Way back when, I went in a caravan of SF Labor Council activists to Delano; I brought with us my daughters, ages about 10 and 11. While Cesar wasn’t there, Dolores was; so was Larry Itliong. We ate baloney sandwiches on white bread with the farm workers. We listened to the accounts of their lives. I believe that was the best grounding as good, sensitive citizens my children could ever have had. One is now a scientist at NCI, the other an accountant who works with non profits. They are both aware of and take part in social causes. I recall on the way back someone having to get out of the car for a while and walk ahead with a flashlight to give the driver enough visibility through the foggy landscape. That was a day I will always remember. Few years later, for an executive meeting of my union, the SF-Oakland Newspaper Guild, I was able to plunk down on the table huge bunches of grapes, the first most of us had had in years.