The Grapes of Migrant Wrath

  It's a funny thing reading local and global news and updates in real time. When I read about the 140 or so illegal, DETAINED immigrants slated to be dropped off at Murrieta's Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) processing facility (border patrol), a maelstrom of concern bounced around in my otherwise tranquil head.

  What's more, a sense of helplessness and an inherent, unidentifiable twinge of fear piqued my protective stance on two counts. For one thing, I could only imagine the fear harbored by the illegal immigrants, especially the children who were following their unwitting, desperate parents – if they have parents – wherever they would lead; ultimately to a foreign land, with foreign people who speak a foreign language insisting on endless, foreign documentation. (Excuse me while I go grab a sandwich and a bottle of water. Would you like either?) Just the thought of a tired, hungry, little kid sets off my empathetic, maternal instincts. Secondly, WHO approved such an…illegal dump in Murrieta? Illegal Immigrants Coming To Murrieta

  Coincidentally, I spent the past weekend reading (again) the John Steinbeck classic, The Grapes of Wrath, at poolside, stretched out on lounge chair, slathered in sun screen, while my friend, Greg, swam the length, back and forth, of the inviting, tepid, crystalline blue water. Wikipedia The Grapes of Wrath

   The novel's setting takes place during the time of The Great Depression: The 1930s. The main characters, the Joad family, are sharecroppers forced to leave their home. Newfangled tractors manned by displaced, employed-by-the-bank friends are assigned to raze their neighbors shacks (homes), one-by-one. The impoverished, confused sharecroppers have long tended to and resided on the land. However, they never owned the once productive, agricultural bounty lost to foreclosure because of a lengthy drought. Across America, manual farm labor is rampantly replaced by more efficient machinery - tractors.

   If a labor shift and ensuing unemployment wasn't hardship enough, The Dust Bowl ensured the downcast of midwest Americans, personally, spiritually and economically. Some of the characters slowly starve to death while others wander aimlessly as they have neither a job nor a home. The Dust Bowl

   The struggling Joad family decides to load up their meager belongings and move to greener fruit fields beckoning in California. They desire a highly paid, agrarian life of mythical proportion, as depicted on countless flyers (hand bills) passed around by labor scouts driving fancy cars near the barren farms. The relatively optimistic Joads (especially 'ma) face the cold, hard, economic truths along Route 66. The historical theme resonates with well-documented facts of national plight. The reception from one to another, from stranger to migrant, from those who are faring well to the thousands of poor, hungry, frightened American people leaves an indelible, literary moral to the story. I got the book from the library's bookstore to highlight Mr. Steinbeck's descript writing style with a yellow marker. If I may share an excerpt:

  Now farming became an industry, and the owners followed Rome, although they did not know it. They imported slaves, although they did not call them slaves: Chinese, Japanese, Mexicans, Filipinos. The live on rice and beans, the business men said. They don't need much. They wouldn't know what to do with good wages. Why, look how they live. Why, look at what they eat. And if they get funny – deport them.

  And then the dispossessed were drawn west—from Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, New Mexico; from Nevada and Arkansas, families, tribes, dusted out, tractored out. Car-loads, caravans, homeless and hungry; twenty thousand and fifty thousand and a hundred thousand and two hundred thousand. They streamed over the mountains, hungry, restless—restless as ants, scurrying to find work to do – to lift, to push, to pull, to pick, to cut – anything, any burden to bear, for food. The kids are hungry. We got no place to live. Like ants, scurrying for work, for food and most of all for land. We ain't foreign. Seven generations back Americans, and beyond that, Irish, Scotch, English, German. One of our folks in the Revolution, an' they was lots of our folks in the Civil War – both sides. Americans. (John Steinbeck, Octopus Books, Inc., 1987. pp. 165-166). John Steinbeck Anthology 1983

  On a personal note, I know like I know I'm writing my thoughts about a real, immeasurably overwhelming local, national and international dilemma. Safely tucked away in abundance and in my home, I read about and watched the news as the reality in Murrieta unfolded in bite-sized pieces. That's all I could emotionally and rationally digest of this dose disquiet reality.

  While opposing protestors gathered at the dump site, (for lack of a better description), the issue made headline news. Murrieta Mayor Alan Long and a cadre of pro-active representatives addressed the local issue with aplomb. 

To be Continued…

Lynda StarWriter is a freelance writer and public speaker. Contact: lyndastarwriter@aol.com