Tag: Latin America

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Book Reviews Uncategorized

AMERICAN LIBERATOR: SIMON BOLIVAR, A BOOK REVIEW

Arana, Marie. Bolivar: American Liberator (NY: Simon & Schuster, 2013). Arana took on a major job in writing this one-volume biography of Simón Bolivar, a truly amazing man. He unyoked northern South America (Venezuela, Colombia, Peru and Ecuador) from Spain in the early 1800s, bringing the kind of independence to these countries that we celebrate in the United States on July 4th. It is a shame that Americans know little about him. By the way, the people of Latin America, from Mexico to Argentina, also call themselves “Americans.” They began doing so in the late 1700s, like we did in the United States. (They chafe at our appropriating the word as we do).

Arana tells us that Bolivar was indefatigable in convincing a rabble of peasants and slaves to fight for their “freedom” and “liberty.” He persuaded them that this merited their being uprooted, leaving their families and, in many cases, dying or being killed. This is the biggest lesson to be gained from Bolivar’s life and from this biography: his unrelenting pursuit of independence and republicanism in the face of astonishing odds. Along these lines, too, Arana skillfully describes the astounding trek that he and his bedraggled warriors underwent in crossing the Andes mountains from east to west in order to surprise Spanish troops in Bogotá, and later Lima, and thus guarantee their expulsion from the continent, better than Hannibal and Alexander the Great. George Washington’s exploits, heroic as they might have been, don’t compare given the distances and geographic challenges.

Bolivar’s overwhelming disillusionment over the inability of his compatriots to adopt democratic republicanism is handled quite well by the author. She knowingly deals with the ironic triumph of caudillismo (strong man politics) and cites Bolivar’s own ironic recognition that he was the best example of caudillo rule. His famous phrase, “I plowed the sea,” refers to his failure to establish democratic republics; it fits in Arana’s narrative perfectly along with his famous “Letter from Panama” in which he sees into Latin America’s political future.

The details of Bolivar’s struggles are based on the voluminous letters and speeches he left behind, plus the ample history books written about his life and times. He is, of course, the George Washington of the countries mentioned. It is an easy to read book, for history buffs and scholars as well.

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Book Reviews Humanities Washington Talks Talks and other events u.s.-mexico border United States We Became Mexican American, a book

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ON MEXICAN IMMIGRATION

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY ON MEXICAN IMMIGRATION TO THE U.S.

 

For the talk, “From Mexican to Mexican-American:

A Family Immigration Story”

By Carlos B.Gil,  Ph.D.

 Humanities Washington Speaker 2019

 

Acuña, Rodolfo.Occupied America (1988). Contentious text.

Becoming American: Personal Essays by First Generation Immigrant Women (2000).

Brown, Theresa Cardinal and Jeff Mason, “Immigration Trends and the Immigration Debate,” Bi Partisan Policy Center, August 2017. https://bipartisanpolicy.org/library/immigration-trends-and-the-immigration-debate/

De la Garza, Rodolfo O. Et al. Latino Voices: Mexican, Puerto Rican, and Cuban Perspectives on American Politics (1992).

Foley, Neil. Mexicans in the Making of America (2014).

Galarza, Ernesto. Barrio Boy: The Story of a Boy’s Acculturation (1971).

Gamboa, Erasmo. Bracero Railroad Workers: The Forgotten World War II Story of Mexican Workers in the U.S. West (2016).

Gamboa, Erasmo. Mexican Labor and World War II: Braceros in the Pacific Northwest, 1942-1947 (1990).

Gamio, Manuel. Mexican Immigration to the United States (1939).

García, Mario T. Mexican Americans: Leadership, Ideology and Identity, 1930–1960 (1989).

Gil, Carlos B. We Became Mexican American: How Our Immigrant Family Survived to Pursue the American Dream (2012, 2014).

Griswold del Castillo and Arnoldo de León. North to Aztlán: A History of Mexican Americans in the United States (1997).

Hart, Elva Treviño Barefoot Heart, Stories of a Migrant Child (1999). Autobiography, south Texas.

Limón, José. José Limón: An Unfinished Memoir (1998?). Late Chicano/Mexican American choreographer.

McWilliams, Carey. North from Mexico: The Spanish Speaking People of the United States (1948 ed.) Old classic.

