Tonight while driving home I happened by a pickup truck being towed. The policeman had stopped the driver for some infraction and for one reason or another, a tow truck was summoned. I must say the driver had a very south-of-the-border look. An obvious conclusion is the driver had neither a license nor insurance to be operating the vehicle legally.
This is the part of the illegal immigration debate that eats at me. First, I am making the assumption the guy’s pickup was being towed for lack of insurance and that he didn’t have a license because he is here illegally. I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion if the motorist were black, white or even of Asian descent. It bothers me that I am not charitable toward him because of his obvious ethnicity. I thought I was better than that.
But then I look at what is happening to this neighborhood I love so much. I see families crowded out because they no longer feel safe now that the 3-bedroom dwelling next door has more occupants than I have fingers and toes. I see the line of children waiting for the bus swollen with dark hair and brown faces, squealing in a language I barely understand. If their parents want them to be here, to be American, why are they wearing red and green flags on their shirts instead of Uncle Sam’s colors?
I think of those children as the tired pickup truck is hitched to the tow truck, shovels and lumber sliding toward the back of the bed as its front is lifted. I don’t want those kids I see at the bus stop to go hungry because Dad lost his ability to eke out his living now that the truck is impounded. I don’t want Dad to be part of the underground economy, either, while food stamps keep their pantry filled. I don’t want to feel different toward those children than I do toward any other child, just because of where they hail from. But I can’t deny that I do. It makes me feel small when I am less patient with them or when I pretend to be engrossed in an ingredient label in the store so I make them walk around me. I want to demand proof of legal U.S.
Because I am weary of the debate. I am tired of the same old arguments everybody makes. The illegals tell us we are a nation of immigrants and cannot criticize them. That they don’t have licenses or insurance because the laws here are stacked against them. That their behaviors are perfectly acceptable in their homeland. The anti-illegals blame the interlopers for increased taxes, the extreme rise in health care costs, the escalating bills for ESL classes in schools, crime, and the reason Pink Floyd hasn’t recorded any new material in a good long while. The truth is somewhere in between, I am sure.
Oh, and the part of me that doesn’t qualify for public assistance is glad that truck was hauled off tonight. It brings me hope that maybe we are enforcing our laws and making it difficult for the undocumented population to stay. The humanitarian in me is more ashamed that I feel that way.
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