scared little faces peering out from buses at hostile, snarling grownups. what must they be thinking?

loads of children are making a perilous journey, sans parents, to the united states. most are coming from honduras, guatemala, el salvador, and mexico. we can talk all day long, i’m sure, about our immigration policy and how problematic it remains — while we don’t all agree on what should be done, we all, with the possible exception of the US Congress, realize that something must be done to improve the situation. and until they figure things out, we as a nation continue to show our both best and our worst side to the world. i admit i was intrigued by a thread i had read about what sort of parents let their children travel alone to a foreign nation. who in their right mind would put young children in the care of people they don’t even know and hope that they make it to their destination in one piece.

i know exactly the sort: my great-grandparents.

my great-grandfather aron katz was born in 1879 and married rose kogan between 1899-1901 in odessa, russia. aron was a tailor and they were not well-to-do. to put it mildly, things in russia were not great for anyone at that time but particularly not for jews, who were routinely persecuted and often killed. he, rose, and the two youngest children — sam and my grandmother belle — emigrated to the united states in march of 1913. oddly enough, they did not come through ellis island as most did. at the time, a lot of people in the US were pretty hostile to all those jews coming in. instead, my great-grandparents were caught up in the galveston movement, which essentially lasted from 1907-1914 and was an effort to disperse the jewish immigrant population throughout the united states by bringing them in through the port of galveston, texas.

on the manifest of the SS cassel, the ship they came to the United States on in march of 1913, their destination is listed as kansas city, missouri.  now i have no knowledge of whether they ever made it to kansas city; however, we know that by november 1913, they were living on the lower east side of new york. when i was in college, i completed an oral history of my grandmother’s life — and i still remember her telling me that her father was a tailor — and oy! could you imagine a jewish tailor in galveston, tx? she told me that they somehow made their way up the mississippi and then eastward where their relatives lived on the lower east side of manhattan. but we know that they had made their way because in november 1913, they had an important delivery to receive.

because they were not wealthy, my great-grandparents could only afford the fare for their two youngest children. their two oldest stayed behind with relatives until they were able to raise the fare for them to come over. in november 1913, those two children came to america on the ship grosser kurfurst. my great-aunt lillian (or liebe) was 11 years old, and her brother max (or mordechai) was 10. imagine being a child and taking a journey to a place you had never been? according to my cousin ilene (lily’s daughter), her mother had recounted how terrifying and awful the trip had been.  her mother was especially frightened by all the drunken sailors on board. i can only wonder what she dealt with as the elder child in charge — and only at age 11. somehow, though, after a long time fending for themselves on board, lily and max made it to new york, where they were reunited with the rest of their family.

so what kind of parents would put their children in harm’s way? what kind of parent would take young kids and have them fend for themselves among unscrupulous adults who might take terrible advantage of them — or worse? i can imagine exactly the kind of parents — very desperate ones. my great-grandparents lived in a place where they faced peril regularly.  they knew they had to get somewhere safe for their family’s sake. i can only imagine how it killed them a little bit to leave two of their kids behind. they crossed their fingers that the children would be cared for and, once the money was raised, they would send for them, too. i wish i had had a chance to talk to my great-aunt about her trip. knowing that jews were not exactly welcomed when they arrived, i’m sure their initial experience in america was probably not too pleasant; but i can figure that anything had to have been better than a pogrom so they were going to make it work here no matter what.

thinking about this experience sheds light on what mothers and fathers in dangerous places such as honduras must be thinking. they scrape every little bit of money they have and borrow what they don’t and send their children to a place where they hope their children can somehow be protected from their current daily misery. the situation has to be pretty bad for a parent to send her child off with strangers in the hope that somewhere else is better than the child’s current environment.

so whatever you might think about immigration policy, think twice before you impugn the fitness of parents of these children because they send their kids off to america. faced with the same choices, we all might do the same thing. instead, while the immigration situation gets sorted, why not treat the children as you would hope strangers would treat yours?

in the end, human nature is human nature, whether you’re in central america, russia, the united states, or anywhere else parents and children exist.

the prayer may take you there, but you don’t need to drag anyone else into it.

this morning, i was reading the tragic story of a young man, a quarterback with incredible athletic ability, somehow getting lost and perishing in the woods.  i should know better than to look at the comments after any story in a national publication, but i went there.

it started off with a woman offering prayers.

