Yes, We Need Immigrants…Legal Immigrants.

L. J. Martin

Yesterday I went to get my quarterly haircut—I limit my haircut budget to $100 a year—and found they couldn’t take me for ten minutes, so I wandered next door to where a new business was open. New to me, maybe in the last six months. It is a “running shop” and although I didn’t need a pair of running shoes as at my age the only place I have to run is to the bathroom upon occasion. I do like casual clothes, however, as I play some golf and don’t have to wear a tie to my office down the hall.

The sign on the door said closed; it was 9:50 in the morning. However, the door was ajar, so, having faith in the entrepreneurial instincts of the American merchant, I went ahead and stuck my head in. A nice looking gray-headed woman was working behind a small counter, and didn’t bother looking up. Not to be dissuaded, I asked, “Your sign says closed.” Rather than wave me in, as would any aggressive merchant, she snapped, “We’re not open for another ten minutes.”

I couldn’t help but smile and was tempted to say, “And you won’t be open in ten months,” but restrained myself. After all, her longtime pet cat may have died that morning.

And therein lies the reason I support LEGAL immigration. Trust me, I’ve never met a Korean or Pakistani shop owner who would turn away a potential customer. It wasn’t like this woman was cooking fench fries, and needed something on the shelves to sell. She was setting up her register, and maybe I looked like a thief, however if that was her concern you’d have thought she would have had the door locked. Those Nike clothes that I was admiring had been hanging there for a long time, and will likely be hanging there for a long time to come. No, it’s attitude. The American attitude needs to be reinforced with new blood upon occasion. But it needs to be done with folks who come here legally, and want to occupy themselves with legal activities.

My son was a history major and graduated from the University of California at Santa Barbara, as did my wife. With time on his hands, due to the economy, he’s taken up some family genealogy. Yesterday he informed me what we had a great, great, great, great grandmother or aunt or something like that, who was scalped. She and her husband and new baby lived on the outskirts of Youngstown, NY. Out walking with husband and babe in arms, her husband turned to her and said, “This is it,” and then took a bullet in the chest from raiding Indians. By a strange twist of fate, that bullet went through him and embedded itself in her chest. Wisely, she went down and feigned death…feigned being dead while being scalped and her baby torn away to be bashed against a tree. She lived, growing the hair on the back of her head to comb over the front, and to mother another five children and die at the then ripe old age of 84 (that doesn’t seem so ripe old to me anymore).

I relate this story to you as it’s the kind of strong hardy stock we need to welcome to the country today. We need folks ready to say “Damn rights I’m open. Come on in. What can I help you find?”

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