To the Journal editor:

In 1954, a 17-year-old girl boarded the ship SS United States, unaccompanied, in Le Havre, France, for a one-way voyage to America. Once in New York, she took a train to Detroit, where she was met by her older sister. From there, they traveled on to St. Ignace. This young immigrant had been sent to the U.S. by her mother, my grandmother.

The older sister, my aunt, had met her future husband while he was stationed in France serving in the U.S. Army in an air defense artillery unit.

In St. Ignace, my mom worked several jobs in order to save enough money to help pay for the passage for her mother and two of her brothers.

They all became U.S. citizens. On my desk still sits my mom’s framed Certificate of Naturalization.

Years later, the Republican administration of Dwight D. Eisenhower decided to bend the rules of immigration for a specific group of young children.

From 1960-1962, more than 14,000 unaccompanied minors, ages 4-16, fled Cuba for southern Florida out of fear of living under Fidel Castro’s regime. As had been the case with my mom, they were sent by their parents.

For those roughly 8,000 Cuban children that didn’t have relatives or friends to pick them up, they were housed in temporary camps near Miami. Most became the sole responsibility of the U.S. government.

This immigration of a large number of unaccompanied children from Cuba to the U.S. was called Operation Peter (Padro) Pan. It was looked upon favorably. After all, we were fighting communism.

Today, we have well over 5,000 minor immigrants at the southern border fleeing violence, persecution, and volatile political and economic extremes. Again, parents are sending their kids unaccompanied, in desperation.

Instead of trying to label it a crisis, maybe we should call it “Operation Exodus to the Promised Land”

Some immigrate to this country by ship or plane, while others on foot. Whatever their mode of travel, they all come for the same reason. For the opportunity to have a better life.