We have a friend that has hired a couple of Mexican gentlemen to do some brickwork for his house. It's very likely they're illegal immigrants from what I know, as they don't speak much English, don't have local addresses, bank accounts, drivers licenses, etc. Nice enough guys, and they seem to know what they're doing, as several "white" households on our friend's block have similarly hired them to work on their homes and have been happy with their handiwork.
I had a Carlos Mencia moment as it struck me that while many affluent whites in these neighborhoods make it clear they'd like all the illegal immigrants and non-English speaking Mexican families to move elsewhere, they're sure not averse to having them in the neighborhood--To work! Every time they pay an illegal some cash under the table, they're providing a story to be told to hundreds of other potential immigrants in Mexico, of how easy it is to come across to America (illegally) and make a living. By providing them work, they're reinforcing the "American Dream" of the typical illegal immigrant, and giving more of them the motivation to come to our country.
As I shared these thoughts with my wife, she pointed out something even more ironic. Each house that lower-income, illegal immigrants help fix up hastens the gentrification, and thus, hastens their imminent departure from the neighborhood as property values climb and they're "driven out" (as some people put it).
Which, again brings me back to the questions: Whose fault IS gentrification? Or is it even really a bad thing (or just progress)?
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
You want to borrow my what?
No news or earth-moving knowledge to share with you here. Just one of those "colorful" moments I love to pass along to friends and family (especially from rural white-bread Michigan, where I grew up) to convey the ever interesting neighborhood we live in.
Ashleigh and I returned from the dog park the other day to find one of our high-school age neighbors running down the sidewalk towards us. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all afternoon!" she said.
I explained to her that we had been gone most of the day, at work, and then the park. Why, I asked.
"Can I borrow your cat?" she asked. Ashleigh and I looked at each other simultaneously as if to confirm that we had heard the same thing.
"Borrow our what?" I asked.
"Your cat," she replied, not flinching, as if it was as normal a request as borrowing some flour, or sugar.
"Why do you want to borrow our cat?" I asked, barely restraining my shit-eating grin, as I couldn't wait to hear the explanation.
"Because my brother has pink-eye," she replied. Ashleigh and I shared another quick glance.
"What does your brother having pink-eye have to do with borrowing our cat?" I asked.
"We need his tail. You know, to cure my brother's pink-eye." (Another Ashleigh-Paul glance.)
At this point, she finally caught on that we didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
"We have this friend, he's a doctor, and he told us that to cure pink eye you rub the eye with a cat's tail."
I just caught myself before I blurted out something like "What kind of doctor is your friend?"
After a quick conversation with Ashleigh, determining that first of all, there was no way they could get one of our cats over to their house without incurring a much more serious injury than pink-eye as the cats flipped out and clawed them to shreds; and second of all, the last thing we need is to catch pink-eye from our cat's tail, we declined the loaning of our cat for her brother's medicinal purposes.
Coming straight into the computer, I consulted my friend Google and confirmed that the only mention I could find about the "cure" she mentioned was an article describing Halloween myths. Turns out the original myth is that a wag of a black-cat's tail on Halloween cures Pink-eye. Somehow this holiday myth morphed into some sort of folk medicine. (I still would love to meet this "doctor" she referred to...)
Lucky for Sonny and Noah (our cats), it isn't Halloween, and neither of them is black.
Thanks for reading.
Ashleigh and I returned from the dog park the other day to find one of our high-school age neighbors running down the sidewalk towards us. "Where have you been? I've been looking for you all afternoon!" she said.
I explained to her that we had been gone most of the day, at work, and then the park. Why, I asked.
"Can I borrow your cat?" she asked. Ashleigh and I looked at each other simultaneously as if to confirm that we had heard the same thing.
"Borrow our what?" I asked.
"Your cat," she replied, not flinching, as if it was as normal a request as borrowing some flour, or sugar.
"Why do you want to borrow our cat?" I asked, barely restraining my shit-eating grin, as I couldn't wait to hear the explanation.
"Because my brother has pink-eye," she replied. Ashleigh and I shared another quick glance.
"What does your brother having pink-eye have to do with borrowing our cat?" I asked.
"We need his tail. You know, to cure my brother's pink-eye." (Another Ashleigh-Paul glance.)
At this point, she finally caught on that we didn't have a clue what she was talking about.
"We have this friend, he's a doctor, and he told us that to cure pink eye you rub the eye with a cat's tail."
I just caught myself before I blurted out something like "What kind of doctor is your friend?"
After a quick conversation with Ashleigh, determining that first of all, there was no way they could get one of our cats over to their house without incurring a much more serious injury than pink-eye as the cats flipped out and clawed them to shreds; and second of all, the last thing we need is to catch pink-eye from our cat's tail, we declined the loaning of our cat for her brother's medicinal purposes.
Coming straight into the computer, I consulted my friend Google and confirmed that the only mention I could find about the "cure" she mentioned was an article describing Halloween myths. Turns out the original myth is that a wag of a black-cat's tail on Halloween cures Pink-eye. Somehow this holiday myth morphed into some sort of folk medicine. (I still would love to meet this "doctor" she referred to...)
Lucky for Sonny and Noah (our cats), it isn't Halloween, and neither of them is black.
Thanks for reading.
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