E pur si muove
Had a little moment of hope the other day while driving into work. Seriously, if I ever do end up moving to the Eastside, my brain function and blog capacity will both drop exponentially because I'll be missing that near-hour of mental crockpottery on my commute.
Every morning, I drive through a school zone on Greenwood Avenue. It's an elementary school, and seeing all those excited little faces with their ginormous backpacks practically straining out of their clothes to cross the street ahead of the crossing guard makes me smile every time. I remember being that thrilled about school even through high school graduation, but I know this isn't everyone's experience (particularly in Washington, where the WASL saps all lifeblood from the students. I'm not sure it's a fair trade, growing up in Idaho and not having to deal with all that, but missing out on some of the amazing adventures and AP opportunities the districts have here.) It's nice to see that some of that innocence and joie de vivre hasn't been lost.
The particular thing that caught my eye occurred on an overcast, drizzly, nasty-to-be-out day about a month ago. They're putting in sidewalks along that stretch of Greenwood, which is frankly surprising in its delay, considering the wees that walk along there every morning, but at least it's getting done. And it's also astonishing how much equipment, manpower and general construction mayhem *just* putting in sidewalks cause. I always figured it was a simple demarcate-and-pour process, but of course there's leveling, digging, restructuring/rebarring, and safety concerns for the workers, so there are traffic pilons, backhoes, loud beeps and myriad bodies all crawling around the right-hand lane of the road. You mix that with small children, 7-10 schoolbuses used to having their own lane, people trying to turn left across two oncoming lanes, and morning traffic, and it gets a little nutty. I'd just go around, but the post office happens to be on the other end of Greenwood, and it's an easy drive-thru pit stop in the mornings for my Netflix envelopes and the like.
So, I'm sitting there behind a few other cars, waiting for a bus to turn and watching the motorcycle cop radaring the oncommers from behind a tree, and I see this couple step out on the corner and look to try and cross all four lanes. Without intending to be stereotypical, my impression was that they were African expats...he was in the tunic-style 'suit' with the small cap, and she in the full dress and headwrap.
As he stepped out from the curb area and looked around, I noticed he had some sort of glossy mag in his hand, a People or USWeekly, which struck me as a little peculiar for the situation. Then I realized that there was something sticking out of the pages, something that appeared to be loose-leaf sheets.
I don't know why, but I knew looking at them that those were resumes.
Maybe it's because I've seen Jim do the same thing; he wouldn't be caught dead carrying a briefcase, and likes to save his manila folders for his tattoo work, so when he's had to bring a paper copy of his resume to an interview, he'll take it in something like a large book or magazine so that it stays wrinkle-free and relatively protected from the usual moist that hangs about this city.
You could argue that they'd just retrieved the mail and all I was seeing was the junk circulars flapping in the wind, but there was something about it that had me convinced this was someone crossing the street to catch the bus downtown on the job hunt. His attitude, his dress, their general bearing, the time of day and the fact they were out on foot in non-zesty weather, a certain sense of intensity...I don't know. But it warmed my heart in that moment to see it.
This is what this country is about; I know nothing about why this couple is here, who they are, what they've sacrificed, or whether I'm even right with this imaginary narrative I've constructed. But seeing that ineffable sense of hope, the willingness to step out and start the search under less than pleasant circumstances...no car, no umbrella, no 'standard business trappings'...and even the fact that his wife was apparently out there, with love and support, just to wait with him for the bus, I had a surge of "this is what we can offer to all those who want the chance." I know our immigration policies need a major overhaul. I know that there's a lot of anger over the issue in general. And I know that I have some personal biases because of my current situation. But there is so much we don't know about the lives that get left behind, and so much destruction we've contributed to as a governing body, that I can't possibly fault someone for wanting to be here and trying to make a stable, productive life. Yes, there are proper channels and unsavory deals, legal ways and otherwise, and yes, I believe in the letter of the law, but laws are not perfect and sometimes they fail us. Or we fail them. And so life continues to happen around these lofty theoreticals, and I get moved by a random encounter on a rainy Monday morning.
I hope he got the job.
Every morning, I drive through a school zone on Greenwood Avenue. It's an elementary school, and seeing all those excited little faces with their ginormous backpacks practically straining out of their clothes to cross the street ahead of the crossing guard makes me smile every time. I remember being that thrilled about school even through high school graduation, but I know this isn't everyone's experience (particularly in Washington, where the WASL saps all lifeblood from the students. I'm not sure it's a fair trade, growing up in Idaho and not having to deal with all that, but missing out on some of the amazing adventures and AP opportunities the districts have here.) It's nice to see that some of that innocence and joie de vivre hasn't been lost.