Dear Lord, take him into your kingdom, for all are weak and weary, and stumble and fall and fail..Have mercy Lord.

of course, some took offense over her line about people being weak and weary and stumbling and falling. considering the man may have had some emotional issues, this could have been taken in a number of different ways. at first people took offense to her prayer. they found it insensitive to the man and the family and noted it.

enter the religious folks. one wrote:

Great. A Christian makes a thoughtful and prayerful comment about a very tragic situation and all the atheist assholes come out of the woodwork. Go back in your wormholes.

so accept her thoughtful christian prayer, you heathen assholes. (not a very christian sentiment, i would add.)

backup comes. one person finally clarifies it all for the world (and i would add: sic):

YOU people must don’t go to church to understand her prayer…she meant NO harm by it!! People read your bible and go to church and maybe you WILL understand her prayer…geez!

so see? her prayer should be accepted and appreciated. and everyone else, you clearly need to go to church. fin.

like i said earlier, i don’t usually look at comment sections of national publications. usually, they are permeated with trolls and other bizarro people who often, though not always, hide behind anonymity to spew some really awful stuff, stuff they might never (although never say never with people, i suppose) say to a person’s face if they encountered them in real life. but i did, and it got me thinking.

it’s wonderful to offer support to people, particularly the bereaved.  the world surely needs love today. but isn’t it selfish if you are offering support that screams your faith? your faith may be a great comfort to you, but it may mean nothing to the person to whom you’re offering it. for example, i cannot tell you how many times people have invoked jesus’ name when they’ve sought to provide sympathy to me during my life. i smile and say thank you because i was raised to be a nice jewish girl; but honestly, invoking jesus’ name means literally nothing to me. well, nothing other than you are pressing your religion on me, possibly at a time when i really, really would prefer non-sectarian kindness. i don’t think all christians in particular get this concept. we realize that when you tell us you are praying for us that this is a comfort to you, as you are doing something which you’ve taught is something that should of course be a comfort to everyone. but for those of us non-christians — and especially for those of us who are atheists — telling us you are praying for us is kind of a subtle burden, a tacit moment of you pushing your faith on us. i do not doubt for one nanosecond that this is done unconsciously and with great love and caring; but if you ever stopped for a second and put yourself in someone else’s shoes, you might rethink it.

why not instead go for the human touch? why not extend condolences? why not say lovely things about the lost loved one? you might wish the bereaved the strength to get through such a tough time. there are a lot of things you can say to a person that are kind and loving and which convey your deep sympathies without getting all religious on him. instead of telling me you’re praying for me, why not instead say i’m in your thoughts? it works.

really.

now, that’s not to say that you shouldn’t pray for someone if that’s what your religion teaches you to do. but you shouldn’t foist that on someone else who doesn’t share your beliefs. pray all you want — pray for the bereaved, pray for the lost love one — just do it for yourself, quietly, respectfully.

when my beloved father in law passed away a few years ago, i was so deeply sad for my husband, for my kids, for my mother in law and for the rest of the family. (i was also deeply sad, period. my father in law was a wonderful man.) as my father in law was catholic, he was buried in accordance with his faith. i would never have dreamed of pushing my religious beliefs on anyone in my husband’s family, then or on any other day. i walked up to his casket and let my heart speak. i remember thinking positive thoughts to send him on his way. and then, i remember, quietly, in my internal dialogue, telling him i hoped he would understand that i was going to quietly do what i was taught to do in this situation. i hoped, if nothing else, that he was looking down from heaven, and getting a giggle over his strange but ever-loyal jewish daughter in law.

and in my head, i quietly said mourner’s kaddish.

i would never want to burden any of the living with my religious beliefs (though i eventually told my husband, who i think smiled at the weirdness of the act), especially at a time like that. but i hoped that as he started his journey, my father in law would understand.