November 1, 1886
“That’s her! It’s her!”
“Kannst du sie sehen?”
“I’ve never seen anything like her.”
“Sehr schön, sie ist sehr schön...”
“Bitte, Papa, I want a look!”
Henry pushed his way to the front of the crowds on the deck of the ship. After weeks on the overcrowded boat, he had finally arrived in New York Harbor, and Henry was impatient to see what all the fuss was about. He had waited for this day for eight long years, ever since he had sent his wife and children to live with his brother in America after the family’s Westphalian farm had been swept away in a flood. For eight long years he had worked odd jobs, roaming every corner of Germany to find employment where he could, writing to his family every week hoping they would finally be able to send for him. They had settled out west in a town called Naperville, a little farming village where they could live by the same ways as they had in Westphalia.
“That’s her! It’s her!”
“Kannst du sie sehen?”
“I’ve never seen anything like her.”
“Sehr schön, sie ist sehr schön...”
“Bitte, Papa, I want a look!”
Henry pushed his way to the front of the crowds on the deck of the ship. After weeks on the overcrowded boat, he had finally arrived in New York Harbor, and Henry was impatient to see what all the fuss was about. He had waited for this day for eight long years, ever since he had sent his wife and children to live with his brother in America after the family’s Westphalian farm had been swept away in a flood. For eight long years he had worked odd jobs, roaming every corner of Germany to find employment where he could, writing to his family every week hoping they would finally be able to send for him. They had settled out west in a town called Naperville, a little farming village where they could live by the same ways as they had in Westphalia.
Henry knew his journey was nowhere near over: immigration officers awaited him at the mouth of the harbor, bringing days of paperwork and inspections, and after that a long journey by train to reunite with his family. But Henry did not mind. He knew he would never be a new American again, and more than anything he wanted to view his country for the first time. He shuffled to the railing on the deck of the boat to catch his first glimpse of the country, and as he gazed upon the harbor sparkling in the crisp fall day, what he saw astonished him.
It was a statue of a woman facing outwards from the harbor, hundreds of feet tall and gleaming in the faint November sun. Her enormous copper arm held a torch high above the city, as if lighting the immigrants’ way through the harbor. Some on the boat called her “Lady Liberty”; some wept at the sight of her, while some merely stood in awe. Henry felt a sudden pride for his new country and his new life; after eight long years of waiting and wishing and hoping, Lady Liberty, the sparkling queen of America, was finally welcoming him to a new home.
No comments:
Post a Comment