#796 – Dick Bernard: Green Card Voices

Today was one of those days where the unexpected trumped the average and ordinary, and in a positive way.
There were a couple of items on todays agenda. They were accomplished, but they were also rans in terms of interest value.
I stopped, first, at my 92 year old friends house. He invited me to go upstairs to see what workmen there to install insulation recently found in the attic. It was an attic difficult to access, so the treasures had been there for years, and since his wife had first lost her memory, and then passed away, There was no active memory of what had been stored up there.
Among the treasures, in one of the bedrooms:
(click any photo to enlarge)

Immigrant chests found in an attic.

Immigrant chests found in an attic.

These chests, likely used for trans-ocean passage from northern Europe to the United States over 100 years ago had been packed full of assorted items. They were now empty, but the visual effect itself was pretty powerful. (They’ve been assigned to family members as keepsakes.)
The man with whom I was meeting then told me about a meeting he was invited to at two p.m. at a library in south Minneapolis. It was an event, he thought, to honor a Bangladeshi man who owns a well known Indian restaurant, Gandhi Mahal, in south Minneapolis.
I had another meeting to go to, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get to the library event, but all worked out, and at 2 p.m. I was at Hosmer Library at 36th Street in Minneapolis (just east of I-35W) for their free fall concert series: “Nikolai Kolarov: Cello Music from Bulgaria and Eastern Europe.” It wasn’t what my friend had thought would happen at 2:00, or so I thought at the beginning. Nonetheless, the concert was very good.
Hosmer has a tradition of wonderful free concerts at the library most every Saturday. Here’s Mr. Kolarov:

Nikolai Kolarov at right, Nov. 2, 2013

Nikolai Kolarov at right, Nov. 2, 2013

Here’s the upcoming printable fall schedule: Hosmer Libr Conc Fall 13001
Then came the program my friend had invited me to see.
It was presented by a brand-new twin cities based organization called Green Card Voices whose mission is to highlight the stories of immigrants to this country from everywhere. As their brochure says: “We’re all here. We all play a role. We all have a story.” As its brochure declares “41% of all fortune 500 companies were founded by immigrants or children of immigrants…the United States is home to 40 million immigrants…They represent 13% of the total population.”
As we all know, immigrants (like the folks who brought their belonging in those trunks pictured above) have always played, and still play, a very significant role in our country. We are a country of immigrants.
As advertised, Ruhel Islam of Gandhi Mahal told his story about being part of America since 1996. Niolai Kolarov told his story. As did two ladies, one from Slovenia; the other from Ethiopia.
No one said anything unexpected. Nonetheless, it was refreshing to hear the stories told by real people, and see the approximately 40 of us in the room be engaged in the conversation.
The folks of Green Card Voices have a great thing going. I hope to learn more about their work.
Ditto, to Roy Woodstrom and the folks at Hosmer Library, whose Saturday programs have become a south Minneapolis tradition.
It was a great day.
It was a good reminder of the need to engage in the conversation about immigration policy reform in Washington as well.

The Panel of Immigrants from Bangladesh, Slovenia, Ethiopia and Bulgaria November 2, 2013

The Panel of Immigrants from Bangladesh, Slovenia, Ethiopia and Bulgaria November 2, 2013

Roy Woodstrom (standing at left) librarian at Hosmer Library Minneapolis, recognizes Nikolai Kolarov following his cello performance.

Roy Woodstrom (standing at left) librarian at Hosmer Library Minneapolis, recognizes Nikolai Kolarov following his cello performance.

#714 – Dick Bernard: The Youngers restore my hope.

Today was the 10th annual Diversity Day at Jefferson High School in Bloomington MN. I’ve been to the last six. Today did not have the annual outdoor fun-run between Jefferson and rival Kennedy due to inclement weather. Snow in May is not impossible here, but it is unusual. It was unpleasant enough to force most activities indoors, but not enough to dampen spirits.
Being in the presence of enthusiastic kids is like an elixir.
It is nice to see a society of kids at their functional best.
(click on all photos to enlarge)

Rededicating Thomas Jefferson High School as a Peace Site May 3, 2013

Rededicating Thomas Jefferson High School as a Peace Site May 3, 2013


Inside, there was an alternative run around Jefferson’s ample indoor track. Everyone could participate. You can see my the smile on the young lady’s face, that she was glad she could make the rounds with the rest of the students who wished.
A special abilities student participating in the May 3 indoor run.

A special abilities student participating in the May 3 indoor run.


Out in the commons area, 42 student groups sponsored and staffed tables about their particular special interest. Damon Cermak (below) did a more than capable job of representing his Mdewakanton Sioux Indian heritage. Like most young Americans Damon has multiple ethnic heritages. His include Czech and French-Canadian, along with Native American.
Down the commons, another group of students were doing some kind of dance improv, and having a great time, a real credit to their school.
Damon Cermak tells the story of his roots.

Damon Knight tells the story of his roots.


A group of students dance in the commons area.

A group of students dance in the commons area.


Students of French display about things French.

Students of French display about things French.


