Human Portrait I

(I'm labeling this #1 because perhaps this will become the first in a series of portraits of human encounters I've had.)

I'm remembering the first time I realized I was face to face with an "undocumented immigrant".... illegal alien we called him. 

It was the winter of 2013. I was working as a traveling insurance sales woman on commission. I was in the home of a policy holder in a poor neighborhood of Milwaukee, working with a training partner. We were visiting an elderly policy holder, reviewing his policies, and seeing if he wanted to re-up. He turned out to be the best looking 97 year old Hispanic man I've ever met- and uninsurable at his advanced age. While we were in his living room, another family member came in, listening to our insurance pitch, and started making conversation about buying a policy for himself. It wasn't another idle conversation, this guy was genuinely interested. Like, I want this stuff, sign me up now. An agent can tell. I opened an application on my laptop and asked a few opening questions- your name and date of birth???? The man had a weird reaction, one I've never seen. He literally shut down, and refused to answer any questions or engage in further conversation. I caught the eye of my partner, and dropped my line of questioning. A few minutes later, we exited the home, and my partner, by way of explanation, simply said, "Illegal." 

That was it. No commentary. No further explanation. No speculation. We continued our schedule without as much as a hiccup. Flawless execution, right there. An insurance agent in the field has to take whatever's thrown at him or her and adjust the plan accordingly with out a hitch. But I digress. 

I've sometimes wondered about that man. The first undocumented I know I've ever met. A man. A worker. A loved one. A human. But to so many, an illegal. But so human. 

That's it, then. It cannot be illegal to be human. Living. Breathing. Loving. Loved. Full of hope and potential. No human can be illegal.