Everyone wants to leave an impression on the world in some way, large or small. We want someone to remember that we were here. We strive for an impressive career or family. Something, anything to carry on our legacy when we're gone. Some end up in the history books, their name in bold print under the category of "revolutionaries," or "inventors." Some end up with fame and glory, their name in lights, beloved and admired by their fans. Some pass on without the world ever knowing their name, quietly living their lives, unaware of the impact they have on others. These people left their mark, like graffiti carelessly scribbled on a bathroom wall, "I was here." But oh what a wall they chose to write on. These are the walls of the immigrant processing center at Ellis Island. And now their doodle, their name, their mark, is forever displayed under a protective cover of Plexiglas for millions of visitors to look upon and marvel over. I thought about their