The Native Iowan

My eve is tranquil. Many chores attacked and disposed of today. My teenage minions were useful. All are off to the movies, under Uncle Paul’s care. The days here are as good as it gets… chilly nights and pleasantly warm days. Blue skies, fresh breeze. Tranquil is the word.

I find myself thinking of a Gentleman I had the pleasure of knowing in my youth. I shan’t name him but shall refer to him only as Theo.

In the 30s Theo walked from Odessa to Marseille. I don’t know the exact year. I know the Great Famine was 32 onwards for a number of years. It was known as the Genocide Famine. I know Theo was in New York by maybe 34/ 35. I guess that he got out before the famine.

I believe that Theo was a child during the 1st European war of the 20th century. He did not speak oft of his life and experiences. But I guess that as a young man – late teens to early 20s- he was alone in a desperate world so decided to walk some 3000 kilometers/ 2400 miles to “something better”.

I know not the time it took nor do I know tales of the travels. I only know that Theo walked to Marseille and got on a ship that took him to New York.

He ended up on the West Coast. Had a family. Spoke and read multiple languages, reading daily periodicals in at least 3 languages. I knew his son.

I think of Theo in regards to a discussion I enjoyed on FB. Of course FB allows a wide range of readers to partake and comment so discussions are most often eclectic and worthy. Divergent views are the name of the game. Proselytisers, pundits and preachers all have equal say.

The comparison of the modern “Southern Boarder” situation to the diaspora of the 30s and 40s is ignorant at best and and quite vile in its extremes. There can be no comparison without wilful amnesia and thoughtful disrespect.

I do not think Theo was Jewish. I know he was non religious. And non political. He would talk about and make comments in a daily news kinda way but never supported race, creed, religion or political discussion. The news was the news to him. He kept his opinions to himself.

Entering through Ellis Island, Theo was a legal immigrant tho no patriot. “National Days” were of no interest to him. Though his son and at least one grandson served in the US military, he spoke naught of it.

I ramble on in the memory of this all-but forgotten acquaintance. I divert from my point.

Which is this… I don’t think the current attention grabbing BS comparison of the modern migratory waves to that of the European Diaspora of the 30s and 40s is respectful at all.

But I said that already…

The night settles gently on my back yard. Only 530 but the sun will soon drop behind the ridges and hills to the west. The night’s chill is here.

Big smiles…