Carousel

Twenty-one years ago today, January 17, 1995, the musical, Carousel, closed its production at the Vivien Beaumont Theater, Lincoln Center, New York City, after a successful run of 322 performances.  I took my family to see one of the 322.  Of course, this was a revival of a play that originally opened on Broadway in New York City at the Majestic Theater on April 19, 1945.  It has since become a classic.  The team of Richard Rodgers (music) and Oscar Hammerstein II (lyrics) adapted Carousel from Ferenc Molnar’s 1909 drama, Liliom, which is set in Budapest.

Carousel, on the other hand, is set along coastal Maine in 1873.  It is a love story between a young man named Billy Bigelow, a barker at a carousel, and a young woman named Julie Jordan, a millworker.  They meet while Billy is working and later, near the end of the day when they are alone, they start talking to each other, rather timidly at first.  Like many people, they are afraid to express their true feelings about each other for fear they won’t be reciprocated.  Fear of rejection is a strong fear, especially amongst people in love, perhaps the strongest.

Julie:  “But somehow I can see
Just exactly how I'd be-

If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say
All I'd want you to know.
If I loved you,
Words wouldn't come in an easy way
Round in circles I'd go!
Longin' to tell you,
But afraid and shy,
I'd let my golden chances pass me by!
Soon you'd leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know how I loved you
If I loved you.

Billy:  Well, anyway, you don't love me.
That's what you said, isn't it?

Julie:  Yes!
I can smell 'em, can you?
The blossoms. The wind brings 'em down!

Billy:  There ain't much wind tonight... Hardly any.
You can't hear a sound, not the turn of a leaf
Nor the fall of a wave hittin' the sand.
The tide's creepin' up on the beach like a thief,
Afraid to be caught stealin' the land!
On a night like this I start to wonder
What life is all about.

Julie:  And I always say two heads are better than one to
figure it out.

Billy:  I don't need you or anybody helpin' me.
Well, I got it figured out for myself.
We're not important. What are we?
A couple o' specks of nothin'
Look up there...There's a hell of a lotta stars in the sky,
And the sky's so big the sea looks small,
And two little people, you and I
We don't count at all.

You're a funny kid.
I don't remember meetin' a girl like you.
Hey, you tryin' to get me to marry you?

Julie:  No!

Billy:  Then what's puttin' it into my head?
I wonder what it'd be like...

Julie:  What?

Billy:  Nothin'.
No, I know what it'd be like.
It'd be awful! I can just see myself-
Kinda scrawny, and pale
Picking at my food,
And love-sick like any other guy.
I'd throw away my sweater, and dress up like a dude
In a dicky and a collar and a tie.
If I loved you.

Julie:  But you don't!

Billy:  No, I don't!
But somehow I can see
Just exactly how I'd be
If I loved you,
Time and again I would try to say
All I'd want you to know.
If I loved you,
Words wouldn't come in an easy way
Round in circles I'd go!
Longin' to tell you,
But afraid and shy
I'd let my golden chances pass me by!
Soon you'd leave me,
Off you would go in the mist of day,
Never, never to know
How I loved you
If I loved you.

Aha...I'm not the kinda fella to marry anybody!
No, even if a girl was foolish enough to want me to,
I wouldn't!

Julie:  Don't worry about it, Billy!

Billy:  Who's worried?”

After a quick courtship, they marry and live with Julie’s Cousin Netty.  Unfortunately, Billy loses his job at the carousel because the female owner is jealous of Billy’s new wife.  Julie loses her job as well because marrying is against her employer’s rules.  Sadly, Billy then rejects an opportunity to work on Julie’s girlfriend’s boyfriend’s fishing boat.  Unemployed and frustrated at not being able to support his wife, Billy resorts to hitting Julie.  What a bum! 

What a moment for Julie to be pregnant!  She tells Billy who at first assumes it will be a boy and is full of boastful pride.  Then he realizes it could be a girl and realizes the responsibilities he could face. 

“I wonder what he'll think of me

I guess he'll call me the "old man"

I guess he'll think I can lick

Every other feller's father

Well, I can!

