A few years back I was taking care of my mom having to drive a 70-mile round trip just to check on her. I ended up buying a home just a 100 yards or so from her house, the house I grew up in. My yard now was the same yard I played baseball in as a child.
People from my neighborhood over the years have moved on and or passed away and new families have moved into those homes. Most are Mexican immigrants.
One night I was sitting out on my patio with my eyes closed remembering the sounds I heard as a child in my neighborhood growing up. That’s when It hit me. Those sounds I heard as a child growing up here were the same sounds I’m hearing now.
A man mowing his yard, a woman calling for her cat, children laughing and playing and a kid working on his car. Nothing has changed.
The only difference from then and now is the color of the people’s skin. We need to support who we all are … immigrants.