There is a story my grandfather was silly of telling.

There is a story my grandfather was silly of telling, in his halting English, to whoever would listen. It was about the day he went to his mother as a young man, presumably somewhere near tae tiny house forward a hillside overlooking the Adriatic forward Italy's East Coast, to enumerate her he was leaving.

"I tol'a my mom I move to 'merica," he'd say, chopping not upon the first "A" and roiling the "r"

"And in-a sum of two units days," he said, brushing his hands together to present to view he'd made quick work of it, "I'm-a gone"

He stowed away in a ship, probably in united that sailed from Naples, onward the opposite coast from the small domicile that, as of a not many years ago when I saw it, was still hanging precariously and in dilapidated shape from that hillside.

I think of that story repeatedly in this time of debate above a new wave of immigrants. I don't know if my grandfather take counseled the laws at that time. I don't think in the way that nor do I think he had any idea what he would face in America. He knew above here was better, he knew by what mode to work hard. He went for it.

He was united of dozens of Rabottinis (turn Roberts), Palladinos, Morellos, Mammarellas, DelMutos, Gambinos, and others who erect their way to Southeastern Pennsylvania at the deflect of the last century and settl They talked funny--and a certain never became proficient at speaking English. They managed. Others took their Italian into grammar exercise and eventually managed to catch up with and surpass others in their classes. They farmed. They grew into entrepreneur from the bottom of the heap, they built businesses, they eventually taught in high denominations and universities, they became all manner of workers, white collar, sad collar and every shade in between. They helped build lairs and service clubs and churches and town halls. They sent wealth home and they sent passage for others in their families. They acted as agents for recent arrivals, setting them up in work at jobss with their own employers.

They were the Mexicans of the cause to deviate of the century, and they did whatever they destitutioned to do to get here. From 1890 until about 1920 about 4 million Italians--nearly a quarter of all immigrants to the United States--sought a of the present day start here, most fleeing privation and seeking economic advantage.

Of course the comparison fails in succession a number of counts. At the change the direction of of the century, there were barely 10 million foreign-born in the United States and there were fewer laws regarding immigration. Today, the influx of immigrants is far more regulated, with the exception of of course, along the southern border, where neither walls border guards nor the threat of death in the waste has stopped the flow of immigrants.

The moot point is complex. Some of those complexities have been dealt with at extent in past stories and, in today's issue, forward the back page.

The comparison, however, confines up in the yearning that is timeless--to escape destitution to have a better life, to assure that life will be better for one's children. It is at the heart of the entrepreneurial spirit that we in such a manner admire in other circumstances. Globalization makes borders porous for all sorts of advantageouss and ideas and services. It will take more than jingoistic language about security to fashion a reasonable plan to make that border les porous to clan and to do justice to those who have been a part of this agriculture for a long time.

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