I bet that he'll turn out to be

The spittin' image of his dad

But he'll have more common sense

Than his puddin-headed father ever had

I'll teach him to wrestle

And dive through a wave

When we go in the mornin's for our swim

His mother can teach him

The way to behave

But she won't make a sissy out o' him

Not him! Not my boy! Not Bill!

 

Bill, my boy Bill

I will see that he is named after me, I will.

My boy, Bill! He'll be tall

And tough as a tree, will Bill!

Like a tree he'll grow

With his head held high

And his feet planted firm on the ground

And you won't see nobody dare to try

To boss him or toss him around!

No pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully

Will boss him around.

 

I don't give a hang what he does

As long as he does what he likes!

He can sit on his tail

Or work on a rail

With a hammer, hammering spikes!

He can ferry a boat on a river

Or peddle a pack on his back

Or work up and down

The streets of a town

With a whip and a horse and a hack.

 

He can haul a scow along a canal

Run a cow around a corral

Or maybe bark for a carousel

Of course it takes talent to do that well.

 

He might be a champ of the heavyweights,

Or a feller that sells you glue,

Or President of the United States,

That'd be all right, too

His mother would like that

But he wouldn't be President if he didn't wanna be!

Not Bill!

 

My boy, Bill! He'll be tall

And as tough as a tree, will Bill

Like a tree he'll grow

With his head held high

And his feet planted firm on the ground

And you won't see nobody dare to try

To boss him or toss him around!

No fat-bottomed, flabby-faced,

Pot-bellied, baggy-eyed bully

Will boss him around.

 

And I'm hanged if he'll marry his boss' daughter

A skinny-lipped virgin with blood like water

Who'll give him a peck

And call it a kiss

And look in his eyes through a lorgnette...

 

Hey, why am I talkin' on like this?

My kid ain't even been born, yet!

I can see him when he's seventeen or so,

And startin' to go with a girl

I can give him lots of pointers, very sound

On the way to get 'round any girl

I can tell him...

Wait a minute!

Could it be?

What the hell!

What if he is a girl?

What would I do with her?

What could I do for her?

A bum with no money!

You can have fun with a son

But you gotta be a father to a girl

She mightn't be so bad at that

A kid with ribbons in her hair!

A kind o' sweet and petite

Little tin-type of her mother!

What a pair!

 

My little girl

Pink and white

As peaches and cream is she

My little girl

Is half again as bright

As girls are meant to be!

Dozens of boys pursue her

Many a likely lad does what he can to woo her

From her faithful dad

She has a few

Pink and white young fellers of two or three

But my little girl

Gets hungry every night and she comes home to me!

 

I got to get ready before she comes!

I got to make certain that she

Won't be dragged up in slums

With a lot o' bums like me

She's got to be sheltered

And fed and dressed

In the best that money can buy!

I never knew how to get money,

But, I'll try, I'll try! I'll try!

I'll go out and make it or steal it

Or take it or die!”

Rather than look for honest labor, Billy participates in an unsuccessful attempted robbery and is killed.  What a bum!

Is this the end for Billy?  Well, no.  However, you must believe in some kind of super natural existence.  Some years later, Billy is given the opportunity to return to Earth for one day to see his child, now a teenage girl, who is suffering from low self-esteem.  Who wouldn’t suffer so having to live down the legacy of having a bum for a father.  He even slaps her after they argue.  What a bum!  But, Billy does leave her with some inspiration to live the rest of her life. 

“When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
Is a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown

Walk on walk on with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone”

My overall appraisal of Carousel is that the songs are wonderful, but I don’t understand why a sweet girl like Julie would love a bum like Billy.  Well, they say love is blind. 

 

Bad News Sells

At the end of last October, a Russian commercial airliner flying from Sharm el Sheikh in Egypt to St. Petersburg in Russia crashed in the Sinai Peninsula killing all 224 people on board.  In the first hours after the crash, the cause of the destruction of the aircraft (mechanical failure, weather, pilot error, terrorism) was not immediately clear.  What was clear was that every news organization around the world carried this story on their front pages almost immediately after the event happened.

