Nothing new about immigration crisis

By BILL FERGUSON
KNIGHT RIDDER NEWSPAPERS
Four hundred years ago a tall, lean figure stood on a hill overlooking the shoreline on the east coast of what would one day be called North America. A large wooden ship bobbed in the current just offshore as men and supplies were rowed to the beach on smaller vessels. The observer, whose ancestors had lived on the continent for thousands of years, sighed to himself. Change was in the air.
Later that day Chief Tallfeather consulted with the elders of his tribe on how they should respond to the new arrivals in their land.
"We must wipe them out," said one, "they will overrun us one day," said another. But Tallfeather was wise. He knew there was no way to stop the flow of new settlers. The boats would just keep coming. He prayed to the Great Spirit that his people could live in peace with the white men, and he initiated contact with them.
Once the language barriers had been bridged, he spoke to the leader of the settlers.
"Greetings, stranger. We welcome you to our home. We only ask that, as newcomers, you respect our culture, our traditions, and our way of life. Learn our language, learn our ways, and live in peace with us."
The settlers responded with grunts and nods, but something in their eyes troubled Tallfeather.
Later that night he had a dream. In the dream he saw his people being driven out of their land, driven to the West by blue-coated white men on horseback. His people were weeping. Many were too old, or too young, to make the long journey and would not survive.
When he awoke the next morning Tallfeather was weeping as well. Something inside of him died that day and his people seldom saw him smile or laugh again after he had the dream.
Successful casino
Four hundred years later Jonathan Tallfeather, who bore a remarkable resemblance both in appearance and character to the tall, sad chief who was his forefather, stood on a balcony looking out on the floor of his successful casino. He walked down the stairs and into the gaming area where people of many races were gambling and, for the most part, losing money to him.
He wandered over to the slots, where an elderly white couple were feeding quarters into a pair of machines and watching a television hung from the ceiling in the corner. The set was tuned to CNN, and they were showing live footage of demonstrations in favor of immigrant rights that were going on all over the country. Most of the demonstrators were Hispanic and held up signs written in Spanish.
"What's wrong with these people?" snorted the old man. "They come to OUR country without permission and don't even bother to learn our culture and way of life, or even how to speak our language. I tell you Edna, we need to ship 'em all back to where they came from. They're gonna overrun us. Just whose country is this, anyway?"
Jonathan Tallfeather smiled to himself but said nothing. By the time he'd walked back to his office however, he was chuckling to himself.
"What's so funny boss?" asked Jin, his Korean secretary who had immigrated to the U.S. with her parents when she was only 3.
"Ah, I was just thinking of an old Indian saying," he replied.
"What saying?" Jin asked.
"What goes around, comes around," he said.
"Um, I don't think that's an Indian saying, Mr. Tallfeather."
"Well Jin, I'm an old Indian, and I like to say it. Besides, don't forget who signs your paycheck."
"Ah, yes, old Indian saying. And a wise one at that, boss."
He winked at Jin and she winked back.
Bill Ferguson is a columnist for the Macon (Ga.) Telegraph. Distributed by Knight Ridder/Tribune Information Services.