They Came to America

The Fourth of July has been filled with reflections on patriotism and what it means to be American.  My reflections are more basic:  How did I end up here and not somewhere else?

I heard a fiend marvel about an ancestor who came here alone when she was eighteen.  My friend could only speculate on conditions that would move such a young woman to leave everything behind and make the difficult trip to a new, unknown country.

I wonder what brought my ancestors here from Ireland, mostly in the med-nineteenth century.  For some, I know the famine played a part, but there were many choices to be made.  Sometimes, when I’m in a wondering mood, I wonder about the innumerable decisions made that ultimately led, randomly I think, to my birth.  I thought especially of all these decisions when I visited Ireland.  

This July 4^th weekend I heard one man say, “My great-grandfather came here from Switzerland because he was unable to buy farm land there.  He came to Minnesota and was able to buy a farm. That was shortly after the government confiscated Native American lands there.  I don’t feel too good about that.”

And then there are those of us whose ancestors were stolen and brought here against their will.  And there is John Newton who was a slave trader for part of his life until he gave it up to become a Christian minister and later wrote the words to the hymn “Amazing Grace.”

There is, of course, no end or answers to these wonderings.  Enjoy independence.  Work to expand it.

(Inspired by Florence K.)