I spent time with a friend yesterday for one last chat before I leave the area. We had a lovely lunch at her home, and a long talk in air-conditioned comfort while her husband worked in the yard and their dog vied for our attention.

We’re both transplants from the north, of similar political viewpoints, and so the conversation naturally turned at some point to current events. And my friend shocked me by saying that she no longer leaves her house without her U.S. passport and her birth certificate . . . just in case.

You see, she is the daughter of Puerto Rican parents. And, although her parents were U.S. citizens, as are all Puerto Ricans, and she herself was born in New York, her ethnicity makes her a possible target for some sharp-eyed but dim-witted ICE agent who might see her light brown skin as a threat or a temptation.

And that makes me want to vomit.

My friend is as American as I am. She holds a master’s degree, and had a long professional career in public service before retiring several years ago. She is happily married, has adult children and young grandchildren, pays her taxes, and does volunteer work in the community.

But for the first time in her life, she is afraid. And I am afraid for her.

Like most people, I read about the daily roundups and deportations of immigrants — most of them law-abiding, and many of them already naturaized — and the mistaken detentions of American-born citizens who just happen to look as though they might be from somewhere else. And I want to rage at the injustice, illegality, and downright indecency of it all.

And now that it affects someone I know and care about, I am better able to understand the feeling of helplessness that so many others are experiencing. It is intolerable, and it must be stopped.

This is not Russia, where people can be snatched off the street on any sort of excuse and made to disappear. This is America.

But it’s getting more and more difficult to tell the difference.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/2/26