John Grassby – Connected, Vincent Figliola

Inspired by Balancing Act by Richard Boyer and Connected by Vincent Figliol

John Grassby

The judge’s bench is elevated well above the rest of the courtroom. This, the old-before-hertime little girl notes, enables him to look down – literally and figuratively – on all the lesser beings crowded into the hot, humid space. The stench of nervous sweat is overpowering. Accompanied only by his court-appointed lawyer, the little girl’s father, appearing smaller and more beaten down than she remembers him being, stands in front of the judge. It has been obvious to the little girl from the outset, that the lawyer resents having been appointed to this case and his desultory representation has reflected that. She cannot hear his brief pre-sentencing words to the judge, but when he and the judge laugh together, shrug, and shake their heads in evident mutual exasperation at the moral turpitude of all defendants, she knows to expect the worst. In a louder voice than necessary to be heard over all the others, the judge announces, “The court having previously found you guilty as charged, you are hereby sentenced to three years in state prison. Let this be a lesson to you and all your countrymen who seem to think you can waltz across the border at will, then misbehave however you want.” The little girl sees her father sag even more.

Before the hearing her father had taken her aside to say, “Ay, m’hija querida – my daughter, my beloved daughter. Your dear departed mother and I are why you were born in this tortured time and place, this maelstrom known as la frontera, or the borderlands – a no man’s land marked only by arbitrary, otherwise meaningless lines in the desert. On one side one culture dominates, on the other side another, each fundamentally different from the other, each with its own reality

foreign to anything known to the other. Each side has its own rules, its own reality, if you will, each largely incomprehensible to the other. Yet both sides greatly need and depend on the other to an extent seldom fully realized, let alone appreciated. But for seemingly unlimited numbers of ready willing and able workers – currently about 15 million – at least a dozen different industries and businesses crucial to the economy of the north would be unable to function. In the south, only oil, tourism, and possibly the cartels contribute more to the overall economy than remittances wired from the north to those – mostly family members – still in the south. The racism, double standards, hypocrisy, and corruption of north and south alike in these arenas defy description.

To survive between the two cultures requires walking a razor’s edge, with ever changing rules and long, steep, slippery slopes on each side. Even with great mindfulness and good balance, it is difficult and hazardous in the extreme to traverse that winding, twisting edge for very long before tumbling off to one side or the other. Having once fallen off you are deemed to have squandered your opportunity and it is very difficult to climb onto that path again. My crime, repeated a hundred times a day, but without being caught, was bringing nannies north for wealthy northern matrons. For this inability to keep myself and my activities balanced, I am now being punished and sent away for a while. Until I return, you will stay with family – your mother’s sister and her children. She is very poor but very loving. You will be taken in and taken care of. I will miss you every day and more than I can express.”

Following a perfunctory exchange between the judge and the lawyer, apparently to showcase the humanity of the system, the little girl and her father are allowed to briefly speak and say goodbye. His hands are pointlessly cuffed behind his back making it impossible for him to hold her, but she holds him tightly enough to almost make up for that. He is so emotionally distraught he can’t speak, but she almost makes up for that by telling him how much she loves him.

The little girl’s sadness and sense of loss is devastating but, under no circumstances, will she reveal that weakness to anyone, least of all anyone in this courtroom or belonging to this alien culture. Then, a burly uniformed bailiff twice her father’s size tightens his grip on her father’s arm and leads him away. She will never see him again. u