Sweating the big stuff

Dear You,

She seemed impossibly small, and her heavy boots, leather gloves, and wide-brimmed hat made her all but disappear. She was the crew chief for the roofers who arrived this morning, and apparently the only one who spoke any English.

All day long she was on my roof. In the morning, she helped the four men she brought with her in the truck remove my old, worn-out shingles. Except for accepting my offer for more water and some ice for the cooler, she never stopped. Her crew worked steadily, talking little, wonderfully efficient.

I do not know if they ever stopped for lunch. I never saw them sitting around with cigarettes or sandwiches or even cups of water. In the hot, Florida sun they bent their backs and they stripped off that roof.

In the afternoon they put down the new underlayment and stacked bundle after bundle of new shingles, readying the job for tomorrow, when they will return to finish the contract. As the sun went lower in the sky and the breeze picked up, they scavanged the lawn for debris, even running a wheeled apparatus with a bar magnet to pick up any stray nails. The team leader was always there, quietly directing the various tasks, and she drove away at the wheel of that big truck. When I thanked her, she smiled beautifully.

I am amazed by those people who say we should close our borders to those -- like the ones I met today -- who will come to our country to do such arduous tasks as I watched today. I couldn't do it. Would you want to?