“America is another name for opportunity.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
As a first-generation American, the daughter of immigrants, I have a great appreciation for the fact that I was born and raised in the United States. My parents came to this country from Egypt in their twenties with their families (they did not meet each other until they were both in the U.S.). Aside from a college education and the drive to work hard, neither of them had much. They could speak enough English to get along, but their accents made it obvious they weren’t born in this country.
Nevertheless, my father’s engineering degree enabled him to get a job at a large power plant—not the job he should have had as an engineer, but he went back to school to get a Masters’ degree at night, and he eventually worked his way up to where he belonged. Through an introduction from a mutual friend, he met my mother.
My mother had a degree in pharmacy from Egypt, and while very pregnant with me she studied for her pharmacy license exam. A short time after I was born, she sat for the test, and she passed. She didn’t use her license until almost a decade later, instead staying home to raise my brother and me.
Growing up, I heard a lot of stories from my parents about what it was like in Egypt, but although life in this country was very different and hard for them, especially in those early years, almost every story ended with, “that’s what makes the United States so great.” They knew they had opportunities here—my brother and I had opportunities here—that we would never have had otherwise. I watched my parents save money so we could have new shoes and clothes for school, so we could go on vacations in the summer, and so we could attend the college of our choice without going into debt. I knew how much my parents appreciated their lives here, and I grew up feeling the same sense of gratitude. If my parents were lucky to have had the chance to move to this country as adults, how much luckier was I to have been born here, to be an American through no effort of my own?
I’m not just lucky to be American, though. I’m lucky to have a frame of reference for what it means to live in this country. It’s easy for someone who has lived here all their life, whose parents and grandparents lived here and who's never known anything else, to take what we have for granted. The fact that we can practice any faith we choose (or none at all), wear whatever styles please us, say whatever we want on social media (or a monthly newsletter), live in whatever city we choose, pick whatever profession we wish, learn whatever we want to learn—it is the very definition of freedom, and it is the most valuable thing we have. Granted, it is not freedom from hardship or challenges or mockery or toxic work environments or different points of view, but it is the freedom to take action to change your situation, if you have the courage to try.
As often happens, I saw another quote that piqued my interest when working on this newsletter, made by former President Bill Clinton: “There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured with what is right in America.” How true. We are not a perfect country, because people aren’t perfect, but as long as we have our freedom, we have the ability to make things better for ourselves, our families, and our communities.
My children are now second-generation Americans (on my side, at least), but hopefully, in knowing their immigrant grandfather, hearing the stories that have been passed down, and keeping their eyes open to the world around them, they will always appreciate how good they have it. And they will know that we are all living the American dream every day.
Happy Fourth of July!
- Kathryn Amurra