A Moral Crime
"We have to draw the line someplace, with all the pesticides used by farmers."
John Catsimatidis
When I was sixteen years of age, I had become good friends with children of migrant workers who lived nearby, during the summer of 1969. They worked for various farms in the area, and asked me to come with them to pick potatoes, load them in wagons, and drive tractors to bring the loaded wagons up to the main barn.
Driving a tractor! How cool is that!
I met my friends at 4:30 am on a Monday morning, got to ride in a "GTO," and joined them to work on a potato farm.
We all met with the owner of the farm at the main barn. He addressed us, standing on a flatbed trailer:
"There is about two weeks work here for all of you. I need to have each of you work daily from 5 am to sunset, everyday until we are finished. At the end of the harvest, we will meet here and I will pay to $300 to each one who worked the entire time. Okay, let's get to work."
There were approximately twenty of us, all Hispanics, except myself. My grandfather was 25% Cherokee, and during the summer my skin would get quite dark. I guess I was assumed to be Hispanic.
Another driving motive to work on a farm, I had a "crush" on a girl named Rosa. Working on the farm gave me an opportunity to spend time with her. Besides, my parents were going through a messy divorce. I was sent to live with my grandparents for the summer. My grandmother had just passed, and my grandfather was going through a deep grieving process. They had been married 48 years. As a result, I was pretty much left on my own. After all, I was 16 years old! To this day, I don't remember if anyone ever knew I went to work with the "Mexican migrants," as they were called.
It was two weeks I would not forget! Rosa and I worked together the whole time, except, of course, when it was my turn to drive the tractor. The tractor, hooked up to a wagon full of potatoes, would be taken to the main barn. The last few times I invited Rosa to ride with me.
One time during the latter part of the second week, I decided to show her my "tractor driving skills," and drove at a higher speed. As I went to make a sharp right turn, I lost control and the entire wagon flipped over. Fortunately, nothing was damaged.
Everyone came and pushed the wagon back to its upright position, gathered up all the potatoes that were all over the ground, and warned me not to "show off" to Rosa. The farmer and his sons never knew I had an "accident." Rosa gave me a kiss...I will always remember that because a Jimi Hendrix song was playing on the transistor radio. I was "The Star Spangled Banner," with Jimi doing the "guitar bombs," as our lips touched.
After two weeks of work, we all met with the farmer and his two sons in the main barn...to get paid.
I had plans! There was a big dance coming up and I was going to take Rosa. first, I wanted to take her to a restaurant, see a movie titled Easy Rider, and buy her a gift. She had been eyeing some cowboy boots for quite a while.
The farmer once again stood on a flatbed trailer and announced, "Okay, I want to say thanks for all your work...here is your $300. I don't know who is in charge on how you are going to divide it."
He laid three one hundred dollar bills on the flatbed near the left rear tire, jumped off, and started to walk away. One young Hispanic father spoke up saying;
"Sir, we thought you said $300 for each one of us?"
He laughed along with his two sons. The younger son spoke"I think it's time for all you Mexicans to get the hell out of here."
That's how it ended. Two weeks later Rosa and her family were off to Illinois. We wrote a few times, yet I never saw her again, I gave my portion, all fifteen dollars, to Rosa's family. They had fed me with homemade Mexican meals the entire time we worked.
About a year later, I went with my Aunt to a church service. The farmer, who owned the potato farm, was there. He read the "First Reading." My stomach cringed. I looked at my Aunt and said,
"That guy is an asshole."
She replied, "Oh hon,' you are mistaken. He is one of the most generous people of our entire parish."
At least "a thousand thoughts" went through my mind. Instead, I smiled and waited til after service. There was a 'refreshment and fellowship time." I will get close to him and when the time is right, I will let him know what I really think of his fake and stinkin' religion.
When I was about to approach him, two of his grandchildren came running up to him. I suddenly felt sorry for him. He was a sick son-of-a-bitch. Yet, I did not want to embarrass him in front of his family, especially his grand kids.
I remembered how my grandmother had prayed for me. There were times I had been as "asshole" to her.
So, I returned to the sanctuary, lit a candle, and prayed for him. It was the hardest thing I had ever done...especially not using 'cuss words" in my prayer.
As I left the sanctuary, I whispered to my aunt, "I have to stop at the restroom, then we can go."
She smiled, and as I opened the men's door and stepped up to a urinal, guess who stepped up beside me, on my left? Yep...there he stood, himself and me.
He said, "Hi," and commented on the nice weather.
"I haven't seen you here before."
I turned, going to the hand sink to wash my hands. Looking into the mirror, directly at him, I tied my hair back (it was down to my elbows lol.) I did not initially respond. Then I turned and looked directly into his eyes,
"Not here, but you have seen me before. When I picked your potatoes and you underpaid us for two weeks work, I was one of those you cheated. You really think this God you spoke of today...is going to let you get away with all that?"
Obviously, my words caught him off guard. He looked somewhat shaken.
The door opened a little and a voice spoke,
"Dad, we are goin' to the car, meet you there."
"Excuse me," as I walked to the door.
Sure, sorry." it was the farmer's son.
I looked back. The farmer was staring at me. Maybe he thought I was an angel...that might be cool!
