Dear Barack Obama,

In the weeks leading up to the November 4, 2008 presidential election, I remember knocking on doors in areas mama told me to aviod.  I canvassed with an Asian one day, a young African-American girl the next day, a young progressive White man the next, and a retired woman the next.  I remember visiting the local Obama phone banking sight and seeing long-time Latino friends running the show (one of which was an immigrant student).  I drove a 15 passenger van over 150 miles on election day to north Kansas City, through midtown, and then to Harrisonville dropping off and picking up volunteers who were hitting the streets one last time. 

As a first semester law student who swore in writting not to work, I was driven to sacrifice multiple nights of studying to contribute my infinitely small part to elect you president of the United States.  I believed in your message of hope and change, you inspired me, and you sealed the deal with me that you were a champion of immigrant rights when you promised to push an immigration bill through congress in your first year.  Let me refresh your memory: 

"I cannot guarantee that it is going to be in the first 100 days. But what I can guarantee is that we will have in the first year an immigration bill that I strongly support and that I'm promoting. And I want to move that forward as quickly as possible." - Jorge Ramos interview with you on May 28, 2008. 

But oh boy...after that first year, despite the excuses by some (especially by democratic Senator Charles Schumer who was tasked with writing the bill) that health care, jobs, Iraq, and Afghanistan kept immigration reform off of the agenda, not a single bill was introduced or even written to address immigration reform.  I certainly hope Schumer took "Multi-tasking" off of his resume as a result.  PROMISE, along with the hearts of many immigrants, BROKEN...

I hope you didn't think that we weren't watching, would overlook it, or would somehow forget?  It is true that lately Republican presidential candidates are doing a great job of alienating their hopes of splitting the Latino vote in 2012 every time they open their mouths thumping their chests as to who hates immigrants more.  But, is that how you wish to approach the Latino electorate?  Would you rather be known as the better alternative as opposed to a champion for immigrant rights? Do you think your defensiveness and blaming of Republicans will inspire us?  Do you believe criticism of your record of on immigration is a "disservice to the cause of getting the DREAM Act passed and getting comprehensive immigration reform passed?" Do you believe this messaging strategy is going to excite Latinos, drive us to the polls, and gear us into action for your re-election efforts? 

Once upon a time your message was one of hope and change; that you could even lower the oceans:



Just so you know, as president you have the power to issue executive orders.  Presidents have issued them since the inception of the republic.  Hey look here, you are no exception. Here are listings of the executive orders you have issued: 2009, 2010, 2011.

Despite the 95 executive orders you've signed to date, an executive order providing immigration relief to undocumented kids seems to be your kryptonite I guess.  See, this was you a few weeks ago basically telling us that your executive powers are useless and that you can not go to bat for DREAM kids.  Maybe I'm wrong, but its seems the very fact that we are even challenging you on this point irks you a bit.  (from minute 25:30-28:00)


Isn't it a bit disrespectful to presume we don't know the law well enough to understand your mistatements of what you can and can not do as president? 

I urge you to go down the street and  ask US Senators, many of whom are lawyers,  if they believe you can and should use such powers you claim you don't have. 

Sadly, I also get the sense you know what powers you have, given that you are a constiutional law professor, but you'd just rather not confront it.  Confronting reality even seems tough for your team to face. As Harry S Truman would say, "I never give them hell, I just tell the truth and they think it's hell!" 



Bottom line is, its seems you will continue to spread the falsity that you don't believe your administation can priortize resources on criminals and not deport DREAM Act kids.  My message to you is simple: "Yes we can!"

