Trinidad was born on a snowy Wyoming ranch in 1926. When he was 6 months old, his father was killed by a horse. His mother took him back to her native Chihuahua. There he grew up, finished high school, met his bride on the village plaza. His 10 children were baptized in the village church. He was a cultural Mexican, an American citizen who knew no English. He and his family lived on the south side of poverty.
One of his sons found a construction job in Las Cruces, N.M. Trinidad followed. As an American citizen, he was employed at New Mexico State University. One by one he brought his family north. They didn't swim the Rio Grande. They simply drove a ranch road west of Juarez and entered New Mexico through a livestock gate. Trinidad's wife and all his children were here illegally. He was the only American, his university health insurance did not cover the family.
They went to Juarez for their health care, medications, eyeglasses and dental work. Since most of them lived between the border and the 26-mile check point, they used normal crossings. But there was always the fear that a family member would be caught and deported.
When Trinidad retired, I hired him to help me rehabilitate an old adobe house. We were friends - just two old codgers rebuilding a house that was twice our age. We shared common values, but spoke different languages. He spoke only Spanish, I only English. He could do anything - carpentry, plumbing, plastering. He took pride in his work and always did more than was expected.
One Friday after work we drank cold cervesa from Juarez and swapped stories. I mentioned I could rent a backhoe for $50 to fill a 100-foot long irrigation ditch where we couldn't use the farm tractor. He said Saturday was his day off. He would fill that ditch for 50 bucks. The next morning at 4 a.m. he had his pick, shovel and wheelbarrow and was hard at it. Just before sundown, he finished. I handed him three $20 bills and wouldn't take the $10 change. Sunday he was back grubbing out a stump I worried about. One couldn't get ahead of Trinidad.
One morning Trinidad's English-speaking daughter-in-law came to tell me he had been killed in an automobile accident. Without papers, his family took his body back over that unofficial, illegal ranch road and buried him in the churchyard in Chihuahua. He left behind a wife, eight children and about 30 grandchildren. Most of the grandchildren are American citizens born here. The remainder are Mexicans.
Politicians passed the North American Free Trade Agreement to allow the free movement of goods throughout North America. Now Congress wants to keep people from doing the same. A House bill would have us construct a wall along the Mexican border and make felons out of people who are here without papers. The harsh bill plays on fear, arguing we need to keep our neighbors out. Latinos take to the streets with their American children carrying the Stars and Stripes and signs that read "Don't send my Daddy away."
We don't need walls to protect us. Our safety is in nations bordering us filled with friends and neighbors who share our values. When free people can legally move, live and work from the southern tip of Mexico to the frozen tundra of Canada we will all be better off.
Mr. Politician, tear down those walls. Let us make friends instead of enemies.
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Thad Box is former dean of the College of Natural Resources at Utah State University.