World Citizen display table.  (peacesites.org)

World Citizen display table. (peacesites.org)


Walking around I came across a table I had not seen in previous years.
White American table

White American table


The table was staffed by a couple of boys, and attracted a fair amount of interest from, as best as I could tell, only other boys who were curious. It was a simple table: an NRA hat, some pictures like Iwo Jima and Ronald Reagan, that sort of thing.
One of the boys had a guitar.
There was a certain irony in this new entry into this years Diversity Days conversation, I thought. Best as I could determine, the table was by and about White American Men, or at least a subset of those men who are angry and terrified of losing control to various “others”, like “minorities”, or “women” or such.
White American Men (I’m one of these) have controlled things so long, that it is hard for some of them to become part of the entire fabric that is contemporary America. This year at Jefferson they seem to have joined the other “minorities” that make up the rich American “stew” – though my guess is they didn’t perceive their new position that way.
But that “White American” table, along with the others representing other cultures and beliefs, was totally in keeping with the rich diversity that is America. White American Men are part of, not dominant over, the rest.
Before leaving I decided to go to the all-school assembly program for Diversity Day.
The speaker was Jane Elliott, 58 years married, wearing a T-shirt she says she always wears while speaking “Prejudice is an emotional commitment to ignorance.”
She’s very well known, for many years, and is a spell-binding and powerful speaker. The assassination of Martin Luther King April 4, 1968, changed her life as a third grade teacher.
A tall white man, school administrator, and a female student of African descent were her “props”, and she used them extremely effectively.
In only a few minutes she powerfully took on and effectively many stereotypes and prejudices we hold dear.
Walking out the door to the parking lot I went past the Peace Pole I had photographed earlier in the day.
The side I photo’ed had “May Peace Prevail on Earth” in Vietnamese.
It all seemed to fit.
Just a couple of days earlier, my friend Lynn Elling, who had earlier talked at the rededication at Jefferson, had returned from a two week trip to Vietnam with the Vietnamese son, Tod, who the Ellings adopted 43 years ago.
Tod is as American as any of us.
Diversity is all of us.
IMG_1130

#692 – "Sahn Pahl", some points of view on pronunciation of French words

A fellow Franco-American, Jerry Foley, sent around an interesting letter from a Quebec visitor which he saw in the February 11, 2013, St. Paul Pioneer Press, entitled Sahn Pahl. Several of us, all with an interest in the general topic of being of French ancestry, or speaking or familiar with the language, weighed in with their points of view.
Here’s the originating letter:
“Have you ever noticed there are a lot of French names for places in Minnesota? The state motto is “L’Etoile du Nord” for a reason. I know people think of the area as having such a strong Scandinavian history, which it does, but it seems a lot of people here, and elsewhere, don’t seem to realize that, in terms of non-Native-American European settlement, St. Paul itself, and much of the rest of Minnesota, were originally explored and settled by French and French Canadians.
This history is represented in many names around Minnesota, from St. Paul to Lake Vermilion. Take a look online sometime and see just how many names in Minnesota are French and discover what a rich French history the state has.
I recently visited St. Paul (pronounced “Sahn Pahl”) to do some genealogical history for my family. I have many relatives who lived in and around St. Paul in the 1800s and many are buried in some of the old Catholic cemeteries around the city, complete with headstones totally in French. During my interaction with locals here, I was constantly being “corrected” for my pronunciation of common French terms and names. For example: I pronounced Brainerd as “Bray-Nair” the actual pronunciation and a much prettier sounding place than “Brain Nerd.” Don’t you think?
I pronounced St. Cloud as “Sahn Cloo,” St. Croix as “Sahn Kwah,” Duluth as “Doo loot,” Hennepin as “Ahn Pahn,” Nicollet as “Nee coh Lay,” Robert Street is “Row Bear,” Mille Lacs as “Meel Lahk,” Radisson as “Rahdee sohn” and Pepin as “Pay Pahn.”
I could go on and on as Minnesota is full of French names, but I think you get the idea. All of these pronunciations are actually the correct way to pronounce these words. So, hey, give it a try, Minnesota! Now I don’t even dream that people in Minnesota will start to pronounce these names correctly all the time, but I propose that on one day a year, everyone at least tries to. So, from here on out, I proclaim Feb. 20 pronounce-it-correctly-in-French day in Minnesota.”

Miah Saint-Georges, Saint-Aime, Quebec, Canada
Like most of we French-Canadians, Jerry sports mixed ancestry: Irish and French-Canadian (for me, it’s French-Canadian and German). For you?
But because we live in a country that has truly been a melting pot for most of its history, the pronunciation dilemma, among many others, makes it difficult to maintain some kind of true ethnic identity.
The letter was shared among the members of the steering committee which helped bring the fruition Franco-Fete in Minneapolis September 28-30, 2012. Several persons commented.
Reader. What is your opinion?
(click to enlarge)

Dr. Virgil Benoit speaks at rededication of graves of Pierre and Martha (Gervais) Bottineau at Red Lake Falls MN August 24, 2000

Dr. Virgil Benoit speaks at rededication of graves of Pierre and Martha (Gervais) Bottineau at Red Lake Falls MN August 24, 2000


Dr. Virgil Benoit Prof. of French at the University of North Dakota and IFMidwest: Like the author of the article regarding pronunciation of place names, many persons are surprised that with all the names that reflect historical presence so little of that history seems living. The author would have to spend a little more time studying the complexity of the matter, and it would be good if his interest were met with a growing interest among those interested in the heritage of French and French Canadians in the Middle West. Pretty hard to be taken very seriously when so quickly passing by.
Graves of Pierre and Martha (Gervais) Bottineau, Red Lake Falls MN August 24, 2000

Graves of Pierre and Martha (Gervais) Bottineau, Red Lake Falls MN August 24, 2000


