Desert Flowers.

Driving around last week, I saw a scene that broke my heart. I hope I am not being overly-dramatic, but it was true. I was pulling out of the Home Depot where I had bought a bunch of flowers that I decided to practice my death tortures on. (Some people would consider it having boxed flowers on their patio, but for me, it's bringing some sweet flowers to their untimely demise. I do not intend to kill them off, but knowing I have no skills in botany, the reality is they shall perish, thus unconsciously, I indeed may be hoping to kill something). I digress.

So, I was leaving the Home Depot at about noon last week. As you pull out of the lot, you must pass a double wide lane where a lot of brown men stand under the skinniest trees (young trees), for a sliver of shade. In Phoenix, we are now hitting 110 degrees plus. So they stand and wait. A big white truck with a trailer drove in, coming in opposite me, and it came to a stop, and a very tall white dude stepped down. He raised his hand, with his fingers spread. Like he was ordering five of something. In a matter of seconds, a sea of men sprinted towards him. They ran like I have not seen grown men run in my entire life. The run portrayed desperateness. It was the type of run that meant that only the first five would earn enough to buy dinner tonight. Hats were left in the wind. Elbows were thrown. It was a sprint, not a jog. I tried to think of the last time I observed an adult run with conviction like this. I recall a woman who ran to grab her child who was headed to a street crowded with traffic near Saturday market. That's it. A woman, likely a mother, desperate to save her child. ANd these men ran the same way. In the heat.

Men run like this for their lives, in war, or other perilous situations. But maybe we forget that some men run like this daily, literally and figuratively, to eat. To earn a few bucks an hour to help some man lay his new lawn at his newly-built cookie cutter home. But he only took five. A good twenty were left to swelter in the heat. Maybe more men in trucks came looking for day labor... maybe they came out on top of that sprint eventually. But as it was already noon, chances are many of them went without a wage this Tuesday.

Not one of these men stood at that area with a look of pride on their face. Not that they are not proud men, just that they were desperate. And willing to work. They can't march into a McDonald's and ask to serve burgers, since they likely are not legal. Instead, they compete for the few jobs of pay by the hour in cash that are out there. Meanwhile, I am sure many people look at them with contempt, disgust.


I'm not trying to be political. I don't have an answer or a solution. I just simply felt for these men. I respect them, but I feel a sense of guilt about complaining about my job. For goodness sake, I work in air conditioning, I have insurance. I have food. I was born in a time and a place that provided me an opportunity to provide for myself and my family. I did not have to cross a desert at the hands of unreliable and shady characters, risking a death of heat exhaustion and thirst, nevermind rape, abuse, kidnapping, and slavery.


And for those who have powered through this preachy post, half of the flowers are powering through. Half are corpses.