8. Immigrants August 9, 2015
I am now sitting in the Philadelphia Airport waiting for a flight to Bangor, having spent yesterevening at the estate of the Serees (not their real name) of Princeton, NJ. The occasion was a black-tie optional fundraiser for Student Veterans of America. I had been asked to make a few remarks.
The Serees’ home had the tasteful trappings of wealth you might expect, but most of all it was graced by their crowning achievements: son Matthew and daughter Rachel. It was Matthew and Rachel’s event; their parents never set foot on stage. It was Matthew and Rachel who welcomed us (Rachel by singing the national anthem), entertained us with piano-cello duets: Matthew played the piano; Rachel the cello. (Rachel first performed at Carnegie hall when she was 11.) Together they selected passages to read aloud about heroism; some of their young friends joined in the readings.
Both are strikingly beautiful/handsome — tall and lithe. Matthew in his tux; Rachel in a long, flowing, Indian-inspired red crepe gown with a broad golden hem. Both have broad, sensitive, smiling mouths, and wide, intelligent eyes, Rachel’s black hair hung loose down her back. Each is poised and gracious. I forgot to mention: Matthew is 17; Rachel 15.
The dinner was outside in their beautiful, torch-lit “back yard”, surrounded by evidence of their mother’s expert gardening.
The Serees are first-generation immigrants from India; Rachel and Matthew were born here and behave as you might expect American young people to behave — only much better!!! And there-in lies a story.
The Serees would be the first to say that America has been good to them.
One of the ways they expressed that good fortune was in a conversation with Matthew and Rachel approximately seven years ago. Believing that they had a responsibility to introduce their (then) children to the world as if is and knowing that their cocoon distorts that world, they explained not only that they were unusually privileged, but that many others were not and that they had a responsibility to understand the circumstances of those who were less fortunate and to work to address their plight.
They said that Matthew and Rachel would be responsible for their own foundation (not that of their parents), that they would choose the causes to be helped, (They choose to support disadvantaged youth.), and that they would take responsibility for hosting an annual fund-raising event. Last night’s was their sixth. Previously they have addressed issues such as teenage pregnancy, gun violence, and poverty in nearby Camden, NJ.
There I was, sitting among perhaps 130, mostly Indian-American, guests: standing for a presentation of the colors, listening to the national anthem being sung, joining in a celebration of our veterans, watching two impressive young people, part of an impressive family, speaking heart-felt words about our need to recognize and support young veterans. Before we sat down to our delicious meal a Marine officer in dress uniform explained the military tradition of honoring MIA’s and POW’s with and empty table, set for them in continuing hope of their eventual return. As he spoke a white-clothed table stood solitary under an evening spotlight.
It does not get much more American than that.
After the sumptuous feast of Indian food and some more performances I had a chance for extended conversations with and Mr. and Mrs. Serees — the proud parents. We talked about values, about hard work, about raising children. They expect a lot from Matthew and Rachel; most importantly, they have taught them to expect a lot from themselves. (Speaking of Matthew and Rachel, one of our very buttoned down veterans said “I wish I was that together at that age. Hell, I’m not that together now and I’m 37.”)
I could not help but wish that Donald Trump could have been there, not for the “pleasure” of his company, but in the hope that he might have appreciated the evening and the achievements of our hosts. I know that is somewhat unfair; “the Donald’s” diatribes are aimed at illegal immigrants and not Americans such as the Serees, who (I am quite confident) are fully legal. But the recent politicization of immigration (not, in itself, a new phenomena — think Italians, Irish, or my own Germans), is trending into a national xenophobia that is as ugly as it is short-sighted. Since who is “legal” and who is not is rarely apparent, many American citizens are wrongly tarred with this broad brush.
I do believe reasonable people can disagree about illegal immigration. My own view is more welcoming. Southern California introduced me to many illegal immigrants who were genuinely escaping oppression, who wanted little more than an opportunity to raise their families in peace, who were hard-working, family-oriented, education-valuing people. I could not help but see in them my German ancestors with open eyes of wonder and appreciation as they slid along the Erie canal on their way to mid-western farms. Of course, then they had the “welcome mat” out for us.
My conservative brother John worries about illegal immigration — not in a xenophobic or small-minded way, but it concerns him nonetheless.
Not presuming to speak for him, I think John believes illegal immigrants will potentially change this country he loves — and not in a good way. I agree that they will change our country (as have all other waves of immigrants, including us Germans), but I believe that change will be for the better.
Some conservatives, (I do not now if John would share their beliefs.), think that illegal immigrants are taking advantage of us. As I ate my cheap fruit salad this morning, I thought that we were taking advantage of them. In any event, as one who has been educated in this nation’s schools, driven on its highways, been sheltered by its veterans, it is hard for me to begrudge this later band of immigrants a bit of generosity.
John’s intellect is at least equal to my own, (I refer to him as “the smart one” of the Weber boys.), but I think he might agree that neither of our beliefs is grounded in pure reason; each is prejudicial (pre-judged) in a way. I suspect John feels that illegal immigrants take more from than they give to our nation. I feel the opposite. Both views are not easily amenable to rational argument or demonstration.
Earlier this morning, after my fruit salad, I took a walk around the Cardinal-rich, (the red birds, not the cross-dressing exhibitionists in pointy hats), Princeton campus.
On the way out of town I drove past the Albert Einstein Museum — not a bad reminder of what immigrants can bring.
