Shortly after Ellis Island was opened as an immigration museum, I had the opportunity to visit it with family. Approaching the island by ferry, we could imagine what it might have been like for immigrants to get their first glimpse of the new world, although I was quite conscious that we were experiencing a very brief, comfortable ferry ride. I didn't even want to imagine the hardship of the overseas voyage in steerage conditions.
Entering the main building I could feel the presence of the millions of people who filed through before, like dim echoes or a faint lingering scent. Fanciful, I know, but such was the atmosphere. After seeing the exhibits, we wandering around the wall of names, looking for possible ancestors there, but finding none. The majority of immigrants between 1892-1924 entered the U.S. through that port, so those of us from New York tend to assume our ancestors came through Ellis Island. So far, I can't find evidence that anyone in the family entered through that port. Quite the contrary. It's likely at least one of the great-great grandparents for whom I haven't found immigration documentation came in that way, but all the ones I can find are in passenger lists of ships that sailed from Liverpool to Boston or Philadelphia (and maybe Canada, but that's another story).
It has been great fun to find ancestors in incoming passenger lists because of the information these documents contain. At first I didn't notice that the record for each individual spanned two pages in the early 1900's Boston passenger lists. The first page contains all the mundane information you'd expect, including information useful for genealogical purposes. Among the data fields on the second page are:
By whom was passage paid?
Whether in possession of $50.00, and if less, how much?
Ever in prison or almshouse or institution for care and treatment of the insane, or supported by charity? If so, which?
Condition of health, mental and physical?
Height, complexion, color of hair and eyes
Marks of identification
And my personal favorites: Whether a polygamist? and Whether an anarchist?
Perhaps those last two were a very early form of IQ test. Seriously, do you think anyone would be stupid enough to answer in the affirmative? Can't say I saw any "yes" answers in those columns. But all the other little details on those two pages add up to skeletal stories just waiting to be fleshed out. A young mother traveling with an infant to join her husband in a foreign land, carrying 75 cents in cash. An illiterate 59-year-old 5'8" tall, sallow-complected, brown-eyed, gray-haired Jewish Russian tailor, immigrating with two of his daughters after 11 years in England, "senility" noted above the word "good" in the health column, tickets paid for by a step-son, to be joined later by his wife and youngest child. Where did these people end up, and how and why did they get there?
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Immigration
I'm finally putting significant time and effort into tracing my genealogy, which is something I've always wanted to do. Not necessarily the significant time and effort part, but the learning about the ancestry part. About three weeks ago, still unemployed, still in a rented house without most of our worldly belongings, and somewhat at loose ends, I decided I might as well take advantage of all this free time to buckle down and start some serious genealogical research. So I bit the proverbial bullet and shelled out the $29.95 for a one-month world membership to ancestry.com, where I had already begun a paltry family tree with the little information previously gathered from family members and from free online searches.
The process had been fascinating, surprising, informative, tedious, and strangely addictive. It has given me glimpses into bits and pieces of an entirely different world, to cultures and culture clash, and to the nightmares of pre-computer age record keeping. I often dream about it at night, my mind processing the overwhelming amount of data, the clues, the false leads, the electronic databases, the partial stories about family members I can construct from pieced-together minutiae. Labor intensive as it has been, the research that has taken me three weeks so far would doubtless have taken literally months, at least, not long ago, not to mention quite a bit of travel and expense. I wish I had started recording the process and my thoughts about it from the start. Now that it's finally occurred to me that I should do so, I'll try capture both where I've been and where I'm going.
At the moment, I'm working primarily on locating immigration documents, and the irony of it finally hit me. Like all Americans (yes, even the "native" Americans), my ancestors were immigrants. Perpetual immigrants, in a sense, since they were all Jewish, and apparently moved, or were moved, from one country to another over the generations. No matter where they lived they spoke Yiddish, moved into Jewish communities, and married other Jews from the same country or shtetl or street. Luckily for themselves and their descendants, they managed to escape pogroms, survive extreme anti-semitism and poverty, and get to the U.S. before World War II. And here I am, an immigrant back to the Old World, after all they went through. But it is a different world, after all.