And here is Mary Ellen Weller, from the foreign state of Wisconsin!
Tous et toutes (one and all)
Let me just add another perspective from the standpoint of the historical power of naming. After all, the native peoples had names for most of these places before any Europeans came.
Then, there is the evidence of power shifts among these Europeans in the many place names that were simply translated from French to English as the British took over. Rainy Lake (Lac de la pluie) is a good example.
As a French teacher, I’m all for good pronunciation but I delight in the survival of so many French place names and value that far more than proper pronunciation.
Jon Tremblay, of St. Paul, who has a web presence at ToutCanadien.com*: Those who know me may be shocked by my reaction to this story. I’m satisfied with the status quo, that is, the local pronunciation.
“Proper pronunciation” is going to differ from one Francophone to another, be it Canadian or French. There is no one proper pronunciation, contrary to what some may foolishly and arrogantly believe.
The local Anglicized pronunciation makes it ours. You can tell if someone is a native Minnesotan by how they pronounce the name of a town, river, lake, county… Mispronunciation of the original language is also not something unique to French. We say “New PrAYgue” and not “New PrAHgue” for New Prague. We say “Shisago” and not “Tchisago” for Chisago. We say, “A-no-ka” and not “A-no-KA, which would give you away as an outsider right away. Lake “L’Homme-Dieu” is slaughtered beyond all recognition in French to the point of making a Francophone burst out laughing, but it’s OUR pronunciation.
I think the important thing in all of this is to remember where the names originate and give credit where credit is do. You’re not going to change the way people pronounce these names, but you could cause them to have a deeper appreciation of where they come from, which would include knowing the pronunciation in the language of origin.
* – And speaking of the web site, something I have not mentioned to anyone to date is hopefully on 4/1/2013 I will have the first of 4 books available for purchase (cheap). This will be a “Jump-Start Guide” or a “Crossing-over Guide” for those who learned France French and now want to understand Canadian French. Based on the number of requests I’ve had to provide this, I think it will be very popular and a good seller.
Old Cemetery rural Dayton MN Sep 2012

Old Cemetery rural Dayton MN Sep 2012 cemetery is maintained, but assorted gravestones no longer are above graves. This was a French-Canadian area.


Here’s filmmaker Christine Loys, responding from France:

Definitely interesting, not only the article, not only the fact itself… but people’s reactions to it….
I keep surprised by [some] not wishing to have a proper pronunciation… It shows a strong will of being themselves, of building an identity that is really their own identity… but to me it seems like if I decided to speak English with my own pronunciation that only the French who speak English could understand… I have been through that sort of attitude amongst French people living for many years in the UK. Some of them would never pronounce proper English and therefore would never be well understood by the English although the quality of their language was very good…
In Quebec, you’ll find an accent but that is easily understood by the French. You will always find stronger accents but even in France there are some strong accents that I can’t understand properly. It comes from old people who have never traveled out of their village or who have never met anybody else than their own family.
In Quebec, you will find many many people with the standard French accent… listen to the radio or the television and I have traveled in Quebec before and you will be surprised but it is true…. as well as in many schools… Those who make the effort, understand that it is a way of opening to the world…and it does not affect their identity… Some others would react like “I am Quebecois and that is how we are”. Fair enough for them.
The idea is that a language is for communication and if you limit it to your area… you lose too much…an accent is fine (and very nice) but not if it prevents your communication with the external world…. I think.
Of course, we are here talking about a community who has this very special definition of being American and having mostly partially French and Canadian origins…not only a community but a state…and finding an identity so many years later based only on very older origins is a challenge that I can try to understand.
Tombstone at old Cemetery rural Dayton MN Sep 2012

Minnesota-Dakota War Veteran Tombstone at old Cemetery rural Dayton MN Sep 2012


Pierre Girard. In my opinion, except for Polish and French, most foreign names and words are pronounced phonetically. One has to have some knowledge of French to know which letters are pronounced and which are silent. Then the rest of the pronunciation is regional and who knows who set the rules for local dialect. Take the capitol of South Dakota for instance. I think all English speaking people would know how to pronounce Pierre correctly, and not as Pier. Most folks pronounce Louisville, KY correctly but then say St Louis, MO instead of “San Lewee”. Then there is Beatrice, NE. It is really pronounced “Be-AA-trice” for some strange reason. Part of the reason that many French words are pronounced incorrectly has a lot to do with the majority of “Americans” speaking only one language and that we are not the most educated nation on the planet.
These are thoughts and not excuses.
In Chippewa Falls the French name Clottier was pronounced Kloocky by the old French people as well as the pie tourtiere was pronounced “tooquere” by my dad’s French relatives. I heard folks at Our Lady of Lourdes pronounce it the same back in the old days when Les Canadienne Errants sang there.
Last (and least) from Dick Bernard: My Dad was 100% French-Canadian, so I’m 50% deeply rooted in things French. But I knew nothing about my ethnic heritage until I was over 40 years old; and did not meet my first-language French-speaking Manitoba relatives till I was over 50. Similarly, elements of the French culture also passed me by. I do not remember a single ND town in which I grew up where there was any visible French presence (including geographic names). German Catholic, Scotch Methodist, Norwegian Lutheran, Syrian Muslim, yes…but not French-Canadian.
Very recently, I came across a “Survey of N.D. Education” which I wrote for my College (Valley City State Teachers College) newspaper over 50 years ago, July 5, 1961. The second paragraph said this: “…the first school in what is now North Dakota was established at Pembina in the year 1818. It was run by the Catholic church – being used for the education of the children of the French settlers at Pembina, and it lasted for only five years. the “classroom was usually a settler’s home, and no school building was constructed in Pembina until 1876.”
At the time, I had no notion of the cultural and historical significance of that paragraph.
My favorite, accidentally discovered, French-derived Americanism is “booya”, the more or less ubiquitous summer picnic staple for churches and organization. Throw everything in the pot, and at serving time it comes out “booya”. A year or two ago I got curious about the word. Here’s what a google-search turned up.

