Immigrants

There has been a lot of talk about immigrants, during this past year.  It continues, today.  I thought I’d take a look at how immigrants to my country have affected my well being.

 First, I am the great granddaughter of Irish immigrants.  They apparently came to the U.S. at a time that lots of Irish folks were finding their way to what they’d hoped would be a better life in the United States. My ancestry is, probably, English and Western Europe, as well.  I don’t really know when those ancestors arrived.

My neighbor, Antii, is from Finland.  He is generous and thoughtful; and works for the betterment of his adopted country.  And, his kids are absolutely delightful, respectful, and kind.

Today, there are fields of vegetables north of the metropolitan city where I live.  Do you think that it is our U.S. citizens who tend those fields?  If you do, I have some swamp land in Florida that I’m sure you would like to build a house on.  Rather, the field workers are immigrants – men and women who bend their backs to top the beets, harvest the lettuce – do that back-breaking work that none of us wants to do.  Produce sold at my local grocers comes from the hard work of those immigrants.  Who will replace them if they are forced out?

 More specifically, one of my greatest and most favorite art mentors was the son of Asian immigrants; his wife was, herself, an immigrant.  He was born in the U.S. along with his siblings, but all of them (parents and siblings and their children) were sent to the internment camp (now, thought of as a concentration camp) at Manzanar in California.  They had done nothing to deserve their removal from the West Coast; and, yet, they were trundled off, first to live for a while in HORSE STABLES and, then, on to the camp close to Independence, California.  They were peaceful, law-abiding citizens, earning a living, producing goods, etc.  Babies of Japanese heritage (U.S. citizens) were gathered from throughout the U.S. and sent to the nursery at Manzanar.  Somebody needs to explain that to me how an infant or toddler can be a threat to the United States.  I reckon this action was due to hysteria – a dangerous thing.

 Today, my life is filled with immigrants.  My last postal carrier is from Ireland, by way of the East Coast.  Illness is taking him to another location in my city.  My incoming postal carrier is from Ethiopia.

 I’ve talked about Isaac, the man who assures that my trash barrels are emptied, every week – rain, shine, blistering heat, freezing cold.  And, my barrels are always returned to their place by my garage door.  He seems to know that it is not easy for me (a very senior citizen) to get them back into position to be filled during the next week.  Isaac hails from Ghana.

 When I have occasion to eat away from home, it is usually in a restaurant owned and operated by immigrants.  Mexican food is one of my favorites; as is, Thai food.  An especially important Asian food restaurant is a ways away from me, located by the university where I used to work.  Art owns the restaurant, an immigrant from Thailand.  When I worked at the university, my hours were often long.  So, Art’s food fed me lunch and dinner during the week, as well as those times when I worked on Saturdays.

 For a while, a young woman worked with me, helping me keep house.  She came to the U.S. with her parents as a child; one of our classic “Dreamers,” she was always industrious.  She did the job that I asked, as well as having another full time job.

 The young man who worked with me from the time he was about thirteen years old until he entered college was born in the U.S.  As were his siblings.  However, his parents are immigrants from Mexico.  Had they not immigrated to the U.S. and Denver, specifically, I would not have had the joy of watching him grow to be a man.  He is now in Barcelona, Spain, attending a semester abroad.  When he worked with me as a teenager, he was always an excellent worker!  This man, the off spring of immigrants has direction in his life.  Both he and his older brother have specific goals.  He knows what he wants to do and is making that plan happen. 

 I remember a news report that featured the owner of an orchard located among our fruit-growing areas in the western part of our state.  The federal rule was that before he could hire immigrant workers (who actually knew how to take care of his orchards), he was required to advertise for workers who were U.S. citizens.  And, so he did.  The results were pitiful.  Only three workers applied for the jobs he had available.  He hired them.  On the day the work was to begin, only one of those applicants showed up for work; and he did not return the next day.  Without the immigrant workers, that orchard would not have received the care it needed, and we would not have had the fruit for our tables.

 Are some of us fooling ourselves when we believe the rhetoric that we can get along without the people who seek the opportunity to live in the United States?  Can we examine our thinking and adjust it, if necessary, to realize the worth of different peoples and cultures?  Can we broaden our expectations of ourselves to accept and appreciate the values and contributions of all peoples?  This may be difficult for those of use who have grown up in an environment in which white-Anglo-Saxon beats all. 

 My hope is that we will stay a salad bowl of immigrants tossed together to make things better.

Be Safe and Be Well
The Cranky Crone
Thoughtful comments are appreciated.