The notion that people come here to find a place, the space, and a home to follow their own hearts, mentally, spiritually, is such a compliment! And then that they feel, because of this, that they cannot go home.

I perked up at Ha JIn’s reference to Jews who came here having no homeland so they had to take root. They had to take root wherever they went. I was so touched by his understanding and, it seemed, admiration for Jews.

Finally regarding the point Ha JIn makes about the dignity of the immigrant who is not ashamed to work hard to earn a dollar: my grandfather was an intellectual and a choir leader in Russia. When he came here he worked in the garment industry in New York City, making children’s snowsuits. My other grandfather who was running from the Russo-Japanese war and the Russian pogroms ended up in Brooklyn, New York first as a plasterer and then a general contractor, constructing buildings.

Meantime: three quick notes.

You’re right again, Potter, about Dvorak as a slightly tapioca dessert after the Golijov. My ears and heart didn’t really tune into brother Dvorak until the third movement of that 8th Symphony, which was delicious. And then that gorgeous repeated melodic line in the fourth movement had me thinking of the light singing theme which — like the melody in Proust’s Vinteuil Sonata — is still playing itself in my head this morning.

The great Sonny Rollins says so much for this thread and the other conversation with Oliver Sachs and commenters about the nature of souls, and the related mysteries of art. “It’s hard to delineate music, just what happens when and how you play — it sort of happens by itself, music does. Jazz is a great healing force, and a great social force. People all over the planet can be reached through jazz..” And then: “it’s all about making the invisible visible” he says.

Finally, I have been hearing Ha Jin in my head all weekend, as well as the Dvorak theme. He says in our conversation: Immigration is not mainly an issue of jobs — for the immigrtants, or the workers who are here already. It’s a quest for individual freedom and expression, and it partakes as much of the metaphysical as the mundane. It is full of risk, as life must be. It answers a universal human impulse to seek one’s opportunities, to grow into one’s own life. It is not just an American thing… it just happens that this wondrous country gives many people their chance. The process rewards all of us, as we were lucky to see at Symphony Hall on Saturday night. I recapitulate this ony because with Ha Jin’s accent, one could miss the depth of his meaning and the long trial, error and considered experience that produced it.

Somehow I knew you would be there- I was looking for a tall white head sticking out but did not see you. ( Don’t think me odd for that). We bumped into a friend of ours there too!

We were saying never had we seen the entire audience stand in applause in the middle of a concert. It was the Dvorzak at the end after that Golijov that had folks racing to get to the parking lot. But the people next to us Golijov fans that would not miss Saturday’s after their Thursday experience said the Dvorzak had come alive unlike Thursday. It was beautiful but old… trolls and elves dancing in the meadow.

Forgive me folks I wish you were all there.

Last night we were at the Boston Symphony and Yo Yo Ma ( French-born American of Chinese descent) was featured in a new piece by Osvaldo Golijov (Argentine- born American of Rumanian/Ukrainian/Jewish descent. Both were in a sense Americanized but they through their extraordinary artistry change us in the process.The audience was totally thrilled. Immigrants!

We are, do and know only through mixing and mingling, even if after Nan we seek to make our mark, to be more independent and individual. But to talk of assimilation and acculturation implies a a one-way process that ignores what happens to the host, but isn’t this what’s really feared?

Chris asks: “Is this part of what upsets us about immigration — that these strangers are so wrapped up in old languages, and their own damned dramas?” Maybe. But what also upsets people in so many immigrant receiver nations today, what stirs and boil the xenophobia pot, is that their cultural landscape and their sense of self is shifting and they no longer know the way back to their nostalgic homelands.

So maybe what also upsets people about immigration is that other Americans are “so wrapped up in their old languages and their own damned dramas” their old ethnic and racial hatreds, and they battle over which earlier period of blending created the “heart and soul” of the morphing web simplified in the term America.

The immigrant story is always that of America’s next becoming. Embrace it!

Even the most stalwart patriotic American will be quick to talk up their heritage at a dinner party. Even Bill O’Reilly brags about his Irish roots at every turn.

Yes, a Chinese immigrant knows only a Chinese experience and the same goes for a Brazilian immigrant; their culture is ingrained – and that’s beautiful, and vital.

American culture is bland. But maybe it needs to be. It functions well as a mediator in our hodgepodge of tastes. It provides the grease, the fast food (and we all need to eat food fast sometimes) until we have time to eat the delectable cuisine of our choosing.

America is an idea. The American experience is about joining hands – strange hands – with that idea in mind.

To mine the ultimate American metaphor, baseball: On the World Champion Boston Red Sox, Dice K was a vital player. He is a Japanese immigrant (lacking even the English language) who joined hands (and exchanged bows) with Dominican Immigrants and Southern transplants, and they thrived.

Watching scenes from the locker room celebration after they accomplished their common goal, one never saw such merriment. There was no limiting dialogue to be had, only laughing, and hugging, and crying, and wide limitless smiles – smiles born from an American experience.

I don’t think Gish Jen is aiming for any deep profundity. Though satirical, she seems to care for the characters and the dilemmas of assimilation. She makes the reader care too.