#416 – Dick Bernard: The Downside of Belief.

The Minneapolis Star Tribune accompanied us enroute to our vacation on July 23. The front page headline said it all, “TERROR IN NORWAY“, recounting the heinous attack by a lone Norwegian which included over 90 deaths, mostly young people at a youth camp and in Oslo itself. I had read the entire article early that morning, and on page A4, in a sidebar, was a note that “A Twitter account for [the killer] also surfaced, with just one post from July 17, which was a quote from philosopher John Stuart Mill: “One person with a belief is equal to the force of 100,000 who have only interests.”
The gunman survived, and seemed rather proud of his accomplishment – often that is how an eruption of anger feels: “they got what they deserved”. He now has a lifetime, short or long, to consider the wisdom of his actions. Thankfully, most likely his role modelling will not encourage others.
Thankfully, the Norwegian responses, officially, and through the public, seems not to be to exact revenge and thus compound the problem.
I bring this incident up as we are a society that has become more and more prone to substitute a dangerous combination of belief and supposedly righteous anger for reason.
“I don’t believe that human behavior has anything to do with climate change”; “I don’t believe that our country is collapsing due to our own actions, personal and collective”….
“I just believe [whatever it is]. I don’t want to hear any other view.”
Of course, there are pesky things called “facts” which sooner or later come calling, interfering with those beliefs of ours:
The credit card gets maxed out and the clerk says “sorry”; after a lifetime of smoking, that pesky cough turns into something far worse; the job we thought we’d have as long as we wanted it disappears….
That law we didn’t think we’d need, and got rid of, becomes personally very important…after its been repealed.
The government itself, which represents stability, is cast as the enemy of the people, because government is bad, or so we’re convinced to believe.
We forget that that awful U.S. Congress that we all hate, or our State Legislature, is really a creature of our own making. We forget to consider that not one single one of those Congressmen or women would be in office were it not for our vote, whether informed, uninformed or not voting at all….
They are, in fact, representatives of us, individually and collectively.
We are, it seems, a bunch of people who have trouble thinking beyond the immediate; and we are notoriously unwilling to be accountable for our cause in the matter of the huge problems we have brought upon ourselves over the past years. We’d like to have the fantasy that what is bad will be fixed, and we don’t need to exert any effort or make any sacrifices to do the fixing.
The guy in Norway bought the argument that the enemy was “them” – people who weren’t Norwegian – and went on a killing spree where all of the victims, to the best of my knowledge, were his fellow countrymen. Rather than solving his fantasy problem, he simply damaged his own people.
Like our ‘armed and dangerous’ society, he felt he was a law unto himself.
The Norwegian (who purposely remains nameless in this post) may well be one of those isolated nut-cases that do these heinous things, but he and others like him are just visible indicators of our lack of a greater and longer term vision, and our own inhumanity towards each other.
Just a thought.

#398 – Dick Bernard: Day 8 of the Minnesota Shutdown; 25 days to D-Day in Washington D.C. Going to a Family Reunion

At 7 a.m. I leave home in my trusty 2003 Toyota Corolla, enroute to a family reunion in the Dubuque Iowa area. I’ve decided to do the trip on the slower but much more scenic and interesting Mississippi River Road. Weather is supposed to be good, and this is always a beautiful trip. I’ll be traveling alone, which gives lots of thought time. I never travel with computer, so there will be a hiatus at this space. I return Sunday night.
I’ve done this route before, several times in fact. The Mississippi was rolling long before there were humans around this place, and its done its work carving and molding the beautiful countryside for eons before there were towns and roads and such.
Human encroachment, in the way the history of our planet is mentioned, hardly merits a nanosecond, if that. But in that nanosecond we’ve unalterably changed the landscape and the resources which feed our voracious appetite for things like the gasoline that will make it possible for me to make this trip in relative comfort.
My people have been in the Mississippi Valley since, most likely, the 1700s (the French-Canadian side); and the 1840s (the southwest Wisconsin German side). Some of them were already there, farming, when the Grand Excursion of 1854 gave well to do tourists their first view of the upper Mississippi Valley, ending at later to be St. Paul and Minneapolis and the settlement floodgates began to open. It was not until the late 1860s that railroad would actually reach the new twin cities of, then, St. Paul and St. Anthony/Minneapolis.
As I drive, I’ll likely be shielded from the current hubbub and insanity in Washington and St. Paul. I have a few favorite CDs along to keep me company, from Mozart to folks songs. Life is too short to seek out the local radio stations which too often feature national talk radio.
In Viroqua, if I’m lucky, I’ll have coffee with a good friend who went to prison during the white hot times of Vietnam War protesting in 1970, but that may be the only contact with politics as such. Family reunions are no place to get into arguments about national policy. In fact, I won’t invite these encroachments. Just me. Life is a bit too short. There are other times to do that.
Most likely, typical for me, I’ll catch up on the news through the local newspapers in places like LaCrosse, Prairie du Chien, Dubuque…. It is always interesting to get the local perspective, at least such as it is printed in the local journals. Also, typically, I won’t watch much television. I don’t do that at home, either, but even less on the road.
(Click on photos to enlarge them. The entire set, from early 1900s postcards, can be seen here.)

