Let me illustrate this by relating a part of my own family history. I do this so that it can be real to you. I asked my son when he returned from serving a mission, "What was the most important lesson you learned?"
His answer surprised me. He simply said, "People are real." He explained that every person he taught had ideographic trials and hopes and strengths and weaknesses and fears. They weren't two-dimensional images in a photograph from an exotic country. They were real.
I have snippets from census records, ship manifests, family lore, and film images with which to piece together a story of sacrifice and liberty. In an old photograph of my great-great-grandparents taken in 1905, they are surrounded by their surviving children and the fiancés of the two eldest children. They wear the typical formal clothing for a family portrait taken in 1905, with heavy fabric, high collars, and lace for the girls. The men wear stiff white shirts, collars, and heavy coats. As in most such old photographs, none of them are smiling. However, if you look closely in their eyes, you will see a peace, a hopefulness, and a sense of satisfaction.
The parents are Shulin and Pesse Blumenfeld. Morris is the eldest son with his wife-to-be, Eva. Schaindle is the eldest daughter with her husband-to-be, Morris Schreiber. Schaindle is her Yiddish name. It means "pretty girl." Schaindle was my great-grandmother. In the picture she is 19 years old with a young face, dark eyes, and thick hair piled high on her head in the mode of the day. The other children are Fanni, Mordche (whose name was Americanized to Max), Chai (whose name was Americanized to Ida), Golda, Mala (Mollie), and Bela (Belle).
Not pictured are Anna and Tobie, who would be born later, and Charlotte and Isadore, who were buried back in Botosani, Rumania.
These people were eastern European Jews who immigrated to the United States. But they did not come all at once. I have no documentation about when the eldest son, Morris, entered the country. I know far more about Schaindle and the others. Schaindle told this story, which I have only partially proven through my research. It is a story of sacrifice bearing the fruit of liberty.
When Schaindle was nine years old, she was sent to live with and work for a tailor threading needles and caring for his children. She sent her wages home. At age 16 she was sent to America with her uncle in a group of nine extended family members to work, send money back to Rumania, and prepare the way for her family to come to America. She said that they were very frightened because they didn't know if an extended family group like theirs would be allowed to enter the United States. She said she lied about her age and her name to enter. When her uncle was confronted by an immigration official who asked, "Are these all your children," he pretended not to understand. He said, "Ve are nine people." The official held them on the ship and continued to ask them questions. The only answer her uncle would give, pretending not to understand, was "Ve are nine people." Eventually the official grew tired, and, probably not seeing a threat of anarchy in a group of so obviously ignorant immigrants, he let them in. I can hear him in my imagination: "Yes, I know you are nine people. Enough already, just get off the ship. Go stand in that line." One of these days I'll ask Schaindle to tell me the whole story because I'm having a tough time documenting and triangulating the details of her entry in America. (It doesn't help genealogy research when you lie about your name and age on official documents.)
My best estimate at this point is that Schaindle entered America almost exactly 100 years ago on July 5, 1902. Schaindle immediately went to work in a sweatshop sewing clothes. After all, she had begun working for a tailor at age nine. She sent her wages home to her family in Rumania. She said that whenever she had the urge to purchase an apple, she would deny herself, take the coin the apple would have cost, place it in a jar, and add it to her total to send home to Rumania. I have documentation showing that eventually Salomon and the next oldest daughter, Fanni, entered the U.S. on February 15, 1904.
Seven months later, on September 2, 1904, Pesse arrive with Mordche, who, at 10 years old, was her helper to care for Chai (age 8), Golda (age 4), Mala (age 3), and Bela (9 months old). I was thrilled to eventually locate the ship's manifest. I didn't know them by their Yiddish names, and it was only through Golda that I eventually found them together as a group. They arrived on the steamship Carpathia, which you will recognize as the first ship to respond to the Titanic.
Imagine Pesse's 10-day voyage in the steerage of the Carpathia with five children ranging in age from nine months to 10 years old. Imagine Pesse's anxiety as she sent her eldest children and her husband to America. The baby Bela had just been born when Shulin began his trip to America. Any mishap along the way could have left her alone in Botosani with five mouths to feed and a 10-year-old boy to earn their daily bread. But the promise of liberty was so great that risks had to be taken and sacrifices had to be made.
Eventually they were all united in Chicago in late 1904. In 1905 the portrait was taken. When I look at Shulin and Pesse surrounded by
all their surviving children, I sense the greatest relief, peace, hopefulness, and satisfaction. What a travail it must have been! A course of self-sacrifice by many members of the family made it possible for this simple portrait to be taken. I imagine all the ways it could have gone awry through accident, iceberg, persecution, or bigotry. The risks and sacrifices obtained liberty for all of the children and eventually for me. If they hadn't obtained this liberty, imagine what would have been their course living in eastern Europe as Jews in the first half of the 20th century. But of course that is hypothesis contrary to fact. They did sacrifice and obtain liberty. I inherited this liberty from them, and I am grateful.
We have found Shulin's family on both the 1910 and 1920 censuses. In 1910, Schaindle and Morris and their two children were living with Shulin and Pesse in a group of 13 people in a Yiddish neighborhood in Chicago. The census records that Shulin was a peddler, and his product was listed as "rags." He and Pesse spoke only Yiddish. He could read and write, but Pesse could not.
Two of the older children, Max and Ida, were listed as working in a tailor shop. Max could neither read nor write, but Ida could. They all labored to support the extended family. Ten years later, on January 7, 1920, the family was enumerated on the next census. The household had shrunk to nine. Max was dead, having never married. He died in 1919 at age 24 or 25. Golda and her husband were living with Shulin and Pesse. They had a two-month-old baby named Max.
As I studied the census record, I pieced together a probable story. I suspect that Max probably died in the influenza epidemic that ravaged America from 1918 to 1919. Living in close quarters spread the disease quickly. I imagine how many other members of the family were fevered and near death. I imagine Golda, pregnant and cramped in a small tenement, fearful for her coming baby and for her family. In January 1920 the baby was two months old, and they named him Max. It is typical of Yiddish families to name children after a dead relative who was beloved. Mordche, called Max, was the big brother, the 10-year-old helper from across the ocean, the presser in a tailor shop who never married whose wages were contributed to supplement the earnings of a father who spoke only Yiddish and peddled rags for a living. Mordche, who never learned to read or write, who never enjoyed the blessings of education but who cared for the family, had died in 1919, and Golda, six years younger, delivered her baby safely and named him Max as a memorial to her beloved older brother who had sacrificed so much to care for his father's family.
Schaindle and Mordche sacrificed for the sake of liberty. Look at how far-reaching have been the benefits of their sacrifices. For example, while my ancestors toiled under very limited education, I have been blessed by their sacrifices and have received an excellent education and serve as a faculty member at a precious university. I am grateful.