We, the People

Remy(short for Remiel) is a middle aged family man who is the grandson of a Spanish immigrant, Serafin. After he loses his job he re-examines his life and motivation, or lack thereof. In his quest for survival in the face of limited opportunities he realizes that the majority of the social safety nets aren’t designed to help a middle class man who falls on bad luck.  After he breaks out of his self-pity he decides that commiserating about the way things are won’t accomplish anything.  As he reflects on the difficulties of his grandfather’s path he decides to enter the world of politics with the ambition of being in a position to change his world.

The story alternates between his grandfather’s initial life in America and Remiel’s.

This is a novel for everyone who has ever worked for anything in their life and experiences a upheaval in their status quo and has had to reach down deep to support their family only to realize that perhaps much of their motivation comes from the gifts that were given by their family members who had come before.

This novel is printed on the Starry Night imprint.

The nations shall see your righteousness, and all the kings your glory, and you shall be called by a new name that the mouth of the LORD will give.

Isaiah 62:2 

  Serafin finally made his way to the front of the line in the Registry room.  As he found himself in front of the immigration inspector, the feelings of overpowering intimidation returned. He noticed that the inspector sat behind a large desk on a raised platform. Directly behind the inspector was the American flag and a portrait of George Washington whom Serafin didn’t really know.  As he approached the inspector he almost felt as though he were at the gates of heaven and answering St. Peter’s questions of his earthly indiscretions.

     “Name?” barked the inspector.  From his height and position the inspector sounded larger than he was.  The truth was though, that he was actually a slight built man who, himself, was a child of Irish immigrants. He was, in fact, a true first generation American of the new immigrants who just happened now to be sitting in judgment upon the new immigrant hopefuls.

     “Serafin Gayo-Arias, sir.” Serafin craned his neck upwards towards the inspector.
“Gayo?” the inspector repeated without looking up from the papers in front of him.
“Yes, Gayo-Arias”
“Ok, Gayo.  Do you have any relatives in the United States?”
“No, No sir”

 

 

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