Some Of My Things Part 6

The Passport

I am an immigrant. I didn’t know it at the time as I was only eighteen months old. 

My passport issued just before we left is a prized  possession because it documents a huge change in the life of my family.  I was leaving the Bundes Republik of Germany and going to the United States of America. The Federal Republic of Germany came into existence in May 1949. We left in 1955. My parents and three brothers had endured being evicted from their home in Hirschberg, Selesia (now Poland), walking and traveling by train to Germany as refugees, and then trying to re-establish a home and business in Werdohl, Westfahlen.

The Second World War left Germany with devastating destruction and food shortages. As my brother Ingo writes,

“My father had prepared well for the exodus to America. Having departed from Schlesien a decade before, he was able to re-assume the survival mode, leaving essentially everything behind and starting from scratch in a new land. In fact, I don’t think that he ever truly settled down in Westfalen.  Although frequent visits to the Hannover area kept him connected to his family, his monument business was doing well, and he had a professional colleague in Ludwig Hertwig nearby, the search for fulfillment of dignity and freedom was not over. Many would say he had achieved enough personal success for a refugee, in a very short time. Being a man of vision and much experience, however, personal success was not the ultimate goal for Kurt. He wanted more for his offspring than what post World War II could offer. Having never enjoyed the fruits of higher education himself, he wanted more opportunity for his three sons and his daughter. Rumor had it that, in the U.S., immigrants can achieve any level of education with modest means. Hard work did not need to be impressed upon him as a condition of success; hard work was always understood, and nothing else was acceptable. A second motivation to emigrate was the fulfillment of Marta’s dreams, who had immersed herself in a religious life that offered promises for eternity. She knew that material recovery from the war was not an end unto itself. The mountains of Utah became the physical rock upon which she hoped to stand as she built her spiritual rock of faith in Jesus Christ. Kurt loved her enough to give up his personal successes and the regular contact with his sisters and friends. As a non-believer in formal religious activity and a non-member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, he nevertheless knew that God had preserved him throughout his life - this sacrifice was a requirement to pursue a bigger goal for all of us.

Formal preparations required the usual documents for six people: passports, immigration visas, a sponsor in the United States, health certificates, relinquishment of properties in Germany, bookings on ocean liners and bus liners, and numerous other details.”

So as my passport testifies in January 1955 my family was given permission to emigrate. The picture in my passport shows a serious toddler with blond hair, blue eyes, and a round face. As the youngest of four with a large gap between myself and my brother, I was loved and well taken care of. I wish I remembered more of those first years. I would have liked to have a memory of arriving at Ellis Island. My brother writes,

“We had been told that Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty would be the first landmarks. I looked for them with great anticipation on the last day of our sea voyage. The appearance of sea gulls alongside of the ship is a sign that land will soon be at the horizon. It was a bit foggy, so Lady Liberty shot up suddenly out of the gray mist. We couldn’t believe that we were finally in America. The ship approached the south tip of Manhattan, moved slowly up the Hudson River, and docked on pier 42, I believe. The skyline of New York City was a jaw-dropper. As we got off the S.S. America, in America, there were many shouts of welcome for immigrants and seasoned travelers arriving in the U.S., but none of the greetings were specifically for us. Our relatives were still 3000 miles away. Father had a look of worry on his face because he didn’t know if all the connections from sea travel to land travel would work. First we had to clear immigration and customs.”

Someday, as someone in my family comes across this passport I hope they remember the story of sacrifice and generous blessings we received as a family by coming to America.