Confession of an Undocumented Alien Who Loves America

I have a confession to make. I came to the United States as an undocumented alien. More specifically, I arrived as a "displaced person" from World War II. I did not speak English, and I had no name. I did not have a passport, a birth certificate, or papers of any sort, as neither I nor anyone else had any knowledge of what country I was born in or when (except to guess sometime in the latter years of the war), and certainly not to whom.Upon leaving an orphanage while still in Europe, I was taken to the harbor at Bremen, Germany, unaware of why or where I was bound. I stood dumbstruck staring up at the enormous black hull of a ship destined for the United States. Walking alone up the gangplank, I had no luggage or papers -- just a yellow tag pinned to my coat.The winter voyage was excruciating. The ocean was in a constant state of turmoil, and seasickness plagued nearly everyone on board. Finally, on the seventh day, as dawn broke, I stood at the railing and watched the image...(Read Full Article)