I've been seeing, hearing, and reading a lot about the massive influx of children from Central America, lately. They cross the border, sometimes in droves, fleeing crime, drugs and violence. They leave their parents, their homes, everything they've ever known, and put their life on the line to have just a tiny little glimmer of a chance at a better life. And Goddammit if that's not the most American thing I've heard in a long damn time. My mother's grandfather came to America from the old country with barely a pair of shoes on his feet, running like hell from World War One. He got here poor and uneducated, and worked his fingers to the bone to make a life for himself and his family. Almost 100 years later, his legacy has generations of teachers and farmers, engineers and artists, soldiers and scientists.
Immigrants are the very reason our country is as great as it is. It's not a perfect country by any means, but I've seen other parts of the world. Hell, I'm living in another part of it right now. If your great grandparents weren't born here, you don't count as a person, and God help you if you're a woman or a Jew. No, I've seen the backward ways of other nations, and I long to set foot back on my home soil. It's not a perfect country by any means. We have violence and hate, we have lawyers and politicians. But there is an underlying sense in America that says if you're willing to work hard every day of your life, If you're willing to fight for what you believe in your soul to be right, then you can do what is only a dream in other parts of the world: you can give your children a chance to be better than you. To be happier than you. To have what you never did.
That's why they're coming. They still believe in the Land of Opportunity. And God Damn It, so do I.
In 1940, Charlie Chaplin said: "To those who can hear me, I say - do not despair. The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed - the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass, and dictators die, and the power they took from the people will return to the people. And so long as men die, liberty will never perish. .....In the 17th Chapter of St Luke it is written: “the Kingdom of God is within man” - not one man nor a group of men, but in all men! In you! You, the people have the power - the power to create machines. The power to create happiness! You, the people, have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure."
In New York City, inside the platform that holds the Statue of Liberty, there is a bronze plaque. And on that plaque is the greatest testament the the innate humanity of the American people. It is the ideal that made my homeland what it is today. Inside this massive statue, the first thing millions of poor and battered people saw when they came to America, is a poem. A poem that for over 100 years has been the hope of millions dreaming for a better life:
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
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