9.29.2004
Bless American Immigrants
A commentor struck a chord this morning.
I opined that a lot of the American electorate did not care about politics because their lives are simply too comfortable to care.
"I'm often amazed at how foreign immigrants or persons I meet abroad know more about this country and the world than many a red-blooded American." Moomont is on the money.
A friend of mine recently died. Like George Soros, he was born in 1930 and was a Hungarian refugee. While still in Europe, he witnessed the cruel politik of Nazi occupation, followed by the boot of Soviet Russia. He came to America in the mid-50's, on his last dime. He arrived here homeless and without a job. He craved the possibilities inherent in a free life. In the beginning, he held three menial jobs at one time, and worked to exhaustion. He did not complain; he celebrated. In 1958 he raised his hand and took the oath of American citizenship. In time, sheer, unmitigated industriousness resulted in his own fledgling business. He prospered mightily. In the end, he had personalized plates on his BMW.
My late Hungarian friend was proud of the homeland he left. But that pride of birthplace paled in comparison to the love he had for America. He championed America. He championed the thought that hundreds of thousands of young men (and a few women) risked and lost their lives for the cause of freedom. His was intoxicated by freedom. This man knew more about US history and the political landscape than most people with post-graduate degrees. He constantly reminded his new American brethren of the miracle that surrounded them. When someone complained about how hard life had become, he would invariably answer, "Yes, but you live in America. You can turn things around, here!"
Andy was, in an odd way, sort of like that kid in ‘The Sixth Sense’ who saw ghosts, except instead of seeing dead people, he saw possibility. Immigrants, yesterday and today, see the miracle of the United States. They inhale it like a man starved for air. We fortunate few who have known nothing else in our lives take this freedom for granted. It is as if we do not see it. So many of us complain. So many of us are negative and cynical. And for what? Because we couldn’t care less? Because we don’t know better?
My Hungarian friend, in the end, was no different from you or me, except that he walked the mile in the other man’s shoes. He knew the difference. I hope another man like Andy comes to my small community before long – they’re like a shot of B12 to the psyche.
A commentor struck a chord this morning.
I opined that a lot of the American electorate did not care about politics because their lives are simply too comfortable to care.
"I'm often amazed at how foreign immigrants or persons I meet abroad know more about this country and the world than many a red-blooded American." Moomont is on the money.
A friend of mine recently died. Like George Soros, he was born in 1930 and was a Hungarian refugee. While still in Europe, he witnessed the cruel politik of Nazi occupation, followed by the boot of Soviet Russia. He came to America in the mid-50's, on his last dime. He arrived here homeless and without a job. He craved the possibilities inherent in a free life. In the beginning, he held three menial jobs at one time, and worked to exhaustion. He did not complain; he celebrated. In 1958 he raised his hand and took the oath of American citizenship. In time, sheer, unmitigated industriousness resulted in his own fledgling business. He prospered mightily. In the end, he had personalized plates on his BMW.
My late Hungarian friend was proud of the homeland he left. But that pride of birthplace paled in comparison to the love he had for America. He championed America. He championed the thought that hundreds of thousands of young men (and a few women) risked and lost their lives for the cause of freedom. His was intoxicated by freedom. This man knew more about US history and the political landscape than most people with post-graduate degrees. He constantly reminded his new American brethren of the miracle that surrounded them. When someone complained about how hard life had become, he would invariably answer, "Yes, but you live in America. You can turn things around, here!"
Andy was, in an odd way, sort of like that kid in ‘The Sixth Sense’ who saw ghosts, except instead of seeing dead people, he saw possibility. Immigrants, yesterday and today, see the miracle of the United States. They inhale it like a man starved for air. We fortunate few who have known nothing else in our lives take this freedom for granted. It is as if we do not see it. So many of us complain. So many of us are negative and cynical. And for what? Because we couldn’t care less? Because we don’t know better?
My Hungarian friend, in the end, was no different from you or me, except that he walked the mile in the other man’s shoes. He knew the difference. I hope another man like Andy comes to my small community before long – they’re like a shot of B12 to the psyche.
// posted by HunterByrd @ 7:02 PM 
Comments:
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Moomont, I saw that documentary, too. Superb. I was most struck by the poor Mexican cowherd who never learned English, worked like a dog, and produced two very fine, American children of Mexican descent. My entire family was profoundly touched by the depth of that Texas family's ethic.
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