I find many of Donald Trump’s statements to be vile and offensive. But what upsets me most is the way he vilifies immigrants, legal and illegal.

A few examples:

Undocumented immigrants are “poisoning the blood of our country.”

“These are the worst criminals in the world… These people are the most violent people on Earth.”

The former president said he would “rescue Aurora (Colorado) and every town that has been invaded and conquered” by immigrants.

I think most Sanpete County residents will agree that such characterizations do not comport with our lived experiences with first and second-generation immigrants.

The man who has taken care of the sprinkler system at my townhome complex for at least 15 years is Hispanic. He knows sprinklers. And he doesn’t charge beans.

The lovely lady at the main desk when I walk into one of our banks is a second-generation immigrant. Once I overheard a conversation in which a local person was having a problem with a bank in the Southeast—North Carolina, I believe. The lady straightened it out. 

When I’m driving down the highway and see men on horses and ATVs moving cattle and sheep, at least half the time they are Hispanic. Where would our ranchers be without their help? And where would our country be without the meat they help produce?

At a Moroni City Council meeting several years ago, the mayor pointed to a classy, new textured paint job in the council room. He said the city had provided the paint and some Hispanic men in the community had painted the large room for free. 

Such a donation is not that extraordinary. Most of us pitch in at some point or other to help our community or our neighbors. What it shows is that our Hispanics neighbors are no different than us. They’re a vital part of our communities. 

I grew up in Salt Lake City, in Sugarhouse. My dad, who was a contractor, built our house. After my dad died, my mother, who was in her 80s, lived there alone for a while. Once she saw an ad from a company, a Caucasian-owned company, promising to paint people’s houses for $10,000. The company said it would guarantee the job for 20 years.

The company ripped off my elderly mother. Lots of the old paint was flaking off. The company did no prep work. They sprayed over the top of all the defects and were off the property in a day. 

Years later, I inherited the house. By then, it was in serious shape. The whole exterior had bumps on it from the flakes underneath. Someone told me they thought the company that painted the house had used a type of paint used to paint airplanes. A lot of the wood trim was rotting.

I called a Hispanic-owned company here in Sanpete. The owner and his crew drove to Salt Lake, stayed overnight in the house during the week and came back to the county on weekends. They were on site for at least three weeks.

They worked hard, in the summer heat, pressure-washing the house. Then scrapped and scraped, and sanded and sanded. They brought in lumber and rebuilt the rotted features. I’m grateful to them. And I’m proud of the house. Significantly, the historic look has been preserved. 

Acceptance of immigrants is personal to me because some first-generation and second-generation immigrants are part of my adopted family. 

In the late 1990s, a girl who was half Hispanic was placed with me as a foster child. I picked her up at Youth Corrections. She came from an extended family where no adult had ever graduated from high school.

While she was living with me she posted a poem on her bedroom wall with the words, “I cannot know the unknown if to the known I cling.” 

In 2018, I went the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill to see that girl get a doctorate. She was the valedictorian of her doctoral class. Today she is a major in the U.S. Army. “Poisoning the blood of America” my eye.

A Hispanic boy lived with me for a couple of years here in Manti and graduated from Manti High School. He came from a very disadvantaged background. Today is one of the top car salesmen for a Ken Garff dealership. And get this, he is starting a trucking company. He owns two semi-trucks.

One of that boy’s relatives, who is just now trying to legalize, also lived with me in Sanpete. He is one of the finest people I know. When he stuffed and addressed newspapers, his piles were always the highest of any of the kids who worked for me. And the stacks were perfectly straight. 

I haven’t mentioned all the hardships these immigrants and their families had been through. I know of two immigrants whose family members in Mexico had been murdered. They crossed the border to save their lives. 

I submit that some of the people who complain about immigrants, would not hesitate, if in the same situation, to cross a border illegally themselves. And if we don’t preserve our Constitution and the rule of law in America, some of us could face that very prospect.