Confessions of an Immigrant

For many years I never thought twice, nor did any of my friends,

that I was what was known as an Alien Resident, a "Green Card" carrier. All through elementary and later high school, I was simply a kid (perhaps with a slight Brit accent). My folks came to the States (we always referred to, "The States") from Canada via five years in Ceylon, now known as Sri Lanka. I have a sister born there, but not sure if she's a Ceylonese or a Sri Lankan. Anyway, we emigrated to the States in 1940.

Fast forward to 1949. High school graduate, a summer job up in the Sierra Nevada mountains with the US Forrest Service and learning what real tough work was working in the mountains eradicating disease causing shrubbery, later doing fire suppression. Then a feeble start at junior college (while working nights for the San Mateo County Fire Department - - hey, I was an expert in fighting fires by digging fire breaks, no water hosing we).

And then Korea surfaced. Eligible for the draft, but no thank you; I'd like to chose my own destiny. Not quite ready for college, so why not join up, get the draft behind me, and then perhaps get back to school.

Being an enthusiastic Sea Scout the Navy was a logical choice.

Sorry, you're not a citizen. Marines (after all, they are a branch of the Navy and do things with boats). Nope, same story. Faulty eyesight meant not even trying the Air Force. So, what about the Coast Guard? After all, I knew something about small boats and the USCG are certainly into small boats. So, fibbing about my alien status I enlisted as a Coast Guardsman recruit.

The tempo of manpowering for Korea was in full swing and most

anything went. I was sent to a temporary training depot in San Diego, and it was great. Got my navy blue uniform - - the USCG lighter blue was yet to be introduced. We mixed with USN types ashore in what was then strictly a sailers' town. I quickly gained a level of respect knowing something about small boat handling (thanks, Sea Scouts), not hard to do with most every other recruit coming from the Midwest.

Then, called into the commandant's office.

"Jackson, your finger prints are not American."
"Yes, sir."
"In fact, not only aren't they AMERICAN, they're CANADIAN!"
"You're right, sir."

So, busted, but even after only four weeks, an honorable discharge, no less. Still have the certificate and lapel pin!

But, the draft was still looming. Yep, they could draft you even as an alien. But as an alien you couldn't join anything.

So, why not join my own army, in Canada? I'd read about them in National Geographic and they looked pretty cool. Up to Vancouver BC went I to join, only to discover that in spite of the Korean rush (yes, Canada was heavily involved) there was a three week waiting list. Finally enlisted and assigned to one of Canada's youngest regiments, The Princess Patricia's Canadian Light Infantry, stationed in Calgary, Alberta. We jumped out of planes - - actually jumped 64 times, did over 25 before I ever actually landed in a plane. We waited to be rotated with our regiment's first battalion's return from Korea.

Then just before the rotation I was judged a lousy rifle shot so was sent to Officer Candidate School in Ontario, and then commissioned and assigned to my new regiment, one that would be my home for the rest of my service, the Black Watch (Royal Highland Regiment) of Canada. Aye, laddie, wore a kilt for many a year. I did make it to Korea though, just before the truce and then for some months after.

Fifteen years later I emigrated back to "The States". And some years later, gave up my second "Green Card" and became a naturalized citizen of the United States of America, no longer an alien or an immigrant.

On reflection, I don't think I ever felt not being a part of this 

country, even as a kid, nor when I returned as an adult. My

community was always where I was at the moment. And it was to my community that I found myself, and to which I gave my energy and support.



However,

I was a white (caucasian) immigrant.
I looked like and dressed like a local. 
I immigrated from the north, not from the south or east or west.
I wasn't fleeing from anything (well, cold weather, perhaps); I wasn't a refugee.
I spoke English - - well, a sort of a morphed Canadian/American accent.
I belong to a religious minority (active mainline Christians are only 13% of Washington State's population).
I wasn't branded as something suspicious even before stepping foot here.
I was welcomed as a new resident. 
I was pretty indistinguishable.
I was never aware of being profiled.

Yet I was an immigrant. So what about today's immigrants?

Go figure.