A postscript to Wednesday’s column on immigration, and the anecdote I related about my father, Joe, who was an immigrant as a boy from Madeira, the Portuguese island off the coast of Morocco: In 1925, when Joe was 11 years old, his father, Joseph (Rodrigues) Rodricks, died. Neither his widow, Justina, nor his son were U.S. citizens. They had little income, just what Justina made from doing laundry for other families in the small New England town where they lived. Justina asked for and received food vouchers from the local government. She was able to obtain flour, salt, butter, milk, eggs and bacon. When Joe turned 14 in 1928, he was removed from public school and sent to work full-time in a piggery. The food vouchers ended. Years later, my father shared with my younger brother a vivid memory of a man and a woman coming to the school, pulling him out of 8th grade, and driving him straight to the piggery in a black Ford. My father never completed his schooling, but he later became an American citizen. Had this transpired under the new rules of the Trump administration, which make it tougher for legal immigrants to remain here if at some point they needed public assistance, Joe, and probably Justina, would have been deported for having taken the food vouchers.