“Ciao Raggazzi!” I shouted on a brisk morning, the sea breeze drifting up to the houses as the sun reached and pushed itself out of the sea. My kids where not yet up, no one was, it was quite and full of noise. My head was moving around itself, full of questions and doubting every answer. I repeated myself, needing to say goodbye to my family before I left. It’s one of those most imperative things for a parent. One where no matter the options the children and the family come first, not by desire, but by nature. Leonardo was the first to come down. “Pappa, buon mattina!” He said this as he rubbed the crust off of his eyes as if they had they had decided to stay asleep. “Pappa?” he took a long pause, as if not wanting to finish the question he had begun with fearing the answer so. “Si…oggi.” Today was the day the immigration ship arrived in the Bari harbor of Italy, today was the day that I would leave my family, my wife and my kids, my farm and so much that I was accustomed to for America. There my two brothers had been living for several years now and would be able to make me feel at home, even across the Atlantic. The journey, the new land, all of it so uncertain, only rumors from others. One rumor was that America had much better farmland, and that it gave its citizens rights. Here in Bari the government ignores us, a poor farm town is nothing compared to great Rome in a “United Italy”. The change was necessary not for me, but for Leonardo, and for his brothers and sisters. I let my children sleep with dirt and moss since birth, But I want their children to know only cotton and soap. The smell of the house was natural, dirt and dust flung everywhere, the soil outside loosing its touch, unable to hold anything, America was necessary. My brothers have sent letters telling me of the great things the land of America has let them grow, and how much easier it is to make money there. “Pappa, in la bocca al lupo…” still cleaning his eyes out of the morning crust, and cleaning the dirt off of his clothes. I would need the luck, because he would need it. That’s the job of any parent isn’t it, to make the lives of your child more enjoyable, and easier. America is necessary.”Crepi il lupo, ma dove e toui frattelli?” I asked out of eagerness, needing to say goodbye. The ship would come in an hour, and from what I’ve heard, being last on the ship means being the first to be thrown off. “piano di sopra, ancora dormendo Pappa” “va bene, ma possi svegliarli” “Si Pappa Si.” Finally everyone walked down, also tired, but with a look on their faces, a melting pot of hope, sorrow and fright. I said bye to each and everyone, knowing it would be a while before I would see them again, but America is necessary. The only plant easy to pull out of the soil is the dead one.

“Hoooonk!” “Arrivederci, mi amore tutti” and off I am on the boat to the great land of progress and freedom. In Bari everyone speaks of America as if it be the greatest invention of man. Not as if everything is easier there, but just one thing seems to be implied by the mouths of the hopeful Italians. Those on the porch who sit and look at the sun rising, those who cook early in the morning, those once believing Italy could help them. Here dreaming is something one does daily, in America its something one accomplishes. The ship approached the harbor from afar. It didn’t look like it was even moving. It was large and fat, yet graceful. It wasn’t the prettiest of ships, but who said it needed to be. Everyone stared looking. Most of the people here were young men, like me, maybe 100 men all together. There was one family, I have never seen them before, but I guess it was time for them to go to America. That was the plan for my family too. I’d go, find a job, a farm maybe, and then, when things were stable and fear could be ignored, I would tell them to come to America. No plan made from man can ever work out perfectly; we’re too dumb for that. But it was necessary for this one to work.

The ship finally docked with a God-awful smell to it. I pinched my nose, but it didn’t do much, the stench was as if men had died and someone liked the smell, and so killed more just to add to it. Sadly I did not know how true that was. Before we were allowed on the boat we were asked for a medical test. “Perche” I asked with sweat bubbling down my back and brow. All of this and then he would say “dispiace mio” and no more America. They said because they wanted to make sure I wouldn’t die. It was necessary. I knew then that the smell wasn’t similar to death it just was death. I got on board, and was happy to be one of the first. I pulled a blanket over me; it was cold with the morning sea breeze jumping off of the coast. Its funny, I barely can tell what’s going on, so much is a blur, and the smell doesn’t help any of it. People got on with the same faces, it were as if we were off to war, to storm the coast of some foreign place, and were accepting it, done fighting. The fighting had been beaten out of us, and it was necessary.

By two o’clock the Cold had begun to get to me, the ship had gotten full and we left Bari for America. No one talked and my head was noisy enough that adding to it wasn’t worth it. I looked back at the coast as we glided away, my kids would need me, and therefore America was needed. I looked around and no one else talked, there was this atmosphere in the air of self-thought, many had already begun to cough. Some threw up often, never having been jostled by nature’s high seas before. I was cold and only wanted my kids and wife near me, no such luck. As night fell the moon showed itself, no clouds to trap it. It was beautiful, very crisp and white tonight, like fresh snow. I just started at it as I fell asleep that night.

Several days later the air was bitter cold, the seas choppy and strong.  One of the engineers on board said that we were approaching America, and that storms are common there.  The winds howled with power and thrashed the ship in constant waves, never giving up.  I had been in storms before in Italy, but nothing like this. It appears power like this is natural to America. I stayed up the entire night and for once was happy that my kids weren’t there,  I didn’t need them dead.

The morning after was something else. Many of the sick on board had died, and some were very injured and could not be cared for.  I traveled near the outer parts of the ship. They just chucked them off of the ship, one by one. I knew none of that was necessary, or was it? But they did it, to men who were only just beginning, had their memories, their names everything thrown into the ocean totally gone from existence. Would they’re families ever even know?

The horn blasted.  A young captain emerged and shouted “ETA 30 minutes.” Some guy was next to me while I was sleeping and woke me up to say “Noi arrivati.” I shot up, Manhattan Island; the city of New York should be there. I couldn’t wait to see it, I seriously doubted it was as magnificent as many claimed, but hoped it really was. Something inside wanted more than anything wanted the city to be as amazing as it was in my head. I moved to the edge of the boat, but saw nothing, no great city.  Suddenly a green lady appeared, the morning dew made her guard to see. As we got closer I saw the huge size of her, a determined face,  a massive torch. She was green which was odd, but the most beautiful thing. Steady strong and determined, just like I needed to be. America was necessary.

I still had not yet seen the city, when the ship arrived they called us off one by one. “who are you?” asked this big burly man.  He towered over me like some monster with deep red cheeks and a bright orange mustache. But I knew very little English, and before I could even process what he had said, and a I think I would have. Another shouted.  “Chi e?”  I understood that,  “Io Ralpheal de Nicola de Marino.” The big man looked at me, looked down at his paper looked back up and said “Ralph Marino,  ok!” I was guided off of the ship and then left alone.  My brothers told me to find a telephone and call and they would get me. “Dove el telephono?” I walked around begging someone to answer no one would.  It wasn’t their fault English was necessary too. Suddenly I walked around a corner after spotting one. But I saw it. It was like a ship, all on its own.  Unlike like any other thing I had ever seen. Buildings covered the entire Island. Apparently they had trains underground too, ships, smoke stakes, tall buildings everywhere. I just stared and whispered to myself “Benvevuti a New York.” Then I remembered what Leonardo had said “In la bocca al lupo.” So whispered to Leonardo, to America “crepi il povero lupo.”