My grandfather was an immigrant. His name was Garnet Higgins and he was an important man. Of course, important is a relative word. To be specific--he was an important man within the confines of the little town of Sauquoit, New York and the surrounding rural area. You see, he was the only doctor within miles who still made house calls. A doctor who made house calls well into the 1960's was a rarity, much like a precious jewel—hence the name Garnet. In addition, he was one of the few doctors who tended to the poor immigrants, farmers and disabled in the area; regularly accepting produce, eggs and the occasional chicken as "payment" for his services. As a young girl, my mother fondly remembers seeing stacks of food piled behind the pantry doors, given in appreciation for services my grandfather provided.
Even today, when I mention my grandfather’s name in a large group of elderly people there are inevitably some who remember him and speak of him fondly. Just by being his granddaughter my social prestige is elevated within any group that recalls his name. It is astounding to me, that 42 years after his death, people still remember him vividly and describe him as a kindhearted, respectful, unselfish and elegant gentleman.
But there was a dark side to my grandfather. Despite being a personable, kind, and a capable doctor, he was also an alcoholic. He never drank while he was working, but after a long day of taking care of anxious mothers, colicky babies, the abused, infirm and chronically ill, he would seek sanctuary within the walls of a local bar. Sometimes he would not come home to his wife and three daughters until late at night when everyone was asleep.
Why did he turn to alcohol? I have no clear answers. Obviously, it wasn't something the family was interested in exploring. Alcoholism, along with a host of other personal vices, is veiled behind the facade of polite society. Perhaps he was trying to blunt the dissatisfaction he felt for a career he had no passion for. His parents wanted him to go to medical school, but Garnet wanted to do something more creative. By all accounts, he was an accomplished classical pianist. He had dreams of touring the world and playing his beloved music in front of appreciative audiences, celebrities and world leaders. Unfortunately, his parents thought such an aspiration was impractical and coerced him into going to medical school in the United States.
Maybe he was unhappy in his home life. After taking care of numerous people in the community maybe it was just too much to come home and deal with the needs of a demanding wife and three young daughters. There are a million possible reasons for alcoholism.
Although my grandfather was a good man and a productive member of the community-- he was not perfect. No one is. Each of us have done reckless, stupid, immoral and hurtful things or had to make tough choices that go against the mores of society. However, within this contemporary rhetoric about immigration reform there is a lot of talk about what kind of immigrants deserve to become a part of American life. Unfortunately, this definition is a narrow one and not many immigrants—or even American citizens-- would fit into.
These "perfect immigrants" are illusory constructs. They do not exist. No immigrant is free of "complications". An immigrant's life is a series of vulnerabilities, hardships and marginalization. These are intensified if the immigrant has dark skin, speaks a different language, or comes from a non-European culture. In order to survive and provide for their families some immigrants are forced to make hard decisions that put them at odds with the law: laws that are unnecessarily harsh, oftentimes arbitrary and always contradictory. This includes immigrants who cross the border in order to make a living wage, are compelled to join their relatives in the States without inspection or asylum seekers who buy forged documents to enter the United States-- because if they used their own identities the government’s they are fleeing from would likely catch, imprison and kill them. All of these instances are considered crimes within the U.S. immigration judicial system and considered deportable offenses regardless of any mitigating circumstances.
Based on these stringent guidelines, it is quite possible that if my grandfather lived in today’s American society he would be considered an imperfect immigrant and would be deported. All the good he did as a physician, all the positive works he did in the community would be rendered irrelevant. Instead of being an important and intregal member of American society, he would have become disposable.
Even today, when I mention my grandfather’s name in a large group of elderly people there are inevitably some who remember him and speak of him fondly. Just by being his granddaughter my social prestige is elevated within any group that recalls his name. It is astounding to me, that 42 years after his death, people still remember him vividly and describe him as a kindhearted, respectful, unselfish and elegant gentleman.
But there was a dark side to my grandfather. Despite being a personable, kind, and a capable doctor, he was also an alcoholic. He never drank while he was working, but after a long day of taking care of anxious mothers, colicky babies, the abused, infirm and chronically ill, he would seek sanctuary within the walls of a local bar. Sometimes he would not come home to his wife and three daughters until late at night when everyone was asleep.
Why did he turn to alcohol? I have no clear answers. Obviously, it wasn't something the family was interested in exploring. Alcoholism, along with a host of other personal vices, is veiled behind the facade of polite society. Perhaps he was trying to blunt the dissatisfaction he felt for a career he had no passion for. His parents wanted him to go to medical school, but Garnet wanted to do something more creative. By all accounts, he was an accomplished classical pianist. He had dreams of touring the world and playing his beloved music in front of appreciative audiences, celebrities and world leaders. Unfortunately, his parents thought such an aspiration was impractical and coerced him into going to medical school in the United States.
Maybe he was unhappy in his home life. After taking care of numerous people in the community maybe it was just too much to come home and deal with the needs of a demanding wife and three young daughters. There are a million possible reasons for alcoholism.
Although my grandfather was a good man and a productive member of the community-- he was not perfect. No one is. Each of us have done reckless, stupid, immoral and hurtful things or had to make tough choices that go against the mores of society. However, within this contemporary rhetoric about immigration reform there is a lot of talk about what kind of immigrants deserve to become a part of American life. Unfortunately, this definition is a narrow one and not many immigrants—or even American citizens-- would fit into.
These "perfect immigrants" are illusory constructs. They do not exist. No immigrant is free of "complications". An immigrant's life is a series of vulnerabilities, hardships and marginalization. These are intensified if the immigrant has dark skin, speaks a different language, or comes from a non-European culture. In order to survive and provide for their families some immigrants are forced to make hard decisions that put them at odds with the law: laws that are unnecessarily harsh, oftentimes arbitrary and always contradictory. This includes immigrants who cross the border in order to make a living wage, are compelled to join their relatives in the States without inspection or asylum seekers who buy forged documents to enter the United States-- because if they used their own identities the government’s they are fleeing from would likely catch, imprison and kill them. All of these instances are considered crimes within the U.S. immigration judicial system and considered deportable offenses regardless of any mitigating circumstances.
Based on these stringent guidelines, it is quite possible that if my grandfather lived in today’s American society he would be considered an imperfect immigrant and would be deported. All the good he did as a physician, all the positive works he did in the community would be rendered irrelevant. Instead of being an important and intregal member of American society, he would have become disposable.
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