Meeting Children of Immigrants Where Ever I Go

While renting bikes in Hungtindon Beach, California at Zach's, I meet Joe Ali, whose father (not sure about his mother) was born in the Old City in what was then, Palestine. When Joe had asked us if we wanted locks for our bicycles, I made some wisecrack like, "Sure, we'd like some lox......and bagels."

Joe asked me if I was Jewish and one thing led to another and we had a brief talk about being children of immigrants and I mentioned that my high school boyfriend was also the son of Palestinian immigrants. He showed me the photo of his father behind the counter. He's pictured wearing a uniform during his service an American soldier in the Vietnam War.

It seems wherever I go in California and in other states in this country, I meet children of immigrants who grew up in the United States.

I challenge you to walk into any hotel or other service employer in a major city and strike up a conversation. The stories you will hear will amaze you and they will help you appreciate the beauty of this country even more.

Let me know what you hear.