miércoles, junio 30, 2004
. . . five fingers, but he only used three
In the 1993 Robert DeNiro film A Bronx Tale, Colagero says to his working-class father, “Sonny was right. The working man is a sucker.”
This week of work has been exhausting. I now have a complete case-load of clients and issues, and the attorney and I are making plans for litigation before the internship ends for me to get some court experience.
Ping pop! I have been closing cases left and right. Tear. I spit out resolutions concerning labor disputes, immigration filing, and custody battles. Hiccup! I now feel completely 100% comfortable speaking Spanish with my clients. Phew! Yes, I absolutely love onomatopoeic words.
I still have an “outreach partner,” (Felipe) where we go to visit the labor camps to provide legal services to the workers, to check on sanitary labor and housing conditions, and to make sure the farm-owner is complying with state and federal codes.
This reminds me of a politically-correct conversation I had with myself this week at work. I needed to call the County Sheriff in regards to a battery charge that occurred at a camp. The dispatch officer that I spoke with asked who the farmer was [where the incident occurred]. (Camp addresses are named in reference to the farm-owner). I answered his question with the name of the person who owns the farm. And then I started looking at the state licenses issued to the farm-owners – they are referred to as “farmers,” but they don’t farm – they don’t even supervise the farmworkers. They hire un encargado, or a crewleader, to supervise the farmworkers. Realistically speaking, the farmer does not farm – he owns. Thus, it would inaccurate and would be another stab to farmworkers everywhere (stab #9,809,843,743,439,880,853) to call the farm-owner a “farmer.”
I am having difficulty trying to get in contact with a client because she does not have a line telephone or a cellular telephone. I have been trying to visit her at her camp this whole week, but she has never been there when I visit. I have visited at 8 A.M., 9 P.M., and during lunch, but everytime I go, I speak with the same neighbor, and her response is always the same: “Maria está trabajando.” These people work like no other.
I mentioned this to my supervisor at our daily meeting today. Felipe asked me if I would be interested in visiting the camp on Sunday, when she would be most likely home before or after Church. I told Felipe and my supervisor that I will be in Chicago this weekend, but I would be interested in visiting on Monday. Felipe remembered that this weekend was a holiday and said [in Spanish], “Oh, I forgot it was a holiday weekend.”
My supervisor then tells me that I cannot go to visit this weekend [In English], saying “Oh, we’re very patriotic here.” We chuckle. [Both my supervisor and Felipe have been in the United States since the 1980s, yet remain loyal to their Mexican Citizenship.]
Funnier part: Immediately after my supervisor’s “patriotic” claim, Felipe says [In English, but with an accent], “Yes, it is the only day where it is accepted . . . I mean encouraged, to play with explosives.” We busted out laughing; it was hilarious.
So, yes, I will be in Chicago this weekend for a surprise birthday party (maybe it’s a retirement/birthday party) for my dad. I hope posting this to the Internet doesn’t blow the surprise. For a person who barely understands how to use touch-tone telephone dialing and would probably have an aneurysm if he saw a digital camera, somehow I think I am safe from my web-surfing father accessing this blog.
I have this suspicion that this weekend is more than just a birthday party for my dad. We’ll see. I’ll keep my opinions to myself – I don’t want to pull a Nostradamus.
I watched a speech/rally on C-SPAN delivered by Green Party Presidential Candidate David Cobb. For more information, please visit here. This guy and party ain’t no joke. He impressed me, but I can still be convinced to vote for Nader or Kerry.
Oh, by the way, “There is no such thing as defeat in non-violence.” Cesar Chavez.
This week of work has been exhausting. I now have a complete case-load of clients and issues, and the attorney and I are making plans for litigation before the internship ends for me to get some court experience.
Ping pop! I have been closing cases left and right. Tear. I spit out resolutions concerning labor disputes, immigration filing, and custody battles. Hiccup! I now feel completely 100% comfortable speaking Spanish with my clients. Phew! Yes, I absolutely love onomatopoeic words.
I still have an “outreach partner,” (Felipe) where we go to visit the labor camps to provide legal services to the workers, to check on sanitary labor and housing conditions, and to make sure the farm-owner is complying with state and federal codes.
This reminds me of a politically-correct conversation I had with myself this week at work. I needed to call the County Sheriff in regards to a battery charge that occurred at a camp. The dispatch officer that I spoke with asked who the farmer was [where the incident occurred]. (Camp addresses are named in reference to the farm-owner). I answered his question with the name of the person who owns the farm. And then I started looking at the state licenses issued to the farm-owners – they are referred to as “farmers,” but they don’t farm – they don’t even supervise the farmworkers. They hire un encargado, or a crewleader, to supervise the farmworkers. Realistically speaking, the farmer does not farm – he owns. Thus, it would inaccurate and would be another stab to farmworkers everywhere (stab #9,809,843,743,439,880,853) to call the farm-owner a “farmer.”
I am having difficulty trying to get in contact with a client because she does not have a line telephone or a cellular telephone. I have been trying to visit her at her camp this whole week, but she has never been there when I visit. I have visited at 8 A.M., 9 P.M., and during lunch, but everytime I go, I speak with the same neighbor, and her response is always the same: “Maria está trabajando.” These people work like no other.
I mentioned this to my supervisor at our daily meeting today. Felipe asked me if I would be interested in visiting the camp on Sunday, when she would be most likely home before or after Church. I told Felipe and my supervisor that I will be in Chicago this weekend, but I would be interested in visiting on Monday. Felipe remembered that this weekend was a holiday and said [in Spanish], “Oh, I forgot it was a holiday weekend.”
My supervisor then tells me that I cannot go to visit this weekend [In English], saying “Oh, we’re very patriotic here.” We chuckle. [Both my supervisor and Felipe have been in the United States since the 1980s, yet remain loyal to their Mexican Citizenship.]
Funnier part: Immediately after my supervisor’s “patriotic” claim, Felipe says [In English, but with an accent], “Yes, it is the only day where it is accepted . . . I mean encouraged, to play with explosives.” We busted out laughing; it was hilarious.
So, yes, I will be in Chicago this weekend for a surprise birthday party (maybe it’s a retirement/birthday party) for my dad. I hope posting this to the Internet doesn’t blow the surprise. For a person who barely understands how to use touch-tone telephone dialing and would probably have an aneurysm if he saw a digital camera, somehow I think I am safe from my web-surfing father accessing this blog.
I have this suspicion that this weekend is more than just a birthday party for my dad. We’ll see. I’ll keep my opinions to myself – I don’t want to pull a Nostradamus.
I watched a speech/rally on C-SPAN delivered by Green Party Presidential Candidate David Cobb. For more information, please visit here. This guy and party ain’t no joke. He impressed me, but I can still be convinced to vote for Nader or Kerry.
Oh, by the way, “There is no such thing as defeat in non-violence.” Cesar Chavez.
