A SOUTH TEXAS MICROCOSM OF THE AMERICAN DREAM

By Juan Montoya

It was the early 1990s.

South Texas at the time was overflowing with waves of Central American refugees fleeing from their war-torn countries. Hundreds, if not thousands, sought shelter at la Casa Romero - now the Ozanam Center on Minnesota Road - stretching its services beyond its capacity.

Many of the refugees camped in a vacant lot across Houston Road from the center, triggering a local vigilante group to build a watch tower to keep an eye on the unfortunates and protect their homes and properties from the masses.

While they waited for families in the interior of the United States to them money to travel there, many refugees sought work. Some of the men worked cutting yards, washing cars, or doing handiwork. Some of the women got jobs through the center cleaning houses or as waitresses at local restaurants. When those opportunities ran out, some of the younger women joined their Mexican counterparts working t local bars.

Over time, as they waited to raise funds to leave South Texas, some of the new arrivals developed personal relationships with local residents and formed families. Others left the region altogether.

Unbeknownst to each of them, to longtime friends (compadres) struck up relationships with two Central American women and married. Although they weren't compadres de pila in the strict sense of the word - they hadn't baptized the other's children - they felt a kinship.  Both had been agricultural migrants as children and had traveled to the Midwest harvesting tomatoes, cucumbers, or even cherries, apples, or other fruits.

Each year they were pulled out of school in early April not to return until their work harvesting the nation'd fruits and vegetables was done. Shen they left the Midwest, snow was just beginning to fall. By a miracle, both loved to study and didn't drop out of school like the majority of migrant kids.

Both compadres had graduated from high school and earned college degrees before they met each other. They struck up the friendship through their professions and by chance got to know each other after they had children from their respective Central American wives.

Their women worked at many jobs, one of them selling jewelry, the other getting a cosmetology certification and  working at local beauty salons. Over time their children went to school and grew up. One of the compadres worked for local government and the other had his own business.

This Friday, the former migrants were surprised to meet each other at the Jacob Brown Civic Center and found out that one of each other's children was taking part in the commencement ceremonies for the UTRGV Class of 2019 graduates, two of the first Vaqueros.

And so, as the names were being called out, one of the daughters of one of the friends was called  to receive her double master's degree and the other's son was granted a bachelor's degree and graduated suma cum laude. The girl's sister, herself already a graduate, came down from her job in Washington, D.C. to congratulate her sister on her graduation.

The son is already teaching full time, has been accepted to graduate school, and is taking an economics class in South Korea this summer. The daughter has been working in academia in an administrative position of high responsibility.

On Friday morning, a decidedly American miracle came to be. The sons and daughter of agricultural migrants and Central American refugees entered their professional lives to contribute to their fathers' country and their mothers' adopted nation. Would this have been possible if gthere had been a wall to keep them out?