By the time I made it back to the great New York City it was my second visit to Ellis Island. I had purchased a memorial plaque for my late grandfather who immigrated from the former Yugoslavia to the United states with only $25.00 in his pocket. This was during the Tito regime. Compared to the others he might have been a rich man that day. That money was made working the fishing docks in Croatia waiting for his ship to sail so he could begin his new life.
Grandpa waited patiently at Ellis Island for his cousin in California to retrieve him from the Center. It was an requirement in those days. You went through screening, a health checkup and then the long lines to fill out your information. If you did not have a family sponsor then you had to leave the island and head back to where you came from. They did not want single women to be unaccompanied for fear they would become prostitutes. The man taking registration that day did not know how to spell Grandfather’s name. Grandfather knew very little English. Therefore, he gave it an American version of it. Thus the current misspelling of his name.
Was he afraid, exhausted or excited? Did he miss what he left back home already? Did he get sea sick on that long, long, ship ride sailing to Ellis Island Harbor. He always loved food and had a great appetite. I wondered what he ate during the trip. Awaiting him was his new version of his new “Amerika” life.
Walking the halls of Ellis Island which is multiple floors. Seeing the old infirmary and luggage left behind and shoes. This experience was quite overwhelming to me. The air was really cold and biting hard on that day. There was something really sad about the entire experience while also being invigorating but a daunting of a task. My heart ached a little that day. Would I have been able to leave my entire family and everything familiar to me, in order to actually do this ? I am not sure. I guess it would depend on how miserable my life was at the time. We “Americans” know immigrants help build this country with their skilled hands and hard dedicated labor. They did jobs others did not want or need. Isn’t it the same song today?
Do those migrants feel the same way today? It is obvious they will take extreme risks to come. This includes doing just about anything and everything to scrape up enough money for a long journey to the USA via the border cities? The harsh conditions, the long boat rides, the lack of sleep , lack of food and shelter, the unknown uncertainty of their own life. The very lack of water as they walk in the hot , futile arizona desert. The risks and the dangers of those with little children. The single moms with kids. The kids separated from their mothers or fathers.
All I know is how relieved I was when I found his number on the Immigrant wall. His name eloquently engraved on the wall. I wondered around for awhile. You would not believe how many walls there are with family names. All immigrants coming to America.
Once I did, I felt relieved, my only regret was that my mother was not with me to participate in this experience. So that was bitter sweet. But Mother knew that I had signed her father up and so did my late Sister. Mother still had the certificate when I closed up her estate. It was framed beautifully on the wall of family photographs.
Why did I do this? So that know-one ever forgets my grandfather. Hopefully, not his own family or future generations. He was quite the hard working man, father, grandfather, blacksmith, rancher, underground miner, kept the roads safe during storms and a very giving friend . Additionally, he was also mysterious but that’s another story for another day. It seems everyone has secrets in life.
Travel hint: buy your tickets on line and your ferry fee. It makes it a much easier for the day. They have a restaurant and snacks. Stop at the gift shop. The ferry ride over will be a multi-culture experience with people searching for their family members with wonderful stories of life and travelers from all walks of life. They also have snacks aboard the ferry. Enjoy the ride and view of our Lady. She really is magnificent and that was the first thing my grandfather saw when he arrived to “Amerika” as he called it and where a stranger sold him a $25.00 piece of fried chicken in New York City and took all of his money. He said to me , “ that was the best damm chicken I ever ate.”
In Mind, Body and Spirit,
sunny/(c)artbytsh