Suburban_elk’s vivid anecdote:
I met a Polish girl, at work just this week, who is my coworker. I am not making this up. She has two White children of young age, and informs me that her husband is an asshole and she is getting a divorce. Factoring in her ice-blue eyes and bone structure, frame and boobs, she is a solid 8-point-5 by American standards. She sat smoking greenpack American Spirit and said to me: “I hate America and Americans.”
A wanderer bared her psyche to him.
Emigration is exile. So if you must, do it alone in your middle age, with the purpose of giving up on life. Emigration done right is colonization. You come over here with a hundred-thousand of your kin and live in an expanding ethnic enclave. America used to let Europeans do that. “The Sopranos” was an echo of an echo of that world.
But with Urban Renewal, Fair Housing Act, the dispersal to the suburbs and beyond, what then? Who are you? Who — what — are your descendants – “Americans”? The covered-wagon settlers’ descendants today are Americans, no question about that. Not in the least the Basques who conquered the wilderness of Idaho two centuries ago. The descendants of 1880 or 1910 Christian immigrants from all over Europe? You’ll get different answers on that one. And from the perspective of today, it’s more of an open-ended scenario as to what anyone is gonna call himself after the coming festivities. Maybe once again something truly great. No one knows.
So this girl at Elk’s work had decided that by settling in America, she wants to live the rest of her life as an exile. That her daily speech shall henceforth be with a foreign accent. No meaningful connection with any of her acquaintances, unlike back in the fatherland where everyone gets everyone, even individuals who can’t stand each other.
Yet some of the most affirmative attitudes toward America, despite the disillusionment and cynicism that had built over the years, some of the most unwavering support of President Trump and hatred of the political Left, are found among Eastern European immigrants who came here as adults during the 1970s and ’80s. They came here recoiling from the godless Communism of their homelands, only to recognize this same evil flowering here in America in an even more malignant form.
But they have worked hard for their retirement over here and their children typically became successful. They also never had to see their own parents getting old, needing care, dying and that no doubt weighs on them. That’s on top of robbing their heroic WWII-generation parents of grandchildren. Nevertheless, the boomer-emigrants’ sacrifices and their hard work, their pioneer adventurousness, their hatred of Progressive ideologies, and their conviction that they are giving their children a better life in America, were genuine. They saw themselves as future-oriented.
This judeo-enlightenment New World still has a lot going for it, which is why so many claustrophobic people continue to come here today. Easy money. Easy credit. Forget everything, especially your frustrations and failures. Live for today. People are nice here and you can do your own thing the brown deluge dont look over there thats not part of the american dream america wants to tear you into bloody strips
I turned out fine but in several of the cases I’m familiar with, those Polish immigrant-boomers’ children paid the price for this gig. A common factor in those unhappy cases: the children were at or just shy of puberty upon arrival in North America back in the ’80s. One example is the highly intelligent immigrant couple who quickly found top-income professional work in Canada but whose only son (I remember him as a bright, sensitive kid) ended up a heavily tatted drug addict. Then there were two girls who became professionally successful. One is now a lesbian and the other married a fellow-lawyer and is an obese, childless far-left lunatic. That second girl is particularly a pity. Our families met a couple of times in our mid-teens; she was pretty and I remember her having good, positive energy.
Not many people understand that contact with extended family, mother language, the unity of church and state, history and architecture, guardian angels in the morning fog, the sense of metaphysical purpose… even just the cool evening air at the height of the northeastern European summer… having a home is important at two points in your life. First, when you’re coming of age. Then, when you have children. There is also a third such point in life. It’s proper to be buried in one’s native ground.