Fence

We the lucky ones, the ones born on the right side of the fence, in the greatest garden on the face of the Earth, we, who now find ourselves in the throes of economic desperation, look toward that same fence, xenophobia’s darkness shading our thoughts. Our problems are real; tears, never before tasted, briny, salty, curl our lips into malformed shapes and our drenched eyes are myopic at best. We, like a pugilists in the final round, sensing imminent defeat, lash-out with bone-crushing blows, inflicting pain with no thought of consequence or injury.

Yes, we perceive the enemy, and they're from the wrong side of the fence. They are the reason for our economic desperation, for our lifestyle degradation, and for our tears. Blame them. Punch to the midsection.

“But they have ‘no rights’ for they have not shared our struggles,” we say. Another lightning jab.

“Nor have they shared our culture and language ,” we spit.  An overhead blow makes thunderous contact. There bodies are now weak and frail.

“ Good…. Take their jobs, their homes and throw them out. Their children can stay. That is,  if they were born on ‘right’ side of the fence —nothing we can do about that now.”

“We are defending what is rightly ours: A garden of miracles.”

Yet, our garden, it would seem, began with a simple act: fate, it seems, uprooted or forefathers, abruptly and ferociously, from lands on the wrong side of the fence. Adrift, sailing in the indifference of the cold wind, only to be drop on this side of the fence, there journey was never easy.

Indeed, here our forefathers landed, and here they toiled, endlessly, creating with callous hands and aching backs.  They have worked and struggled and survived, and it has taken many drops of sweat and blood to nourish this land. To see their fruition, they worked harder still. The work has not been easy— hard indeed—but the prospect of creating a better tomorrow in this wonderful garden has been theirs goal; and now  this goal should also be ours. 

Behold now the garden at our sight.  The sturdy Oak, steady in its bearing, rests easy in a a field of beautiful Lilacs, and the  verdant Pine, peaceful among  a swath of   yellow Roses, for they see that  variety is  nature’s blessing. 

Rightly so, we have built a fence to protect our garden. It stands as a symbol and as a warning to those who would destroy: here we will not yield, for this is ours. We raised our callous fist as proof. Courage, indomitable spirit and faith—all have contributed in defining who we are.

Now, at this moment of slippery economic footing, shall we render apart this definition? Shall we destroy all the goodness that was intended by our forefathers.

We are a land of many and we should be pro- immigration; however, xenophobia should have no place in our hearts and minds.

Cool Kids

A little over a  month ago, on my way home ,while traveling  through what some would call a “dangerous” part of town, I spotted a group of young people putting up these murals.  In a neighborhood where gang graffiti is prominent, these image now beautify the area.  

Now, I don’t have permission to post these pictures, but I am going to post them anyway—hope I don’t get into too much trouble. I felt compelled to share these wonderful images with whomever. It is my hope that these images inspire, for considering the young artist and their neighborhood, they have done a number on me.  They are located in North Las Vegas on Pecos Road, a couple of blocks south of Las Vegas Blvd.

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