Everyone streaming into Ellis Island has a fixed destination, a fine location, a place where the streets are gold. They are lost as found, as the sorrow goes round, you mix, you match, you dance a mash, you splinter and sew and sow a dream. A dream!
You didn’t want a dream. You wanted a good life for your family– especially your children. A good life for your family, firmly planted, in concrete, if you will. Nothing dreamy or mystical about it. (You were coming from Europe now, possibly steamer, possibly clipper ship. Dreamy and mystical thus meant, one way or the other, Vodka. Potato Vodka. Or, booze. Pre-democratic, semi-feudalistic peasants, nee serf, dream in booze.
Your family, it is true, is extended. Extended into the blue. Into the blue booze? Well, let’s look at this– objectively. The ocean is blue. You’ve crossed the ocean, blue, not in 1492, but, for argument’s sake 1882. You’ve made it across. Made it “a cross”! Maybe you’re a Jew. A Jew coming ” a cross”, clutching a cross.
Your firm religion was never oblivion, your firm home, home is where the firm is,
The location of 9 East 71st Street is 9 East 71st Street.
Spam of Human Affection 
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