One of the Lucky Ones
You and I are one of the lucky ones. Lucky to be born in a land of opportunity, free from fear of being stopped on the street and asked to prove that we are US citizens, or face being thrown in jail and deported to some other place. Or at least that’s how it used to be. The recent shootings in Minneapolis and the crackdown on people who are living in this country illegally have left me shaken, as these tactics, long associated with authoritarian governments, have now become the heartless tactics of my own government, in its 250th year no less.
In the course of my seventy-four years, I have known people, good people, who, for one reason or another, had lived in this country illegally temporarily or, in some cases, were living here permanently. One of those was my hiking buddy who scaled the 4000-footers in New Hampshire with me. After several years of waiting, he was granted a visa to study at the Johnson & Wales Graduate School of Business. Once he arrived, he found that tuition had increased several thousand dollars, and he was unable to enroll. He was now in this country illegally, and if caught by immigration officials, would have been sent back to his home country, one of those with an authoritarian government that he was trying to escape. If sent back, his dream of living free would be over because he would not get a second chance. He decided to stay here illegally and try to save enough money to enroll the following year. He took whatever job he could get from employers more than willing to pay him “under the table”. He lived in constant fear, frugally eating out of garbage cans to save enough to enroll the following year. He is now a senior executive at Toyota, living on the West Coast.
There was John from Colombia, who lived at Welcome House when I was director there. His teenage brother had been shot dead as a result of gang violence, and he knew his time would come too unless he left the country. Told that it might take years, he fled and supported himself in this country by working in construction, which is how I met Carlos, who helped the developer build the house I now live in. He sent money back home to his family in El Salvador, who had given up hope of ever entering the US legally.
Had I faced the choices that these men faced, I would have done the same. Were they here illegally? Yes. Were they a threat to anyone? NO! Were they a victim of circumstances? Most definitely. The roll of the dice for you and me came up 7s and 11s. Let’s be grateful for that and show some compassion for those who just want to live happily ever after like you and me.
