Si Habla Espanol

As much as I have wanted to stay away from this topic, I now feel that I must write a post about this subject. It’s a touchy subject and I have been involved in many heated debates with friends and family concerning this topic.

Nearly a month ago I wrote a Blog about “My Old Neighborhood” in Chicago. A fellow Blogger, Romulus, posted a comment to this blog. He asked me questions that I didn’t want to address at that time:
“I'm curious... what are your thoughts on the immigration debate? Do you feel different nationalities should be allowed in the country in different numbers (for example, more Cubans than Mexicans per year)? I know in Florida the Cuban community is not necessarily looked down upon, whereas out here in the west Mexicans are marginalized as laborers, not participants in the American system. Personally, I don't have a problem with diversity although I would like to see more security at the border. Your thoughts? “

Three out of four of my grandparents were immigrants. My step-father’s (who, in my blogs, I often refer to as my “Dad”) parents were both immigrants. Let’s face it, we are a nation of immigrants; unless you are a Native American (Amerinds) (in my opinion, native Americans got the rawest deal known to mankind, worst than the stealing of Africans from Africa) you are a descendant of immigrants.

At times my personal feelings get in the way of my objectivity on the subject of immigration. I don’t particularly like many of our new immigrants. This was probably the same type of feeling that people living here had about the new immigrants (my ancestors) at the turn of the 19th to the 20th century.

Some of my family and friends will argue that the “new immigrants” are taking jobs away from Americans. Especially in the construction and service industries. Who wants these jobs? They pay minimum wage or less and you have to work your butt off. In the summer of 1970 I worked as a construction laborer. Digging ditches for pipes, in the hot sun, for $2.75 per hour was not my “cup of tea”. But when you have a wife and child to support you’ll do just about anything for a paycheck. I lasted for only two weeks.

My next job wasn’t much better. I worked in a factory (Enjay Fibers; a division of Exxon) that produced Olifin fiber that was used in making indoor/outdoor carpet. The pay was much better, $3.27 per hour with overtime opportunities. I received a promotion and a pay raise after 3 months. I was now driving the tow-motor and dumping polymer resin into the hoppers that loaded into the extruder's one floor below. It was 95 degrees in this room in December.

It was a one way job to nowhere, but it kept our rent paid and refrigerator full. This job was probably the reason that I decided that I must go back to school.

The point here being is that manual labor is not an enjoyable thing. And that is why I have much respect for those who work these jobs. These are the menial jobs; the jobs that are seemingly beneath us because of low pay and hard work. The immigrants take these jobs. They toil for hours on end to make a living and a better life.

I have two pet peeves about today’s immigration laws and practices. My first peeve is that if you have money you stand a much better chance of getting into the country legally.

What happened to "Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

The second being the INS quota system. However, I will not dwell on either of these subjects. If I did, you would now be reading one of the longest blogs ever written.

The thing that bothers me the most about many of our legal and illegal immigrants is that a lot of them do not want to assimilate into our culture or society. They don’t want to become Americans; they want to continue to be whatever nationality that they are, and to just be living in America. My parents taught me that we are Americans first and that my other nationality was just the place from where my forefathers were born. I am an American of Czech extraction.

In a recent email a friend wrote:
“There seems to be some evidence that recent second-generation Hispanics are, in fact, not picking up English as well as previous generations…….I doubt if any of our grandparents took English classes. But they learned English. My grandparents on my father's side insisted that English be spoken in the house (they had come over from Sweden) so the kids wouldn't be labeled as greenhorns.”

This brings up a sore subject; one that really honks me off. There are three words that evoke my ire more than any other three words; si habla espanol!

Why does make me so mad? I was raised in a multi-cultural neighborhood in Chicago. I never saw one sign that said "Mówimy język Polski", and there were a lot of Poles in "my old neighborhood". My parents and grandparents knew that in order to fit into American society you must learn the English language.

It seemed appalling to me when I first saw the pay telephones with instructions in both English and Spanish. By doing this and other similar things (such as “Si habla espanol” signs in store windows) we are actually hindering the Hispanics and not helping them to assimilate into our society and become Americans. But then again, they may not want to become Americans.

The Beach Bum