McAllen
The heat was prohibitive in McAllen, as you might expect it to be in Southern Texas in August. During the drive into town, my car thermometer read a balmy 102 degrees. My usual technique for talking to people in a new city is to walk up to them and introduce myself, making full use of my kindergarten classroom skills. That was not going to work here. The residents of McAllen aren’t stupid. Which means they are also indoors this time of year. I gave up for the night and went for some food at a great little restaurant, Kocina Il Forno. Halfway through a bite of taco, Serg walked up, raring for conversation. The restaurant was a bit slow, it was a Monday evening after all, and he only had 4 tables to bus.
Before introductions I explained a bit about the project I was working on, how I might compare the values of the country and find differences too in different region. He volunteered, “Here family is everything. This area is very family oriented.”
I asked what that looks like.
“It looks like a step-dad getting pulled over for drunk driving on New Years and then the whole family pitching in the little bit of extra money they’ve got on hand to bail him out.”
I nodded as he got pulled away to clear a 4-top table on the other side of the restaurant.
When he had another free minute, I asked a bit about his life, unstructured. With the characteristic energy of an 18 year old, Sergio Carrizales buzzed through explanations of his various irons in the fire.
“Well, I’m working here now for some extra change while I’m going to school now to be a welder. I used to work at a truck welding shop, MIG welding when a gas tank fell out an 18-wheeler or something. But now I’m learning stick welding, hoping to do more engineering stuff. You know welders make really good money, like $70 an hour. I’m going to graduate soon and go work. Not going to waste it though; I’m going to save up 60% of my paycheck and have money to invest, in real estate or something like that. Something that will make money with the investment.
I also ride bulls at the rodeo. I love the rush of it, trying to control 2000 lbs of bucking bull for 8 seconds. But I haven’t done it as much recently. I’m trying to protect my wrists and arms so I can finish welding. I think I’ll always do something with bull riding though. While I’m young I want to ride them. Then when the arthritis kicks in, I’ll raise bulls. You know a good bull down at the PBR will bring in $50k or more. I love the cowboy lifestyle and it’s just good business too.
One day I’m going to have property, an instagram-worthy house, like $1 million at least, with all sorts of rustic furniture.”
With Serg’s initial focus on making money I thought I had him pegged for answers to most of the questions I had to ask. But he surprised me with a hard turn to religion.
“Respect comes first from your fear of God, and then your work ethic, and what kind of beer you like. If you’re a Coors Banquet guy, or Dos Equis, or Modelo, you’re alright by me. And that’s really all you need for a good life. I think a good life is measured by how closely you connect with God. Do you read the bible, are you thankful and not disappointed in anything that comes along? Because every obstacle in your life is just an opportunity God gave you for joy.”
I ask if he ever falls short of that. After a moments hesitation he announced with teenage bravado that no, since he heard that scripture, he’s never fallen short of that standard.
I found myself circling in like a shark on the sort of charmed “nothing can touch me” attitude with the learned cynicism of adulthood. I stopped myself and had another bite of food to tamp down my hunger-fueled cantankerousness. In the space of that delay, Serg offered something to complicate my view of him.
“I used to live in a nice ranch before my parents got divorced and my dad went back down to Mexico. Now I’m with my mom in a trailer home. That could be hard but that’s also part of the reason my welding teacher right now is paying for my schooling. He’s someone close to God too, we met through the connections of the church. He heard my life story a little bit and felt like God was giving us both an opportunity. And that’s how I’m going to make something of myself too. So I can’t fault any of these obstacles that come my way. They’re all just making paths.”
As I asked about dignity, Serg offered the clearest explanation of a larger worldview. I framed the question as what one needs to have taken from them in order to lose their dignity. His gut reaction was revealing
“If you want to take someone’s dignity you need to take their beliefs and views and just totally crush them, embarrass them, invalidate. Like if I’m over here talking about god and you come at me saying ‘No that’s fake, it’s science’ that’s going to hurt.”
He hesitated.
“But then really I don’t care what people say or think about me. I think if you’ve got a strong heart, there’s really not much that people can do to take your dignity.”
That seemed about right to me. But that initial reaction was more interesting. Thinking about many of the tribal divisions in the country—politics, religion, et cetera—it made sense that disagreement felt like an assault on dignity. Hadn’t I felt the same way before? Sure. I feel it often.
I couldn’t help but bring in the migrant camps that were sitting still just a few miles out of town as we spoke. He pushed back.
“Down at the camps its not great but it’s what they got. They were trying to jump the golden gates, and they caught the short end. And that will end eventually so it’s not like they’ve lost something permanent from themselves. When they get back out, I’m sure they’ll be right back at it.”
I found it initially odd that this son of Mexican immigrants was so callous to the plight of asylum seekers. But I remembered how fortunately his life has worked out so far. America has been a land of opportunity for him. I wonder how this colors his ability to imagine the depths of suffering for these strangers. He had said that this part of the country is more about family. These were not family, and Serg knew God had a plan for them. I can see how that line relieves one of responsibility, and makes it easier to imagine away. What a curious encapsulation.
