“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door…” ….I recall first hearing these words from Emma Lazarus’ poem, “The New Colossus,” during a fifth grade history lesson. Back at that time, my new burgeoning mind, then being shaped by the most careful hands of great elementary school teachers,…