By
Phil LaMancusa
American Pie
Or
Beginner’s Luck
Chutzpah:
a Yiddish term for ‘audacity for good or for bad’ as in “Imagine the chutzpah he had to make that kind of journey.” For me
that word describes anyone who would pack up their family and belongings leave
a possible generational homeland and travel to a strange country (likely not
even knowing the language and/or customs) for a better life. The words that
come to mind are: immigrant, refugee, expatriate and, they come in two tiers:
the first are the ones that come without knowing anything; they settle, take
the bad with the good and are literally pioneers. The second are the ones that
follow, those sent for: wives, family, betrothed or necessarily abandoned.
There
are also those that come indentured: Asians, Europeans and most notably
Africans. They come; they’re brought; they’re sent for; they endure. I’m second
generation American, so this seed has not fallen far from the tree; all four of
my grandparents were not born here. They came for a better life, they came to
escape poverty, violence and oppressive politics. One of my grandmothers was
sent for as a child bride. They brought their stories, customs, food and
languages; they had children and their children had children.
The
pioneer that crosses the plains in a covered wagon is not much different than
the refugee who travels in the bowels of a tramp steamer, crosses from the
Caribbean in an inflatable raft, or trudges through the southern dessert to
Laredo, Texas. They ‘pays their money and they takes their chances’. They
endure; they endure because they have to or they’ll perish. The generational
endurance of the people that were kidnapped and enslaved is legendary and
ongoing. The pioneers and the persecuted endure hardship, hunger, haranguing,
hatred and exploitation; they’re cat-called with racial and ethnic slurs:
Kikes, Rag Heads, Beaners, Greasers, Chinks, Slope heads, Spics and that N-word
that we’re not allowed to say or print. My own people were called Micks, Krauts
and Wops (Without Papers).
Those
that have been here for a few generations forget the fact their people once were
immigrants and discourage this country from taking in ‘foreigners’ (many
‘foreigners’ want to come here); from places like Korea, Syria, Afghanistan,
Haiti, Ethiopia, China, Nigeria, Cuba, Somalia and parts of Eastern Europe; the
big one these days is Latinos from South and Central America and, of course,
those pesky Mexicans. They all want a piece of the American Pie; a shot at
redemption; a photo opportunity.
We hear: “The
nerve of these people! They’ll take our jobs, our women, our language and our
way of life. Our last president called them “murderers and rapists”. Look out!
They’re coming across the border from the Middle East, Asia, Guatemala, and
hey, I hear that there are even some Canadians that want in; well not on my
watch! I’ll build a wall, a physical, social and cultural wall. I’ll build an
economic wall against hiring in any but the lowest forms of employment: fruit
pickers, factory workers, domestic workers, sweat shop workers. What(?) we’ve
already done that? Whew, good, I’m safe now. I can sleep easier knowing that if
those tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free; the wretched refuse
from those teaming shores, tries to get into Little Tommy’s play school or get
a job in my local bank as anything but a janitor……”
In 1868, Africans that were brought here as
slaves were granted citizenship; June 2, 1924, President Calvin Coolidge signed
into law the Indian Citizen Act which gave the people that had been here for
millennium the right of American Citizenship; 1935, my grandparents became
American citizens. Did that make their lives any easier? Ask them. The walls we
built still stand.
It
tears our hearts to see ragged malnourished kids, maimed puppies or beaten
horses. We cry for missing children, abandoned kittens, abused women or those
trafficked for pleasure or gain. As long as they don’t move into our back yard.
Tendency wants us to say: “I don’t want a
homeless shelter built in my neighborhood. I don’t want anyone panhandling in
front of that restaurant that I frequent. Make them all just go away. I’ll feel
sorry from a distance; I’ll even donate. I know that we’re all brothers, but I
don’t want my brother sleeping in that doorway, it’s gross to look at; what
will the children think?”
The
secure have a tendency to get smug; not withstanding my White Privilege, my
people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps (we say), not realizing that
some of our ‘Brothers’ have no bootstraps with which to pull. They’re sitting at the border waiting for a
shot at asylum eating donated food and dirt.
I
say: let them all in; borders are imaginary lines in a global sandbox and it’s
usually the biggest bully that gets the best corner. I say we adopt the world
and let all those that have less share our abundances. Put them to work, give
them educations, healthcare and fair housing (you know, stuff that we are not
making available to all of our own citizens).
The
argument against that is “we’ll go into
debt; our children will go into debt; our grandchildren will have to pay this
off.” That is the argument that comes from the financially secure politicians
that already have comprehensive healthcare, paid holiday vacations and free
tuition for their children.
If
you adopted a person or even a critter and they needed care and assistance,
wouldn’t you, out of love, go into debt? I would, and because of those types of
Golden Rule values, I would pass that debt as well as that value to my children
and my grandchildren. I would.
After
all, if we happen to accrue debt helping those less fortunate, by letting them in
to the American Dreamland, wouldn’t we be passing that shared debt to their
children and grandchildren? Think about that when you stop by that taco truck
for a Carne Asada Burrito and ice cold Fanta; prepared by a future fellow
citizen.
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