I did very little to support the farmworkers in the late 60s. I donated to a food coop near Modesto California, that’s about all. But my heart was with the farmworkers. “There but for fortune go I,” I thought. I felt a lot of appreciation and sympathy for poor people doing the work that other Americans didn’t want to do, and trying to make a better life for themselves and their families, while providing a valuable service to the American community.
Later, once during a psychotic episode, I was wandering lost in the rural area near Monterey, CA . A farm labor truck picked me up with some laborers, and dropped me off at a work sitel. When the lunch wagon came, I stood in line with the other laborers. One of them, without being asked, gave me a dollar. “Pan Dulce” he said. I was touched by his generosity to a total stranger, and a “Gringo” at that, and I’ve never forgotten it.