Joseph was born in a small village in Poland in the late 1800’s. He worked on a farm. but knew he would probably never be able to earn enough money to buy one of his own. He was also unhappy with the policies of the Russians who ruled Poland then. They could be cruel and oppressive at times. Some men from Joseph’s village had gone to America, and wrote letters back about how much freer it was there, and that, even though they were working as coal miners, they felt they might be able to own land of their own some day. Joseph decided he would try for a new life in America himself. His family helped him with the $40 he would need for a second class ticket for the boat trip. So with only a suitcase and his dreams, he embarked for the entry way to America--Ellis island in New York Harbor. He arrived in 1899, still in his teen years, with a name tag attached to his coat. He tried not to look at the tag too much, because immigration officials-- having trouble with the spelling and pronunciation of his name--gave him a new one. They wrote “Smith” on his name tag. Joseph did not have sufficient command of English to be able to talk them out of it--and his official name for himself and his future family would be “Smith” forever more. But he tried to rationalize that it was a small price to pay to finally be in America. Joseph went to the small coal mining town of Witt, Illinois to join his friends. There he worked for the next 30 years in the coal mines at a variety of tasks and usually for 10-12 hours a day. There he also met his wife Rosa, and they proceeded to have eleven children--two of whom died at an early age, but nine of whom lived long and full lives; this included seven daughters and two sons. Joseph and Rosa worked long and hard to support their growing family. He in the mines, and she taking in the laundry and babysitting the children of neighbors for a small fee--and selling her specialty--baked goods, especially the Polish standard--Poppyseed bread. They became citizens and loved and supported their new country--their oldest son fought in World War 1 and their youngest in World War 2--in the vaunted 101st Airborne, and both men survived their battle experiences. In addition, their oldest daughter was an army nurse in WW2. The veins of coal finally gave out in Witt, and just in time for Joseph--after 30 years in the mines, he had developed a racking cough--the first signs of Black Lung disease (a common miner’s ailment from coal dust settling in the air sacks of the lungs). He moved his family to San Francisco, California; the sea breeze was good for his lungs. There he worked as a custodian, and with the money he saved, and some financial help from his now grown children, he was able to buy a farm in the Sacramento Valley. He had finally realized his American dream. There he lived the last years of his life before he succumbed to heart trouble, brought on by his worsening Black Lung disease. He died a happy man, knowing that all of his children had prospered, and that all had an easier time in making their way in America than he had. Joseph Smilgiliski was my grandfather, and one of his daughters was my mother. With a contribution to the Ellis Island Society from my brother and myself, Joseph and Rosa Smilgiliski have their names on the wall of fame at Ellis Island, which is now a historical monument run by the National Park Service. Their names will forever overlook New York Harbor and Ellis Island’s next door neighbor--the Statue of Liberty.