The process had been fascinating, surprising, informative, tedious, and strangely addictive. It has given me glimpses into bits and pieces of an entirely different world, to cultures and culture clash, and to the nightmares of pre-computer age record keeping. I often dream about it at night, my mind processing the overwhelming amount of data, the clues, the false leads, the electronic databases, the partial stories about family members I can construct from pieced-together minutiae. Labor intensive as it has been, the research that has taken me three weeks so far would doubtless have taken literally months, at least, not long ago, not to mention quite a bit of travel and expense. I wish I had started recording the process and my thoughts about it from the start. Now that it's finally occurred to me that I should do so, I'll try capture both where I've been and where I'm going.
At the moment, I'm working primarily on locating immigration documents, and the irony of it finally hit me. Like all Americans (yes, even the "native" Americans), my ancestors were immigrants. Perpetual immigrants, in a sense, since they were all Jewish, and apparently moved, or were moved, from one country to another over the generations. No matter where they lived they spoke Yiddish, moved into Jewish communities, and married other Jews from the same country or shtetl or street. Luckily for themselves and their descendants, they managed to escape pogroms, survive extreme anti-semitism and poverty, and get to the U.S. before World War II. And here I am, an immigrant back to the Old World, after all they went through. But it is a different world, after all.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Checking In
Dear Friends and Family,
Thanks to those of you who have been reading the blog and leaving comments or emailing me. Apparently you have to be registered google user, or have a google email, or something like that, to leave comments, which is causing difficulties for some of you. Comments are fun, but don't worry about leaving them if it's a problem; you can always email me!
You might have noticed I haven't posted in a while. In fact, I've barely been able to get myself to look at the blog at all for a couple of weeks. The bottom line is, my sense of humor has finally failed me.
I will not bore you with the numerous details, because it would be no more fun for you to read than it's been for me to suffer through. Suffice it to say that I'm sure the Netherlands is a wonderful place to immigrate to if you're from a third-world country or have nothing to lose, but no one from the U.S. should ever consider moving here. Speaking not only as a U.S. citizen, but as a veteran of 12 years of U.S. federal employment (6 of which were in the Dept. of Defense), and as the spouse of someone who had to deal with U.S. Immigration repeatedly (and who eventually became a naturalized citizen), I can say the Netherlands far outperforms the U.S. in excessive bureaucracy and regulations, obstructiveness, and money-grubbing.
I am seriously considering writing a detailed account of everything we've had to go through to be here and submitting it to Dutch newpapers or magazines. It won't be fun and I'm much rather be writing humor or children's books, but I'll do it because (1) the Dutch public has no idea about these aspects of their government's behavior (anyone I've told even a fraction of the story to has been surprised and appalled), and (2) Anyone living in the U.S. who is considering moving here should be fully informed of what's involved before making that decision.
In short, I'll be back blogging when I again feel able to share the more positive or humorous aspects of life here. It could be a while. But please check back every so often!
Thanks to those of you who have been reading the blog and leaving comments or emailing me. Apparently you have to be registered google user, or have a google email, or something like that, to leave comments, which is causing difficulties for some of you. Comments are fun, but don't worry about leaving them if it's a problem; you can always email me!
You might have noticed I haven't posted in a while. In fact, I've barely been able to get myself to look at the blog at all for a couple of weeks. The bottom line is, my sense of humor has finally failed me.
I will not bore you with the numerous details, because it would be no more fun for you to read than it's been for me to suffer through. Suffice it to say that I'm sure the Netherlands is a wonderful place to immigrate to if you're from a third-world country or have nothing to lose, but no one from the U.S. should ever consider moving here. Speaking not only as a U.S. citizen, but as a veteran of 12 years of U.S. federal employment (6 of which were in the Dept. of Defense), and as the spouse of someone who had to deal with U.S. Immigration repeatedly (and who eventually became a naturalized citizen), I can say the Netherlands far outperforms the U.S. in excessive bureaucracy and regulations, obstructiveness, and money-grubbing.
