What Gerardo taught me while waiting in line
Gerardo is a window washer. He works the line of cars each night at the “garita” as commuters make their way back into the United States from Agua Prieta, Sonora, Mexico. I cross about three times a week and expect to see him there, rain or shine.
When the line is long and cars are moving at a snail’s pace, Gerardo shines. He directs traffic with his loud voice, long arms, and piercing whistle. He’s got one of those whistles that I wish I had. One of those where he folds his bottom lip with his hand and blows.
Gerardo always takes time to talk to me. He tells me about his kids and why he chooses to come out each night. He shows me how much he’s made. He takes out the foil-wrapped burrito in his pocket telling me that it’s dinner someone gave him earlier. I ask him what kind it is and he says it’s bistek ranchero con salsa roja. Sounds delicious.
As I inch my way closer to the gate, I see him going up and down. He has a lot of energy. He always does. When people tell him no, or just wave their fingers letting him know that they don’t need his services, he thanks them anyway. Gerardo gets a lot of noes. Window washing is a profession of rejection.
If I were a window washer, I think I would find it hard to keep a positive attitude, day in and day out, like Gerardo does. The sun can wear you…
