A Nation of Immigrants

I don't cry often, but after waking up and beginning to read about the American ban on all refugees as well as immigrants from seven nations in effect this morning, my vision grew blurry. Even now as I write this, after reading more articles and sitting at my desk in the sun as one of the most beautiful days yet this year unfolds outdoors, I'm swallowing and trying not to cry. 

I skyped with two friends from Europe this morning as I do occasionally on weekend mornings. Lydia, in Germany, and Zieshan in London. When I last visited Germany four years ago, I remember Lydia pointing out the stars on the sidewalk to mark where Jewish families once lived before the second World War. I met Zieshan four years ago when we were both studying at St. Andrews. He is Muslim, born in the U.K. to immigrant parents and I've learned so much about the importance of family from him. More than anything though, we relate as two young people living and working in Britain and the United States. 

Later in the morning, between planting succulents and running errands, I thought of Cleophace, a refugee who arrived in Vermont from the Democratic Republic of the Congo in the 1990s. He lost his mother to the conflict and was separated from his wife for seven years. We were classmates. I volunteered and fundraised alongside him for the non-profit organization he founded, Ibutwa, which directly supports women in the DRC who've been harmed in the genocide and civil war. He educated our entire college and surrounding community multiple times each year about the conflict and how we could be aware, involved, and supporting civilians. We even appeared on a local television news show together a few years ago. He's an attorney now, with four children and contributes far more to his community and society than I do to mine. In my final year of college, I met Halah in a peace and justice course. She was my age and graduated high school with the second highest academic scores in all of Iraq. We met up often after class to discuss boyfriends and assignments.

There are so many more refugee and immigrant stories we all hold, before even mentioning that we are a nation of and for immigrants. I first read the Diary of Anne Frank as a college senior, and immediately regretted that I hadn't read it sooner. Despite the seven decade age difference between us, Anne wrote and dreamed and thought and spoke just like I had as a young teenager. Her diary personified the holocaust, delving into the story of one of six million lives lost. Had the world looked differently upon refugees 70 years ago, she could still be alive today, contributing greatly to any nation or society. I had never seen the words below until yesterday, but it makes me so sad to imagine the Frank family being among the 300,000 Europeans who applied for a few thousand spots to emigrate to the United States in 1941 after the fall of Holland, Poland and France. I want to believe today is different from 1941, but there are few signs that barring refugees and immigrants has ever produced greater world peace or prevented conflict and death beyond our borders. And yes, I'm not focusing on within our borders because we do not choose where we are born. I have no greater right to safety and security than a Syrian or Iraqi. I do not believe in keeping "them" out to keep "us" safe when neither of use had a choice in our surroundings. We are not in a world war, but the same anti-semitism and desire to not admit civilians from countries embroiled in war from 1941 is unarguably repeating itself today with fear of Islam and nations in the Middle East.

April 30, 1941
"I am forced to look out for emigration and as far as I can see, U.S.A. is the only country we could go to, perhaps you remember that we have two girls. It is for the sake of the children mainly that we have to care for. Our own fate is of less importance."  
-- Otto Frank, father of Anne Frank

Going Forward Together

Morgan Hill, California

Time, evening darkness and several rainy days have limited my ocean walking recently, but the last week has included a few trips to San Francisco and San Jose for work and personal reasons. I continue to be so amazed by the beauty of the drive from the Monterey peninsula inland and north to both cities. The agricultural fields, stretches of hills, roadside produce stands and blends of colors in the sky continue to fascinate and inspire.

It was a privilege to join the annual MLK Jr. March in Seaside on Monday. With a large selection of fantastic signs to choose from, I wished I had made and brought my own! It was the first major march I'd ever been a part of and it was wonderful to meet and converse with so many. My favorite sign (though not photographed) was "Grandmas for Integrity." Seen below, the sign "MLK is with us now" was another favorite.

I can't say I haven't thought this week and the past couple of months about the last eight years and how appreciative I've been to spend the formative years of ages 16 to 24 with a President who has set the tone for progressive social change and domestic policies that made me proud. I think particularly of the advancement of gay rights, of universal health care, gender pay equality and an increasing focus towards climate change. Inaction in Syria and drone strikes across the middle east along with mass shootings and escalating race relations highlighted the past several summers in our own country are remembered too, in far less positive light. As I think of transitioning into adulthood, completing high school and college, living abroad and shaping my own opinions and ideas, I'm thankful for President Obama's leadership, nationally and globally.

"It is our responsibility as global citizens to learn to communicate with those we are taught to see as enemies. For it is only when we understand each other, love each other, and think of every man and woman as our brother and sister that we will finally be on our way to ending war." 

--Medea Benjamin

A New Year

It's been a while! Travel back east, a busy few weeks at work, time spent with friends and a move to a nearby town have kept me more occupied than I thought. I just opened a book for the first time this year yesterday. Being back in New Hampshire at the end of last month was lovely. Familiarity was everywhere in friends and family, fresh snow, long dark highways, dense woods and holiday foods, music and gatherings.

I was surprised too, at how happy I was to be back in California. To be surrounded by grass and daffodils, to see deer grazing on lawns, to be near the ocean again and hear seals barking in the evenings. I've realized how happy I am to be in this new place.

It's been rainy off and on this past week which seems to define the winter here in non-drought years. It was clear on New Years Eve though, and a friend and I ventured to the coast and caught the tail end of the sunset. The colors were beautiful, blending together and dipping into the ocean, a year past.

Final 2016 sunset!

coastal plants

Earlier this month, a friend and I ventured into San Francisco for a beautiful and clear day of exploring the city. 

Since returning to California, I've felt more invested in my job and activities here, more convinced that I love this region and space. I'm looking happily ahead to returning for a week to New England this summer. I often find at all times of the year I'm homesick for those summers, the ease of life, long days filled with light and complete comfort and relaxation among the trees, flowers, lakes and untouched woods. For right now though, and the year to come, this feels right.