I am seriously considering writing a detailed account of everything we've had to go through to be here and submitting it to Dutch newpapers or magazines. It won't be fun and I'm much rather be writing humor or children's books, but I'll do it because (1) the Dutch public has no idea about these aspects of their government's behavior (anyone I've told even a fraction of the story to has been surprised and appalled), and (2) Anyone living in the U.S. who is considering moving here should be fully informed of what's involved before making that decision.
In short, I'll be back blogging when I again feel able to share the more positive or humorous aspects of life here. It could be a while. But please check back every so often!
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Assimilation
Evidence That I Am Assimilating
I bought a 15 kilo bag of scoopable cat litter (that's over 30 lbs, my friends - 33 lbs to be pretty much exact), put it on the right side of my bike in the bike saddle bag, and stayed balanced riding said bike (I am using the word "balanced" strictly in the physics/gravity sense here) all the way home. The only counterweight was the bag I carry around with me daily, which I put in the left saddle bag, and which did not weigh anywhere near 33 lbs (although it gets close sometimes). Now if that feat doesn't make me worthy of permanent residency status, damned if I know what does!
I have mastered the fine art of not quite stopping all the way when I approach a red light on my bicycle. I can balance, virtually motionless, for several seconds while desperately hoping the light will change soon enough that I don't have to get off the bike and then start up again.
Sometimes people actually understand me the first time I say something in Dutch. Also, I am starting to think in Dutch sentence structure, even in English. Pretty soon, I'll be incomprehensible in both languages.
I have finally figured out how to type the € in Microsoft Word.
Evidence That I Still Have a Way to Go
I can't tell the difference between a wedding and a funeral. I've seen the participants in one of each, in passing, and both times just about everyone was dressed in black. But now I know that knee-length formal black jackets are worn by coffin-bearers, not by members of a wedding party, so I am making progress.
I still think Dutch people dress funny.
I do not understand why, on washers and dryers specifically designed for energy efficiency, approximately 16 little orange lights go on, and stay on, after a cycle is complete.
I have not figured out how to type the euro sign directly in this blog. Or anywhere other than in Word, for that matter. Do not be fooled by the cut-and-paste euro sign above.
I bought a 15 kilo bag of scoopable cat litter (that's over 30 lbs, my friends - 33 lbs to be pretty much exact), put it on the right side of my bike in the bike saddle bag, and stayed balanced riding said bike (I am using the word "balanced" strictly in the physics/gravity sense here) all the way home. The only counterweight was the bag I carry around with me daily, which I put in the left saddle bag, and which did not weigh anywhere near 33 lbs (although it gets close sometimes). Now if that feat doesn't make me worthy of permanent residency status, damned if I know what does!
I have mastered the fine art of not quite stopping all the way when I approach a red light on my bicycle. I can balance, virtually motionless, for several seconds while desperately hoping the light will change soon enough that I don't have to get off the bike and then start up again.
Sometimes people actually understand me the first time I say something in Dutch. Also, I am starting to think in Dutch sentence structure, even in English. Pretty soon, I'll be incomprehensible in both languages.
I have finally figured out how to type the € in Microsoft Word.
Evidence That I Still Have a Way to Go
I can't tell the difference between a wedding and a funeral. I've seen the participants in one of each, in passing, and both times just about everyone was dressed in black. But now I know that knee-length formal black jackets are worn by coffin-bearers, not by members of a wedding party, so I am making progress.
I still think Dutch people dress funny.
I do not understand why, on washers and dryers specifically designed for energy efficiency, approximately 16 little orange lights go on, and stay on, after a cycle is complete.
I have not figured out how to type the euro sign directly in this blog. Or anywhere other than in Word, for that matter. Do not be fooled by the cut-and-paste euro sign above.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
On Language
Now that we're living in Holland I'm reacquainting myself with Dutch, which I learned by immersion more years ago than I'll admit. I long go lost fluency from disuse, but all these years later I am a much more sophisticated language end-user, so I'm noticing things I wasn't aware of before. In this episode of "language strikes you funny," specifically "the Dutch language strikes you funny," we will be discussing gendered nouns and their associated gendered articles and pronouns. Those of you who think this level of attention to language is geeky and tedious have permission to run screaming from this little piece of cyber space right now, so as not to spoil the fun for the rest of us.
