J and M Custom Boots: A Legacy of Resiliency
The young boy reached Chihuahua City at dawn. He’d brought a couple of tortillas wrapped around some meat in a paper sack for breakfast. As he nibbled on them, he wondered if his family had noticed him missing from their home in Juarez yet. The year was 1950, and the 15 year old had hitchhiked down from Juarez to sign up for the Bracero program. He thought that nothing could be better than to arrive in North America as a migrant worker. He would soon be making a man’s wages in the United States. As he walked towards the offices, the size of the mob intimidated him. Men were waiting for their names to be called so they could board the trucks to their new jobs. As he pushed his way up to an official with a clipboard, some of the men began to laugh at him. He asked one of them why they were laughing.
“Because you have to be 18, stupid,” said the man. “Go home and grow up.”
The boy hung his head and turned
