“I grew up in California’s Central San Joaquin Valley, surrounded by acres and acres of oranges, grapes, and various other fruit and vegetable farms. I have vivid memories of those Saturday mornings when the workers would come and pick the oranges just outside my bedroom window. Sometimes I would be upset that my sleep was disturbed, but most of the time, I would open the blinds and watch them for a while. The work was fast and difficult. They filled their satchels and hustled down their ladders to empty them into large bins that were positioned in between the long rows of trees. Some of them sang songs or told jokes to make the day go by faster; all of them were drenched in sweat by the end of the day. I tried to pick up one of the full satchels one day and couldn’t believe how heavy it was. From then on, I’ve always held a deep respect for agricultural workers of any kind.”