Ramón, Cristobal and Tim O’Shea. “Immigrants and Public Benefits: What Does the Research Say?” Bi Partisan Policy Center, November 2018. https://bipartisanpolicy.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/12/Immigrants-and-Public-Benefits-What-Does-the-Research-Say.pdf

Ruiz, Vicki L. From Out of the Shadows: Mexican Women in Twentieth-Century America (1998).

Sanchez, George J. Becoming Mexican American:Ethnicity, Culture, and Identity in Chicano Los Angeles (1993).

Suárez-Orozco, Marcelo M. And Mariela M. Páez. Latinos: Remaking America (2002).

Young, Biloine W. A Dream for Gilberto: An Immigrant’s Family’s Struggle to Become American (1999). Colombian Americans.

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Book Reviews History of Mexico Movie Reviews

“Roma,” a movie directed by Alfonso Cuarón: a review

[Ver español abajo]

“Roma” is another in the wave of Hollywood movies made, these days, by Mexican directors, this one by Alfonso Cuarón who won a Golden Globe Best Director Award for “Roma” and another for Best Foreign Film. The other directors include Alejandro González Iñárritu (“The Revenant,” 2015) and Guillermo del Toro (“Pan’s Labyrinth,” 2006).

“Roma” is a look back at the director’s family. They lived in the Colonia Roma of Mexico City in the 1960’s (colonia refers to a housing district), and this is where I met my wife, Barbara, at about the time Cuarón was running around as a teenager. Barb and I shared some unforgettable moments there, including the horrible earthquake of 1985. Nowadays we stay there whenever we visit that megalopolis.

I consider “Roma” a significant film because it is a multifaceted re-creation of middle-class life in the colonia, in 1970-1971. My study of Mexico allowed me to see it as a valuable filmic document right away.

The social dimensions of the film are many but Cuarón puts the spot light directly on Cleo, the domestic worker who cared for him as a supplementary mother, played by Yalitza Aparicio. In the film, as in real life, Cleo is a Mixtec Indian from Oaxaca, as are thousands of maids in that city, also known as empleadas or more derisively as gatas. They are the ones who make dinner, scrub the floors, wash the family car—and tuck in the kids at night, all for a next-to-nothing salary. And, not all may be treated as well as Cleo is in this movie.

The socio-cultural aspects in this picture are true to life, even to this day. The man of the house, a youngish medical doctor who works in one of the city’s hospitals, abandons his wife and children, including young Cuarón, for another woman. This must hit home for many viewers because it is a regretful reminder of Mexican machismo, very much alive.

The apartment in which the family lives is also a perfect re-creation of the many such living units in residential buildings, called vecindades, still standing today in Mexican cities. My sister, Soledad, commented to me after watching the movie, that she had seen home interiors like the ones shown in “Roma” many times, in old Mexican movies. Indeed. Their reproduction by Cuarón, right down to the kitchens with windows that look in to a back washroom, must be admired by anthropologists and archaeologists.

 

The politics raging in 1971 also appear in “Roma,” though tangentially—but that too, I think, is part of the Cuarón’s factual memorization of his early years. The movie allows us to see the events that he witnessed as a boy, but not the larger story behind them: the political demonstrations that turned bloody, right before his own eyes while visiting a department store in the company of his grandmother.

The director re-created the infamous suppression of students, known as the halconazo on the feast of Corpus Christi (Jueves de Corpus), which fell on Thursday, June 10, 1971. Many students were killed that day and many more were killed on a related carnage, October 2, 1968, the notorious Tlaltelolco massacre. What we see in the movie is an aftermath of October 2nd.

The event is known as the halconazo (halcón = hawk) because the men, who beat up the students with sticks, and some with armed weapons, as we witness in the movie, were referred to as halcones. Like a hawk, they could swoop down and catch or harm their prey, the demonstrating students, and then disappear, and the government could not be blamed directly. Cleo’s boyfriend is one of the halcones, having been trained specially to suppress and get away with it, as “Roma” shows us. Halcones are also referred to as paramilitary agents. Cuaróns insistence on making the film in black and white simply adds to its authenticity.

In summary, Cuarón’s movie, about his childhood in the Colonia Roma, provided me with abundant details of life behind the doors and walls Barbara and I walked past so many times.

If you read Spanish you might enjoy a short story about middle class life in the Colonia Roma, also in the 1960’s and 1970’s, by Jose Emilio Pacheco, Las batallas en el desierto (Ediciones Era, 1981).

