WHOSE LIFE IS MADE BETTER?

We Americans often say that people from foreign countries emigrate to the US in order to find a "better life." I'm sure that's true. Today and throughout our country's brief history, others have sought our shores to escape poverty, prejudice, and lately, terrorism and its effects. They've come seeking freedom and all that word implies.

But in the past two weeks, I've had occasion to look at immigration in another light. First, a woman from South Vietnam cut and styled my hair. She was outgoing and pleasant and did a good job on my hair, giving me just the cut I'd asked for.

A few days later I went to a lab for a routine test. At this time of year, the usual opening conversation is about the weather, which in the Midwest jumps from frigid to warm in a matter of a day. When I called this "yo-yo" weather, the technician looked puzzled. I demonstrated how the toy works, going up and down, and she smiled. "I remember this from my physics course." We began talking about idioms and how they take one deeper into the cultural aspects of language. She asked if I'd read The Kite Runner (I had read that wonderful novel.) and told me she was from the same ethnic group as the main character.

During the following week, I went with my husband to visit his cardiologist, a quietly confident, friendly man from India. His nurse, calm and pleasant, was from Laos. They both answered questions and offered reassurance as we talked.

So, in the course of several days, a beautician from South Vietnam, a technician from Afghanistan, a physcian from India and his nurse from Laos all offered me kindness, professionalism, courtesy and provided me with a variety of services.

I'm trusting that their lives are better than in the country they came from. I know for sure that my life was made better because they're here!

Off the Beaten Track

This morning I had coffee with a friend who'd just gotten back from a cruise. He mentioned that when their ship docked, passengers were advised to stay on the main street of the city. They were warned that stepping off onto a side street might be dangerous and they couldn't be responsible for what might happen. The main street was lined with upscale stores similar, or in some cases identical, to the stores US passengers had left back home.

My friend ignored the advice and turned onto a side street where he saw the reality of life in this third world country. He could look into doorways and see families at work, children at play...life going on among the poor of the city. What he saw was real and at the same time so far removed from life on the main street that the two paths seemed to be in different countries.

It is curious to me why one would take the time and trouble--and spend the money--to travel to another country and stay on the "safe" main street. I think main streets are much the same, no matter where one finds them. It's the side streets that offer a glimpse into the culture of another country. Side streets offer authentic restaurants and the richness of everyday life expressed in the native language and customs of a country.

It seems to me that in life, as in travel, the greatest rewards come from stepping off the main strip to see what's waiting down a side street. The determination to stay "safe" can lead to missed opportunities to experience other people and their culture.