The bridge at Dubuque in the early 1900s - a postcard rendition


Julien Hotel, Dubuque, 1908 - postcard


1933 on the Mississippi at Davenport IA - a postcard


I’ll deliver a couple volumes of my family history to the Dubuque Public Library later today. The most recent one I just had printed a few days ago: 475 pages largely of letters and postcards written from Wisconsin farm to North Dakota farm between 1905-13 or so. A story and pictures introducing the postcard section of the book is here. The longer, and in my view more fascinating, section of the book is over 100 handwritten letters found in a container at the old deserted farm house in 2000, Mostly they were sister-to-sister, talking about ordinary rural life near Dubuque from April, 1905, to June, 1906. They are literate and they are fascinating, from a time when people actually put pencil to paper.

Dubuque Carnegie Library in 1910 - from a postcard


In the course of these letters came the first telephone to the rural folk of Grant County Wisconsin. A description of an encounter of a horse carriage with an unexpected automobile is hilarious. The letters were oft-written by candlelight in the farmhouses of that day and occasionally brought news of tragedies too, such as the distraught young housewife in rural Kieler WI who in 1905 killed her four young children, ages 1 to 4, with a butcher knife, and then used the same instrument to kill herself. I’ll see if I can find their common grave – the name is Klaas – which is supposed to be in the churchyard at Kieler, near where a relative of mine lives. Oh, the stories.
Back at this space on Monday.
Have a great weekend.
NOTE: This is part of a continuing series of commentaries on the political problems we’re now facing in this state and nation. The first was published on June 23. Each hi-lited date on the calendar at upper right has a column behind it. By placing the cursor on the date, you can read the title of the particular column.

#278 – Dick Bernard: Muslims of the Midwest: From the 1880s to 2010

Back on September 5, 2010, I posted “A Close Encounter With a Mosque“, remembering a friendship in the 8th grade in Ross, North Dakota in 1953-54.
In the mysterious ways such things work, someone saw the blog post, liked it, and on November 13, 2010, I found myself on stage at the annual celebration and awards banquet of the Islamic Resource Group of Minnesota (IRG)*, and my blog post** printed in their program booklet. I said to the assembled group that I was both astonished, and very, very honored to be with them. The evening was a powerful and inspirational one, with very good attendance considering the first major snowstorm of the season had just struck us here in Minnesota.
“Mysterious ways” indeed. I have long believed that there is no such thing as a “coincidence”. Everything has some purpose. Some would call this “luck”, or “fate” or attribute good or bad occurrences to something caused by a higher power, using that same higher power to justify good or bad actions.
Whatever the reason, I felt very privileged and humbled to be in that hotel banquet room last night.
There is a formulaic aspect to such events as IRG’s celebration: food, speeches, awards….
These all happened last night.
I chose to notice who was in that room, and who it was that really made IRG a success. They were, by and large, young people: people in their 30s or younger. Yes, there were the ‘gray-maned’ folks like myself and my spouse, but this was a celebration by and about youth.
There was another aspect of this gathering that stood out for me. This was a group that was about understanding, not fear and division; a group whose intention is to promote dialogue rather than positioning and taking sides. To be for, not against. The “Building Bridges Awards” were for Media, Education, Interfaith, Community Leadership and the “IRG Speaker of the Year”. Four of the five Award winners were young people.

This photo and following: people recognized for their work with IRG



Keynote speaker Daniel Tutt, himself a young person, helped us to understand some of the reasons for the dynamics which lead to the politics of division, which in turn lead to the kinds of campaigns which exploit the issues of such as the Ground Zero Mosque (why I wrote the previously mentioned September 5 blog post), fear and loathing of “illegals”, Gays, etc., etc., etc.

Daniel Tutt


Daniel knows of what he speaks. He is program director of the national program 20,000 Dialogues, a program of Unity Productions Foundation.
As Daniel was speaking it occurred to me that the major controversial wedge issues, like the “Ground Zero Mosque”, suddenly went silent immediately after the election November 2.
Before November 2 they were eminently useful, politically. Now they aren’t, but simply put on the shelf till the next election….
There is a window of opportunity now to, as IRG emphasized, “Build Bridges”.
Indeed, as I heard last evening, those bridges are already being built, as Emmett and his family and Muslim Community in rural North Dakota were building from 1902 forward.
Whatever your issue, talking – dialogue – is a strong part of the answer of breaking down barriers. “Building Bridges”.
* – The IRG website is currently under re-construction, but still includes useful information about the group.
** – On November 13, I updated the September 5 blog post to include some additional information.