                                                              

“Roma”, reseña de una película dirigida por Alfonso Cuarón.

“Roma” es otra en la cresta de películas de Hollywood hechas por directores mexicanos en estos días, esta por Alfonso Cuarón, quien ganó el premio Globo de Oro por Mejor Director de la película “Roma” y otro por la Mejor Película Extranjera. Los otros directores incluyen a Alejandro González Iñárritu (“The Revenant, “2015) y Guillermo del Toro (” Pan’s Labyrinth “, 2006).

“Roma” es una mirada atrás a la familia del director. Vivían en la Colonia Roma de la Ciudad de México en la década de 1960 (Aquí es donde conocí a mi esposa, Barbara, cuando Cuarón se paseaba como adolescente por las calles de la colonia. Barb y yo compartimos momentos inolvidables, incluyendo el horrible terremoto de 1985. Hoy en día nos quedamos allí cuando visitamos esa megalópolis).

Considero “Roma” una película importante porque es una recreación multifacética de la vida clase-mediera en la colonia, en los años 1970-1971. Mi estudio de México me permitió reconocer su valor cinematográfico inmediatamente.

Las dimensiones sociales son muchas, pero Cuarón puso el foco directamente sobre Cleo, la trabajadora doméstica que lo cuidó como madre suplementaria, papel interpretado por Yalitza Aparicio. En la película, como en la vida real, Cleo es una mixteca de Oaxaca, al igual que miles de sirvientas en esa ciudad, también conocidas como “empleadas” o más groseramente, como “gatas.” Ellas son las que preparan la cena, limpian los pisos, lavan el auto familiar y arropan a los niños por la noche, todo por un salario exiguo. Y es posible que no todas sean tratadas tan bien como Cleo en esta película.

Pienso que los aspectos socioculturales en este cuadro son fieles a la vida, hoy mismo. El hombre de la casa, un médico joven que trabaja en uno de los hospitales de la ciudad, abandona a su esposa e hijos, incluido el joven Cuarón, por otra mujer. Esto debe afectar a muchos cinéfilos porque es un recordatorio penoso del machismo mexicano, muy vivo.

El apartamento en el que vive la familia también es una recreación perfecta de las muchas viviendas, llamadas vecindades, que aún hoy se encuentran en ciudades mexicanas. Mi hermana, Soledad, me comentó después de ver la película, que había visto interiores de casas, como las que se ven en “Roma,” muchas veces en películas viejas mexicanas. Sin duda. Su reproducción por Cuarón, hasta las cocinas con ventanas que dan a un baño trasero, debe ser admirada por antropólogos y arqueólogos.

La política que se libra en 1971 también aparece en “Roma”, aunque tangencialmente, pero eso también, creo, es parte de la memorización objetiva de Cuarón cuando era niño. La película nos permite ver los eventos que presenció de chico, pero no la historia detrás de ellos: las manifestaciones políticas que se volvieron sangrientas, ante sus propios ojos, en el momento que visitaba una tienda de departamentos en compañía de su abuela.

El director recrea la infame supresión de los estudiantes, conocida como el Halconazo de Jueves de Corpus, que cayó el 10 de junio de 1971. Muchos estudiantes fueron asesinados ese día y muchos más liquidados en una carnicería del 2 de octubre de 1968, la notoria masacre de Tlaltelolco. Lo que vemos en la película es una consecuencia del 2 de octubre.

El evento se conoce como el halconazo porque se les llamó halcones a los hombres que golpearon a los estudiantes con palos, y algunos con armas de fuego, como vemos en la película. Como un halcón, podían descender en picado y dañar a sus presas, a los estudiantes, y luego desaparecer, y no se podía culpar al gobierno directamente. El novio de Cleo es uno de los halcones, y vemos que ha sido entrenado especialmente para reprimir y salirse con la suya, como nos muestra “Roma”. Los halcones también se conocen como agentes paramilitares. La insistencia de Cuarón en hacer la película en blanco y negro simplemente aumenta su autenticidad.

En resumen, la película de Cuarón, sobre su infancia en la Colonia Roma, me prestó abundantes detalles de la vida detrás de las puertas y las paredes que Barbara y yo pasamos muchas veces.

Si te gusta leer, puedes disfrutar de un cuento escrito sobre la vida clase-mediera en la Colonia Roma, también en los años 60 y 70, de José Emilio Pacheco, Las batallas en el desierto (Ediciones Era, 1981, y ediciones subsecuentes).

