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Cinco de Mayo

My thoughts have been on immigration reform this week. I
grew up in a predominantly Mexican neighborhood just outside Fresno, CA.
Although we moved back and forth between communities and even states throughout
my childhood, we always seemed to return to Highway City to live for brief
periods or at least to visit my grandmother. I suppose if any place seemed like
home it was that rural area of grape vineyards and cotton fields and olive
orchards.

I worked in the fields alongside Mexican families. I watched
pregnant women labor all day long with their husbands and children. I shared looks of boredom and desperation with
them. Even though they couldn’t speak
English and I couldn’t speak Spanish we managed to communicate that we wanted
to be running in the park instead of picking cotton. It never occurred to me to
ask if they were in this country legally. I’m not certain my dad knew or cared
either. They were willing to work and so were we.

My classes at school were dominated by Mexican culture and
Catholic traditions. Kids spoke Spanish on the playground and sometimes in class.
We ate fish every Friday. I envied the pretty communion dresses of the young
girls I saw outside the Catholic Church. I learned about Mexican holidays and
celebrations. I grew up understanding that Cinco de Mayo is an American
holiday, originating in California, not Mexico.

Of course Fresno and all the surrounding communities changed
over time as other immigrants moved to CA during the sixties and subsequent
decades. We lived for a time near a Laotian neighborhood. Our church added a
Cambodian service. We had German neighbors, French neighbors, Italian
neighbors. I don’t remember anyone showing us their citizenship papers.

I suppose my childhood background is what leads me to have
mixed feelings this morning about who should be allowed to live in our country
and who should not. Studies have shown that people are very tolerant of their
neighbors- even in areas where there are major problems with border control and
illegals are a burden on local services- until the
issue of immigration becomes a political squabble and gains media attention. This
seems to happen about every four years.

I have read postings on FB recently about the need for
everyone to learn to speak English. Most of the tirades are aimed at those who
speak Spanish and yet many older immigrants from other countries maintain their
native language and rely on children and grandchildren to help them live their
daily lives in an English-speaking country. Vast neighborhoods in the East are
dominated by other languages, as are areas of San Francisco and other major cities. Spanish labels are
easy to criticize, but there are parts of the country where labels are printed
in English and French. Our country actually joined English, French, and Spanish
territories to become the U.S. A. And what of our Native Americans? Would we
have them give up their language in order to live here? By rights I suppose we
should be required to speak Choctaw in order to live in Bryan County.

And English
really isn’t. Have you taken a good look at a dictionary lately? Our daily language
has evolved so far away from the native language of our ancestors that it would
probably seem like a foreign language to them. And to be honest, many of the people
I come in contact with each day can’t speak English well enough to communicate
with anyone other than their redneck beer-drinking buddies. Most Chinese school
children speak better English than our own.

Yes, we need for our government communications and documents
to be in one consistent language. But do we also want to make it nearly impossible
for someone from another country to manage their daily lives and learn to adapt
to our ways? Have you ever tried to shop in a grocery store in a foreign
country? Ever have a problem in a foreign country and breathed a sigh of relief
that someone nearby spoke English?

So, how tightly to we
want to guard our borders? Who do we
want to keep out? Who do we want to send home? How much money do we want to
spend on the problem? We all have foreign doctors these days. I could barely
understand the instructions given to me by the Indian respiratory therapist who
treated me after my last surgery. I watched the Kentucky Derby with a sense of
amusement yesterday. I could barely understand the winning jockey because of his
heavy accent. But we don’t want to keep him from being in the country! The immigration reforms are going to provide
special treatment for the educated and desirables who come over the border. Apparently
it’s just those who are uneducated or might be violent or might be on drugs or might
have too many children who need to be stopped. We already have so many of those
who were born in this country! We
sure don’t need any more.

We constantly hear about our need to be able to operate in a
global market. We need to educate our children for a global economy. We need to
protect our global ecology. We need to respond to changes in global politics.
We need to share our wealth with those less fortunate in the global community. The
Bible even admonishes us to share the gospel with the world. I’m not sure we can do all of that while living in a
fenced, protected, insulated, isolated country. If we want to visit and live
and work in other countries, are not obligated to make it possible for others
to do the same here?

Do I have an answer to the problem? No. Because there isn’t
one. Immigration reform is an issue with as many complications as there are
immigrants. Besides, I firmly believe there are six domestic problems we will
NEVER resolve to the satisfaction of every citizen: healthcare, immigration,
education, taxes, person freedom (gay rights, gun rights, etc.), and
unemployment. We will continue to have reforms and debates until my grandchildren
have grandchildren.

But on this Sunday of celebration I offer you this little
reminder to ponder. My own original ancestor to this country came here because he
was in trouble in his native Friesland for allowing his child to be baptized by
an unsanctioned priest. He didn’t speak the politically correct language. He
wasn’t the “right” religion. He wasn’t educated. Yet, he adapted. He became a
businessman and a community leader. He helped defend his adopted country. He
raised a family and they went on to help settle a new state and build other
businesses and have other families.

And here I am…an English-speaking, well-educated
professional who has to remember from time to time that she comes from humble
beginnings.