I share this because we all have power to help or hurt others. I find life to be a matter of choices, good or bad.
If you want to walk safely, it's best to go with
Integrity.
If you prefer to be shifty or crooked,
Exposure is awaiting you.
Proverbs 10:9 (paraphrased)
"We have to draw the line someplace, with all the pesticides used by farmers."
John Catsimatidis
When I was sixteen years of age, I had become good friends with children of migrant workers who lived nearby, during the summer of 1969. They worked for various farms in the area, and asked me to come with them to pick potatoes, load them in wagons, and drive tractors to bring the loaded wagons up to the main barn.
Driving a tractor! How cool is that!
I met my friends at 4:30 am on a Monday morning, got to ride in a "GTO," and joined them to work on a potato farm.
We all met with the owner of the farm at the main barn. He addressed us, standing on a flatbed trailer:
"There is about two weeks work here for all of you. I need to have each of you work daily from 5 am to sunset, everyday until we are finished. At the end of the harvest, we will meet here and I will pay to $300 to each one who worked the entire time. Okay, let's get to work."
There were approximately twenty of us, all Hispanics, except myself. My grandfather was 25% Cherokee, and during the summer my skin would get quite dark. I guess I was assumed to be Hispanic.
It was two weeks I would not forget! Rosa and I worked together the whole time, except, of course, when it was my turn to drive the tractor. The tractor, hooked up to a wagon full of potatoes, would be taken to the main barn. The last few times I invited Rosa to ride with me.
One time during the latter part of the second week, I decided to show her my "tractor driving skills," and drove at a higher speed. As I went to make a sharp right turn, I lost control and the entire wagon flipped over. Fortunately, nothing was damaged.
Everyone came and pushed the wagon back to its upright position, gathered up all the potatoes that were all over the ground, and warned me not to "show off" to Rosa. The farmer and his sons never knew I had an "accident." Rosa gave me a kiss...I will always remember that because a Jimi Hendrix song was playing on the transistor radio. I was "The Star Spangled Banner," with Jimi doing the "guitar bombs," as our lips touched.
After two weeks of work, we all met with the farmer and his two sons in the main barn...to get paid.
I had plans! There was a big dance coming up and I was going to take Rosa. first, I wanted to take her to a restaurant, see a movie titled Easy Rider, and buy her a gift. She had been eyeing some cowboy boots for quite a while.
The farmer once again stood on a flatbed trailer and announced, "Okay, I want to say thanks for all your work...here is your $300. I don't know who is in charge on how you are going to divide it."
He laid three one hundred dollar bills on the flatbed near the left rear tire, jumped off, and started to walk away. One young Hispanic father spoke up saying;
"Sir, we thought you said $300 for each one of us?"
He laughed along with his two sons. The younger son spoke"I think it's time for all you Mexicans to get the hell out of here."
That's how it ended. Two weeks later Rosa and her family were off to Illinois. We wrote a few times, yet I never saw her again, I gave my portion, all fifteen dollars, to Rosa's family. They had fed me with homemade Mexican meals the entire time we worked.
About a year later, I went with my Aunt to a church service. The farmer, who owned the potato farm, was there. He read the "First Reading." My stomach cringed. I looked at my Aunt and said,
"That guy is an asshole."
She replied, "Oh hon,' you are mistaken. He is one of the most generous people of our entire parish."
At least "a thousand thoughts" went through my mind. Instead, I smiled and waited til after service. There was a 'refreshment and fellowship time." I will get close to him and when the time is right, I will let him know what I really think of his fake and stinkin' religion.
When I was about to approach him, two of his grandchildren came running up to him. I suddenly felt sorry for him. He was a sick son-of-a-bitch. Yet, I did not want to embarrass him in front of his family, especially his grand kids.
I remembered how my grandmother had prayed for me. There were times I had been as "asshole" to her.
So, I returned to the sanctuary, lit a candle, and prayed for him. It was the hardest thing I had ever done...especially not using 'cuss words" in my prayer.
As I left the sanctuary, I whispered to my aunt, "I have to stop at the restroom, then we can go."
She smiled, and as I opened the men's door and stepped up to a urinal, guess who stepped up beside me, on my left? Yep...there he stood, himself and me.
He said, "Hi," and commented on the nice weather.
"I haven't seen you here before."
I turned, going to the hand sink to wash my hands. Looking into the mirror, directly at him, I tied my hair back (it was down to my elbows lol.) I did not initially respond. Then I turned and looked directly into his eyes,
"Not here, but you have seen me before. When I picked your potatoes and you underpaid us for two weeks work, I was one of those you cheated. You really think this God you spoke of today...is going to let you get away with all that?"
The door opened a little and a voice spoke,
"Dad, we are goin' to the car, meet you there."
"Excuse me," as I walked to the door.
Sure, sorry." it was the farmer's son.
I looked back. The farmer was staring at me. Maybe he thought I was an angel...that might be cool!
I share this because we all have power to help or hurt others. I find life to be a matter of choices, good or bad.
If you want to walk safely, it's best to go with
Integrity.
If you prefer to be shifty or crooked,
Exposure is awaiting you.
Proverbs 10:9 (paraphrased)
