The o apposite of love isn't hate; it's ignoring the person. If the other person acknowledges that I exist, there's hope.
We attended parades in our small town in Ohio, slightly closer to Dayton than to Cincinnati. There was always a healthy crowd, people applauded every entrant in the parade, it was fun. My wife worked in the food bank that operated in our sister town just five miles away. It lay along the Miami River and its wealth had faded when water mills gave way to coal-fired plants.
I worked as a volunteer translator with the local court system. We had a large community of Salvadoran illegals in the area; my Spanish was still excellent. I wound up establishing a program with a nearby university's Spanish Club and the County Bar Association to get each illegal and his family a sponsor, and for the bar association to help with basic immigration issues. I had an arrangement with the prosecutor and judge for a short dance before each trial.
The judge would ask me if I was confident in my ability to accurately translate the meaning of communications. I replied, "Yes, your honor, with the exception of any questions touching on immigration status." The prosecutor would move that any questions on immigration status be ruled out of order. Everybody agreed.
This was self-interest. The number of high-speed chases dropped immediately as word spread that getting arrested for a traffic violation wouldn't involve deportation. We also had the local police carry my phone number in case of an arrest. We got a handful of Haitians as well, and my French was still good enough to handle simple stuff. No more.
The o apposite of love isn't hate; it's ignoring the person. If the other person acknowledges that I exist, there's hope.
We attended parades in our small town in Ohio, slightly closer to Dayton than to Cincinnati. There was always a healthy crowd, people applauded every entrant in the parade, it was fun. My wife worked in the food bank that operated in our sister town just five miles away. It lay along the Miami River and its wealth had faded when water mills gave way to coal-fired plants.
I worked as a volunteer translator with the local court system. We had a large community of Salvadoran illegals in the area; my Spanish was still excellent. I wound up establishing a program with a nearby university's Spanish Club and the County Bar Association to get each illegal and his family a sponsor, and for the bar association to help with basic immigration issues. I had an arrangement with the prosecutor and judge for a short dance before each trial.
The judge would ask me if I was confident in my ability to accurately translate the meaning of communications. I replied, "Yes, your honor, with the exception of any questions touching on immigration status." The prosecutor would move that any questions on immigration status be ruled out of order. Everybody agreed.
This was self-interest. The number of high-speed chases dropped immediately as word spread that getting arrested for a traffic violation wouldn't involve deportation. We also had the local police carry my phone number in case of an arrest. We got a handful of Haitians as well, and my French was still good enough to handle simple stuff. No more.