March 9-13, I joined my sister and her friend from Canada in New York City for an enjoyable vacation and sisterly confab. We of course did lots of activities just for sheer enjoyment.
Family-related activities beyond just the two of us sisters meeting included visiting the Tenement Museum, the Statue of Liberty, and the Ellis Island museum.
The Tenement Museum tour and description of daily life jibed with Mom's stories of how her friends such as her best childhood friend Antoinette lived in the East New York neighborhood of Brooklyn during the Depression. For example, the kitchen countertop that lifts up to reveal the family bathtub. Interior photos were not allowed, but following is the exterior of the building we toured.
The Statue of Liberty is so pervasive in our education and visual culture that it may seem trivial or passé at times (this is especially true if, like me, you feel you visited a few too many New York souvenir shops with plastic statues made in China). However, when I saw it up close and in person for the first time, on a stunningly clear and bright day, then visualized how it might have appeared to my grandparents and others of their immigrant group as their ship approached after weeks at sea, I got moist eyes. We did not get the ticket that allows you to enter the interior of the statue, so were content to circle the exterior.
From there, we reboarded the ferry to take us to Ellis Island, the immigrant processing island still in operation when Dad's parents Peter and Mary (Maria) traveled from Europe and now a National Park and museum.
Written on the plaque in the Ellis Island Registry Room: "Nearly every day for over two decades (1900-24), the Registry Room was filled with new arrivals waiting to be inspected and registered by Immigration Service officers. On many days, over 5,000 people would file through the space."
We watched an informative documentary I believe was produced by the History channel on the impetus for various waves of migration and what the immigrants experienced.
We then proceeded outdoors to view the American Immigrant Wall of Honor, where my Dad's sister made a donation years back to have my grandfather and grandmother's names inscribed.
Peter Martin Janzen
Maria Dirks
It was very amazing and emotional to locate the names on the wall, even though I knew they were there, and had looked up the panel numbers online in advance.
Sites we hoped to visit but did not have the time/foot endurance to seek out include the address in Harlem where Dad and his parents lived until he was 3, the church where Mom worked during grad school, and the rooftop of the Beekman Tower Hotel, where Dad proposed to Mom. We will save those for the next trip.
Good recap of the trip