Undocumented

It's a safe bet to say that most of the children here are undocumented. Certainly most of their parents are.
These kids come to school like any others. Here they are cooking vegetables from the school garden, and as with any other kids, they understand in their inchoate way that everything will be available to them.

For most of my life I never thought about the issue of immigration other than the Ivy League courses about the beginnings of America and the waves of immigrants coming from various places, finally making it to the Statue of Liberty and the huddled masses yearning to breathe free. How naive I was!

Now I struggle to figure out how to make it happen for undocumented Mexican children to be able to go to camp. They don't have health insurance, a requirement even for camperships.

I wish that our elected representatives could know how it is to live in constant fear of deportation. I wish these elected officials could experience how it is to have dangerously crossed the border with the kids on your backs because you wanted a better life for your children and you couldn't see any other way to do it. You were willing to accept less than a second class deal because you wanted so much to be here where your kids would have a good chance at the brass ring.

My friend, Maria (not her real name), and her husband have two truly gifted kids, and their life is a struggle against fear from the deportation issue. Of course they do not have driver licenses, social security numbers, library cards. They are afraid to take vacations - one small lapse and they will be deported, separated from their kids. They have saved for their kids' college expenses but who knows if even this backward state of Florida will actually let undocumented students get into higher education?

We have such a huge group of Hispanics in the U.S. They drive our agriculture and they work everywhere. Their kids are our treasure.

Immigration reform must be at the top of our list of American priorities.

Memories of Travel

The four of us- my brother and his wife, Andy and I- have been traveling together for many years. Here we are in a garden in New Zealand just about to enjoy an extraordinary lunch. Everything about that trip was perfect.

This evening here in Florida we are again together for a wonderful homely meal of soup and salads from the garden and amazing conversation. Brother Brooks and Carolyn are here for two weeks. They live on the other side of the country and for many years, long before any of us retired, we have gotten together twice a year.  One of those annual visits with each other have been to go to some fantastic place.

We are getting older and the prospect of spending long hours folded up on airplanes is less appealing. Our trip this year was one to explore the end of the Lewis and Clark expedition in Oregon. We flew there, and now Brooks and Carolyn have come east to enjoy some Florida sunshine and the magic of life in the Green Swamp. We take interesting day trips and come home evenings.

It was always my pleasure to plan the trips, arranging for a rental house and car, researching everything to do and see. Italy! (multiple times and places), France, New Zealand, Alaska..

Tonight we sit around the table, the candles burning low and our bellies full and we recall some of those details (and what we ate) on those amazing trips. All we need to do is utter some word, and we are off on the flood of wonderful memories. "Flat white" - and we are recalling how on our New Zealand trip we stopped every morning to buy coffee with hot milk. And remember the blue penguins that arrived every night flopping through the surf to scurry back to their nests?

During those years I also made annual trips with my dearest friend, Marie, never on any planned tours, to exotic places in central and south America. Those were the rugged and just dangerous enough treks to the Amazon, the Galapagos, remote places in Costa Rica and Panama, Peru and Brazil. We would look at each other upon arrival wherever it was and say, "We're here!" In many ways my trips with Marie were the most challenging, and also the most truly carefree. We had no family to please or look out for - it was just purely us. If we chose to walk out by ourselves into the rain forest with a man dressed only in a loin cloth and packing a bow and quiver of spears, we did it because we had the chance to see a harpy eagle. And in what other circumstances would one happily eat guinea pigs?

Our heads are stuffed with these memories, so much more valuable than things. My good friends here are off on a trip to India on Monday. I envy them this and I will be first in line when they get back to hear all the details and view the photos. They are going on a group tour, possibly the best way to go.
Travel is the best for one's mind.  I hope to be remembering all the places I've been and all the people and ideas I've met until I'm past ninety-five!