Cynthia's Diary - Miscellaneous - http://maxpages.com/emilysrealm/Cynthias

Another one by me, Emily Blythe

The Decision To Come To America

September 25, 1893

Dear Diary,
My name is Cynthia Kellog. I am nineteen years of age and I live with my parents in Ireland. I’ve bought this journal with some of the little money I have because I don’t ever want to forget what’s happened to me. Ma says I am going about it in the right way.
My family are farmers. We’ve been farming for hundreds and hundreds of years. We used to own our land but then the English came. Da says they tried to take away Ireland’s life. They want Ireland to be English and Protestant, because that’s what they are. But my family, we’re proud Irish Catholics. But that doesn’t get you much in Ireland. The English, they’ve taken away most of the Irish Catholic’s rights, they have. We can’t work in the government, be a teacher, serve on a jury, or carry a gun. We can’t even own our own land. We’re tenant farmers. That means we rent the land we farm. The English own the land and so they get most of the profit. And every time the Irish increase their land’s value, the landlords raise their rent. Some people don’t even try to develop their land and I have to admit, there’s not much incentive to. But my family has always brought in excellent harvests. That’s what got us into such trouble.
Every harvest time, our landlord raises our rent so now we pay more then anyone in the county. It’s never been that big of a problem before, we’ve always had enough to get by, but this year we had hardly any crop at all. We harvested just enough to get us through the winter but since we didn’t have anything to sell for money, we couldn’t pay the rent. We have some savings, but it wasn’t enough, we have a very high rent, remember?
Since we couldn’t pay we were, of course, evicted. We followed in the path of hundreds of other Irish before us. We were told we had one day in which to leave and so followed the busiest day of my life. I packed from dawn until dusk with Ma and we had some trouble getting everything packed in time.
At eight o’clock, we stood outside our little house and watched while and English soldier started a fire. I wanted to cry as I saw the little house I’ve lived in for nineteen years burn down to nothing more then a pile of wood and ashes but I remembered what Da had said. He told me that I had to be strong, so the English would see that Irish would never be beaten. I asked Da why they had burned our house down and he told me it was because they wanted to make sure we couldn’t go back to live there. We can’t live on our farm!! This is just wrong! It’s OUR farm, not some ignorant wealthy English landlord’s who doesn’t even realize that if the weather is bad the crop will be bad.
We went to Da’s brother’s farm that night. Their house is very small, even smaller then ours, so we’re squeezed in very tight. Uncle told us we could live here until we got back on our feet but Da said no. He said he wasn’t going to buy another farm when he knew he could be evicted at anytime. No, he said, we’re going to America!
I’m so excited! I’ve heard that America’s streets are paved with gold, though I’ve never been quite sure whether or not to believe that. How can streets be paved with gold? But many Irish have already gone to America and made better lives for themselves, and Da says we can too. But, he says, we can’t bring much. I’m allowed my clothes and one keepsake. I’ve decided to bring this little book, so I can always remember every detail of this time.
Papa will be buying our boat tickets tomorrow with some of our savings. He asked Uncle to come with us, but Uncle said he will stay in Ireland where he belongs. I wish he was coming with us but I just can’t wait until we leave for America!

The Journey Across The Atlantic

October 15, 1893

Dear Diary,

We’re on our way! But in the most awful conditions! Da wanted to come over in an American ship, because they’re designed for passengers, but we couldn’t afford it the tickets. Instead, we have to sail over on a British ship and they’re cargo ships so they’re not designed for carrying passengers. Our ship’s name is The Queen.
The conditions on this ship are terrible! Steerage, where we are, is filthy and crowded. They’ve crammed this small place below the decks with as many people as they could. Da says it’s so they can make more money. There is little room to move around down here and also little air. What air there is is stuffy. I want to get out onto the deck and breathe in some good, fresh air but I’m not allowed to. This place under the decks is dank and rotting and ship itself looks none too seaworthy.
From the first day on this ship I’ve been incredibly thirsty. I know the crew brought enough water for everyone, because I saw them loading the barrels onto the ship before we set sail, but they give hardly any to the passengers down in Steerage. I myself get so little each day that I hardly get three sips out of it.
My journey to America certainly isn’t starting out like I thought it would. I hope we reach New York soon but I hear that the journey across the Atlantic can take as much as ten weeks if the weather is unfavorable. Ten weeks! So far though, we’ve had perfect weather and I pray that it holds up because I know I won’t be able to survive ten weeks in this place.
I’ve amused myself these past days by imaging what my new life in America will be like. They say America is the land of opportunity and that thousands of immigrants, from countries all over the world, have started better lives there. Da says that in America we can own our own land and not have a greedy English landlord raise the rent every year. He says we can be free.
Yesterday, as I was trying to get to sleep in my narrow bunk, I heard a mother singing a lullaby to her young daughter. It was the same one my mother used to sing to me when I was little and I listened to the mother singing her daughter to asleep, missing Ireland so much I started to cry.

