The Feb. 1 News Tribune told the story of another individual trying to arrive at the dream of being an American citizen ("The feds want to deport three Duluthians. Their friends say, 'No way' ").
I support the dream. In my 73 years of citizenship within our wonderful country, I've read similar tear-wrenching tales of the struggle to become an American. I've also been there and done that in obtaining my late wife's quest for the same. It took me years of hard research, letter writing, phone calls and political aid to obtain citizenship for my British bride.
Some of our Minnesota politicians were of help while others proved as useful as a lifeguard on Park Point in February. I also had to deal with communications challenges while in six countries as a member of the U.S. Air Force during the struggle.
I grew up in West Duluth, in the infamous Raleigh Street neighborhood, experiencing the hard life of immigrants. They were not whiners; they were doers. They knew the difference between legal and illegal. Finns, Poles, Norwegians, Swedes and others: They conformed to the rules and regulations to reach citizenship status and to become valued performers in our city's history.
There was a tear in my eye the day my lovely wife, with an American flag in her hand, vowed to uphold the laws and pledged herself as an American citizen. This lady could have put any high school senior to shame with her knowledge of American history and doctrines. I barely qualified in a sample citizenship test. She aced it. She walked the walk.
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I could write a book about the sorrow I felt processing hundreds of Vietnamese refugees through a port of entry in California, all of them destined for locations where citizenship could be achieved. I cannot forget one young man, a veteran, about my age, with a missing leg. He approached me, asking if I could adopt him as a son to eliminate the red tape associated with immigrants. He showed me that within his handbag were several thousand U.S. dollars to aid in my decision. I told him that when he had gone through the proper channels I would respect him as an American. I informed the customs and immigration service of his offer.
I also saw hundreds of babies given up by mothers and relatives crowded into monstrous cargo planes departing Vietnam for the land of the free. During the 1950s, while moving thousands of Hungarian airlift passengers through the passenger terminal at the Burtonwood airfield in England, I looked upon so many faces of people who did not have baggage stubs attached to their aircraft boarding passes -- they wore their baggage.
We sometimes cringe at the way our ancestors were processed at Ellis Island. Yes, the process was often sad, but the immigrants were doing what was necessary to make our country what it is today. They knew freedom is not free.
The U.S. is a melting pot, but we cannot continue to allow our country to be governed by those who consider the U.S. a jackpot.
I cannot help but hold the American-born husband of the woman in the Feb. 1 story to blame for the threat of deportation. There seemed to be many avenues left unexplored that, with self-determination, he wouldn't now still find himself dealing with a potentially sad knothole in the board of life.
We cannot tear down our border walls. Every individual seeking citizenship has a heart-wrenching tale of woe. During my 27 years of uniformed service, I never dreamed of a time when I'd have to defend the rights of American citizens from my home.
TOM MUSOLF of West Duluth volunteered for wartime service before graduating Duluth Denfeld High School in 1953. He received his diploma last August during his 55th class reunion.
