“All of us braceros are dead,” he said, clutching a cane and staring out the big picture window of a house near here that he shares with his children. “It would be for my funeral.”
You can read about justice to "Braceros" in a note on the NYT below.
The article ends like this:
“I remember everything, the fields, the places, the crops,” he said afterward. “But they are not accepting my memories.”
My father did not get justice, he would've been 90 years old next Saturday; he died when he was 62. He went to the States as part of the "Bracero" Program, and I accept his memories.
He was a great man.
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