To whom it may concern:
For ten years, I did not work as a hotel maid, summer and winter, until my hands bled from the chemicals and the cold, and my body was permanently damaged from the physical labor.
I never worked in a sewing factory in the sweltering heat sewing piecework, hundreds of pieces a day until I thought I’d go blind from the fibers that floated in the air and clogged my nostrils and lungs.
I never worked the closing shift in a convenience store, stocking shelves, sweeping and mopping until my arms ached and I never overcame the fear of being robbed and killed.
I never worked in a hospital, registering emergency room patients – or what was left of them. Nor did I stand on my feet for entire shifts or fall asleep from exhaustion against a wall.
I never worked in a hot, muddy greenhouse carrying pots of rotten succulents or pushing wheelbarrows full or plants that succumbed to the winter temps. I never hoisted giant bags of perlite, vermiculite, sand, and bales of peat over my shoulders to the cement mixer we used to make potting soil or a cough from the rising dust of the tumbling mixture. I did not stand for hours sewing seeds in a hotbed or transplanting seedlings nor was I exposed to toxic chemicals that were used liberally. I never went hours without a bathroom break or a sip of potable water because there was neither and I never had to haul ten gallons of water at a time from the pond down the hill when the pump went down.
I never loaded bales of hay or 50# bags of feed or rose at daybreak to milk a quartet of goats, then hurry in to strain the milk and chill it down quickly in one-gallon glass jars, filling every shelf of the fridge. I never trimmed hooves, sheared hair or felt the heartbreak when a bottle-fed kid didn’t make it.
I never worked for $6 a day, sorting through nasty cast-off clothing for salvageable items to resell and I surely must not have been bitten by head lice and fleas. But, by golly, I managed to buy my children’s Christmas gifts from what people like you threw away.
I never raised two children or made a house our home. Or raised a garden, mowed an acreage, cleared brush, planted trees, built a septic tank, back-filled lateral lines or mixed cement by hand. I never re-plumbed an entire house, replaced floors, insulation or sub-floors, nor have I crawled underneath the house to repair water leaks when the heat tape failed to protect the pipes after losing electricity for ten days or an especially cold period of winter.
I worked on a marriage, my children’s happiness and my own self-worth. I made a vow to stay with the marriage even through the bad times. I vowed to raise my children to be respectful and honest. I made sure they knew not just their immediate family and friends but their grandparents and the large extended families. They spent most weekends on a working farm, learning farm skills and they have retained that to this day. Those weekends were as valuable to my children as they were to the grandparents who found special favor with them and treated them with great love and respect. My children became their favorites.
They also spent time with the other set of grandparents who taught them a different culture, la raza y la importancia de la familia. They met their tíos y tías grandes and knew the love of their bisabuela. They place great value on family, present, and past. The present immediate family is small. They have a few first cousins on their fathers’ side, but none on mine and that’s okay. They have lots of second, third, fourth and more and they are great fun to meet and know. We all believe that quality is better than quantity.
Quality of life is also greater than the quantity of coin.
Except for the losses of people close to me, I’ve lived a good life and I know that it will only last another year or two at most. There are things I would like to do but I’m limited without stem cell therapy or a lung transplant and not even the less expensive ($10K) of those are attainable. So, I will be happy with what I have, as long as I have. Currently, I only want to see my grandchildren again and then go to visit a dear friend in the Delta, drink margaritas and listen to blues.
Do no harm. Hug your dog or cat. Say “I love you” to those you love. Have ice cream when you can.
And don’t be afraid to prune those broken branches. The tree will survive.
This tree will survive.
~K