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Book Reviews

El olvido que seremos (Colombia’s “violence” from a personal perspective)–a book review

Abad Faciolince, Hector. El olvido que seremos (Bogotá: Planeta, 2006). [English below]

El autor escribe un elogio apasionante a su padre en El olvido que seremos y una denuncia enérgica de sus asesinos, al mismo tiempo. También es una memoria de su infancia y su íntima relación con su padre, tierna evocación que además nos ofrece una mirada conmovedora a la “violencia” colombiana, tan larga y tan dolorosa.

Abad pinta a su padre como un educador totalmente entregado a tender una mano a sus prójimos y abrir las puertas a jóvenes estudiosos pero desprovistos. Nos habla de su devoción total por levantar los estándares de vida de la gente pobre. Y también nos cuenta como esta mentalidad se vuelve subversiva en un conservadurismo empedernido y salvajemente criminal, incluyendo al clero católico. Es asesinado. Irónicamente, el autor nos hace ver, además, que sus familiares pertenecen a esta corriente tradicional retrógrada como obispos, monseñores y monjes, y por ende el lector descubre a nivel personal el laberinto enredoso atrás de estas circunstancias.

A pesar de incluir varias páginas verborreadas que parecen ser productos de la emoción causada al recordar ciertos eventos, El olvido me ayudó a entender la tal llamada “violencia” colombiana. Por eso vale este libro. Creo que a los colombianos les faltó una revolución para deshacerse de un conservadurismo de corte colonial.

The author writes an enthralling eulogy to his father in El olvido que seremos (The Forgotten That We’ll Become) and an energetic condemnation of his murderers, at the same time. It is also a memory of his childhood and his intimate relationship with his father, a tender recall that also provides the reader a distressing look at Colombia’s long and painful “violence.”

Abad describes his father as a totally dedicated educator who reaches out to his community by opening doors to young but destitute scholars. He tells us of his father’s total devotion to raising the living standards of poor people, and how this world view became subversive to hardened and criminal conservatives, including the Catholic clergy. He’s assassinated. Ironically, the author’s family members belong to these retrograde institutions as bishops, monsignors and monks, so the reader can catch a glimpse of how intricate and complicated these situations can be up close.

Despite pages in which a verbal diarrhea seizes the author, no doubt triggered by the emotion that comes from remembering certain events, El olvido helped me understand Colombia’s infamous “violence.” That’s why this book is worth reading. I believe that Colombia missed having a revolution that might have shaken away its colonial conservatism.

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Book Reviews History of Mexico

Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo–a book review

Rulfo, Juan. Pedro Páramo. (México: Editorial RM, 1955).    [Ver español abajo]

This work by Juan Rulfo is considered one of the best literary expressions in Mexico.

But having been born and educated in the U.S., I’m less excited about Pedro Páramo, though I do recognize Rulfo’s literary ability. Nevertheless, as with William Faulkner and other “great” writers in other countries and times, I am sure their work deserved all of the encomiums they received in their day, but not necessarily today. Times passes and so do other things, necessarily. I think other writers have arisen as good or better, in Mexico’s case and in the United States’ too. This observation however leads us into questions about now national canons are formed, a topic that does not fit here.

In any case, Rulfo anoints his story about Pedro Páramo’s son searching for his father, with a sense of magic, of ghostly souls that roam the world in order to communicate with their still living relatives. As a result, Comala, where Pedro Páramo lives, is described as a town visited by spirits and occasional renegades stirred by the revolution of 1910. This is one of the elements this prominent novel offers, perhaps as an early Mexican version of magical realism. Another is the austere and effective handling of Spanish where every word counts (there are writers who shed words like a hemorrhage) even as Rulfo skillfully mimics the local vernacular. These aspects launched Juan Rulfo into the upper spheres of literary fame in Mexico in the mid-1950s, more so than his short story collection, El llano en llamas. For these reasons Pedro Páramo deserves to be read, no doubt about it.

Esta obra de Juan Rulfo se considera como una de las mejores expresiones literarias de México.

