When my maternal great-grandmother came to the United States from Ireland, she struggled for work. There were signs, “No Irish Need Apply” or just “No Irish.” There was no welfare, and we were all the better for it. They wouldn’t have taken it anyway. The families who came just worked harder and kept their heads down. My great-grandmother lost her farm in Ireland when the British stole it. A Lord lives on it now. She paid for passage to the United States, the land of opportunity, not welfare.
Her daughter, my grandmother, wore her beautiful, handmade communion dress on her communion day when some boys threw blood on her. Anna didn’t become a victim; she became a tailor and made clothes for herself and others. Her aunt was a tailor for Bamie Roosevelt, Theodore’s sister. Her uncle became a monsignor, fighting for the poor. He wrote a hymn sung by Perry Como. When he died, the “Bowery Bums” collected for his monument, which still stands at Calvary Cemetery.
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