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"Little Freddy"
I sent the following to Senators Richard Durbin (D-IL), Chuck Hagel (R-NE), and Richard Lugar (R-IN) who introduced the DREAM Act (S.774) as an amendment to the Department of Defense (DOD) authorization bill (S.154 on the Senate floor earlier this week.
Thank you for introducing the DREAM Act (S.774) as an amendment to the Department of Defense (DOD) authorization bill (S.154. I deeply appreciate your persistence in this critical issue. Although we desperately need broader immigration reform, I am glad you recognize that these young Americans have not violated immigration laws and should therefore not be subjected to the same quagmire of congressional debate. (And rest assured, the immigration reform issue is not going away any more than the black American civil rights issue went away after the Jim Crow laws were enacted circa 1890.) You also apparently appreciate the investment our nation has made in these individuals and what valuable resources they could be for us if they were granted their civil rights.
I offer you the short story below in which I tried to touch the reader’s emotions by humanizing the issue. Although it is a true story of a particular individual whom I know, it represents the plight of hundreds of thousands of DREAMers. Please feel free to reproduce and use my “Little Freddy” story in any manner that will further the DREAM Act passage.
Imagine, for a moment, that your spouse snatched your eight-year-old son (or daughter) away and smuggled him into another country. Let’s give him a name: Freddy. Little Freddy was thrust into a strange society and had to attend a school full of strange sounding kids who looked at him as though he were from another planet. But Freddy was tough. He knew he would have to learn this strange language, and learn it well, to survive. And he did; along with all of his other studies.
Oh, but when he came home from school there was much more to be done than homework. Freddy’s Mom gave him plenty of love, food, and other motherly things when she wasn’t cleaning their home…or someone else’s. But with her limited education and unfamiliarity with the “official” language, Freddy had to learn quickly to write money orders, pay bills, translate, etc.
As time went on and grade school turned into high school, Freddy assimilated well and felt pretty much like an ordinary kid. All that changed when he turned 17. While all of his friends were enjoying their right-of-passage to a driver’s license and car, it all suddenly fell down on him like a ton of bricks. He was different after all. He felt like a citizen but could not prove it. Was this some cruel joke? With this revelation, Freddy began looking over his shoulder, gripped with fear, whenever he was out in public, wondering if a law officer would confront him about his legal right to be in this country. And how should he answer? Should he go back to his native country which would now be as unfamiliar as it would be to any of his friends?
So, from this point on, Freddy felt like a fugitive. “Hey Freddy, why aren’t you driving yet?” a friend would ask. Freddy would quickly think up a plausible lie. He became quite proficient at it. But he gradually fell into the syndrome of self-imposed house arrest. Especially with immigration laws becoming more and more mean spirited, he realized that if he is involved in any type of incident, even a traffic-stop as a passenger, he is at risk. Hence, he took comfort and refuge inside his four walls.
Despite these handicaps, risks and fears, Freddy persevered and made it through college. And then it was time to hunt for a job. Hmm, maybe he can get away with lying on the application regarding immigration status and get a “legal” job. But how is that legal if he lied on the application? Or…maybe he could work “under-the-table” where the employer won’t ask any questions. But, um, isn’t that illegal also? So, what was Freddy to do?
At this point, you might ask in outrage, “How can my boy be treated like this and be denied his basic rights? For God’s sake, he committed no crime!” My point exactly.
Thank you for all of your past, present, and future efforts regarding this issue.
Thank you for introducing the DREAM Act (S.774) as an amendment to the Department of Defense (DOD) authorization bill (S.154. I deeply appreciate your persistence in this critical issue. Although we desperately need broader immigration reform, I am glad you recognize that these young Americans have not violated immigration laws and should therefore not be subjected to the same quagmire of congressional debate. (And rest assured, the immigration reform issue is not going away any more than the black American civil rights issue went away after the Jim Crow laws were enacted circa 1890.) You also apparently appreciate the investment our nation has made in these individuals and what valuable resources they could be for us if they were granted their civil rights.
I offer you the short story below in which I tried to touch the reader’s emotions by humanizing the issue. Although it is a true story of a particular individual whom I know, it represents the plight of hundreds of thousands of DREAMers. Please feel free to reproduce and use my “Little Freddy” story in any manner that will further the DREAM Act passage.
Imagine, for a moment, that your spouse snatched your eight-year-old son (or daughter) away and smuggled him into another country. Let’s give him a name: Freddy. Little Freddy was thrust into a strange society and had to attend a school full of strange sounding kids who looked at him as though he were from another planet. But Freddy was tough. He knew he would have to learn this strange language, and learn it well, to survive. And he did; along with all of his other studies.
Oh, but when he came home from school there was much more to be done than homework. Freddy’s Mom gave him plenty of love, food, and other motherly things when she wasn’t cleaning their home…or someone else’s. But with her limited education and unfamiliarity with the “official” language, Freddy had to learn quickly to write money orders, pay bills, translate, etc.
As time went on and grade school turned into high school, Freddy assimilated well and felt pretty much like an ordinary kid. All that changed when he turned 17. While all of his friends were enjoying their right-of-passage to a driver’s license and car, it all suddenly fell down on him like a ton of bricks. He was different after all. He felt like a citizen but could not prove it. Was this some cruel joke? With this revelation, Freddy began looking over his shoulder, gripped with fear, whenever he was out in public, wondering if a law officer would confront him about his legal right to be in this country. And how should he answer? Should he go back to his native country which would now be as unfamiliar as it would be to any of his friends?
So, from this point on, Freddy felt like a fugitive. “Hey Freddy, why aren’t you driving yet?” a friend would ask. Freddy would quickly think up a plausible lie. He became quite proficient at it. But he gradually fell into the syndrome of self-imposed house arrest. Especially with immigration laws becoming more and more mean spirited, he realized that if he is involved in any type of incident, even a traffic-stop as a passenger, he is at risk. Hence, he took comfort and refuge inside his four walls.
Despite these handicaps, risks and fears, Freddy persevered and made it through college. And then it was time to hunt for a job. Hmm, maybe he can get away with lying on the application regarding immigration status and get a “legal” job. But how is that legal if he lied on the application? Or…maybe he could work “under-the-table” where the employer won’t ask any questions. But, um, isn’t that illegal also? So, what was Freddy to do?
At this point, you might ask in outrage, “How can my boy be treated like this and be denied his basic rights? For God’s sake, he committed no crime!” My point exactly.
Thank you for all of your past, present, and future efforts regarding this issue.
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