We do our shopping and choose fruits and veggies to bring home without giving much thought to those who picked that produce. 

Long ago, for 21 years, I had been an orchardist in the Methow Valley of Eastern Washington with my then-husband. This was no “gentleman farmer” hobby endeavor. Though we weren’t one of the larger orchardists, at the time we grew about 450,000 pounds of pears per year,  plus about 50,000 pounds of apples. 

Speaking Spanish 

My love of language came in handy. I had studied Spanish for 7 years in school and lived in Nicaragua as an exchange student when I was 14. I was the only orchardist in the Valley that spoke Spanish. Consequently, we often had carloads of eager workers that would drive up our dusty road for my help filling out their immigration and working papers. 

In 1999, at harvest time, I wanted to introduce the individuals that showed up early every day to pick d’Anjou pears, starting on those frosty September mornings, and ending with sweltering afternoons. Each day their hands became caked with chemical residues, sticky insect “honeydew”, aluminum from the ladders, dirt and sweat.

Each full bag of pears hanging from their shoulders weighed 40 pounds, the thick straps criss-crossing their backs. Many of the men bore telltale X-shaped open wounds and scars. It’s damn heavy, hard work, climbing up and down a 10 or 12-foot ladder with a 40-pound weight strapped on front, then leaning over to carefully unload the fruit into the bin. Some men would pick 8,000 to 10,000 pounds a day! For each thousand-pound bin, they earned 8 to 12 bucks depending on the orchardist’s generosity.

Crew Boss and Camaraderie 

Some years, I ran harvest while my husband was back in Burien, south of Seattle, teaching his Chemistry students. On those chilly mornings, just past sunrise, I’d walk out into the clearing next to the orchard, size up and select from those wanting to work, and tell them that I was the crew boss. “Uh huh, yeah right”… I could see them thinking… almost a jeer. 

Because I was fluent in Spanish, I wasn’t an orchardist grunting orders at them. I’d hustle through the orchard, check each man’s work, inspect the fruit and chit-chat as I went. We talked about symphonic music, art, politics, religion, culture… out in the middle of the orchard rows, of all places! 

After 10 days of working hard, side-by-side, from early morning into the hot afternoon and sometimes early evening… After they saw me driving tractor, “humpin’ bins” through the orchard rows, and sweating alongside of them, we developed mutual respect and camaraderie. We worked hard together and we laughed hard together. 

Introductions

I wanted to introduce the men that worked for us throughout the year, and especially during the intensity of September’s harvest. The orchardists that spoke no Spanish missed out on sharing real character and humanity with those they employed. I wanted to give them dignity by sharing their stories.

I asked the men for several things:

• Name, age, birthplace
• Length of time in the U.S.
• Personal message in Spanish (which I then translated)

I received all or part of what I asked for. One man wanted to respond, but appeared sheepish; he was illiterate. One of his co-workers volunteered and wrote down his story to give to me.

At the time, the internet was still pretty new and quite limited. I told the men that I was going to put their photos and messages online, with the pie-in-the-sky idea that their families back home could see their faces and read their words. As it turned out, just the other side of the mountains from Microsoft, there were no public computers for the men to view their own stories, and their families back home in Mexico and Central America certainly didn’t have computers with internet access.

Postscript

Gathering these stories and images had always been meaningful to me. In light of the focus on immigration we’re (still) seeing today (2021), I wanted to repeat the post from 1999. It offers a brief intro to 15 of the men, (in random order), that I’m proud to have worked so closely with over the years. Their messages were copied from their own handwriting on September 15, 1999.

Read their messages. Some are so profound… some so touching. Armando Rodriguez Castillo “looks like” someone you “wouldn’t want to mess with”, yet read his message! It just about knocked me off my feet when I first read it:

“There is no greater loneliness
than that in which there is no God.”

Armando’s written message was a lesson against stereotyping.

I look at these photos now, at the beginning of 2021, and realize that these men are now 21 years older. Where are they now? Eligio was 17 years old; he’s 38 now! And Baldo was 59; he’d be 80 now. I hope they are well.

(Only in the first two years of my involvement with the farm did we have even a couple of non-Latinos show up wanting to pick pears. And it was only once or twice that a woman showed up with her husband so they could pick together. Thus, I am introducing all Latino men.)

CLICK EACH PHOTO TO ENLARGE IT.

Isidoro Sanchez Oregon

52 Years Old.
Born in Guerrero, Mexico.
3 Years in the United States.

“De parte de Isidoro Sanchez y de sus hijos que se encuentran alla en Washington, les mandan saludos a la Senora Alejandrina Vivera que se encuentra en Zihuatanejo, Guerrero y sus hijas y familia. Esperamos que se encuentren bien.

“Bueno, nosotros estamos aca echandoles ganas a la chamba y esperamos ir pronto para alla si dios quiere.

“Bueno, nos despedimos de ustedes y portense bien. Saludos a toda la familia Sanchez Rivera.”

“From Isidoro Sanchez and his sons here in Washington, we send greetings to Mrs. Alejandrina Vivera who is in Zihuatanejo, Guerrero, and her daughters and family. We hope you’re well.

“We’re here putting aside our pleasures, and we hope to go (home) soon if God is willing.

“Well, we bid you farewell and be well. Greetings to all the Sanchez Rivera Family.”

Ernesto Proa

26 Years Old.
Born in Guadalajara, Jalisco, Mexico.
2 Years in the United States.

“Hola. La vida es bonita aunque hay momentos en que nos sentimos que no nos comprende nadien. Siempre hay solucion. Nunca busque la puerta falsa. Sigue adelante y lucha por alcansar tus metos. Sonrie y se felix.”

“Hi. Life is beautiful even though there are moments when we feel we don’t understand anyone. There’s always a solution. Never look for the false door. Continue ahead and struggle to overcome your diffuculties. Smile and be happy.”

Armando Rodriguez Castillo

28 Years Old.
Born in Salamanca, Guanajuato, Mexico.
7 Years in the United States.

“No hay peor soledad que aquella donde Dios no esta.”

“There is no greater loneliness than that in which there is no God.”

Jose Suazo

39 Years Old.

Efrain Mendoza Romero

32 Years Old.
Born in Michoacan, Mexico.
15 Years in the United States.

“Saludos a todos.”

“Greetings to everyone.”