On this day in 1885, the Statue of Liberty arrived in the New York Harbor, a gift from the people of France, designed by Frederic Auguste Bartholdi.
The statue became a symbol of hope, welcoming immigrants to the USA.
On her pedestal is inscribed "The New Colossus" by American poet Emma Lazarus:
Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.
It's interesting to contemplate this sonnet today.
Here in Anglozona, where I make my home, immigration remains a divisive and hotly debated issue as we approach the centennial of our statehood.
The word "immigrant" carries a strong negative connotation around these parts. Apparently, we palefaces forget that we are the aliens. Our claim to this territory is quite recent, and dubious at best.
I don't know the Tohono O'odham or Apache name for the white man's arrival, but I don't believe we were "greeted as liberators."
I do know that the shameless land-grabs of northern Mexico, which our history books disguise with convenient euphemisms (treaty, purchase, Manifest Destiny), are referred to in Mexican texts as The North American Invasion.
Nevertheless, it's 2011, and here we are.
And there stands Lady Liberty, lifting her lamp, welcoming immigrants.
I'm celebrating her anniversary by seeing the movie Green Lantern, which opens today.
It seems fitting.
My favorite comic book from childhood, Green Lantern is an inspirational superhero space opera.
It tells the story of myriad aliens, coming together in teamwork and harmony, heroically using their creative imaginations, strength of will and light to overcome the evil, destructive power of fear.