We are not seeing in you a champion for immigrant rights.  In fact, what many Latinos see are record deportations (over 1 million! and on pace to out-deport George W. Bush in one term what took him two to accomplish!), and not just of criminals, but non-criminals are still being deported in the largest numbers than any other administration.  Even your "prosecutorial descretion" anouncement in August has no teeth, and eligible immigrants (Including DREAM kids) who were supposed to have their "low priority" cases administratively closed are still being deported.  We see inaction on pushing for the DREAM Act/CIR.  Most disheartening is that you generally portray the criticism you've received from Latinos as: 1) wrongly placed on you and should be placed on congressional Republicans, 2) not an issue you can address administratively without legislation, 3) and that such criticism does a disservice to the efforts of getting DREAM/CIR passed. 

You could only blame the Republicans if you yourself dedicated capital towards passage of immigration reform.  You can't blame the long muddy path as the reason why you did not make it up the hill if you never got in the driver's seat and turned on the ignition.  During the one-year window of time you promised CIR, you had 60 democratic votes and a Republican who committed to bring other Republicans on board.  You did not get on your bully pulpit for us when it mattered; or as of yet. 

This defensiveness of your record does not energize me or any Latino I've spoken with.  In fact, it is depressing us.  Addressing that you have shortcomings with regard to the Latino vote should be a priority.  The stakes could not be higher and a revamped messaging strategy will be critical in the key swing states with rapidly expanding Latino demographic shifts. 

I've been asked recently by a person affiliated with your 2012 re-election campaign: "Where are my Latinos at?"  The only answer I can think to give is that if only you had done what you promised, this question would never have arisen and we would already be in the trenches fighting for our champion.   

I wish I were politically savvy enough to show you exactly how to get us back on the wagon.  I can tell you that any effort to pass DREAM or Comprehensive immigration reform prior to the election without  placement of significant political capital will fail.  Any attempt at DREAM or CIR without your complete buy-in might allow you to deliver smooth talking points on the campaign trail and it might help you bash Republicans on their one way ticket to political suicide by alienating the Latino vote.  But forgive me for believing your pre-election hype of our issues will be anything but an sad attempt to court the Latino vote.  I will be watching with great focus. 

But first things first.  Mr. Obama, the first step to addressing a problem is to admit you have one.  Mr Obama, you have a Latino problem on your hands.  67% of Latinos supported you in your 2008 election, today only 47% of Latinos approve of the job you are doing.  Nationwide, 50,000 Latinos turn 18 every month.  In 2008, there were 18 million eligible Latino Voters, in 2012, that number will be 22 million.  With these kinds of numbers, in swing states like Florida, Nevada, New Mexico, and Colorado, if 67% of Latinos vote for you again...you will win, it's that simple.  Even in Missouri, registered Latino voters have risen 24% just from 2008-2010.  As states such as Nevada and Colorado may prove decisive battleground states for your re-election, I implore you to ask Harry Reid of Nevada how important the Latino vote was there (Won 94% of Latino Vote, won election by 5%), or Michael Bennet in Colorado if the Latino vote was important there (Won 81% of the Latino Vote, won by .5%) in 2010. 

I want you to know that Latinos are not single-issue voters.  Immigration, in fact, is not even a top five issue.  We are members of the general public and all other issues are important.  However, when the word "immigration" comes out of the mouth of a politician, Latinos listen with razor sharp focus.  So as you travel to swing states with large Latino populations, and when you begin your efforts to re-connect with the Latino vote, I'd advise you to reexamine your messaging. 

Mr. Obama, you have overpromised and underdelivered, and the bad news is you will suffer the inescapable political consequences. Will I advocate that Latinos sit this one out on election day?  Never.  But many Latinos are jaded along with me. When the time comes, those who do vote will likely vote for you as the better alternative, but not as our champion.  If your approach does not change, and we are not inspired or energized, perhaps many Latino voters might favor sitting out this election at the local Taco Tuesday special as seeming more tasty and less salty than a vote for you on that day.

Sincerely,

Raymond Rico

Wisdom Of Our Fathers: Heaven is For Real

[It has now been six months, or a half-year since my father's passing.  This is the blog piece I have wanted to share for quite some time.]