Since virtually all of the passengers on the plane were Russians returning home from vacation at a resort along the Red Sea, there is merit to the Russian media carrying the story and treating it with importance.  Families of the victims needed to know what had just happened to their loved ones.  However, why did Brazilians (as I first saw the story on a Brazilian media website) need to know about this event?  Does it affect them in any way?  No Brazilian was on the airplane.  The crash happened far from Brazil.  Yet Brazilians, like other people around the world, were very interested in the crash of the plane and the tragic deaths of 224 passengers and crew.  Why?  Was it empathy for fellow human beings?  No!  I believe that it was voyeurism, but without the sex.  Something bad happened, yes, but to someone else.  And bad news, that happens to someone else, sells.

We must always remember that privately owned news organizations, such as CNN in the USA and Globo in Brazil, are operated to make a profit.  Without it, they cannot continue to operate.  And how do they make a profit: by selling air time or space to advertisers, who know that the news organization is attracting a sizeable audience.  And how do the news organizations make certain they have a sizeable audience:  by putting out stories that attract the attention of the masses.  As President Obama recently stated, “The media is pursuing ratings.”

Ever notice how drivers of cars speeding along to their destination are very curious to see what happened when there is an accident on the opposite side of the highway?  They are so curious that they slow down to see what they can see.  It’s called a “gaper block” because people will gape at the site of the accident and this will inevitably cause the traffic to slow down significantly.  Ever had the experience of seeing someone high up on the ledge of a building threatening to jump?  What a great way to draw a crowd.  Another way is to start a fight on the street.  People enjoy seeing someone else getting beaten up.  That is why boxing and UFC are popular sports. 

Human beings are curious by nature.  Among the things they are curious about are the misfortunes of others.  Human beings are capable of feeling pleasure when others suffer, which is known as schadenfreude.  A simple example is the delight we feel when a stranger slips on a banana peel.  We like to watch vídeos on TV of other people making fools of themselves.  We felt pleasure when Martha Stewart went to prison.  We enjoyed seeing Bill Buckner let a ground ball go through his legs.  And then we reveled when Ronda Rousey got knocked out.                    

Every minute of every day, thousands of airplanes successfully land at their scheduled destinations.  Nobody is injured.  All arrive safely.  Why don’t news organizations report such good news to their eager audiences?  Because nobody would be interested.  But, when that rare event occurs, when an airliner crashes and all are lost, the rest of us are glued to the television to see the circus we are offered by the media.  They show us the families of the victims crying as they await information from airline officials as to the fate of their loved ones.  Then they show us the wreckage from the scene of the crash.  Do we really need to see this or do we only want to see it?  Unfortunately, we humans are flawed.      

As Good As It Gets

Fiction can sometimes give us characters who start out evil, but wind up heroic.  That is quite a transformation and difficult to accomplish.  At the beginning of the 2013 Brazilian telenovela, Amor A Vida, the lead character, Felix (pronounced “faylix” and played superbly by Mateus Solano), selfish and egotistical, puts his new born niece into a trash dumpster, hoping she will not survive.  What a villain!  However, in its conclusion, Felix is selflessly and heroically caring for his father, who has recently suffered a debilitating stroke.  He is transformed by means of his total humiliation.  He went from being the president of a prestigious hospital to selling hot dogs on the street.      

In the 1997 movie, As Good As It Gets (perhaps ours lives will never get any better), we see a similar transformation.  This is the story of a best selling novelist (Melvin Udall, played by Jack Nicholson who won the Academy Award for Best Actor) who suffers from obsessive-compulsive behavior.  He works at home in his apartment and eats breakfast at the same table in the same restaurant every day, using his own plastic disposable knives and forks.  He alienates everybody he comes in contact with with his anti-social behavior.  He throws his neighbor’s pet dog down the garbage shoot.  Does that sound familiar?  He makes anti-semetic comments in public (“There are Jews at my table” plus worse).  He refers to his neighbor’s agent as a “colored man.”  He insults one waitress referring to her as “elephant girl.”  He also makes disparaging comments about gays and Latinos.  Melvin is a bad guy.

Do people change?  Can people change?  I think life is a process where human beings need to adapt to an ever changing environment.  Many people use the same old formula in dealing with this problem either because that is all they know or they believe it is the one and only correct answer, at least for them.  Others learn from their mistakes and alter their course over time in order to adapt.  When and if people are ready to change, they can change.