#238 – Dick Bernard: A close encounter with a Mosque

Related post Nov. 14, 2010 here.
The abundant insanity (that’s what it is – insanity) around the proposed (and approved) Islamic Center in lower Manhattan caused me to revisit a significant time in my youth.
In the summer of 1953 I was about to enter 8th grade. We had moved to the tiny village of Ross, North Dakota, hardly even a wide spot in the road between Minot and Williston; on the main line of the extremely busy Great Northern Railroad.
This was the first oil boom in the Williston Basin and housing was at a premium. I was the oldest of five kids, and the only housing for our parents was next door to the school in which they both taught. The “teacherage”, as such buildings were called, had two rooms and a kitchen. As I recall, we showered in the basement of the school building, and that was where the telephone was. Our conditions were primitive.
But 1953-54 was a rich one for me. Among other happenings was meeting a farm kid whose name was Emmett. Emmett and I became friends as kids do, and while I don’t recall that we spent a lot of time together I have kept in contact with him to this day, 57 years later.
One time during that year I was invited out to Emmet’s home in the country. I rode my bike out there, met his parents and his sisters and brother, had supper, saw the barn and the horses, and went home. Driving down that dirt road seemed like a long trip then, but three years ago I revisited the town and the now deserted farm, and it was perhaps two or three miles at most from my home to his.
Emmett was a little darker complected than I with somewhat different facial features than most North Dakota country folks. I might have known then that he and many families around the town were of Syrian ancestry, but it really never registered with me – it wasn’t important.
Similarly, at some point somebody must have told me that these Syrian folks with unusual names were “Mohammedans”, but I don’t remember who, or when, that might have been.
We moved on after a single year in that tiny town and went somewhere else.
It was years later that I came to learn that along that country rode I’d biked sometime in 1953-54 was probably the first Mosque in the United States of America; and later still that someone – probably Emmett – told me that his Mom (both parents and the current Mosque are pictured at the referenced website) was one of the key persons in keeping the Moslem faith alive in outback North Dakota.
Dad was the Superintendent of the tiny school at Ross, and he tended to keep records for posterity. In his papers I came across the attendance records for the Ross school in the year I was there. Typewritten on the roster was the name of my friend, Emmett ____. Handwritten to the left of Emmett’s name was “Mohomed”, more like Emmet’s true given name. Even then, perhaps, there was no desire to raise any unnecessary “red flags”.
I visited the Ross Mosque and the Cemetery in the summer of 2007. I recognized many last names and it was an emotional experience for me.

The first Mosque near Ross ND from Plains Folk, North Dakota\’s Ethnic History , Playford Thorson, ND Institute for Regional Studies 1988, p. 360

Intolerance is one of our many inheritances in this country.
I hope that the powers that be do not cave in to intolerance in New York City or anywhere else.

Ross ND High School Graduates 1954

Update November 13, 2010:
This evening I have been invited to give a very brief presentation concerning this blogpost. The above blogpost itself will be in the groups program booklet.
Following are some brief notes in addition to what is already described above.
In addition to having a one year and very positive encounter with the Muslim community of Ross ND in 1953-54, I also have family experience of having lived in many small towns in North Dakota in my youth. Both my father and mother taught in the schools of these communities. In recent years I have had a great interest in family history so that has also given me more reason to pay attention to things most people might not notice.
In 1991, I inquired about the Ross school, and the then-County Superintendent provided me with my Dad’s year-end report for the high school which that year had 30 pupils in grades 9-12. In 1953-54, the report shows, there were at least six and possibly seven members of the Ross Syrian Community in the public school. Two were seniors, one from Emmett’s family.
We, on the other hand, were clearly religious outsiders: our family was Catholic, and I would doubt there were any other Catholics in the community. We attended church in the nearby trade center of Stanley.
A 1988 book, “North Dakota’s Ethnic History: Plains Folk” (ND Institute of Regional Studies, North Dakota State University, multiple authors), has been a frequent resource for me in my family history work. Pages 354-363 of this book discuss Syrians (Lebanese) and their presence in many parts of North Dakota. On page 360 is this quote, particularly relevant to this discussion: “In Mountrail County, near the village of Ross, other Syrians put down roots during the homestead rush at the turn of the [20th] century. Sam Omar, probably the first settler of Arabic background, in 1902 took land on section 26, Ross township. Later in that year, twenty-two other men came to Ross Township and nearby Alger Township. Within several years almost seventy Lebanese men had taken up land in Ross, James Hill, and Alger townships.
The Mountrail settlers were unique in that, with two exceptions, everyone was of Muslim background. Their descendants today remember two home towns “in Syria”: Bire (Berrie) and Rafid. These villages, in eastern Lebanon adjoin each other and lie only three miles from Ain-Arab. Beirut is twenty-eight air miles to the northwest.
Families in the early days came not only from Lebanon and eastern American seaports, but also from settlements in Nebraska as well….

I saw these families through an eighth graders eyes in the single year of 1953-54.
I don’t recall so much as a thought or a mention that they were ‘different’. They were simply part of the community.
Lest I be accused of seeing the world through rose-colored glasses, North Dakota was no less immune to prejudice than anywhere else. In my own Catholic case, for instance, in the late 1920s there was a Ku Klux Klan movement that was anti-Catholic in its focus, led by a Protestant minister, and was very damaging. In the late 1940s an anti-garb law was passed prohibiting Nuns in habits to teach in public schools. And, of course, there was the shameful matter of treatment of American Indians.
With the coming of the mid-1950s came two major Air Force bases, at Minot and Grand Forks, and large numbers of African-Americans. I am sure this was an occasional matter of concern.
But in my interlude in Ross, meeting a Muslim kid named Emmett, and experiencing the hospitality of Emmett’s farm family, I developed lifelong affection for these fine rural folks in northwestern North Dakota, and an appreciation for the religious tradition which they held.

