Immigrant: Gift and Loss

The word immigrant plays a significant role in today's politics. I am grateful for the immigrants I have had the pleasure to meet in my college classes. A partial list includes a Russian medical doctor, a South Vietnamese general, two Muslim sisters, an Iraqi soldier, a Monrovian soldier, an Indian business manager, a Chinese dissident and entrepreneur, three Columbian cousins, a Congolese spiritual leader, an Ethiopian lottery winner, an Iranian wife and mother, an Afghani cab driver, a Mongolian exchange student, several Korean pastors, and a Ukrainian husband and wife. Granted, each of these students were self-motivated to learn the spoken and written language of a new homeland--whether for permanent or temporary residence. I recognize these people as well-educated, potential citizens of the United States. They are not looking for handouts, and they are playing by the immigration rules. Only one would distress me if they were to become neighbors--the Iraqi soldier had a serious and scary demeanor. It took me all semseter to get him to laugh! The Monrovian soldier fell in love with an Albanian woman one summer. How wonderful two people from warring countries could meet in the US and fall in love. Yet, he explained to me, he could not ever take her home to his family in Eastern Europe without one of them or both being killed. The cab driver honored me with an Afghani dinner--home made by him! The general, who had been tortured as a POW by the Viet Cong, led his entire class to sign a card for me at the end of the semester. The two sisters prayed for my father and family when he was dying; my mother had thought all Muslims were terrorists. The man from the Congo has been a great friend of mine for many years; One day I would like to travel to Africa with him. Each of theses people were national gifts. Yet, not all immigrants are well educated and legally living in the US. Ricardo, Chole, their three children and Rey, the brother, were not either. I am equally as honored to have been in their presence one summer in New Mexico. Chole could not speak English; I could not speak Spanish. Nonetheless, we discussed husbands, children, birth control, recipes, and cleaning tips! I discovered nonverbal communication between two dedicated friends crosses language barriers. I cried when her family left to look for work and a school for the children. I wished we could have found a way those 30 years ago to invite them into citizenship--their work ethic and honorable character would have given us several generations of productive, contributing citizens. That family was our national loss. I hope our immigration reform will include maximum gifts and minimal losses for us as a nation. I have learned much from these friends, and they have much dignity and diversity to share with all Americans.