Alrighty then, for the lonely language geek still with me (you know who you are): unlike English, many languages have two or three genders for nouns. In French and Spanish all nouns are either masculine or feminine, and if preceded by the word "the," the "the" has to be in the appropriate masculine or feminine form (e.g., le garcon and la fille). Also, if you want to use a pronoun in place of the noun, you have to use the language's word for "he" or "she" rather than the impoverished one-size-fits all "it" we use in English. Same thing in German, except German, just to make things more difficult for everybody else, uses three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter (der mann, die frau, das kind).
Yes, you say, this stuff is truly fascinating and all, but what does it have to do with Dutch? Dutch is closely related to German, so you might expect it to have three genders. It is even more closely related to English, as it happens, so now that you know this nifty fact you might expect Dutch to have only neuter nouns. Well, I hate to shatter your entirely rational expectations, but Dutch has only two genders. AHA!, you exclaim, so it's got that masculine-feminine duality thing going on; it's a romance language wanna-be! WRONG AGAIN!! No, Dutch has the following two genders: masculine and neuter.
Doesn't that just make you wonder? I mean, how do you come up with the idea that there are only two categories of things in the world: "Male" and "Everything Else"? What does that say about you as a language, a culture, a people? And to make matters worse, for someone trying to learn the language, it's anybody's guess what's masculine, what's neuter, and why. Not surprisingly, the word for "man" is masculine: "de man." Surprisingly, the word for "woman" is masculine: "de vrouw." If someone asks me where my jacket is in Dutch, I have to say (in Dutch) "He is hanging in the closet." Of course, since I generally have no idea whether my jacket, or any other item of clothing, is hanging in the closet or is masculine or neuter (a masculine bra hanging in the closet, now that would be funny!) I've been trying to think of a way around this little linguistic problem. I considered dropping pronouns altogether, but that won't work, because if you say "the jacket" you have to know whether to use "de" or "het," and if you say "my jacket" you have to know whether to use "mijn" or "mijne."
From now on, I'm sticking with verbs.
Alrighty then, for the lonely language geek still with me (you know who you are): unlike English, many languages have two or three genders for nouns. In French and Spanish all nouns are either masculine or feminine, and if preceded by the word "the," the "the" has to be in the appropriate masculine or feminine form (e.g., le garcon and la fille). Also, if you want to use a pronoun in place of the noun, you have to use the language's word for "he" or "she" rather than the impoverished one-size-fits all "it" we use in English. Same thing in German, except German, just to make things more difficult for everybody else, uses three genders: masculine, feminine, and neuter (der mann, die frau, das kind).
Yes, you say, this stuff is truly fascinating and all, but what does it have to do with Dutch? Dutch is closely related to German, so you might expect it to have three genders. It is even more closely related to English, as it happens, so now that you know this nifty fact you might expect Dutch to have only neuter nouns. Well, I hate to shatter your entirely rational expectations, but Dutch has only two genders. AHA!, you exclaim, so it's got that masculine-feminine duality thing going on; it's a romance language wanna-be! WRONG AGAIN!! No, Dutch has the following two genders: masculine and neuter.
Doesn't that just make you wonder? I mean, how do you come up with the idea that there are only two categories of things in the world: "Male" and "Everything Else"? What does that say about you as a language, a culture, a people? And to make matters worse, for someone trying to learn the language, it's anybody's guess what's masculine, what's neuter, and why. Not surprisingly, the word for "man" is masculine: "de man." Surprisingly, the word for "woman" is masculine: "de vrouw." If someone asks me where my jacket is in Dutch, I have to say (in Dutch) "He is hanging in the closet." Of course, since I generally have no idea whether my jacket, or any other item of clothing, is hanging in the closet or is masculine or neuter (a masculine bra hanging in the closet, now that would be funny!) I've been trying to think of a way around this little linguistic problem. I considered dropping pronouns altogether, but that won't work, because if you say "the jacket" you have to know whether to use "de" or "het," and if you say "my jacket" you have to know whether to use "mijn" or "mijne."
