This summer I became good friends with a young Mexican woman named Ruby. She came through a student work program and she landed in my restaurant, cooking and washing dishes in our hot kitchen all summer long.
She gave up a year of university to come, as the program ended long after the start of the Mexican "Fall semester."
She really came to find her father, who, for the last thirteen years has worked two jobs in San Francisco, a jewelry store by day and a restaurant by night. He sent money back to the family in Mexico but he himself could not travel. As an undocumented worker he would lose his source of income and even, perhaps his life, if he were to try to re-enter the U.S.
I wondered what she would find when she got to San Francisco? What if he had a second family there?
She always spoke of him with nothing but fondness. Over the thirteen years he had faithfully called home.
Ruby posted pictures this morning of Alcatraz, cable cars, Pier 39 and sea lions. And pictures of her dad.
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