I live in a small town. Actually, it has city status. I live in Painesville, Ohio.
Painesville is a small city, with about 15,000 households, situated within five square miles. It is about 35 miles east of Cleveland. Painesville is the county seat of Lake County. It's also home to numerous nurseries, and numerous Mexican migrant workers.
Some of those in this Mexican population are here illegally. Now I think what that means is they crossed the Arizona desert in the back of Billy-Bob’s truck, rather than passing threw customs with a green card in hand. They do still use green cards don’t they? And we do still have something called customs, don’t we? With the new Homeland Security office and rules and regulations, I just can’t say what the proper procedure is. But I know it’s not proper to cross the border with Billy-Bob.
Anyway, they are here. I’ve heard rumors that they; that would be those that don’t speak English, return to Mexico when the snow flies. I think maybe they just stay indoors. And I know many of those who came here from Mexico do speak English, and I’m not sure where those English-speaking Mexicans fit in my story. Do English-speaking Mexicans stay in Painesville during the winter, or do they go to Florida with the rest of the English speakers?
Enough about the Mexicans. We can come back to them later. Painesville has a city manager-form of government. It also has a city council, and the city council hires the city manager. Residents of Painesville, on a good election day maybe as many as 40 percent, elect members to city council.
A couple times each month, the city manager and council meet for open public sessions. Council is supposed to conduct its business of running the city during these open public meetings.
In case you were wondering, the city manger is a white female, some council members are white, a couple council members are black, and a couple are old men, although I won’t list names.
During these sessions members of the community are permitted to briefly address council, with whatever is on their minds. I think each speaker is limited to a two-minute session, but I’m not convinced anyone is holding a stopwatch.
So that’s the background information you’ll need to understand the following story.
I had my nose in a weekly community newspaper today and I was scanning it for something of interest when my eyes crossed a story about the Painesville City Council meeting held Monday. I’m guessing that would make it the meeting of August 21.
At this meeting, a resident took her turn at the microphone to address city council.
In a nutshell, the woman suggested city leaders make English the official language of Painesville.
Many in attendance applauded. Then the woman went on to say something like people who don’t speak English don’t get interpreters, jobs, welfare, healthcare, or any benefits of any kind. Apparently, she was serious. I’m guessing she is referring to those Mexican-speaking Mexicans, because I don’t know of any other large population of non-English speaking people here in Painesville.
The issue, as I see it, is two-sided; non-English speakers and illegal immigrants.
The first category is simple. Non-English speaking people are people that don’t speak English. Then, there are people who don’t or can’t speak at all, in any language. You know, people who sign.
I think it would be handy to have someone experienced in sign language employed in every public service facility. Take the police department for example. How do they question a suspect who can’t speak? And quite naturally, the person who can’t speak probably can’t hear either. Now what? What about the person who refuses to speak, but damn well can and everybody knows it. What then? How do the police detectives know the difference between someone who can’t speak, and someone who won’t speak?
These are all questions begging for answers before we make English the official language. And speaking of English, what about American? American is to English like Mexican is to Spanish. So which is going to be the official language? I hope it’s not English. I vote for American.
I’m not sure why people from Mexico and that is the population in question here in Painesville, would want to come to America when everybody knows all our good-paying jobs have gone to Mexico. Maybe they come because they want to live in the country that’s land of the free and home of the brave.
In any case, they cross the border, most likely into Arizona, and then make their way up to Painesville, Ohio. I don’t know why - the weather sucks here. Uh, that’s American slang meaning not to your liking, don’t you know.
If a person crosses the border into America without the proper papers, they’re here illegally. Please don’t ask me what proper papers are, or what they look like, because I don’t know. I don’t know who is in charge of keeping these papers straight, or who writes them. I don’t think I have papers. I have a driver’s license and a social security card. I also have a copy of my birth certificate somewhere. At least I think I still have it. I don’t recall right now where I put it. Are these things my papers?
I’ve never seen these so-called papers. I don’t think I have a right to ask someone to see their papers, and I wouldn’t take kindly to someone asking to see mine. And I don’t know if people coming into America from Canada need these proper papers. Do we need proper papers to go to Canada? To Mexico? I don’t know. I rarely get out of Painesville.
Some say the whole idea of controlling illegal immigrants is to ask for identification, or papers, when renting property, offering services at a hospital or welfare department, or giving employment. Illegal immigrants, some say, are taking jobs away from American citizens.
I don’t know anyone who has lost their job to an immigrant, legal or illegal. I do know someone who lost her job when the company she worked for moved to Mexico.
As for employment, I thought that was the law already: An employer must see proper photo identification. Of course there’s phony, counterfeit identification available to anyone, Mexican, American, or whomever. I suspect employers do the best they can with what they have to work with.