As a devout Catholic, I never needed any proof that there is in fact a heaven.  I have always believed without a shred of doubt that eternal life awaits us all.  Visions of heaven that accompany near death experiences are usually only told by those who live to tell about them.  For instance, the latest book I read was "Heaven is For Real," about a four year old boy named Colton who visited heaven while undergoing an emergency surgery, saw Jesus, met his unborn sister, his long-deceased grandfather, and confirmed biblical scripture that he had never been taught.  

Survivors and those who hear their stories draw strength from experiencing the beauty of heaven and, as a result, no longer fear death.  Now I too have my own set of stories that accompanied my dad’s departure from earth.  Although I never needed heaven to be confirmed to me, my dad's experience has shown me that yes, Heaven is for real, and as a result, that I should also no longer fear death.  I leave open the possibility that I have let myself read into these experiences a bit more than I should.  Most of these experiences I have not shared before now.  To me, they will remain stories with a hint of mystery, but with a ton of impact. 

Shortly after Dad's recovery from his initial 5+ hour long surgery on March 1st, he was wheeled to his room where we anxiously awaited his arrival.  Although still coming out of sedation, Dad was alert, was able to answer questions from nurses, looked me in the eye, said he felt little pain, and said he was thirsty.  When the first opportunity came for Dad to ask a question, his question took us all by surprise.  He asked with the most sincere and almost sad voice, "where's the little boy?" as though he expected him to enter the room behind him.  My mom responded, "what little boy, Cruzie? (his grandson)."  "No..." my dad said, "...the little boy that was with me downstairs."  

Despite the fact that he was still just coming out of surgery, there was a curiosity that just had to be explored, so I inquired further:
Me: "How old was the boy?"
Dad: "About five."  
Me: "What did the boy look like? Was he White, Black, Latino?"  
Dad: "Latino." 
Mom: "Was he cute like Cruzie?"
Dad: "He was cute, but not as cute as Cruzie."
The nurses were very busy but Mom then asked the nurse that wheeled him in whether there was a boy downstairs, and they responded that no child would be allowed with him, especially in the surgery room.  
Was this perhaps a guardian angel guiding dad through surgery?  We, unfortunately, will never know. But I know my dad had an experience during his surgery and in that moment, he cared more about the whereabouts of that boy than his own well-being or even chatting with us in the room.

I must admit that Dad had moments where it was clear he was not completely lucid. But I am still taken aback that Dad had some other-worldly experiences that seemed to always occur shortly after some of his most lucid moments.  I truly believe that dad was, for a time, living between two worlds. 

On Friday, April 1st, my father had one of his best days at the hospital, maybe his best.  During physical therapy, he took the most steps he had taken since undergoing an emergency additional 5+ hour surgery.  From his hospital bed he was making jokes, engaging in conversation, watching TV, and he did not fight me come feeding time, a small miracle.  Immediately after coherently responding to the nurse his name, birthday, and that he felt no pain, he turned to me and asked in Spanish: "Do you see those steps?" 
Me: "What steps?"
Dad: "Let's go!  (trying to get up from the bed and walk towards the steps)”
Me:  "No dad, what are you talking about?!"
Dad: "Those steps over there! (with a voice that suggested I must be blind)"
I walked towards the hospital wall where he was pointing: "There are no steps here Dad."
Dad: "You don't see those steps?"
Me: "Where do they go?"
Dad: "Al cielo (Heaven)"
Me: "No dad, it’s a hospital wall." (As I run my hand across the wall, even knocking on it to prove the point)
Dad: "Ramon, when you get a chance, dame unas toallas, una chiquita y una grande para las escaleras y traigame espuma (give me some towels, one little and one big for the steps and bring me some foam). Don't forget, ok?!"

Dad just looked back towards the hospital wall where he saw these steps and repeated, "don't forget."  Was he hallucinating?  Shortly thereafter, again the nurses came in, asked him questions. He was asked if he liked baseball (the season had just begun).  He said yes, he liked the royals (which still makes me smile that he admitted this).  He was asked if he liked music?  I joked, "he can sing too!"  My dad always thought that singers could (and do) make millions just repeating variations of the phrase: "ohhh baby!"  So, upon my request, he sang his "ohhh baby!" song for the nurse.

