The Tri-Cities is more a sprawling network of suburbs and strip malls than it is a major city, but I'd still call myself a city-boy from my upbringing here. I live in a nice neighborhood that shouldn't have trees but does anyway located in between two pretty good public schools (which I attended when I was a wee lad). In short: I've been lucky enough to have a nice life where everything was easy, and most all of the people I've gotten to know hadn't had it too much more difficult when it comes to the basics in life (having somewhere to sleep/something to eat/people to go to).
This summer I left my comfort zone in that department, as I was struggling to find seasonal employment, and I ended up responding to a help wanted ad on Craigslist looking for laborers for a Pumpkin Farm located about eight minutes south of where I live. Having been telling myself that I was perfectly fine doing hard labor, I trekked over for my first day of work in early June expecting to be one of many Hispanic dudes looking for a job.
Not only was I mostly wrong, I left out a lot of thought into the job I'd be doing and the people I'd be working with.
I was one of 8 fellows who showed up on that first day. There were 6 other people my age, all of whom were kicked out of their parent's homes around the age of 18 and had been getting by on jobs like these all of their lives since they never went to college, and there was a 50-year-old man who was just doing this job to make a little extra money on top of a monthly inheritance and to get out of the house and meet people.
Now I know people who didn't go to college, but none of them were as...I guess the word I'd use is "raw"...as these people. My coworkers were blunt, extremely social, and very friendly. They talked about hardships I had never known, close calls I've always been lucky enough to avoid, and vices I don't ever consider. It was a lot of fun to get to know them all, we'd mosey down the rows of pumpkin plants while we'd kill weeds between all talking and joking with each other about each other. The relationships I'd forged at that farm felt much different than any I'd made before, and they helped me understand how lucky I am to have had the opportunities I've been presented with throughout my life.
They also helped me understand the basis for their political views, most of theirs being opposing my own. And going where I'm hoping to go, I feel like that's even more valuable than the money I earned each day working in those fields. I'm hoping to keep in contact with these people throughout my life, I want to give these otherwise voiceless people a friend in Washington.