As far as housing goes, I think there’s a law in place saying rental property must be made available, regardless of race, blah, blah, blah, and national origin. It doesn’t say anything about illegal immigrants. But, for the sake of argument, let’s pretend there was a law in place requiring property owners to rent to legal citizens only. That would require the property owner to check the citizenship, or papers, of every potential renter. That eliminates me -I don’t have any papers. All I have is a damn driver’s license. You should know what will come next. Some property owner in Painesville will only ask dark-skinned people for papers. White-skinned people won’t be asked. How do you spell law suit?
I don’t know if food stamps or any other type of welfare is available to illegal immigrants. I’m sure help is available to non-English speaking legal residents, as it should be. Are there Mexican-speaking employees in Jobs and Family Services? I would think so, but if not, an English-speaking friend of the applicant should work just fine. As a last resort, a finger-point to an open mouth and then down to the holes in the shoes will probably get the message across.
As for hospitals, and emergency rooms in particular, no one should ever be turned away.
So there you have it - the dilemma is solved. Unless, of course, the reasoning behind the anti-illegal sentiment runs deeper.
I was born in Oklahoma. My parents moved to Ohio when I was about 5 years old. That was a whole lot of years ago. I grew up in Berea, Ohio. I attended Berea High for one year, and then spent the summer in the mountains of Arizona at my grandpa’s ranch. That’s a whole other story. Getting back to my parents - when I went to Berea high, I accumulated something like 21 detentions. Do schools still use the detention system? At Berea High, a detention lasted just long enough for the last bus of the day to leave the parking lot. That was the whole point - to make you walk home. It didn’t take me long to learn what time the football team finished with practice, and that I could catch a ride with any one of the players if I dilly-dallied around and waited for the end of practice.
One day after detention I caught a ride with Larry Adeboy. Now, that’s a phonetic spelling of his last name. I don’t have a clue how it was spelled. Anyway, Larry was Hawaiian, and he was nice enough to offer me a ride home. He pulled into the driveway, I got out of his car and walked into the house where Mom, God rest her soul, was waiting.
She was furious. Not because I had another detention, but because I accepted a ride home from what she thought was a Mexican.
The conversation, as I recall, went something like this:
No Mom, he’s not Mexican, he’s from Hawaii.
Are you sure? Yes, Mom, I’m sure. What difference does it make?
You’re not allowed to accept a ride from a Mexican. And you better not ever date one, if you know what’s good for you, either. Why? What difference would that make?
I don't like Mexicans. Why not Mom?
Because when I worked in Arizona, you know at that meat-packing plant where I met your father, there were Mexican women there and they didn’t like me. They were always talking about me in Mexican and laughing at me because I didn’t understand.
Mom, that’s crazy. How do you know they were talking about you if you didn’t understand what they were saying?
I know they were! I just know and I don’t like them and you’re not allowed to date them. Okay. Can I date Hawaiians? Can I date blacks? How about Chinese?
Don’t get smart Kathleen (Mom always called me that when she was mad at me.) You can date anyone you want, as long as they’re not Mexican. It seems Mom didn’t like Apaches either. Apaches, as in one of many, many American Indian tribes.
The story goes, when she first met my father, she made him swear to God that he wasn’t an Apache. Apaches, she said, get ugly as they age. They get these dark blotches all over their faces, and they get fat, she said. It was okay if he was from some other tribe; as long as he wasn’t one of those soon-to-be ugly Apaches.
I never asked Mom if it mattered if Apaches have papers. Do American Indians need papers if they leave the reservation? During the summer I spent at my Grandfather’s ranch in Arizona, he told me Indians were allowed to be served alcohol now. All the signs forbidding Indians from entering bars had to be taken down. Some people don’t know that. They don’t know that it wasn’t until the 1960s that an American Indian could legally be served whiskey in Arizona.
When I was a teen, I don’t remember the issue of legal vs. illegal. It was a black-and white era. It was the 1960s. I wish I could ask Mom about papers and legals and illegals. I could ask her if being here legally could put someone on my date card. I suspect she’d say no. I can’t ask her anyway; she died. I suspect it wouldn’t matter if they had papers or not. I don’t remember the paper-issue coming into play when I was a teen. Did we always just assume someone was in this country legally, or did we assume they were here illegally? Did it matter? These things I just don’t remember.
What I do remember is, from a distance of about 20 feet, Mom couldn’t tell the difference between a Hawaiian and a Mexican. This brief glimpse into my childhood brings me around to the points I want to make.
Never walk home from detention. There’s an easier way if you hold out for the Hawaiian.
If at all possible, speak English when you make fun of people.
We’ve all come here from someplace else. Some of us speak English, some of us don’t.
Don’t marry an Apache. If you’re Apache, lie about it. Know one will know anyway.
Don’t demand to see someone’s papers. No one’s going to know what you’re talking about.
This is America - land of the free and home of the brave. That’s all any of us should need to know.
And one more thing - it’s now legal to serve whiskey to an Indian.
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/86829/illegal_immigrants_and_the_english.html?cat=9