At his favorite restaurant, Melvin starts to develop a relationship with his waitress (Carol, played by Helen Hunt, who won the Academy Award for Best Actress), the only one he wants or will accept.  She is also the only server who will tolerate his unpleasant behavior.  When Carol is unable to work because of her son’s chronic illness, Melvin bribes another employee in order to track her down.  When he discovers the cause of her absense, Melvin enlists the help of his editor’s husband, a doctor, to care for Carol’s son so she can return to work and serve him his food.

When his gay neighbor is hospitalized after being assaulted at home by thieves, Melvin reluctantly agrees to take care of his dog, who survived the trip down the garbage shoot.  Shockingly, Melvin and the dog start to develop a relationship.  When the neighbor returns home, the dog seems to actually prefer Melvin. 

These two relationships, with the waitress and the dog, start the transformation of Melvin into a human being.  It won’t be easy or without pain.  Eventually, Melvin invites his gay neighbor to move into the spare bedroom in his apartment after he loses his apartment.  And finally, Melvin is able to launch a romantic relation with Carol, the waitress.  The transformation from bad to good seems to be on its way.

As Good As It Gets was also nominated for the Academy Awards for Best Actor in a Supporting Role (Greg Kinnear as the gay neighbor, but lost to Robin Williams in Good Will Hunting), Best Editing (won by Titanic), Best Picture (won by Titanic), Best Original Score (won by The Full Monty), and Best Original Screenplay (won by Good Will Hunting).  There is some great dialogue in the movie such as:

Receptionist:  I can't resist! You usually move through here so quickly and I just have so many questions I want to ask you. You have no idea what your work means to me.

Melvin: What does it mean to you?

Receptionist: That somebody out there knows what it's like to be in here (she places her hands over her head and heart).

Melvin: Oh God, this is like a nightmare.

Receptionist: Oh come on! Just a couple of questions. How hard is that?  How do you write women so well?

Melvin: I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability.

 

Carol:  OK, we all have these terrible stories to get over, and you-...

Melvin: It's not true. Some of us have great stories, pretty stories that take place at lakes with boats and friends and noodle salad. Just no one in this car. But, a lot of people, that's their story. Good times, noodle salad. What makes it so hard is not that you had it bad, but that you're pissed that so many others had it good.

 

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Melvin (to neighbor): Never, never, interrupt me, okay? Not if there's a fire, not even if you hear the sound of a thud from my home and one week later there's a smell coming from there that can only be a decaying human body and you have to hold a hanky to your face because the stench is so thick that you think you're going to faint. Even then, don't come knocking. Or, if it's election night, and you're excited and you wanna celebrate because some fudgepacker that you date has been elected the first queer president of the United States and he's going to have you down to Camp David, and you want someone to share the moment with. Even then, don't knock. Not on this door. Not for ANY reason. Do you get me, sweetheart?

 

Carol:  Why can't I have a normal boyfriend? Just a regular boyfriend, one that doesn't go nuts on me!

Carol’s mother:  Everybody wants that, dear. It doesn't exist.

 

Melvin (to bartender):  Well, it's not right to go into details, I got nervous. I screwed up, I said the wrong thing... Where if I hadn't, I could be in bed right now with a woman who, if you make her laugh, you got a life. Instead I'm here with you, no offense, but a moron pushing the last legal drug.

 

Melvin:  I can't get back to my old life. She's evicted me from my life!

Neighbor:  Did you really like it all that much?

 

Carol:  Come on in, and try not to ruin everything by being you.

Melvin: Maybe we could live without the wisecracks.

Carol: Maybe we could.

 

Carol:  Is it a secret what you're doing here?

Melvin: I had to see you.

Carol: Because?

Melvin: It relaxes me. 

 

Melvin (to Carol):  You make me want to be a better man.

 

Fourth Lake, Chapter 12

While having her coffee on Sunday morning, August 4, 1974, Judy recalled the fabulous night before she spent with Phil.  When she finally got out of the lake, she quickly grabbed her clothes laying on the deck and scurried into the cottage, with her husband close behind.  Once inside behind locked doors, the two of them let their imaginations run wild.  Judy slept well and woke up snuggling next to her husband.

