Author: Steve

Usually we see them coursing low over open fields or marshes hoping to spook a rodent or snake.

This one was taking a break, resting up for his next foray.

Last December, driving from our kids’ house in Chandler back to the RV park, stopped at a stoplight in the right lane, the driver of the big pickup truck in the left lane backed up even to us, and rolled down his wife’s passenger side window.  I rolled down my window, and he yelled out at us, “Hey.  Texas.  That’s my favorite state!”  He’s seen our Texas plates.  “Cool.” I answered and gave him a smile.

He went on, “And Senator Cruz, he’s my favorite senator.”  Okay, he’s seen the Beto sticker on the back of our Jeep.  I smiled and waved.  Didn’t need any late-night drama.

“And president Trump.  He’s the best president ever!  I love president Trump!”  No problem.  I gave him a thumbs-up and one more smile.  His wife looked uncomfortable and stared straight ahead.  The light changed, we both drove on, he in the faster lane.  We forgot about it.

Several miles later, out of town, the road now dark, still in the right lane, we realized we were catching him.  He was still in the left lane and slowing down.  Just as we were about to pass him, he put on his right signal and started to come over.  That didn’t seem right.  I called his bluff and continued on in the right lane, watching that I had room on the shoulder if I needed it.  He turned off his turn signal and stayed in the left lane.  We both stopped at the next light up the road, him still in the left lane and us in the right turn lane.  We were the only two vehicles there.  He had the window down and was yelling at us past his still stone-faced wife.  We couldn’t hear him, didn’t want to, left the window up, and made our right turn.

Nothing ever came of this.  He went on his way I guess, but that certainly was a weird encounter, and had the feel of getting a whole lot weirder.  It didn’t really seem to be about us specifically and wasn’t necessarily even about politics.  It may have been more about this guy having some aggressions inside that needed to get out.  It turned out fine for us.  I hope it turned out as well for anyone else he encountered that evening.

Austin loves his baby sister, Ayla.

He’d hold her all day if they let him.

It doesn’t matter whether she’s awake or not.

Or if he’s reading or not.

Here is what the existing border fence looks like.  I took these photos at one of the planned gaps.  By my experience, there is at least one border patrol vehicle there at all times.

On the Mexico side.

On the U.S. side.

We can look at the SUV in the first photo for a size comparison.  That would make the fence about 20 feet high by my guess.

Of course, both sides of the fence are built on U.S. soil.  It’s not Mexico on the other side of the fence.  It’s Mexico on the other side of the river.  The river is a little farther south.  Here is the intersection where I was standing when I took the photos:

https://www.google.com/maps/@26.0900645,-98.249046,123m/data=!3m1!1e3

You can scroll out a little to see the disconnect between the wall and the river.  Look at the path of the river and you can see why it’s impractical for the wall to run right along the river.

Here is a locked gate at the town of Hidalgo.

Here is a walking trail on the other side of the fence.

If you follow that trail far enough you come to that same locked gate, only from the other side of the fence.

It was a little disconcerting to have walked those miles and be back so close to where I started that day, yet faced with an impenetrable barrier.  Of course, I retraced my route, past the border patrol SUV guarding the opening, and walked my way back to the car, feeling blessed that it was that easy for me.

Here is the location of the gate in the photos above.

https://www.google.com/maps/@26.0957563,-98.2613919,123m/data=!3m1!1e3

If you scroll left and right on the satellite view, you’ll see places where it looks like there is no wall.  In those places, there is a cement barrier and a 15 foot drop-off to the level on the other side.

Here is what the tiny poor Hispanic border town of Hidalgo looks like lit up at Christmas.

We live in a border town.  We walk along the border, sometimes on this side of the fence, sometimes on the other.  (For practical reasons the fence is not built exactly on the border, and it’s always on our side, so being on the other side of it is not really a problem.) We live in a county that is 92% Hispanic; We non-hispanic are definitely the minority.  Not all the people in our county and in our schools are documented.  Not all the people in our county speak English.  That’s our situation.

There is a border fence.  It is not continuous; it’s built in sections.  I send pictures of it occasionally.  Law enforcement we chat with as we’re out and about say the fence is working just fine.  The fence funnels border crossers to openings our officers patrol.  There are people who cross the border illegally, but the number is down from prior years.  There are drugs that cross the border, but mostly through the ports of entry.  There is crime here in the Rio Grande Valley, but at a rate lower than the national average.

So here we sit, in the midst of the presidents’ wave of terror.  There are caravans headed our way to storm the borders.  We have criminals, gang members, rapists, and terrorists flooding across.  It’s a national emergency.  But it’s an invisible emergency to us.  We have been here for years, and all we experience is a happy, safe, comfortable, caring community.