In April of 1910, a trans-Atlantic ocean liner arrived in the port of New York. On board that ship was my great great grandfather, Joseph Marcino, who had come to America in pursuit of a better life for him and his wife. After being processed at Ellis Island and finding a place to live, he would work for three years to gain enough money to bring my great grandma here. Eventually they would make their way north, settling in the small town of Whitehall, where my great grandparents were born, and where much of my family still calls home to this day. My great grandpa, Pa Duce, became a vital part of the community, eventually opening his own restaurant which was a beloved part of the town. Duce was the type of man who would give someone free food if they couldn’t pay, who would bring huge trays of food to families grieving their loved ones, and someone who all around truly cared about everyone around him. He served our country in the Second World War because he believed in doing his part and in the ideals of what America stands for, and I don’t think he even thought about doing it for more than a second. At one point he even ended up working as a cook in the local prison, always cooking the convicts a good meal on the holidays, because, as he said, “I don’t care why you’re here or what you’ve done, everybody deserves a good meal.”
Whether your family came to America in the 2010s, the 1940s, or the 1700s, we all came from somewhere. Our families saw the promise and the potential of a new land, of a place where things could be different. They left lands of tyranny and sorrow, carrying that dream across vast seas until eventually seeing the rustic coasts, Lady Liberty’s Torch coming into New York’s Harbor, or the sprawling metropolis from the seat of a jet. Some may come from the war-torn towns of Syria, looking for refuge, some may have come from Sydney to experience the dream in action, and some may have come to work so that their family back home in Guatemala can live a comfortable life. Maybe you did not make the journey yourself, but it is still in your blood, and it shapes who you are today.
If you walk down the streets of New York City you can see people from every corner of the world; you can hear Korean being spoken on one corner and Russian on the next. You can see cultural aspects of every society in the world in every block, building, shop, and restaurant. Name another place in the world where you can see and experience all that, I doubt you can.
For all that is great about our country, there is no denying that we live in a time of great turbulence. You will see political signs all around Canton attacking one candidate or the other, you’ll hear both sides attacking one another, and you’ll see plenty of ads attacking a certain issue, group or person. This year however, the level of these attacks are greater than they may have ever been, with attacks on groups of people for even existing. I don’t care what the color of your skin is, I don’t care what place of worship you attend, I don’t care who you choose to love, hell I don’t care if you like the Pats or the Bills, as long as you realize that under all of that we bleed red, white, and blue. We all share similar stories, we all have our own experiences that have shaped us, and we all believe in the fundamental ideas of freedom, equality, and the pursuit of happiness.
There is room under the stars and stripes for everyone, except those who aren’t willing to accept the beauty of our differences, because at the end of the day America is many things to many people. An idea of the future on the back of a Honduran walking hundreds of miles to the Southern border. A dream in the heart of a Congolese kid, to be free, happy, and safe. The promise of economic gain for the Mid western farmer, or the vision of an artist in San Francisco. Your story is yours and it is part of the great tale of America. The music you like, the way you dress, the food you eat, is part of a culture that takes bits of every other part of the world and puts them together.
What I’m getting at here is that what makes America great is our differences, our experiences that shape what we believe, and our ability to resolve our disputes civilly. Our table is large and everyone can get a piece of the feast. Unfortunately there are now some who would seek to lock the doors to the kitchen and keep the banquet to themselves. It is our duty as Americans, as free people, hell, as human beings, to not vote these people into office. Our generation has the power to break the doors down and kick those who would seek to destroy the dream down the stairs. So let’s do it, let’s be the change. Let’s do something that we could all look back on with our grandchildren and say we did our part when democracy called. This is a plea to remember your humanity at the polls, to open your mind to different people and ideas, and to truly do your research and not just vote for a party.
I want my children to be able to grow up still carrying that dream that my ancestors brought with them so many years ago, so it’s time to fight. It’s time to fight like hell to ensure that the beacon stays lit, because somewhere on a distant shore there’s somebody who is ready to carry the dream once again to the promised land.