Dakota Beacon

It has been on my mind lately that immigrants make the best Americans. On second thought, I may rephrase that-immigrants seem to make the best of being American. For this journal entry, in the Voices of Freedom log, I thought I would do a quick inventory of all the immigrants I know personally or know of from the accounts of others.

My grandparents on my father's side of the family came from the region of Russia known as the Odessa region where their predecessors had followed Catherine the Great in her rise to power after she had left her German homeland to marry a Russian prince.

In exchange for their presence as a human buffer of sorts between Russia and the Asiatic peoples to the east, she granted them access to farmland and the freedom to retain their native language, customs and religion.

Relatively safe and prosperous under the Tsars, the rise of the Bolsheviks and the spread of Communism eventually forced them to exile or pushed them to immigrate to America. My grandfather married and settled near Mandan, ND.

They and others like them settled in the prairie grasslands of the Dakotas because there was land offered to homesteaders and they were free to practice their faith.

Independent and hard-working, many became small businessmen and were quite successful. They made the most of the opportunity offered in early 20th century America. My father was a decorated veteran of the Korean war.

Military service was considered a patriotic duty.

Hard work and self-sufficiency were passed to my generation as a sacred trust.

A woman we met working at a local hardware store grew up as the daughter of a successful businessman in South Asia. As a young woman she came to America to attend college where she met her future husband and was married.

Due to extreme conditions in her home country, family members have been imprisoned and it is no longer safe for her to return to her homeland. She has raised her children to love this country and they are actively involved in the political process. She is a strong voice for individual liberty and gives a stern warning to those who blindly trust government intrusion in the private sector. The witness of terrible atrocities in her own family, she sees through much of what the government tries to pass off as what is for the common good. She has preserved freedom for the next generation by not taking it for granted.

A farm worker here on a work visa has tasted not only personal freedom but has also had his eyes opened to equality causing him to reevaluate the human rights abuses in his native South Africa. By boldly challenging some of the beliefs of the church he was affiliated with before, friends have encouraged him to seek other Christian fellowship. He has a fervent desire to return to America with his wife and three girls as he works to pursue immigration to America.

Since the fall of communism in Europe, countless opportunities have presented themselves to young people from countries stunted in growth and development to come to America on short-term work projects.

A conversation with a waiter and his younger brother from the region formerly known as Yugoslavia prompted a brief foray into the history of oppression and human rights abuses which doubtless have left deep scars for those who lived through those difficult years.

When I talk about what they see in their future, although uncertain, the eyes of these two young men are bright with hope and anticipation of what lies ahead. Is it the optimism of youth or is it the taste of freedom-breathing the rare air of liberty and equality in this land of opportunity?

Whenever I go down the road of immigration, I always end up here---immersed

in the stories of men and women like my forefathers and our new friends and the folks who have traveled far and given up the security and comforts of home for the possibility of a better life.

When I am tempted to talk about policy and principle, it is the look in the eyes of a person that sets my thoughts back to the real issue: freedom.

What would I risk?

What would I sacrifice to give my family the experience sought by the earliest settlers (who became the first immigrants to America before she existed as her own entity)?

I think I know the answer to that question and sometimes it scares me.

I will never be equipped or able to adequately express my gratitude for having the God-given privilege to live in a free society-especially in a country like America!

And I've done it again-joined the Voices of Freedom I have encountered with my own voice-one which wants to sing it at the top of my lungs and shout it from the housetops!

"My Country Tis of thee-sweet land of liberty!"

It has been a few days since the Fourth of July - Independence Day - the day the Declaration of Independence was signed by a group of men who were willing to commit high treason against the Crown - the Commonwealth of Great Britain.

Most had been loyal subjects and law abiding citizens of the Colonies of King George III. But George was a tyrant and they were ready to do whatever was required to break the yoke of tyranny - nothing-not even security or life itself was too high a price to pay for freedom.

As my grandparents caught sight of the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor and the boat they were on came near to Ellis Island, I wonder what they were thinking?

Certainly they could not read the words of Emma Lazarus engraved on the bronze plate at the feet of Lady Liberty...but perhaps she whispered in their ears:

"Give me your tired, your poor, your restless...

your huddled masses Yearning to breathe free...

I lift my lamp beside the Golden Door.''