While immigration and migration are genuine policy challenges that require reform and substantive bi-partisan solutions, placing blame on the shoulders of the vulnerable for political gain is not representative of a compassionate society.
On a recent Sunday morning I moved through the streets of one of America’s most striking cities, San Francisco. The city takes its name from St. Francis of Assisi who was an exemplar of kindness, wisdom, and care for others. My destination was the historic Third Baptist Church which is the city’s oldest African-American church. It was there that I was to meet Dr. Amos Brown who, like St. Francis, is the embodiment of service to others, insight, and compassion.
The Japanese World War II Weihsien Internment Camp in Central China was a demoralising place marked by harsh and unsanitary conditions. From 1942 to 1945, the invading Japanese forces held over 2,000 expatriates there, including more than 300 children, from the United States, Britain, Canada and other countries. Amidst the camp’s gloom and human misery, a golden light of goodness flickered in the peaceful presence of a Chinese born Scotsman. His name was Eric Liddell.
In 1963, 100 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, patience was rightfully running thin for African Americans. For its credibility as a nation erected upon collective human liberty, America desperately needed to usher in a new era of progress for equality and justice for all.
I often consider you, reader, and your time of stopping for a moment to review my thoughts. How I wish we were face to face, sharing ideas and a laugh, exchanging stories together at this special season. While we may be strangers detached by a vast ocean, we do share much in common, and we jointly sail the same seas of life. We are both fortunate to have people around us that uplift and remind us of our worth when doubt seeps in or challenges arise.
The late William Greer was born in 1909 in Stewartstown, a village in Northern Ireland. At 20-years-old, he left behind his homeland with a heavy and hopeful heart to emigrate to the United States.
US President Franklin Delano Roosevelt once said, “The test of our progress is not whether we add more to the abundance of those who have much; it is whether we provide enough for those who have too little.”
My time is special in the garden that my late father conceived and delicately cared for in the San Francisco Bay Area. It still blooms under the tender hands of my mother. It has been 55 years since the first seeds were sown there. A modest plot minuscule to earth, a rich place still vast with lessons.
In 1963, 100 years after the Emancipation Proclamation, patience was rightfully running thin for African Americans. For its credibility as a nation erected upon collective human liberty, America desperately needed to usher in a new era of progress for equality and justice for all.
Two years after the Second World War ended, Europe subsisted under a dark cloud of economic and social hardship. While the light of peace brought hope, the ashes of a devastating war still lingered in the hearts of millions.
