Remembering our fathers

One reader's proposal for a local street name, La Calle de Los Padres

I would not name anything in Arizona after Cesar Chavez (Which way to Cesar Chavez Street, by Israel Torres, May LPM).

I grew up a migrant farm worker. I went to Montana for the sugar beets, to Utah for the cherries, to Oregon for the green beans and Selma, (Ala.), for the raisins — and this was only for the summer months. The rest of the year my father supported nine of us and made sure we went to school.

I met some of the Chavez goons when they went to Queen Creek to try to persuade my father to join their cause. When they tried to climb the fence … he held them back because (he) was a licensed contractor (who carried) a firearm. They went to the Ft. McDowell reservation to speak to my father and when they could not find him, they assaulted a brown-skinned tribal member who was working. They mistook (him) for a Mexican who was working for the Western Sugar Company. (My father was working for this company, which had holdings on the reservation.) He told the United

Farm Workers he had a family to support and employees who also had families. They told (him) they did not care about this issue; they were only interested in boycotting the sugar company.

I am proud to be the son of a migrant farm worker who taught me and my family the value of hard work. I see my tax dollars were used to name a high school after (Chavez).

Enough. I saw his people, who worked their kids year-round in Michigan and the other states and then would hide out in Sunnyside, Wash., to collect food stamps during the winter. (They) would wait for the crop cycle to begin to pull their kids out of school and work the fields. My father never pulled us out of school and when offered food stamps in Oregon he said no. I was insulted in Utah because we could not shower in a White labor camp. Also in Utah we lived in a chicken coop; we slept outside, we showered in the canal at night, taking turns to allow the women some privacy.

So any changes were made by men like my father, who made a difference and never forgot who he was or his heritage. Ramon Rosas Rodriguez of Monterrey, Mexico, who … came to Queen Creek with my mother, following the cotton harvest, (making) a home there and (raising) nine children.

These men, like my father and other fathers who made a difference, are the men who need a street named in their honor. “Sacrifice with a community-minded purpose,” as you put in your article. But what about the most important aspect of our Hispanic life: family? You want a street name? Here it is: La Calle de Los Padres.

Pedro S. Rodriguez
Chandler