As I make the drive from Seattle, on the Puget Sound in Northwest Washington, to Walla Walla, in the fertile valleys of Southeast Washington, I witness just about all the beauty this country has to offer. Ice blue lakes, snowcapped peaks, troutworthy rivers, and food filled hills.
I am also reminded of all the energy it takes to maintain, nurture, and harvest the bounty of this great state. Energy that is likely the result of effort given by the hands of immigrant workers. Muscles and limbs of Mexicans mostly, but others from countries south of Mexico or even west to Asia, pulling asparagus, picking apples, and digging potatoes.
Such a conundrum this issue of illegal or undocumented – whatever those terms mean these days - immigrants and the jobs they do.
Let me attempt to paint the picture I envision in my head when I consider the immigration issue.
What if you were hosting a neighborhood party? You decided to stick a flyer in each person’s mailbox, realizing that you may not know all the attendees well, but feeling secure that you would at least recognize everyone, and everybody would know at least a few people. You knew the maximum number of attendees so you could plan for food, drink, seating, paper plates.
The day of the party is fortunately nice and sunny, so after the shindig gets rolling, you take time off from your hosting duties to sit out back on the deck with your neighbors. After a few pops you undoubtedly need to hit the restroom. Rather than use the most popular toilet near the kitchen, you head upstairs to the secret, quiet bathroom. To your surprise, you come across a huge group – 3 adults and 5 children - dusting, mopping, and cleaning your upstairs. It looks and smells great.
But… What the hell is going on up here!?, you exclaim. Who are you people, and what are you doing in MY house!?
One of the adults, the matriarch you presume at this point, explains they are new in town, had heard about your party from their daughter, and thought you could use some help. At least, this is what you think they say through their thickly accented broken English.
If you’re like me, you’d be furious and order them out of the house. I would hope that I would control myself a bit, thank them for the thought, but tell them that if you ever catch them sneaking in your house again you will call the police, or worse. That sort of behavior is just plain unacceptable in your neighborhood!
Here’s another scenario involving the same neighborhood party.
Four days before the party, your daughter brings home a friend from school. Over some mac-n-cheese and popsicles you discover that her family is struggling financially. You learn that they have many talents, from woodworking to housecleaning to sewing. An idea pops in your head. You invite your new friend’s family over to help with the party. You will pay them, and introduce them to your neighbors who may just have some work for them.
The family shows up 2 hours before the party, helps set up, keeps the house clean throughout the party, and even helps fix some things that got broken during the rager that just was. Introductions are made, phone numbers are exchanged, and opportunities are created for this struggling family who actually just lives a couple of neighborhoods over.
As importantly, there are enough goodie bags for the children this time.
I am a huge fan of bringing people of other cultures into our country. We have plenty of room and resource, and much to learn for sure. Our country is the most open in the world, and it would be great to keep it that way.
The operative word here is OUR. People tend to forget that this is OUR country. The argument that for some reason our country really isn’t ours because some Spanish dude brought 3 boats over from Europe 5 centuries ago doesn’t hold a lot of water. I was born here. My parents were. Their parents were, as were their parents.
Damn straight this is my country. Since it is my country, and I am proud of it, I am going to contribute to its growth and health. This gives me the right to help form the rules.
One of my rules is going to be this – you better check in with me before you come in. I need to know who you are, what your purpose is, and how you are going to help out around here.
As long as you do that, you are more than welcome to be a part of this nation. I want to learn about where you came from, what it was like to grow up there, what your hobbies are, what music you like, what food you cook, what talents you have.
I want to show you all the great things this country has to offer – from its natural beauty, to the infrastructure we’ve built which makes our country so strong. I want to show you how we treat others, the way things work in Our House, what we believe the right things to do are.
The immigration issue really is pretty straightforward. If you’re in my country with permission, welcome. We are so happy to have you. Tell your former countrymen they are welcome too. However, if you sneaked in, you, along with your family, must go back to your homeland and get in line for a proper re-entry.
It is not a pleasant situation we’ve gotten ourselves into, which is an understatement, but the solution sure is simple.
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