- Their Stories Are Ours -
Immigrants. Not at any place in our history has our country lacked for immigrants. It is just human to desire to escape poverty and starvation.
As Oklahomans we have our own unique position in migration. We are all in one fashion or another tinted by the migration of many Oklahomans during the Great Depression. The Dust Bowl.
Have you ever read Timothy Egan’s “The Worst Hard Times”? I cannot recommend it enough. It is set in the Oklahoma and Texas panhandles but it is for all of us. No matter if our ancestors migrated or if they hunkered down praying to somehow survive.
Let me say I don’t believe the Oklahomans who left for California were in pursuit of great wealth. They were simply down on their luck farmers trying to survive. And yes, there were a few criminals among them. I first became interested in immigration when I heard my Mema Mac’s stories of her immigration from Kilmarnock, Scotland. Annie Gorman Wood was hardly 16 when she boarded a boat in Glasgow headed for New York City. Alone.
She entered the United States through Ellis Island, then boarded a train headed for St. Louis. Her brother was living across the river from St. Louis in Alton, Ill.
A couple of years later, she went to Huntington, Ark. to spend the summer with a cousin. She met a young store clerk, J.H. Mc-Bride. She fell in love and married him.
I loved her stories about the Highland Scots terrifying the invading Romans by removing their clothes, painting themselves blue and raced down the hillsides emitting a blood curdling scream. She enjoyed adding, “The Romans built a wall to keep the Scots away.”
My grandfather McBride would talk of his Grandparents immigration from Ireland. Most often the stories of signs in stores saying “No Irish need apply.”
Immigrants. We love to say, “We are a nation of immigrants.” That is largely true.
Since in 1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue, the Americas have had immigrants. And earlier if the Americas were inhabited by humans whenever those Asians crossed that ice bridge to Alaska. It would be fun to build the case that we are all descendants of immigrants.
ICE. Immigration Customs Enforcement. I remember when the only meaningful ice in my life was in my glass. This ice was the catalyst for converting cold coke to fizz. Not exactly a miraculous chemical reaction but close enough when all you want is to view your backyard through some altered state. I guess me and my coke fizz are rather like a kid with a kaleidoscope. Do kids still play with kaleidoscopes?
The Greatest Generation was formed first by the Great Depression. They shared everything – meals, jobs, clothing. – Tom Brokaw
