As an issue, illegal immigration is poison

My grandmother never did learn to speak English, but there was a community in Iowa where they settled that still clung to the old ways, memories of the old country, and the old language. They were, I believe, happy. They never earned enough money to return to Denmark and their own parents and old friends, but the new life wasn’t bad. In those days, letters were the connecting life line.

I think of them often now as I listen to the political acrimony over the flood of illegal immigrants pouring into our country from Mexico and other points south. It is a very different experience. And the reaction to the newcomers is not, in too many instances, friendly.

It’s partly the language barrier. It’s partly political pandering. It’s partly a scared response to a governmental inability to do something about it. Communities suddenly overwhelmed with Latino strangers and a new, unfamiliar culture are worried about competing with folks willing to accept low pay for unattractive jobs, such as meat-packing and heavy-duty farm labor.”*

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