Friday, March 9, 2018 | 2 a.m.
View more of the Sun's opinion section
View more of the Sun's opinion section
I am an immigrant — a “chain” immigrant, a term I never took into consideration until recently.
One morning, at breakfast, in 1955, my father announced that he, his wife (herself a war refugee from Poland) and my brother were immigrating to the United States. I was 14. I was born French, I would live French, I would die French, so I went on to live with my mother in Paris.
A year later, my brother came back for a two-month vacation and told me how, in one year, my father had acquired a telephone, a television, a refrigerator, a car and was buying a house. So I wrote my father and asked if I still could come.
Eventually, I joined the National Guard and volunteered for Vietnam (no bone spur here). My American-born partner and I built a successful business and eventually retired — oh yes, I am gay; we just celebrated 40 years together. Over the years, we have not only volunteered but also donated hundreds of thousands of dollars to charity.
In today’s political environment, we probably could not have immigrated using family “chain” connections. My America of today is not the America of yesteryear. But compassion, love for and respect of others will eventually trump and defeat discrimination, intolerance, prejudice and hate. In my heart, I weep yet I hope. I cannot be silent; I am an American.