From now on, I'm sticking with verbs.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Cultural Similarities, and Then Some
I tried asking the tree-in-the-forest-question in Holland once, and the reaction I got gave me some insight into Dutch culture and its similarities with American culture.
Both American and Dutch culture value the practical, the useful, the what-you-see-is-what-you get. American immigrants and pioneers didn't have time to sit around philosophizing; they were too busy trying to settle the wild frontiers, overthrow British tyranny, strike it rich, or just plain survive. Maybe the Dutch didn't have a vast frontier to settle, but they had colonies and trade routes to dominate, Spain to overthrow, other European aggressors to fend off, and a whole lot of soggy land to rescue, and keep rescued, from the ocean.
This wildly over-simplified yet piercingly on-target historical analysis makes it unsurprising that being pragmatic, problem-solving, and fully in touch with the concrete realities of life are far more valued in both cultures than being what the Dutch picturesquely call a "wolkenfietser" (literal translation: cloud bicyclist. And doesn't the very fact that they have such a term say it all?).
In many ways, Dutch culture is even more down-to-earth than American culture. "What's it good for?," "How can we turn this situation to our advantage?," and "How much money can we make on this?" are often the implicit or explicit response to just about any stimulus. And I waltzed right into this culture several years ago, had a lovely home-made Indonesian dinner (see dominated colonies, above) with some of my beloved extended family members, and, for reasons that currently escape me entirely, asked the tree-in-the-forest-question during after-dinner conversation.
The initial response was non-verbal. Try to picture a couple of 70-somethings sitting across from you. Now picture the nonverbals that would go with this subtitling: "We're not sure we heard that right, but if we did we're speechless because that is the most utterly vacuous question we have ever heard and a total no-brainer. WHY would anybody from this planet ever even consider irking us with such inanity? Don't you have something better to do? (a small country somewhere to colonize, maybe?)."
The nonverbal episode segued smoothly to an admirably restrained verbal response. Culturally speaking, it had to be considered admirably restrained, because not only are the Dutch even more pragmatic than Americans, they're also even more straightforward. They tend to pretty directly speak their minds, in a manner that Americans can experience as blunt and tactless, but it's just the cultural norm, and not intended to offend (case in point: there's a little handbook to help Turkish immigrants assimilate into Dutch culture entitled "Just Act Normal. ").
So the polite response I got was that, yes, the tree would make a sound even if no one were there to hear it fall. When I asked how they knew, the answer went like this: "Because when I went for a walk in the forest the next day I would see that the tree had fallen and know it had made a sound." Well, I can assure you I had no snappy comeback for that one; I just told them the tree wouldn't make a sound if there was no on there to hear it.
I bet I don't have to do the virtual subtitling thing again for you to imagine the response to that assertion! They didn't even segue into a verbal response asking me to explain the deeply flawed, if not certifiably insane, reasoning leading to my hopelessly misguided conclusion. Clearly, there was no interest in viewing the whole thing as a philosophical question to be explored, no sense that there might be more than one "correct" answer to the question.
That's when I got the sudden insight that these reactions signified both individual concrete thinking and perhaps a cultural value system favoring concrete over abstract thought. Not knowing when to stop, I immediately tried testing this insight by rapping sharply on the wooden table between us and proclaiming it to be mostly empty space, no matter how solid it might seem. Well, that was the end of that conversation, I can tell you! I swear if they'd had any antipsychotic medication on them I'd have been force-fed it right then and there (or maybe they thought I'd made a recent visit to the local smartshop).
As a Trained Scientist, I'm aware an n of 2 is not a representative sample. I'm sure there are many fine citizens of the Netherlands who are more than willing to engage in debate over the tree-in-the-forest or any other philosophical question (preferably over a beer or three). My real points are that, culturally speaking, the Netherlands is more similar to the U.S. than it is different, and there are many things to find humorous in both countries. Also, I am from another planet.