On the wings of the night
May your fury be crossed
May no one that’s dear
To our island be lost

Blow the wind gently
Calm be the foam
Shine the light brightly
To guide them back home

The Trip Through Ellis Island

November 1, 1893

Dear Diary,

Today we arrived at Ellis Island at eight thirty am. My first glimpse of America was the Statue Of Liberty standing tall on Liberty Island. I thought we would be getting off the boat right away, but I was surprised when I was told that we had to wait and let the people in first class leave the boat first. I watched them disembark and saw that they didn’t have to go through Ellis Island. Da seemed angry about this.
When we in Steerage were finally allowed to disembark, we boarded ferries that took us to Ellis Island. As we came closer, I saw a large building, presumably the main one. It was made of red brick and had ornate towers.
Once we reached Ellis Island and gotten off the ferry, we were told to line up under a large canopy at the main entrance. After waiting there a while, we were taken with a small group of other immigrants into the Great Hall. There, right in front of us, was a large American flag, reminding all of us why we were there.
Our group was ushered up the Grand Staircase, watched by many people who I can only assume were some sort of doctors, by the clothes that they wore. An old woman in front of me gave a wheezing cough and one of the doctors quickly put a mark in chalk on her back. She didn’t see it, but everyone behind her did. We looked at each other nervously and wondered what it could mean.
At one point in our trip of the steps, I tripped. I regained my balance and looked at Da, who looked horrified. Ma quickly took my coat off me, turned it inside out, and then had me put it back on.
When we reached the top of the stairs, more of those doctors appeared. They took several people away from the crowd, one of them being the old woman. As they walked away, I saw that they all had chalk marks on their backs and I thanked God for Ma’s quick thinking. I can only assume that this was some sort of test and I’m glad Ma and Da, as well as me, got through it.
We had many examinations, but some I can recall ore vividly then others. One of those is the eye exam. That really hurt. The doctor put this hook like instrument under my upper eyelid. Then he folded the lid over. I heard another immigrant saying that he was looking for any signs of Trachoma, a very contagious eye disease that usually ends up in blindness. Again, my family and I passed, for which I am very thankful. But a little girl named Katie O’Neil, who had sailed over to America on the same ship as me, was found to have the disease. As I was waiting to move on, I heard the doctor tell her the little girl’s parents that he was sorry but the their daughter had to be sent back to Ireland. He said that they could send her back alone, or they could go with her. The couple didn’t hesitate a moment, they said that they were all going back and I watched them being led away.
After we got past all of the medical examinations we were led to several rows of wood benches and told to sit down. As people were called up to a desk where two men were sitting, we were able to move forward from bench to bench. Finally, it was my turn. One man asked a question in English and the other man listened to what he said and then translated it into Irish for me until I told them I can speak English. Ireland is, after all, occupied by the British. The officer looked pleased when I informed them of this. He said being able to speak English would help me a lot. Then he started shooting questions at me so fast it made my head spin. What’s your name? Can you read and write? Are your parents alive? Are they with you? Are you married? Have you ever been sick? (I ask you, who hasn’t?) How do you feel now? Do you have a job waiting for you? Is someone meeting you? Do you have any money? After what seemed like an hour of this, the questioning was finally over.
After I got through all of the examinations I was given a Green Card, which is what says I can enter the United States. I passed! So did Ma and Da! I don’t know what we would have done if one of us hadn’t made it.
After we got our Green Cards we crossed over to Manhattan by ferry. We’re finally here! Now we can buy our own farm and start our new lives in America!

The Search For Housing And A Job

November 23, 1893

Dear Diary,

Things in America aren’t turning out like I expected them to. I though that when we got to America we’d buy our own farm. I seemed to have forgotten that you have to have money to buy a farm.
Da wanted to stay in New York. He said there would be more work in a big city and that after we made enough money we’d buy a wagon and supplies and go out West where the land is cheap and there for the taking but Ma said no. She doesn’t like New York. I do though. New York is exciting. But I have to agree with Ma that we shouldn’t stay here. There are a lot of factories, sweatshops, and other businesses but there also seem to be a lot of Help Wanted signs that say, “No Irish Need Apply.”
Da says this is just prejudice and that a lot of Americans don’t like the Irish immigrants. At first, I couldn’t figure it out. What could the Americans have against us? I had to ask Da and he told me that we Irish are willing to work for low wages, which makes it harder for the Americans to find work.
Well, our problems were solved by Ma, who reminded us that her cousin had immigrated to America some years ago. Da said he couldn’t believe he had forgotten and where was Martha O’Hara living now? Ma said she lived in Rhode Island and so it as decided that that was where we should go.
With the last of our savings, Da bought us all train tickets to Rhode Island and sent a telegraph to Martha O’Hara, telling her that we were coming.
The train ride across the country was very exciting. Ma didn’t like it much though. It was too loud and smoky for her and she told us she was glad when it was over. I liked it though, and so did Da. I’ve heard that sometimes trains can de-rail, or a bridge over a river can break and that scared me but nothing happened to us.
When we reached Ma’s cousin’s house, she and her husband welcomed us with open arms. They told us we were welcome to stay with them until we got back on our feet. Which we can do here in America. Here, anyone who works hard can get ahead.
Da said we should all get jobs, to which Ma said no flat out at first. But then, when Da pointed out that we would be able to buy a farm sooner if we all worked, she agreed. Mama is working as a seamstress and Papa is working in a factory. I’m working as a waitress in a restaurants. One of the big bonuses of my job is that I get free meals for as long as I work there. This will save our family a lot of money because we’ll only have to buy food for two people, instead of three.
Pretty soon we’ll have saved enough money to buy our own farm. Da says we’ll go West, where the U.S. government gets free land to those people who promise to farm it for five years. Da says this is an opportunity we can’t afford to pass up, even though the journey out West is difficult. But Da says that now they have trains crossing the country so it isn’t as hard as it once was. Da has been reading many books because he says he wants to know the history of his new country. He suggested I do the same and I’ve started already. I guess it’s true what they say, America truly is the land of opportunity.

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