Memo: Today, we're celebrating an arguably successful revolution

In case you haven't gotten the memo in recent years, what we're celebrating today is the 239th anniversary of a successful rebellion against an empire scale major world power. Today marks the day when all of the governors of the 13 British colonies on our Eastern coast signed the much vaunted, too little read and rarely understood Declaration of Independence from the legal, official government of Great Britain. Some of those governors signed more or less at gun-point; likely my ancestor, Rich Stockton, among them. I'm glad he did, though, because his signature provides me indisputable proof that dysgraphia runs in the family. 

Every day this summer, I've worked with some of the most impressive people I've ever met. The boss calls us the Charleroi crew. We call him Patrono and ourselves the PALM crew; Pan American Landscaping Mafia.... we're here to steal your dead wood and weeds... or maybe just hunt wild berries until such time as a palm should present itself in need of service. Represented are Mexico (twice), Guatemala and I was raised by wolves in the Twilight zone. We're looking to recruit one from Puerto Rico, one from Uruguay and one from Canada. Then we can secede from the current union and declare the independent contract consortium of Seven PALMS. 

When I was sitting in my office in Florida 20 years ago, surrounded by kids and chickens and endless loads of laundry, I spent a lot of my spare time reading about and corresponding with drug policy activists and journalists. All of us were studying with interest the puzzling question of how Occidental's oil got under the soil belonging to the people of Central and South America and the Mid-East. These guys were about 5 or 10 years old, just learning that you can grow and sell food and not go hungry. While I was just learning how to be a mommy, the Iran Contra Affair was in the news and the eldest of these kids was not much more than a twinkling in his daddy's eye.

They grew up in the midst of the successful Zapatista Revolution against the Mexican government. One of them told me about a friend publicly executed by burying in a concrete bridge piling. I pointed out that they do that in Jersey, too. These guys just get up every day, work like mules and enjoy it like it's play. I've worked along side American men for much of my life. I never had much trouble keeping up the pace til now. 

If you think these guys are stealing a job from somebody you just find Patrono an American, English speaking crew who he can count on like that. He'd take it in a heartbeat. Anybody? I didn't think so.

And what do these danmed ferners do with all that money? Don't tell anybody but.... they SPEND it! That's right! They own or rent houses, they date and sometimes engage and marry, they buy vehicles and tools.... they burn through work gloves and boots like paper towels and mow down on pounds of sandwiches, energy drinks and pepperoni rolls from the gas station. They have light bills and gas bills and vehicle repairs to pay for. They also pay taxes and SSI and UCI and Medicare and all the rest, just like everybody. To be blunt and just equally offensive as those who think these guys are somehow doing you out of something, it doesn't make one bit of difference where your mother was situated on the glorious day of your birth, we all contribute something--whatever we have and all we are--for good or ill, all of it just keeps on circulating in the economy and in society.

And these are the kind of people the Donald and his supporters want to run out of the country? I love these boys! These are the best kind of Americans, living the American dream and, btw, far more native physically, socially and spiritually than Castilian.

Sad to say that when they dropped me off after work last night, I had to remind them that, once again, the cops probably didn't get the memo on what it is we're celebrating today and to be very careful. I never once was stopped just for walking on the alley until I walked down that alley with a couple of "Them Mexicans" (Actually, a Tagalog and a very young half Puertarican who Nimo and I were sort of trying to keep out of trouble) late one Independence day evening. Now I watch Hoppy walk the alleyways every day, rockin some nice kicks bought and payed for many times over with fines I've payed behind that initial contact.

Donald Trump can pucker up and take a flyin' run at a rollin' donut!