music scene in the South. Others married, some farmed, some even became cowboys. They were all characters in their own right, and the family legacy for being known as kind and generous carried on in each and every one of them. These people were human beings.
Through one of these women a child was born, my mother, who allowed me the pleasure of knowing each and every one of these people. Not to mention (another tale for another time) the wonderful characters on my maternal grandfather's side (flappers, anti-prohibitionists, fashion designers, women's lib-ists). He was the man who gave me my love of needing to learn the World. These two gave me the only person I could ever count on.
It's true; I'm not brown and, truly, that's what the whole "immigration debate" is really about, now isn't it? If the U.S. had never received the Statue of Liberty as a status of all it stands for; a welcoming beacon of light for all who are in the dark, then this family never would have existed. The original travelers would have most likely perished in concentration camps (they were Catholics and most, women and children). That family would have died out before any successive generation, and the good things we think of when we think "The United States" would never have been.
I'm here and no one special. But I've learned from this family to never think I'm superior (because I'm not) and to never feel undeserving if I'm truthful to myself and others. Most importantly, I've learned to put myself in someone else's shoes and even if they "didn't fit" to not judge them but, instead, to learn from them. It's always good to have new experiences. Yet, only if you're willing to truly experience them as well as respect them. In other words; be true to yourself and be true to others.
If you don't want to help, then don't. However; you, certainly, should not be so arrogant as to deny those of use that do want to help our fellow humans to do so. My United States is a melting pot. This includes my family and yours; whomever you may be.
The family knew people who took them in until they could get established. It wasn't long before they had their own farm and were not only productive but would offer up help to anyone who asked. The children grew.
One searched within herself, having been, for the times, a bit of a rebel. She chose to become a nun after witnessing the good the convent was doing for the poor. As a nun, one has to choose the name of a saint to be their patron. She couldn't decide on one to describe her or that felt right. So she said the next thing she sees will be her name. They'd passed a box-car with the name Hilaire. And so it was. She went on to become a large part of the Native American communities. She was a teacher and a student. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke of a different culture and how wondrous it is to be part of humanity where we all, at heart, believe the same thing so little things like religion or color of someone's skin "doesn't make one darn bit of difference". If you met her, you'd swear she was full Native.
Another went on to be a family woman. Although she worked around the house and with the kids she also put in hours at the family store. She was both loved and feared by her children. Their father was the eternal "kid at heart". The family became known around town for their incredible generosity; many people were fed with no expectations in return. They believed in strong education and the arts. So, many things the family could afford were donated to the school which, in turn, allowed it to grow it's various departments such as music, athletics, math and science. The local high school honored them by naming the athletic field in their name. It is still there to this day.
Their children grew up to do various things. Several became establishments in the golden age of Hollywood as well as the jazz music scene in the South. Others married, some farmed, some even became cowboys. They were all characters in their own right, and the family legacy for being known as kind and generous carried on in each and every one of them. These people were human beings.
Through one of these women a child was born, my mother, who allowed me the pleasure of knowing each and every one of these people. Not to mention (another tale for another time) the wonderful characters on my maternal grandfather's side (flappers, anti-prohibitionists, fashion designers, women's lib-ists). He was the man who gave me my love of needing to learn the World. These two gave me the only person I could ever count on.
It's true; I'm not brown and, truly, that's what the whole "immigration debate" is really about, now isn't it? If the U.S. had never received the Statue of Liberty as a status of all it stands for; a welcoming beacon of light for all who are in the dark, then this family never would have existed. The original travelers would have most likely perished in concentration camps (they were Catholics and most, women and children). That family would have died out before any successive generation, and the good things we think of when we think "The United States" would never have been.
I'm here and no one special. But I've learned from this family to never think I'm superior (because I'm not) and to never feel undeserving if I'm truthful to myself and others. Most importantly, I've learned to put myself in someone else's shoes and even if they "didn't fit" to not judge them but, instead, to learn from them. It's always good to have new experiences. Yet, only if you're willing to truly experience them as well as respect them. In other words; be true to yourself and be true to others.
If you don't want to help, then don't. However; you, certainly, should not be so arrogant as to deny those of use that do want to help our fellow humans to do so. My United States is a melting pot. This includes my family and yours; whomever you may be.
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