Aussie had a lot of opinions about the hibiscus shown above, which I was going to address in this post, and then couldn’t. All day I’m hearing terrible stories about kidnappings by ICE agents, tremendous violence from the outset, no questions asked.

Tomorrow evening is our meeting of the local committee to protect immigrants. Jimena called to say she has to work that evening, but she was upset.

The father of one of her families, as she calls them, went up to Burlington, Vermont to attend an appointment made by the immigration courthouse. He met with his lawyer there, they attended the hearing, and when he came out, he was nabbed by ICE agents and taken for deportation. They’re trying to at least get him out temporarily on bail (if they do, I may well be asking for money for that cause), but so far—nothing. Just deportation.

The really scary thing is that his wife has the same exact appointment in two weeks’ time. They have two small children. Imagine what she’s feeling now, imagine the fear at the prospect of going with no idea if she’ll come back to her fatherless children or not.

As soon as I heard this, I emailed a friend to ask what he knows about volunteers in Burlington to wait outside the building for the woman. If ICE agents go after her, at least there will be witnesses and videographers to video the event and do what is helpful. At the very least, to bear witness, not turn away.

I also told her that if that doesn’t happen, I will try to drive up there with her (2-3/4 hours) and also enroll others to come along.

I have no idea what good I can do, which is pretty much how I felt about going to Minneapolis. But how do you ignore the cries? Sure, I can go crazy about the war with Iran, the bombings and violence, the man in the White House, but what good does that do to the folks suffering here? I can’t do much about the Middle East other than to talk on the phone with folks living there and rushing to shelters, but I can do something here.

This is a quick post because I want to get something about this situation out, it sticks in my craw. I learned from blogger Jon Katz, who first encouraged me to blog after Bernie had his big stroke. When I told him there was no time, he said: “You can’t afford not to.” That’s how I feel right now.

One last thing. Jimena always calls the families my families and their children my children. She also calls me my Eve. It never fails to touch me. Other than my mother, nobody ever called me that. I wish we could see all people as my Kevin, my Celia, my Magnolia, my Juan, my Rosaria. We’re family, after all!