family · Gratitude · My Thoughts · Thanksgiving

Gratitude, Thanksgiving & Immigrants!

Happy Thanksgiving - gratitude

Gratitude has become a key ingredient in my life plan, and Thanksgiving reminds me to be grateful for all my blessings. Today I look back at my humble beginnings from an illegal immigrant!

As a child, I remember being taught how the pilgrims celebrated that first Thanksgiving with the Natives. They shared food and probably were saved by the produce from the Natives.

So, anytime I think of that original Thanksgiving, I picture a peaceful picturesque setting with those first “illegal” immigrants eating with those who they had invaded.

All my life, I relished any time my mom told the story of how her great-grandfather Frank Joe Ulbig immigrated here from Germany (Prussia) as a stowaway in a ship, so there’s no record of his entrance into the United States. I checked Ellis Island when I was there in the 90s—no record. Mom had checked Ellis Island and New Orleans long distance—no record there either.

War raged in Prussia at the time Ulbig immigrated, unsettled times for that part of the world.

“The Franco-Prussian War or Franco-German War, often referred to in France as the War of 1870, was a conflict between the Second French Empire and the North German Confederation led by the Kingdom of Prussia.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franco-Prussian_War

Probably about twenty years old, Ulbig must have heard he would be welcomed in the United States but didn’t have the money to pay passage across the ocean. His only option: stowaway!

I think Mom said both him and future wife, Tresia Sieger, immigrated illegally as stowaways.

Before, this story seemed romantic and far off. Recently, it has taken a different spin for me! I can imagine Ulbig’s despair and urgent need to leave Prussia and get to the United States.

During the 70s, Mom really got into genealogy for both sides of our family. She researched and sent letters, doing all her research prior to the internet. Since then, I have an ancestry.com account and love the resources they provide.

After my dad’s death in 1996, Mom realized a dream-come-true. In 1999, we talked about a trip to Germany. I gave her the travel brochure and let her decide which trip we would take. Here I thought we would go to Germany only. She selected a trip to Eastern Europe which included Germany, Poland, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Hungary, and Austria.

Later I realized why she chose that—her great-grandfather was from Prussia which was eastern Germany, so she wasn’t satisfied to just visit Germany. She had spent countless hours trying to find more information about this mysterious man.

When we got to Berlin, the previous capital of Prussia, we did the city tour, then we went out in the city on our own walking. When we came upon a phone booth, I looked in and it had a phone book, so we found the name, Ulbig, and she squealed! We saw almost a whole page of Ulbigs in Berlin. Could they all be relatives? How could we connect with them?

As she looked at it and longed to connect, I said, “I don’t know enough German to call anyone there.”

She sighed and turned and walked away, not thinking about possibilities!

“How about we tear that page out of the phone book?” I asked sheepishly.

“We can’t do that!” she exclaimed, then laughed because she knew her daughter.

“Oh, yes we can!” I laughed as I tore that page out of the book carefully. I handed it to her. She folded it methodically and put it in a safe place in the purse.

When we got home to family and friends, she proudly showed off her favorite souvenir from her trip—a page torn out of a phone book from Berlin, Germany with a list of Ulbigs.

A couple months ago, I told someone opposed to my political views this story. He looked at me in disdain which didn’t shock me. He couldn’t celebrate my story.

I’m proud of my heritage and the tenacity they showed to make their dreams come true, buck the odds and do whatever they had to do to get here. They ended up in Montague, Texas. My side of the family moved north to northern New Mexico and the rest is history.

Yes, I have a strong affinity for immigrants. I have gratitude for what I’ve experienced in this country. I try to take some time on Thanksgiving Day to remember what this country has as its foundation—our founding fathers were illegal immigrants that took this country by storm. And today, I celebrate my strong lineage, dedicated to a new life and new future in a distant land.


person holding black and white love print tote bag - gratitude
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My Thoughts · poetry · Ukrainian War

Two Bags: That’s All She Took!

Immigration: two bags

Two bags of belongings are all a 68-year-old Ukrainian woman refugee took with her. I can’t imagine compressing all my earthly possessions into two bags. She is 68; so am I! I sobbed when I heard her interviewed. I’ve looked for this story on different new sources, but because of the explosion of Ukrainian immigrant stories, I couldn’t find it.

I have mused over this story for a week and ached for this woman. In her translation, she said, “It’s not about things. I’m 68 years old and this is all I have.”

You know me! So, this compelled me to write a poem which is all conjecture:

Two Bags—How Can I Choose?

Woman - Two Bags

For months, I’ve worried

A war

            A rumor of a war,

                        Then it happened.

The bombing

            In the distant east

                        Louder

                                    And

                                                Louder

What do I do?

I have lived a simple life

            For 68 years

                        Near Kovel, in a small Ukrainian village,

                                    Near the Polish border.

