One afternoon, I met a man who was probably in his sixties and spoke with a heavy accent. After shaking hands and explaining why I was there, I asked him about his story. He went on to relate that at a young age, he and his father took to the fields and back roads of an Eastern Bloc communist country, fleeing their homeland.
Making their way to America, they were granted political asylum as refugees. Settling into this new country, they took the opportunity to receive public education. Over the years, the boy grew to adulthood, always adding educational value to his life’s resume’. He spent his working career as an educator. In retirement, he looks back at his life and is satisfied.
This story has been shared since the beginning of our country. In fact, it goes back even further, when many of our ancestors were welcomed with open arms.