Solidarity is a pipe dream: "Serranos" by Francisco Gonzalez (O.Henry Anthology 2024)

I've fallen behind on my analysis of stories from the 2024 Best Short Stories collection, a.k.a. the O.Henry Prize Winners anthology. It's been a trying time. I'm going to try to push through. This is going to be a half-assed post. The next few might be. Apropos of nothing, I'm looking for a new job, and if you happen to think I'm an amazing writer and know someone willing to offer anything remotely reasonable for this golden ergonomic keyboard of mine, please let me know. 

Two groups that should be on the same side and aren't

That's "Serranos" in a nutshell. There's the old school undocumented laborers who live in Ranch View Mobile Estates, the ones who work in a vineyard serving rich people, and the new school "Serranos" from the highlands back home who move into the Holiday Rambler next to all of the older laborers. The Serranos aren't circumspect like the old schoolers; they are loud and proud and set of fireworks on Fourth of July and play loud music and put American flags on the backs of their bikes that they ride to their jobs at the Greek restaurant. 

The children of the lowlanders admire the Serranos. Because the children have citizenship (for now! Stay tuned to see how this 14th Amendment drama shakes out!), they aren't as timid as their parents, and they like that the Serranos aren't timid, either. The children resent the parents for being--in their view--jealous of the freewheeling nature of the Serranos. The lowlanders begin to want the Serranos out, because their behavior draws too much attention. Although the mother figure among the Serranos, "Mother Paz" eventually charms the lowlanders with her southern-style tamales, and the elders finally appreciate the raw "sincerity" of the Serranos, the damage has already been done.  The Serranos are eventually picked up by Immigration before any real bond of solidarity can form. The old-timers become even more cautious not to be noticed. One day, before heading off to work, the lowlanders see Mother Paz back at Ranch View. She slips quietly into the Holiday Rambler. The old-timers recognize their fears toward their neighbors, how it was "easy to hate them," but they "couldn't bear to love them." They knock on her door in a belated, small gesture of understanding. 

It seems like nearly every best-of short story anthology has at least one hard-luck Latino story. This one stands out for the realistic way it portrays how people under stress actually behave, which isn't always nobly. There are too many things to worry about to be noble. The point of view of the narrator, the first-person plural "we/us," is always a loaded one. It can emphasize community by making all of the characters in the story belong together, or it can emphasize the opposite, which is polarity, because "we/us' implies a "they/them" who aren't part of the community. That's how it was in "The Little Widow from the Capital" by Yohanca Delgado. This story's use of we/us is also the latter type of use. 

The vast majority of people on the globe have every reason to work together to make their lives better, and yet it seldom happens. If it does happen, it usually happens too late to do much except remember. This story is incredibly timely, probably too timely. I should probably switch to reading werewolf romances for a while.