#209 – Richard Bigelow: Thoughts on Attitudes towards Immigration and Immigrants

Mr. Bigelow lives in border country Texas and grew up in rural Colorado. He responds, here, to one of those ubiquitous basically anti-immigrant – if you’re not “white like me” rants that whiz around the internet – anonymous hate speech.
“Yes, I have some different thoughts on immigration than those in the letter you sent. My thinking is in process and I don’t purport to have very many answers to the many difficult issues involved but I am happy to share some of my thoughts.
As you know, I am a middle class, white, mostly Anglo-Saxon, protestant, male, born in the United States of America. That makes me part of the most powerful group of people to ever walk the planet. I love my country and believe we have done and continue to do more good in the world than any other nation. Our laws and system of justice while not perfect are the best the world has to offer. I am a proud citizen of the USA. That said, I believe that there are some major problems at home and in the world that we as a great and powerful nation have a human, moral and Christian obligation to address. Poverty and racism are two of those problems that are core in the immigration debate.
One doesn’t have to go back too far in history to realize we are all immigrants maybe including even the “Native American” population. Being part of the English immigrant group that became the dominant group way before I was born it is easy to understand some of the ethnocentric feeling articulated in [the internet] letter. However, as a teen I became aware of the melting pot myth. As you know there were not many minority families in [my Colorado home town]. My first Black and Hispanic friends were from [a nearby larger city] and not only did they not want to melt but would not have been allowed had they wanted. They were considered by much of the dominant culture as inferior and were treated differently. In my first minorities class in college we talked about the tossed salad analogy as opposed to the melting pot. This allows for a wonderful multi cultural society where we live together with many common issues but maintain and even celebrate the differences. This idea continues to guide me in my life journey. I can and sometimes do celebrate St. Patrick’s Day, Cinco De Mayo, Kwanzaa, Passover, even tried to fast during Ramadan one year (that sucked). I love to dance the Chicken Dance in Fredericksburg, visit China Town in S.F, little Italy in New York and Boston. Anyway you get the idea.
In spite of my pride in the USA I believe we have a lot to answer for. We have allowed those immigrants who look and sound kind of like us to assimilate while exploiting the Black, Brown, and Yellow “immigrates”. I don’t think I need to rehash civil rights stuff here or the history of how we provoked a war with Mexico so we could lay claim to land from Colorado to California. Nor should I have to review the immoral treatment of Japanese and German Americans during WWII. I also hope that most people are aware of how many of us have in the past and continue to encourage and even help bring workers here illegally so we can build our own wealth and that of our great nation by paying meager wages and limited benefits.
I have chosen to live in an area close to the border where I am a minority. When I go to a store and no one speaks English and those ethnocentric thoughts begin to kick in, I only have to remember that many of these families have been right here since before the Pilgrims made it to New England. You would be hard pressed to find a more patriotic group of people ready to serve this great nation than among the Mexican/American community here.
I think you know that [my wife] is from here but I am not sure you know she is a descendant of the Solis family, part of a big Spanish land grant from the 1500’s that was on both sides of the river. Her grandparents only spoke Spanish and she only spoke Spanish when she started 1st grade. Her well meaning Anglo teachers punished her when she spoke Spanish even at recess and when asking to go to the bathroom. She learned her lessons well, lived in Houston for 10 years and is much more urbane than me. With my last name and her light complexion people think she is Anglo. My red neck friends in Abilene would try telling her Mexican jokes. I cut them off if I saw it coming but didn’t always see it coming. She only smiled but in her heart she is really not sure that she is not some how inferior and she still feels guilty speaking Spanish even though she uses it everyday in her work with veterans. It breaks my heart.
While it is hard to generalize about such a large group of people, I believe that most of the documented and undocumented immigrants are here because they already have family here and or they are unable to support themselves adequately in their home country. I think that the reason we don’t have a big problem on the Canadian border is that their economy is good, they look and sound more like the dominant culture and I am told it is not too hard to get a work visa especially if one has a needed skill. I understand it is very difficult and time consuming to get a work visa in the US if one is from Mexico or Central America and especially if one doesn’t have a professional credential. Again my ethnocentric self thinks “good, we have enough problems with out importing a bunch more poor unskilled laborers that will further stress ‘our’ economy“. However, there is data that suggests that if the undocumented were able to earn a fair wage and pay taxes it might actually help the economy. Also my Human and Christian ethics kick in and I am reminded that God put the river there but we made it a border. If I couldn’t feed my family on the other side I would try to cross anyway I could. I do not want to tear down the Statue of Liberty or besmirch the Ellis Island folks [a suggestion in the letter to which he responds]. But there are other stories equally compelling.
There are no easy answers to the immigration questions. We have made great progress in the civil rights arena in my lifetime but racism is still alive and well. Ethnocentric pride in ones country can be a close cousin to racism. One need only to read all the anger and hate on the internet as people post regarding anything Obama does or on the new Arizona law. People who think there are easy answers like tougher laws, fences, or militarizing the border are at best naive at worst racist. I would like to see policies developed with love of neighbor as the guiding light, and more money spent on improving the economy in other countries even if we have to sacrifice more. To whom a lot is given a lot is expected. There is something wrong in a nation who spends more on a cup of designer coffee than some workers make in a day, or where we spend more on pet care than the GNP of some nations. I am not sure open borders is the right thing but I am not sure that it is not. I do think we need some kind of amnesty although I am not yet sure what it should look like. I believe in the ideal of one world with equality for all but I’m not naive enough to think we will get there any time soon. However, I never thought I would see a woman or black president. I am now hopeful I will see a woman.
 