The particular thing that caught my eye occurred on an overcast, drizzly, nasty-to-be-out day about a month ago. They're putting in sidewalks along that stretch of Greenwood, which is frankly surprising in its delay, considering the wees that walk along there every morning, but at least it's getting done. And it's also astonishing how much equipment, manpower and general construction mayhem *just* putting in sidewalks cause. I always figured it was a simple demarcate-and-pour process, but of course there's leveling, digging, restructuring/rebarring, and safety concerns for the workers, so there are traffic pilons, backhoes, loud beeps and myriad bodies all crawling around the right-hand lane of the road. You mix that with small children, 7-10 schoolbuses used to having their own lane, people trying to turn left across two oncoming lanes, and morning traffic, and it gets a little nutty. I'd just go around, but the post office happens to be on the other end of Greenwood, and it's an easy drive-thru pit stop in the mornings for my Netflix envelopes and the like.
So, I'm sitting there behind a few other cars, waiting for a bus to turn and watching the motorcycle cop radaring the oncommers from behind a tree, and I see this couple step out on the corner and look to try and cross all four lanes. Without intending to be stereotypical, my impression was that they were African expats...he was in the tunic-style 'suit' with the small cap, and she in the full dress and headwrap.
As he stepped out from the curb area and looked around, I noticed he had some sort of glossy mag in his hand, a People or USWeekly, which struck me as a little peculiar for the situation. Then I realized that there was something sticking out of the pages, something that appeared to be loose-leaf sheets.
I don't know why, but I knew looking at them that those were resumes.
Maybe it's because I've seen Jim do the same thing; he wouldn't be caught dead carrying a briefcase, and likes to save his manila folders for his tattoo work, so when he's had to bring a paper copy of his resume to an interview, he'll take it in something like a large book or magazine so that it stays wrinkle-free and relatively protected from the usual moist that hangs about this city.
You could argue that they'd just retrieved the mail and all I was seeing was the junk circulars flapping in the wind, but there was something about it that had me convinced this was someone crossing the street to catch the bus downtown on the job hunt. His attitude, his dress, their general bearing, the time of day and the fact they were out on foot in non-zesty weather, a certain sense of intensity...I don't know. But it warmed my heart in that moment to see it.
This is what this country is about; I know nothing about why this couple is here, who they are, what they've sacrificed, or whether I'm even right with this imaginary narrative I've constructed. But seeing that ineffable sense of hope, the willingness to step out and start the search under less than pleasant circumstances...no car, no umbrella, no 'standard business trappings'...and even the fact that his wife was apparently out there, with love and support, just to wait with him for the bus, I had a surge of "this is what we can offer to all those who want the chance." I know our immigration policies need a major overhaul. I know that there's a lot of anger over the issue in general. And I know that I have some personal biases because of my current situation. But there is so much we don't know about the lives that get left behind, and so much destruction we've contributed to as a governing body, that I can't possibly fault someone for wanting to be here and trying to make a stable, productive life. Yes, there are proper channels and unsavory deals, legal ways and otherwise, and yes, I believe in the letter of the law, but laws are not perfect and sometimes they fail us. Or we fail them. And so life continues to happen around these lofty theoreticals, and I get moved by a random encounter on a rainy Monday morning.
I hope he got the job.
Comments
And 2. I don't know if I've told you about my friend whose husband emigrated from Mexico but I totally agree with you about immigration laws. They've been married two years now and he's going through the process of earning his citizenship (I say earning because, although I agree with you, it is still a mighty big privilege and you must do the due diligence.)
Here's the oh-so unfortunate twist: because he entered the country illegally in the first place, he was sent BACK to Mexico to speak with his consulate. That was 9 months ago. In the mean time, she’s been paying all their bills on one income on top of being without her husband. It really sucks and my heart goes out to them. I wish more people knew HOW to enter the country “the right way” because it doesn’t seem fair for someone who has been living here, contributing in a positive way (yes, he paid his taxes!) to not be allowed back simply for trying now to do the right thing. I guess the moral of the story is that we (natives?) take a lot for granted.
I’ll be remembering this next Thursday fo’ sho!
2) Any separation of a family like that is a shame. I do understand that it's a sort of penance, penalty, what you will, for the act of entering illegally in the first place. I get that. But it just seems terribly unfair to split apart a household...
physically, emotionally, financially...when they are already trying to atone. If they've been through the vetting process for the citizenship, proving their couplehood and their life together, there ought to be a way to ask for some sort of 'deferment' of consulate visit for hardship's sake. Esp. with the economy like it is, one person simply can't maintain a two-person existence.