An Immigrant's Tale

I was raised by an immigrant, my dad was a business man.

He played into the American Dream. My mom: her offspring.

She made this her new home. My dad, well, this was home.

My dad's grandaddy had a choice: Eastern Europe post WWI.

Have to starve to death with no voice or leave town, get up and run.

He left and didn't look back, a typical hard working blue collar immigrant.

And when he came, no one knew how to pronounce his last name.

He was Majher, now they call me Mayher.

But he knew how to have fun, to go out dancing all night, he just didn't know how to fight for his right to his own ethnic identity. But then again, once in the American city, it was out of mind, out of sight.

My mom's dad had a choice too. Take a risk to find the American Dream, what seemed the perfect scheme, or remain in his country, predictable but known; please his dad but lose his chance to be free, on his own.

He came here, but his heart never left. He's more than old-fashioned, he's foreign.

His ways are not our ways, but no doubt he worked hard all his life. Through all his hardship and strife, he's the toughest man I know.

His darkest side is this country's darkest side: Racism. But I tried to make a schism in his legacy with this new recipe: American tolerance.

Now hear me out:

Has anyone ever painted a positive picture of Hitler?

Well guess what? They're both Austrian, him and my grandfather, and it turns out he had an economic plan.

A quick fix to go from dirt poor to filthy rich, and it worked for a moment, at the cost of many lives, yet it still left more in debt.

But isn't abortion another holocaust most Americans refuse to admit, perpetuated by our new found tolerance?

It doesn't make it right, but we need to realize our own murder before we start throwing rocks at the Führer.

Now, who am I? Who am I now?

What do you get when you take two immigrant families seeking for the American myth and put them together?

I don't quite know the answer except to say... it's me.

Now it did rid me of those dirty sins, but far from cleansing it simply switched the sting.

Tolerance became the new excuse for the murder of a generation.

And I sat back and watched, I didn't do anything, that's what I said. I said, I didn't do anything. And that's the truth, I didn't do anything. And if there was anything to do, it was anything, but I did nothing, leaving someone in a suit and a ring to be the king, do the thing, take the dream to a new extreme: liberate a people.

No more need for God, simply watch the box, believe the lies, and shut my eyes to the silent cries of unborn babies, no longer alive.

Yes, I was raised by an immigrant, but also by this culture.

I too, was no longer alive. Deadened with society with no piety, no purpose, just propriety.

Then it happened, while I wasn't even looking. The God found me.

I first believed in Him when I was about 21. And He didn't just save me, he also said 'Go'.

I felt called to a nation, then the nations, and now it's become an immigrant nation, whether Sasian or Haitian, European or Korean.

I learned how to say: 你好嗎?你從哪裏來的?

I was born again, raised by a Father who was there every moment and every step.

Sent to testify to someone greater, to be the servant of my savior.

And it's just the beginning because with you all I found a new beginning.

Now you're part of my story, a new quarry to quarry, singing a song that's brand new:

Yes, I was raised by an immigrant, and now also by you.

I love you all, Thank you.

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