I have no family left here,

            Am childless.

My husband died two years ago.

My neighbors have taken care of me, a widow—

            Loving people,

                        Who bought our farm.

Yesterday, they came by with

            A heartfelt, life-changing offer.

                        Join us.

                        Let’s leave

                                    To Lublin, Poland.

As they spoke, I wept.

            My sister lives in Lublin.

                        Safety

                                    Security

                                                Shelter from what’s coming!

            My neighbors have relatives

                        There too!

A 169 kilometers car trip,

            2 hours and 40 minutes to escape.

The plan seems extreme—

            Leave by 2:00 AM

                        In the dark

                        Quietly

                                    Pushing the car down the lane

                                                Out of town

                                                            Not to wake anyone.  

We wonder about the possibility of

Russian sympathizers in the village,

            Caution for sure!

But I’m Ukrainian!

            Lived here my whole life.

Deep in my heart, I know I have to go,

As I look around our lovely home,

            Full of memories

                        Treasures

                        My husband

                                    And our life together.

Two bags

            That’s all I can take.

My neighbors have a car

            With limited space.

First, I packed bag number one.

 I grab the essentials

  • Toothbrush & paste
  • Deodorant
  • Hair brush
  • Soap

Next, my clothes

  • Underwear
  • Bras
  • Socks—five changes of each
  • Pants
  • Sweaters
  • Extra shoes

I cram extras into my clothes bag

  • Those minor items I have to have

Second, I packed my bag number two,

  • Jewelry
  • Cash
  • Financial papers
  • Passport
  • Bible
  • A small lap afghan I knitted

Third, in the space left in my second bag

My heart things

                        Our framed wedding picture

                        Mom’s secret pen

                                    From World War II

                                                When she was displaced like me.

As I look at her pen,

            I sob uncontrollably.

Why again?

            Why this horror?

I’m a simple woman

            Hurt no one

            Lived a simple Christian life

            Close to the land

            Helped my husband daily

            Good life

As I look around my home,

            One last time

I want to capture it all

            In my mind

                        Bring it all with me.

Will I be back—ever?

            Can this little house stand the bombing?

                        My heart breaks open at that thought.

To be prepared,

            I dress

                        In layers to protect myself

                                    Against the cold—

                                                Normally doesn’t get much above freezing

                                                            During the day,

                                                Then night time dives to down to 20 degrees.

            I must dress warm

                        Because I have no idea

                                    What’s ahead.

                        So layers,

                                    As many as I can handle.

Watching the clock fully dressed,

            Solemnly, I eat a hearty meal at midnight.

                        When will I eat again?

                                    I sneak some snacks

                                                In both bags

                                                            Just in case.

At 1:00 AM precisely, the soft knock on the door

            Tells me it is time.

As I grab my two bags,

            I shift the weight

                        To disperse the weight of my bags over my achy shoulders.

After one last glance,

            I shut the door and lock it,

                        Placing the key inside my purse

                                    As always.

With a set jaw, I walk towards the car

            Overflowing with my neighbor

                        And his family.

Walking with my back to my home, I choke back a sob.

            Such loving people.

To silently leave the village,

            It takes all of us

                        Pushing

                                    Shouldering

                                               Bearing down on

                                                            The car.

Safely out of town,

            My neighbor starts the car.

                        We jump in

                                    And head west

                                                Towards Lublin—

                                                            Safety,

                                                            And the unknown.

And me,

            Here I am with two bags!


Two Bags—What Would I Choose?

As I write this, I looked around my house at 68 years old. How would I choose? I’ve pondered this blog post all week and thought about what I would take if I had the two bag limit. Obviously, Lin would be with me!

This is what I decided on:

  • Jesse
    • Food
    • Insulin
  • Bible
  • Laptop
  • iPad
  • iPhone
  • Cables for technology
  • Mom’s genealogy notebook
  • Cash
  • Credit Cards
  • Toothbrush and toothpaste
  • Deodorant
  • Soap
  • Hair brush & comb
  • Clothes
    • Underwear
    • Bras
    • Socks
    • Extra pair of shoes
    • Changes of clothes
  • Priceless jewelry

How would I carry Jesse? I’m seeing my two bags have just grown.

As I scanned even just one room, what else? I’d sift through my belongings and despair like my Ukrainian counterpart over what I had to leave. What about Dad’s saddle and chaps? All of my beautiful square dance outfits?

How heart-wrenching! Millions of immigrants have left Ukraine, flooding Poland especially and all the other border countries. Displaced describes what has happened to them—forced to leave their homes!

Finally,

I get it that this is happening thousands of miles away from me, but when I heard that 68-year-old woman interviewed, I sobbed! Two bags—how do you fit 68 years of life in two bags?

What would you take if you faced the situation of having to compress your worldly good to two bags?

Pray for Ukraine - two bags

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