For some strange, unexplainable reason, Judy started to feel a kind of an urge to go to church this Sunday morning.  Growing up in Queens, her parents had never been very religious.  The family was nominally Christian and celebrated Christmas and Easter.  She remembered going to church services a few times on Christmas Eve, but never on a regular basis nor at the same church.  Judy believed in Jesus Christ, in God, but it was not a big, important deal for her.  Or to Phil, either.  They were raising their children the same way.

“Say, Phil, let’s go to church today.

“What?  Are you serious?”

“Yeah.  I think it would be nice to go to that white church on the other side of Fourth Lake we rode to in the canoe.  I think I would feel kind of serene being there.  I’m sure there’s a service this morning.”

“You’re not suggesting we go in a canoe, are you?”

“No, silly, in our car.”

So Judy and Phil got in their car and headed around towards the white church on the other side of Fourth Lake.  They passed through Inlet and then followed the road towards Eagle Bay.  There was almost no traffic.  However, there was one stop sign in Eagle Bay.  After they came to a complete stop, a car, a big black Cadillac, turned right from a side street and drove past them back toward Inlet.  When it passed, Judy turned and looked at Phil who was driving their car.  At that very instant, she got a quick look at the driver of the other car.  At first, it didn’t register in her mind.  But then when she turned back to look straight ahead, it hit her.  It was the same man she saw in Billy’s Restaurant in Old Forge on Friday... she thought.  It was somebody she knew, but couldn’t remember whom it was.  Judy quickly turned around to look back, but the car was too far away to see anything.

“Did you see that car we just passed?”  she asked.

“What car?”

“The car that...oh, never mind.”

As they arrived at the white church on the lake, a number of others had arrived as well.  The service was just about to begin.  It was perfect timing.  Pure luck on the part of Phil and Judy.

They sat on a bench near the rear of the small, beautiful old church.  Besides the ritual prayers from the Bible, the minister, a short, thin man in his 60s, talked about love: love of God, love of nature, love of our fellow man.  It was a beautiful service which lasted about an hour.  Judy was right.  The service did relax her.  When it was over, the minister walked to the front door of the church to greet everybody as they left.  When it was their turn, Judy introduced herself and Phil and commented on how much they had enjoyed the service.  The minister realized they were new to the church and was very welcoming.  He said he hoped they would come again.  The three of them made small talk until Judy excused themselves so the minister could talk to the next couple in line.

Before returning to their car, at Judy’s request they walked to the shore line to gaze out over Fourth Lake.  It wasn’t too far away from where they had landed a few days earlier in their rented canoe.  They chatted a little about that day, what they each remembered.  Again, they had a good view of Dollar Island, this time from ground level.  Judy started rolling around in her head a plan for them to get there.  A week from today, the 11th, they would have to leave their cottage to pick up their two daughters at gymnastics camp and then drive back home to Little Neck.  To Judy, time was running out on this, perhaps the final adventure of her trip to Fourth Lake.      

Christmas

Growing up as a Jew in America, Christmas was a strange time for me.  All my friends were Christians who happily celebrated Christmas.  It seemed to be a wonderful holiday.  People exchanged gifts.  People were nicer to each other than at any other time of the year.  Christmas was part of the culture of my country.  Bing Crosby sang, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”  There were movies about Christmas like “It Was a Wonderful Life,” with James Stewart and “A Miracle on Thirty-Fourth Street,” with Maureen O’Hara.  It was a federal holiday (a day off from school) in a country that ascribed to the separation of church and state.

However, at the house where I grew up, Christmas was forbidden.  No Christmas presents.  No Christmas tree.  Santa Claus didn’t exist.  We were Jews who didn’t recognize that the birth of the baby Jesus had led, according to Christians, to the arrival of the Messiah.  I was taught to be always on guard to avoid being tricked into converting to Christianity.  The conflict between inside and outside of my house confused me.  In those days, there was an added problem as our public school engaged in Christmas rituals.  I remember singing the Christmas Carol, “Silent Night, Holy Night,” along with my classmates. 

After my bar mitzvah in 1958, I became less and less of an observant Jew.    I was especially mortified when I read the Old Testament story of how God asked Abraham, the first Jew, to kill his son, Isaac.  It was a test of how devoted Abraham was to God, who thankfully stopped Abraham at the last second.  After all, it was only a test.  I hate to say out loud what I would have said to someone who asked me to kill my son as a test of my faith in God.  However, I did make sure that my children received at least a minimal Jewish education, my son a circumcision, and both had a bar/bat mitzvah.  I also became less and less a believer in the existence of God.  As Voltaire said, “If God didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent him.”

