Thanksgiving was special this year on the border between California and Mexico. In Tijuana families rose, got in their Sunday best, all piled into the SUV, and rushed to the border. They weren’t “migrants.” They weren’t “seeking asylum.” They were seeking a turkey dinner in San Diego with family and friends. But, sorry amigos, it’s tacos today because a few hundred jug-heads from south of YOUR border decided to invite themselves to dinner.
Relations among border people have always been laid back. When I was in El Paso with my first ex-wife, she and her relatives would routinely go to Juarez to shop. The prices were cheaper. And they had a real efficient monetary exchange system. From your hand to theirs. They wouldn’t take a peso on a bet. There was even a Home Depot that served as a training center for prospective wetbacks.
The Mexican attitude is one of acceptance. They view life situations as being, “It is like this, it is like that.” They invented the siesta. The classical image of the Mexican in a chair, leaning against a wall with his sombrero pulled down over his eyes may seem racist, but it’s pretty accurate. That’s why when the “refugees” crashed over their southern border it was no big deal. They knew the gringos would take care of this by and by. Especially El Supremo up in Washington.
All the interlopers have accomplished so far is disrupting Thanksgiving dinner for people who couldn’t give two craps if they come or go. For Mexicans family is a big deal. Dinner, women in the kitchen, yard full of kids, things we Americans forgot about years ago. A week ago I went to Saint Joseph’s Church to get a picture of the garden beside the church. While I was there a crowd of people spilled out. A wedding party. All dressed in traditional Mexican attire. Since I was right there a young girl came over and asked what I was doing. Not in a bad way. She just saw an old gringo taking pictures and was interested. Before I knew it there were three girls, all talking to me. They found out that I was a writer, and I was taking pictures for an article I was producing. They invited me to the fiesta, but I declined, facing a deadline that day. Good thing too because couple of those girls had a high probability of becoming Mrs Witt number seven. Wouldn’t be the first time either. I married a young girl in Mexico back in ’81. That’s why if you wanna dig dirt on me, you’d better bring a dump truck ‘cause brothers and sisters, it’s THERE!
So, when your watching Fox News, don’t think that the Mexican people are the enemy. Don’t think that the entire population waits eagerly at the border ready to jump the fence at any given moment. There WERE Mexicans near that fence yesterday in California. Mexican police! Steadily whipping the asses of the foreigners who had stole their turkey dinner with their families a couple days before. And while the American liberal press will make a very big deal about it, the Mexicans just say, “It is like this, it is like that.” Adios amigos!
The Butcher Shop