Conservative Immigrants – Don’t Turn Around!

Turn-Around-Sign-300x196I’m trying to get a better understanding of the immigration reform and amnesty issues, and while traveling recently I have had some enlightening conversations with immigrants.

Rafael is from the Dominican Republic.  He has been working in New York City as a driver for about ten years, and is saving money to rejoin his wife and daughter back in Santo Domingo permanently.  Meanwhile, he watches for airfare bargains and makes several brief trips home each year.  Rafael believes in the “American Dream” – anyone who is willing to work hard can succeed here.  But he is skeptical of the US government.  He bought some land in the Dominican Republic and plans to build a house on it.  “Nobody can take your land away from you there,” he said.  “Once you pay for your land, it’s yours forever.  Here in the US, if you don’t pay your taxes, or if the government wants your land for some reason, they can just take it away from you.”  Hard work, personal responsibility, and property rights – Rafael is a conservative immigrant.

Jonathan immigrated to New York City from Hong Kong with his parents ten years ago.  He started a couple of small businesses in Chinatown, but both failed.  Undaunted, he is still bullish on the US economy and while working a couple of service jobs he is an ardent investor in stocks.  I asked him about the dicey situation in Hong Kong, where the communist Chinese government is now stripping away many of the freedoms citizens enjoyed when it was a British protectorate and then a quasi-independent state.  “The government has become so corrupt,” Jonathan lamented.  “You can’t do anything without having to pay off somebody in the government.”  I suggested that our government has become corrupt, too.  “But there’s a difference,” he said.  “In China, everybody knows about the corruption and just deals with it.  Here, it’s supposed to be a secret.”  Opportunity, free markets, and freedom from big, corrupt, oppressive government – Jonathan is a conservative immigrant.

Javier is from Puerto Rico.  “I’m a US citizen,” he boasts.  Still, as a Hispanic he is considered a minority and somewhat outside the mainstream.   He works long hours, and loves it.  The more he works, the more he earns.  And he has no patience for those who expect to be cared for without working, whether they are traditional American citizens or immigrants.  “They make me sick, these guys who do nothing all day.  Why should I pay taxes for them to be lazy?” he rails.  Hard work and the desire to keep what he earns.  Yes, Javier is a conservative immigrant, too.

I did not ask these gentlemen whether or how they vote.  The Democrats believe all minorities are their chattel property.  And because Democrats have so vilified Republicans and conservatives in the mainstream media, minorities do pretty much vote in lock-step for liberals.

Why?  Every immigrant I talk to is a conservative.  It is conservative values that drives most immigrants to our shores.

Donna, a native of Guyana of Chinese descent, is a conservative activist.  She told me the compelling story about her path to America.  “I was in Guyana, minding my own business.  I turned around, and suddenly I was surrounded by socialists.  So I moved to Venezuela.  I was minding my own business, and when I turned around, again there were the socialists.  So then I came to the United States.”

“The moral of the story,” she says, “is don’t turn around!”

Tom Balek – Rockin’ On the Right Side

Rockin' On the Right Side

Don’t turn around, uh-oh
Der Kommissar’s in town, uh-oh!
You’re in his eye and you’ll know why
The more you live, the faster you will die

Der Kommisar – After the Fire

 

 

 

Immigration and Cowboy Boots

bootsLike all guys from Montana, I love my boots.  When you get a pair of boots that fit just right, you want to keep them wearable as long as you can.  I needed new soles and heels, and quickly – I was starting a new job in a couple of days.

I found Lee’s Shoe Repair on the web and called.   In a deep Chinese accent, the shop owner said, “You bring them over, we take care of you.”  I grabbed my old boots and took off.

Mr. Lee is getting on in years, and is probably a fairly recent immigrant to the United States.  I don’t know that he is here illegally, but he sure could be.  His English is passable, but broken – he had trouble understanding me, and I him.  He said, “I have you boots on Saturday.”

“No, Mr. Lee,” I pleaded.  “I need them by the end of business tomorrow.  I’ll pay extra if you can help me.”

Overhearing the conversation, a husky young guy stuck his head through the doorway from the workroom and drawled, “Hey, no problem there, buddy.  I know how important a man’s boots are.  I’ll git ’em done for you by tomorrow.”  He showed me a better kind of sole that would be more comfortable for long days on my feet.  Relieved, I left my boots in his skilled Texan hands.

The next day I returned to the shoe repair shop and was greeted by Mrs. Lee, a gray-haired lady with bright eyes and a smile as big as China and Texas put together.  The Texan cobbler came out to say hello, too, and I slipped him a ten-spot as a thank you for the rush job.  Mrs. Lee said, “You need insoles so your feet don’t get tired.  I won’t charge you for them.”

I thanked her, marveling at the extraordinary care and pride this couple and their happy Texan employee put into their work.  Then she slipped into the back room, returning with a wrapped package of her special home-made fruit and cinnamon bread.  “You take this,” she smiled.  “Good luck with your new job!”

A week later, I stopped in to the neighborhood Bank of America across the street from Mr. Lee’s shoe repair shop to find out why I had not received my order of checks.  I had been told ten days, and after three weeks they had not arrived.   Annoyed at being bothered, the assistant manager checked his computer and said, “Looks like they were never ordered.  I will put in a new order and you should get them in about ten days.”

I looked him in the eye and asked, “And the magic words when your company screws up are . . . ?”

He gave me a puzzled look.

“How about, ‘I’m sorry?‘” I said.

“Oh, um . . . of course.   I’m, uhh . . . sorry.”  He looked like he just ate a mouthful of worms.

I went across the street to thank Mrs. Lee and the Texan again for the great job they did on my very comfortable boots, and the delicious fruit bread.   Her eyes twinkled, and there was that big smile.  “You wait, I give you ‘Happy Candy’!  You take it!”  I left her shop, chewing her delicious Happy Candy, and reflecting on the difference between these two businesses a few hundred feet apart.

I’m still developing my thoughts on immigration.  And on the Big Bank bailout.

Tom Balek – Rockin On the Right Side

Rockin' On the Right Side

These boots are made for walking
And that’s just what they’ll do
One of these days these boots are gonna
Walk all over you!

Are you ready boots?
Start walkin’!

These Boots Are Made for Walkin’ – Nancy Sinatra

Watch this video, if only to see the MINI-SKIRTS!  Those were the good old days . . .