As I said to a friend just this morning, "Sometimes I'd like to declare my independence from this country." Not the country so much, really, but from a portion of the citizenry that is incredibly narrow-minded and bigoted. I'm referring, specifically, to the embarrassing spectacle that occurred in Murrieta, California on Tuesday: protestors blocking buses carrying refuges from Guatemala, Honduras, etc., who have entered this country seeking a better life--most of these people mothers with young children, and often, young children unaccompanied by adults. I'm certain that many of these protestors consider themselves "Christians," but you'd never know it from their uncharitable actions. As one whose maternal grandparents came to this country from southern Italy during the great wave of immigration in the 20th Century, I guess I feel sympathetic to the plight of these Latin American immigrants; and I especially despise politicians who are using this humanitarian crisis as a weapon with which to attack the Obama Administration. I certainly hope he does all he can through executive action to improve our outmoded immigration policies.
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| Becca in the shade of an electrical housing on the Lineman School grounds |
2 comments:
Too many people have died trying to enter this country through our southwestern deserts. I wish this situation could be improved.
Packrat: You "bleeding heart" liberal (just like Kali and me). :)
Follow-up to my power outage story on the evening before Independence Day (inspired by your image of Becca in the shade of the transformer at the Lineman School:
On Independence Day afternoon, the lights went off for 5 seconds at 2 p.m., followed by a loud, muffled noise. At 4 p.m., the same thing happened. The electric company responded at 5 p.m. and, fortunately, the circuit did it again while the linemen were here (thank goodness, because I think they thought I was imagining things). They said, "Wow! That was loud! We'll see if we can figure this out."
The linemen left, and at 6 p.m. the same thing happened again--but this time the lights didn't come back on. Another call to the power company: "We know about your outage, which is affecting 815 customers." Well, this time, it was Kali who got all pissy and in a bad mood, not me. These power outages are so frequent they instantly become irritating. You'd think we were out in the boondocks rather than in the third most densely populated county in Pennsylvania. This time, the lights came back on in two hours (around 8 p.m.). We'd been invited to watch fireworks with friends who have a great house for viewing the fireworks display, but by then Kali and I were in no mood to be social, so we just watched a rented DVD and said to hell with the fireworks.
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