Pero siendo yo nacido y educado en Estados Unidos, mi aprecio de Pedro Páramo es algo menos apasionado. Sí reconozco la habilidad literaria de Juan Rulfo, sin duda. No obstante, como en el caso de William Faulkner y otros “grandes” escritores de otros países y de otros tiempos, estoy seguro de que el trabajo de estos literatos mereció todo el elogio que les dieron en sus días, en la época que escribieron, pero no necesariamente ahora. El tiempo pasa y muchas cosas cambian también, necesariamente. Yo creo que han surgido otros escritores igual de buenos y quizás mejores, en el caso de México y en Estados Unidos. Pero eso nos lleva a cuestiones de cómo se formulan los cánones nacionales, un detalle que no cabe aquí.

En todo caso, Rulfo unge su cuento, la búsqueda del hijo de Pedro Páramo por su padre, con una sensación de magia, de almas etéreas que vagan el mundo con el fin de comunicarse con sus aun vivientes familiares. A consecuencia, Comala, donde vive Pedro Páramo, resulta un pueblo de espíritus, alejado de la revolución de 1910. Este es uno de los elementos especiales que esta novela insigne ofrece. Otro es el manejo austero y eficaz del español, en que no hay palabras que sobren, ni que falten (hay escritores que derraman palabras como una hemorragia) al mismo tiempo que Rulfo remeda el hablar lugareño. Estos aspectos lanzaron a Juan Rulfo a las altas esferas literarias a mediados de la década de 1950, gracias más a esta obra que su colección de cuentos, El llano en llamas. Consecuentemente, Pedro Páramo merece ser leído.

 

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We Became Mexican American, a book

What Trump’s pardon of Joe Arpaio means for Latinos: “We mean little to President Trump.”

President Trump’s pardoning of Joe Arpaio, the former Sheriff of Maricopa County, Arizona, represents a slap in the face to the Latinos of the United States, clear and simple. Everything indicates that our president did this with total impunity and without a trace of shame or regret. We, Latinos, mean little to him so he shoved us aside when he cancelled the criminal contempt case against Arpaio, as widely reported. That he did it early in his administration, an exceptional occurrence as many commentators have noted, simply underscores my observation: we mean little or nothing to him. (His ending of the DACA program on September 5, 2017–Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals–illustrates this quite clearly: he didn’t take a lead on it, he passed the fate of these young culturally assimilated Americans on to Congress. No one can call that leadership.

Why is Arpaio an issue?

Everyone in Arizona knows that as sheriff of Arizona’s most important county, Joe Arpaio brazenly went out of his way to tear every shred of dignity from the Latin Americans, mostly Mexican, he accused of entering the country illegally, men, women and children. It seems he enjoyed doing it, according to reports. It is apparent that like his protector in the White House, he considers all migrants, who cross the border without permission, as sub-humans and criminals. According to The New Yorker, up to 2009 only, his department cost the State of Arizona more than forty three million dollars for settling lawsuits that alleged mistreatment of the lowly migrants, and even their wrongful deaths. He mocked them by putting them in gaudy colored uniforms, fed them two meals a day that cost less than fifty cents each, and even marched them publicly in chain gangs, women too. His deliberate scare-‘em Gestapo tactics generated more than twenty two hundred court cases, exceeding the worst raids of undocumented workers in the 1950s, some of which I witnessed.

All this is against the moral standards we Americans have always considered fitting and proper, but Mr. Trump turned a blind eye, insisted Arpaio was a “good man”, and pardoned him.

Clearly, the Trump administration is anti-Mexican, anti-Latino, and anti-immigrant. And, the 30% of Americans who continue to support him are too, apparently.

Should we worry about this?

Should we, Latinos of the United States, who don’t have to worry about getting picked up and deported care about this? Of course, we should, if for no other reason than the fact that the hapless deportees look like our ancestors, they look like us. They speak as our descendants spoke, they eat what they ate, they worship as they did. They are as we were. In addition, you and I know that most of them crossed the border to find work, keep their heads down, and send a few pennies back home.

To call them “criminals” is repulsive and immoral. They may have broken a law to get into the U.S. but that does not give any American official license to diminish their humanity. Arpaio swaggers about it according to reports. His tactics, his demeanor, and his penchant for publicity remind us of the black-booted Nazis persecuting Jews in the 1940s (he would have made a good Sturmmann or Storm Trooper).

What can we do?

We can speak up. We can make known our contempt to our friends personally, and through Facebook, Twitter and other social media. We can ask our pastors to help raise awareness in our communities.

We can ask our community organizations to help spread the word about Trump’s anti-immigration stance. There are groups like CHIRLA (Coalition for Humane Immigrant Rights of Los Angeles), and the NCLR (National Council for La Raza).

