It was 1895, and a 16-year-old girl traveling alone left Helsingborg, Sweden, on the S.S. Sicilia for New York City. That young girl was my great-grandmother, Hilma Sjoblom. Upon arriving in New York, she soon found herself at Ellis Island and went through the medical and legal inspection that allowed her to enter the United States as a legal immigrant.

When I think of her making this arduous journey on a small ocean liner, I wonder what reasons compelled her to leave Sweden and make the trek across the Atlantic Ocean. Certainly, living conditions in Sweden in the 1890s were far from ideal, and we believe she may have had a sister or other relatives already in the United States, but there are some things we will never know.

What we do know is that she was one of the over 3 million people who emigrated to the United States in the 1890s. She arrived, moved to Massachusetts, and built a prosperous life for herself and her family. Oddly enough, the last home she owned is not too far from where I live now. She even lived in the house I reside in for a short time.

For the first time in my life, I visited Ellis Island. Last weekend my journey started at Battery Park in New York City with our first stop being the Statue of Liberty. I last visited this gift from France when I was on an 8th-grade field trip.  Although many of us see this grand statue in movies and documentaries, there is nothing like being there and learning how this iconic edifice came into being. In addition to the symbolic nature of the structure itself, how it was constructed is truly a marvel of engineering.  

When I was approaching the statue by ferry, I wondered if my great-grandmother stood at the railing of her ship looking at a symbol that states on its pedestal, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” In my imagination, I do picture it. I can also imagine the thousand things going through her mind. Leaving family and friends behind, anticipating the process of going through Ellis Island, and then wondering what her life would be like in the United States. We know she succeeded because so many of us are here today.

Over the last several years there have been countless heated discussions on the subject of immigrants. The overriding issue is that millions of immigrants in the last four years have done something that wasn’t done in the 1890s—they crossed the border illegally. I’m trying to imagine what this scenario might have looked like over a century ago. Imagine ocean liners racing across the Atlantic and suddenly docking at ports far from New York. Imagine there are no passenger manifests. Imagine passengers running off the ships to states willing to take those that have not been properly vetted or processed. Imagine no law enforcement agency stops these undocumented millions. Imagine those states then providing millions of dollars in government-funded housing and other entitlements at the expense of citizens and those who have entered this country legally. I honestly just can’t imagine it.

Having had the opportunity to travel a good part of this beautiful planet (yes, even Sweden), I can say unequivocally that the United States of America is truly the greatest country in the world. We are a giving country, one that is welcoming—but the law is the law. I can’t think of any other country in the world where I could just arrive and ask for housing and entitlements without proper processing.

In our home is a piece of luggage that made the journey so long ago from a home country to a new country. It is a reminder to me and my family of what our ancestors traveled with and sacrificed for a better life. But there was a process, one that must be followed, one that must be adhered to, one that makes the United States truly one of the greatest and welcoming countries on Earth. If it wasn’t, nobody would be coming here in the numbers they did and have.

My great-grandmother passed away in 1977. While I do remember her, it saddens me sometimes that I didn’t take the time to know her better. But I do remember many visits with her and how proud she was of all of us. One thing I do remember, and from those who remember her most, she never complained. She was always thankful.

Thank you, great grandma.