That night, despite the great day he had, my Tia was very concerned about this vision, but I interjected that my dad had his best day at the hospital and was lucid and his old self again.  I was happy.  Overnight, my dad began a sharp decline; his last.  

My Tia pointed out a similarity between what dad said at the hospital and the often omitted verse from the famous song “La Bamba” describing that the way to heaven has two sets of steps, a big one and a small one. Below are the key lyrics:

Para subir al cielo
Para subir al cielo se necesita
Una escalera grande
Hay una escalera grande y otra chiquita
Ay, arriba y arriba [listen from 0:43 below]



On a few occasions, my dad would have visions of his mother, who my dad loved tremendously and who passed away in 2003.  With a smile on his face, he would look towards the ceiling and state: "Ay que trabajadora es mama!"  (Oh, such a hard worker is mama!").  My mom asked, "What is she doing?"  He responded, "preparing things." 

Again, it was during some of Dad's more lucid moments that he would raise his hands up and say, "let's go!"  I'd respond: "Where dad?"  He'd respond "Home" and one time he responded "Heaven."  Shortly thereafter Dad said: “Has it come yet?”
Mom:  “Has who come yet?”
Dad: "The Holy Spirit."
Tia: "Don't talk like that, you still have a lot left to live for and still have many years left!
Dad: "Nope." (Shaking his head)

On Tuesday, April 5^th, I had one of those few dreams in my life that seemed not to be a dream at all.  I was staying at my parent’s home to look after mom and be close to family.  In this dream, I was in my car overlooking a hillside at dusk.  I could see the guard rails in the distance as though I were on a dead end street. 

However, on the right side of the street, I could see that there was a young girl with long black hair and a light complexion.  She was dressed in an angelic all-white dress.  As I looked at her face I noticed she was looking right at me, and she did not blink.  She had a big smile on her face that I could not help but focus in on.  For some reason, I first wanted to see if it was one of those evil smiles you see from villains in movies.  Quickly, I could dismiss that thought as I confirmed that this was, without a doubt, the most genuine and calming smile that I could ever only dream about. 

As I wondered what she was doing, I thought maybe she wanted to cross the street.  I waived for her to cross, and even honked my horn so she could acknowledge my waiving.  She did not flinch.  So, I gave up and just accepted that she just wanted to stand there, look at me, smile at me, and give me a sense that everything was going to be alright. 

As I woke up around 6am, I thought about this dream I had just had.  I called the hospital to check on my father’s status, where I was relieved just to know he was still alive, even though the news was grim.  I cried as I first told this story that day at work, because I felt that the reassurance did not indicate that everything was going to be great again.  This dream seemed to give me a sense that things were going to fall apart, but that despite the depth of the pain, and the sorrowful path ahead of me, she was there for me, and in that sense, everything was going to be alright.  I held on to that dream in the next few days as my dad continued to spiral downward until Dad ultimately passed.  I have held on to it since. 

Finally, for the last 14 years, Dad drove a 1992 van that had 6 doors (but only two worked), that you could hear from two blocks away as the engine roared.  Every month it seemed it was needing some work.  It smelled of leaking gas, had the check engine light perpetually lit, and had no working heater/AC/radio/wipers/interior lights/windows/locks.  Dad’s often stated quote was: “I’m not sure who’s going to go first, the van, or me.”  As it turned out, as I was driving the van two days before Dad’s surgery, the van finally stalled and there was no turning it back on.  Dad said that after the surgery he would buy a little truck.  Sadly, that day would never come.  However, two days after my father’s death, on Friday the 9^th, I had a dream that brought me to both tears and laughter.  Simply put, Dad was driving his van through the clouds on his way to heaven with a great big smile on his face.