From a study of religion, I have sensed a difference between the God of the Old Testament and the God of the New Testament of the Bible.  The God of the Old seemed to be of fire and brimstone, full of fury.  When the Hebrews arrived in Israel forty years after fleeing Egypt, there were people already there, the Canaanites.  The God of the Old Testament ordered that the Jews should eliminate, by the sword, every living thing within the walled city of Jericho.  These Canaanites had not attempted any armed aggression against the Jews.  What did they do to deserve this violent death?  Unfortunately for them, they were occupying land God had promised to the Jewish people.

The God of the New Testament seemed to be more about love.  Love thy neighbor.  Love thy enemy.  Turn the other cheek.  My favorite quote is from John 8:7, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone.”  I love that message.

This coming Friday, December 25, millions around the world will celebrate Christmas.  To one and all, especially my wife, Cristina, Merry Christmas and Feliz Natal.      

Muslims Coming to America

The famous quote from Emma Lazarus on the Statue of Liberty in New York harbor reads, "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.  Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me: I lift my lamp beside the golden door."  Except now, many American people and politicians are advocating a caveat: no Muslims need apply.

Why is that?  Because of Al Qaeda, the Islamic State, and other terrorist groups that act out violently against the American people and claim to speak in the name of Islam.  We will never forget September the 11th, the Boston Marathon, Fort Hood, and the recent event in San Bernardino, California, among others.  These American people and politicians believe, as the Islamic State also believes, that there is a war going on between Islam and the West.  Therefore, according to their belief system, all Muslims are the enemy.  Therefore, we should keep them all out of our country.

In order to support such an idea, Donald Trump, a Republican candidate for president, recently invoked, as a precedent, the decision of Franklin Delano Roosevelt during World War II to place tens of thousands of American citizens of Japanese ancestry in concentration camps.  This inspite of the fact that not one single act of sabotage was committed against the USA by any one of these American citizens.  This decision was one of the most shameful enacted by any US president.  But, Donald Trump seems to like it.

This anti-immigrant, anti-Muslim hysteria is not a new circumstance in the history of the United States.  One hundred years ago, more or less, it was the Italian immigrants that greatly concerned some American people and politicians.  A number of such immigrants were violent anarchists (for example, Sacco and Vanzetti) and gangsters (for example, Al Capone).  They were responsible for the murders of many Americans.  As a result, there were a number of protests against the Italian immigrant.  Should the US government have used these violent acts as an excuse to bar all Italians from entering our country?  I'm glad we didn't.  Yesterday was the 100th birthday of Frank Sinatra, a son of Italian immigrants.

In 1891, nine Italian immigrants were tried for the murder of the New Orleans Police Chief.  In spite of the fact that they were found not guilty in a state court of law, a mob dragged them from their jail cells and lynched them.  A newspaper editorial the next day stated that the "Lynch law was the only course open to the people of New Orleans."  In 1911, the governor of Louisiana stated that Italians were, "filthier (than Blacks), in (their) habits, lawless, and treacherous."  It's difficult today to imagine such blatant anti-Italian prejudice so openly expressed.

In 1924, US Congressman Grant Hudson said, "Now, what do we find in all our large cities?  Entire sections containing a population incapable of understanding our institutions, with no comprehension of our national ideals, and for the most part incapable of speaking the English language.  Foreign language information service gives evidence that many southern Europeans resent as an unjust discrimation the quota laws and represent America as showing race hatred."  Hudson, of course, believed that America needed to protect itself from a foreign enemy.

Let us Americans act, not out of fear and hate, but with reason and compassion towards the current flow of Muslim immigrants who are, after all, only part of the same continuous flow of immigrants who have been coming to our shores since the beginning of our nation.  I believe, like the Italian before them, that nearly all of such Muslim immigrants merely want what America offers, a land of opportunity and the freedoms guaranteed in our Bill of Rights.  A good example is Abdulfattah Jandali, an immigrant from Syria, who is the biological father of Steve Jobs, the founder of Apple, Inc.