On the subject of the Arizona Law I would think every American, liberal or conservative should be worried. I don’t want to live in a society where I or anyone else has to carry papers. Even under current law when we leave our home heading north we have to go through check points about 60 miles from the border. They are multi million dollar facilities with all kinds of electronic equipment and usually dozens of border patrol agents on duty. I must turn off my cell phone, wait in line, usually less than 5 minutes, they sometimes check my undercarriage with a mirror, and frequently have dogs who sniff the outside of my car. They usually only ask “are you a US citizen” and wave me through. [My wife] gets even less hassle because she is so pale and I’m so swarthy. Sometimes they ask “where are you going today”. Now I can either tell them, lie to them or say what I would like to say which is, “none of your xxx business” but then I would be there awhile so I lie to them. The woman agents seem to like to hear “I am headed to Dallas to visit my grand-kids”. Minor hassle for me but I assure you that some of my dark skinned heavy accented brothers and sisters have much more hassle including the dog inside and some times even pat downs. I don’t like it and I damn sure don’t want to empower or require the local or state police to do the same stuff. To those who say “they are only enforcing the law” I would remind them the this great nation was founded by a bunch of law breakers (as in tea party).
Unjust laws need to be challenged.
Everyone must find his or her own ethic and act accordingly. I am not always sure what to do but I pray about it a lot. For now I plan to continue offering food and shelter to those headed north with or with out papers when I can. I would help them get through the check points if I could but I don’t know how without getting arrested. I will pay them the same with or without papers to cut my grass etc. so they can eat. I will support my sister-in-law, with my tax dollars, who takes care of badly damaged babies who were lucky enough to take advantage of the law that lets them become a citizen because the mother crossed for delivery. I will not report the husband of friend who is spending 3 years in prison at tax payers expense who was formerly making a living for his family by day labor and who will be deported when he is released and then be back with his family within a week. I will support and applaud my friend who teaches ESL [English as a Second Language] to the undocumented children of fishermen from Central America and takes them to UIL competitions where they usually excel. I will continue to travel to Rio Bravo (30 miles into Mexico) as part of my church mission to help at a deaf school even though travel is kind of risky right now with the cartel wars.
I know you like to read / I recommend the following:
Manana (don’t know how to make the ~ over the n) by Justo Gonzales the Methodist Clergy, Cuban born, who I think is still on faculty at the International Seminary in Atlanta.
The Great River by Paul Hogan (a History of the Rio Grande but reads like a novel)
Rain of Gold by Victor Villa Senor (again with the ~ on the n another story of immigration not via Ellis Island)
Thanks for letting me share some of my thoughts. Reasonable people should reason together.”
My love to all / Dick

#194 – Dick Bernard: Thoughts on "illegals", "Mexicans" et al.

Four of us hit the road from the Twin Cities to Denver early tomorrow morning.
We will look like pretty typical older people, and unless we do something crazy, will probably make the trip out and back without attracting any attention whatsoever, even on Memorial Day when the police are thick as flies in a farmyard.
Not so routine today or other times is the travel of somebody who looks different than me, and I’m guessing that there’s considerable nervousness these days for people with a browner complexion down in Arizona, especially.
A couple of days ago I was in the local post office in our suburb. At a counter were a couple of young brown-skinned guys speaking Spanish, talking about some form or other that one was filling out. They seemed pretty normal to me. Did they have papers?!
A week or so earlier I had been in North Dakota visiting relatives (see the May 28 post). In the Fargo Forum was a front page article about a carload of illegals who had been arrested at a neighboring town. They, in fact, did not have papers. They were reporting to work for some farmer who was planting a very labor intensive crop. He couldn’t find locals who would do the work and he contracted with someone in Oregon to provide workers who were supposed to be legals. Not so, it turned out. Ironically, he was, as one would say legally, “aiding and abetting”, as was the contractor in Oregon, but neither of them were culpable. Only the workers without papers were in trouble. Somehow the farmer had to find some kind of labor to put in his crop. That was his penalty. I wonder if he’s succeeded.
This mornings e-mails brought a commentary which helped to explain the insanity we seem to be living under in this country. It came from a Rhode Island newspaper, reprinted in an Arizona paper, and it is very interesting, about the contrast between Canada (much tougher on immigration, it turns out) and the U.S. (much less effective and less humane in dealing with the problem.)
Succinctly, if I read the column correctly, there were active attempts as far back as the mid-1980s to change U.S. immigration law to deal with some very real problems. A law was passed, but a crucial part was pulled from the bill by someone, probably in the U.S. Senate. The portion pulled apparently was a provision that held employers responsible for making sure their hires were legals. Employer responsibility was a bit too difficult to swallow. Rather they take their chances with occasionally losing cheap labor, than to share responsibility with that same cheap labor for their sins.
I’ve seen lots of “Mexicans” working at various occupations here in the Twin Cities. By and large they do very good work. Since I only see their work, I don’t know if they’re legal or not. They are contributors to this society, rather than drags on us.
They, and others, like the Haitians in the Rhode Island column, for the most part come to our country to make a menial living – but more than in their own country – and send lots of money home to their families. Their crime is only wanting a tiny share of our great wealth, and then share it with their families back home – much like our immigrant ancestors of older days.
We don’t much like to share, except on our own terms.
I’ll end up in Denver on Wednesday.
It was in Denver a number of years ago that I had a conversation with my son, then manager of a local restaurant near a university.
Tom’s crew was by and large Spanish-speaking, with only minimal English. He thought they had the proper papers, but one never knows for sure.
He mentioned that what they sometimes lacked in promptness they more than made up in quality of work, including finding somebody to fill in for them when they were gone. They were, it was clear, his most reliable employees.
Were they “Legals”? I’m not so sure.
Immigration Law plays much better as a political issue than as an object of true reform.
Until politicians cannot play politics with the issue, the issue will remain….