Both American and Dutch culture value the practical, the useful, the what-you-see-is-what-you get. American immigrants and pioneers didn't have time to sit around philosophizing; they were too busy trying to settle the wild frontiers, overthrow British tyranny, strike it rich, or just plain survive. Maybe the Dutch didn't have a vast frontier to settle, but they had colonies and trade routes to dominate, Spain to overthrow, other European aggressors to fend off, and a whole lot of soggy land to rescue, and keep rescued, from the ocean.
This wildly over-simplified yet piercingly on-target historical analysis makes it unsurprising that being pragmatic, problem-solving, and fully in touch with the concrete realities of life are far more valued in both cultures than being what the Dutch picturesquely call a "wolkenfietser" (literal translation: cloud bicyclist. And doesn't the very fact that they have such a term say it all?).
In many ways, Dutch culture is even more down-to-earth than American culture. "What's it good for?," "How can we turn this situation to our advantage?," and "How much money can we make on this?" are often the implicit or explicit response to just about any stimulus. And I waltzed right into this culture several years ago, had a lovely home-made Indonesian dinner (see dominated colonies, above) with some of my beloved extended family members, and, for reasons that currently escape me entirely, asked the tree-in-the-forest-question during after-dinner conversation.
The initial response was non-verbal. Try to picture a couple of 70-somethings sitting across from you. Now picture the nonverbals that would go with this subtitling: "We're not sure we heard that right, but if we did we're speechless because that is the most utterly vacuous question we have ever heard and a total no-brainer. WHY would anybody from this planet ever even consider irking us with such inanity? Don't you have something better to do? (a small country somewhere to colonize, maybe?)."
The nonverbal episode segued smoothly to an admirably restrained verbal response. Culturally speaking, it had to be considered admirably restrained, because not only are the Dutch even more pragmatic than Americans, they're also even more straightforward. They tend to pretty directly speak their minds, in a manner that Americans can experience as blunt and tactless, but it's just the cultural norm, and not intended to offend (case in point: there's a little handbook to help Turkish immigrants assimilate into Dutch culture entitled "Just Act Normal. ").
So the polite response I got was that, yes, the tree would make a sound even if no one were there to hear it fall. When I asked how they knew, the answer went like this: "Because when I went for a walk in the forest the next day I would see that the tree had fallen and know it had made a sound." Well, I can assure you I had no snappy comeback for that one; I just told them the tree wouldn't make a sound if there was no on there to hear it.
I bet I don't have to do the virtual subtitling thing again for you to imagine the response to that assertion! They didn't even segue into a verbal response asking me to explain the deeply flawed, if not certifiably insane, reasoning leading to my hopelessly misguided conclusion. Clearly, there was no interest in viewing the whole thing as a philosophical question to be explored, no sense that there might be more than one "correct" answer to the question.
That's when I got the sudden insight that these reactions signified both individual concrete thinking and perhaps a cultural value system favoring concrete over abstract thought. Not knowing when to stop, I immediately tried testing this insight by rapping sharply on the wooden table between us and proclaiming it to be mostly empty space, no matter how solid it might seem. Well, that was the end of that conversation, I can tell you! I swear if they'd had any antipsychotic medication on them I'd have been force-fed it right then and there (or maybe they thought I'd made a recent visit to the local smartshop).
As a Trained Scientist, I'm aware an n of 2 is not a representative sample. I'm sure there are many fine citizens of the Netherlands who are more than willing to engage in debate over the tree-in-the-forest or any other philosophical question (preferably over a beer or three). My real points are that, culturally speaking, the Netherlands is more similar to the U.S. than it is different, and there are many things to find humorous in both countries. Also, I am from another planet.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Hellloooooooooo........?
Hey, folks! Add a comment under a post once in awhile or drop me an email! I'm starting to feel as though I'm talking to myself (and I have a husband and son for that!). And that gets me wondering whether writing when nobody's reading is on a psychiatric par with hearing voices when nobody's talking (hint: Not Good. I refer you to the DSM IV-whatever-revision-we're-on-these-days).
If a tree falls in the forest and there's nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?
If a tree falls in the forest and there's nobody there to hear it, does it make a sound?
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