The Mexican Woman

She came from Mexico when she was eleven years old. She taught herself English and helped others to learn as well. She is married now and has a child and another on the way. But this weekend she had to talk to the immigration authorities to see if she could stay in the United States.

She’s twenty-three now and is learning how to be a medical assistant so that she will have a good income in the future. It is not easy, but she is persistent and refuses to give up her dream. She will be a good American citizen.

Her husband paid for the insurance for his wife and child. The child’s birth was covered by health and hospitalization insurance. The county hospital did not have to charge another birth up to welfare or to indigent services. Her next child will also be delivered by the same doctor, and that doctor will be well paid.

Her children will become well-educated citizens of this country. They will contribute back their skills and their taxable income in return for living here as Americans.

In the same room sits a little mother whose first child was delivered up to welfare and whose next child will cost the taxpayer even more because he will need special care. This woman was born, raised, and educated in America. She is white, unmarried, and unemployed—unemployable even. Perhaps she will finish her education—perhaps not. Her children will not have a father. In fact, the young man will demand a paternity test and do his best to avoid child support payments. Their ongoing saga will cost the taxpayer through the court system and probably through domestic violence.

No one in this country—or any other—wants to see criminals coming across the border. And that apparently happens each day. I cannot go into Mexico and live there without all kinds of proof that I am a good citizen and not intending to work in that country beyond what the government allows. They would not put me on a bus and take me back to the border and tell me to vamoose. They would put me in a jail cell and attempt to extort money from my relatives to get me back home.

Not that I plan to have any more children, but a child of mine born in Mexico would not be a citizen of that country—period. So, let’s see now: don’t live, work, or have your babies in Mexico. In fact, if you cross the border, be sure you know someone to get you BACK across in one piece.

Is it any wonder that our country still looks like a decent place to live to people in Mexico? Now if we could all just learn to speak English . . .