Get their address and send them a note with $5 or $10. You surely must know a DACA youngster (Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals, also known as “The Dreamers”), the ones who were brought to the U.S. from Mexico without documentation; they are being persecuted by Mr. Trump and his ilk (all this sounds so Nazi like). Talk to the young Dreamer; ask how you can support their cause. To have them deported is immeasurably immoral, a stain on America!

Most importantly, YOU CAN REGISTER TO VOTE. NEXT TIME MAKE SURE YOU GO OUT AND VOTE! OUR ONLY LINE OF DEFENSE IS POLITICAL! We can vote. Let us stand up against Mr. Trump and the Joe Arpaio’s who support him.

¡Si se puede!

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Uncategorized

ABOUT THIS BLOG

Hi folks.

This is a blog about things Latin American: the people of Latin America, their politics, their economic concerns, their culture, and so on. Mexico and things Mexican will get the lion’s share. My blog, as it evolves, will also take a look at the migration of Latin American people to the United States pausing to explain why they moved, where, and how they settled in America.  I also plan to discuss American politics from my Latino point of view.

My name is Carlos B. Gil. I’m a Mexican American and I’m releasing this blog to share some of my pensamientos, or thoughts, with you, reflections which tend to sweep over the U.S. Mexican border more often than not. At other times, however, my ruminations will also swing over other borders as well.

The general focus here is Latin America because I studied the region for over 40 years. I’ve been connected to Latin America almost all of my life; I lived there, as an American; I worked there; and some of my children were even born there. For several decades I also offered classes at the University of Washington about this part of the world to many young people interested in the history and civilization of that quarter of the globe, including its culture and music.

Truth be told, ya soy un viejo (I’m an old man now), and my many years of continuing to think about this region rewarded me with an understanding that few possess. And, so I want to share it, now that I find myself in the twilight of my years, yet fortunate enough to continue to reason clearly and be able to utilize the amazing World Wide Web to broadcast such ponderings unashamedly.

As mentioned above, Mexico will receive most of my attention because I was trained as a Mexicanist, a scholar specializing on Mexico. This orientation was due, in part, to the fact that my grandmother walked away from her adobe home in west central Mexico, with my mother in tow, a hundred years ago, in order to immigrate to the United States. So, my mother’s earliest recollections about her upbringing sparked my attention to the archaic world they left behind, my father having left separately at about the same time.

My parent’s experience as immigrants from Mexico, settling in southern California in the 1930s, also gave rise to my regard for the subject of Mexican immigration. I poured most of my knowledge on this topic into my most recent book (We Became Mexican American: How Our Immigrant Family Survived to Pursue the American Dream) to which I’ll refer in various places in this blog.

But I expect I’ll share my thoughts about other parts of the world too and our relations there, and here is why I feel you can give me some credence on this account too. My early study of Latin America coincided with the rise of our attention to “The Third World,” a 1970’s term that referred to the countries squeezed in between the industrial and capitalist nations like ours and those herded into the socialist bloc. Nowadays we refer to these countries as the “developing world,” some developing more than others, as I’ll make the case. So, as I gained knowledge and insight of Latin America, it turned out I was doing the same for the developing world whose connections and similarities I plumbed as the years went by.

I will also take the liberty of making known my views concerning our own country, the United States of America. The election of Donald Trump as President compels me to do so. You’ll see my comments progressively as my blog develops and as the Trump administration lurches forward. In any case, this is another example of the “other borders” over which my thoughts will run on this blog, this one arching all the way to Washington, D. C.

Aside from all this, please know I made my home in the Pacific Northwest almost a life time ago but I was born in San Fernando, near Los Angeles, California, and all of my formal educational training is U.S.-American. In the end I’m an American—a Mexican American—and this fact ought to give my pensamientos a special tinge of their own.

My hope is that the information you encounter on my website will inform you and enlighten you. That’s the whole purpose here. You may differ with me, of course, and so you’re invited to respond.

P.S. The photo above, of the many men with hats, is a prized one for me, thanks to the New York Times. These are braceros, the men whom our government contracted to harvest our fruits and vegetables during World War II, and years after, so that our own U.S.-born men could go to war or help in the manufacturing of war materials. This is how we’ve worked with Mexico over the years and they with us; our links with Mexico remain vital to this day even as they are being sadly handled by Mr. Trump.