Diversity Writing Contest Immigrant’s Toil Pays Big Dividends

“Your father won’t be home for dinner tonight. He has Homebuilders.”

“Your father won’t be home for dinner tonight. He is working late.”

“Your father won’t be home for dinner tonight. He has a board meeting.”

My mother’s words come back to be as I reflect on the early ‘50s, the years of my childhood in the Spokane Valley. My father was rarely home at all. And he was Mexican. Were the two facts related? And why did he have all of those meetings?

Through the years, my father told me stories that began to answer those questions and help me understand issues about ethnic diversity.

It began during World War II. He was a young man in Mexico City when he signed up for pilot training. At the time, Mexicans felt they may be pulled into the war, and they needed trained pilots. He would have to go to the U.S. for the training, but upon graduation, he would return to his country to await assignment.

When it was time to return to Mexico, something changed his plans. The “something” was my mother, Jean Smith, a young American woman from Spokane who was also in pilot training. They fell in love and returned to Spokane to be married.

When they arrived in Spokane, my father met with a pretty cool reception from my mother’s family and friends. He was “different.” He came from a “foreign” country and spoke a “foreign” language. He was a “foreigner.” And people from his particular country came with some less-than-complimentary stereotypes. Mexicans were thought to be “stupid” and “lazy.”

He found that his diplomatic heritage and Mexican law degree meant nothing here. He would have to prove his value and dispel the myths if he was to become a respected member of this community. He made a plan.

He would have to work longer and harder at his job and beyond to show his character and worth. He put in numerous hours during the week and added Saturdays and nights. He joined service and professional organizations, volunteering his time and talent.

Together with my mother and grandparents he started the first savings and loan association in the Valley, a business that later was bought by Pacific First Federal and is currently Washington Mutual Bank.

Carlos H. Landa is my father. At 85 years old, he still resides in Spokane, and, until just recently, continued to also serve the country of his birth for 46 years as honorary Mexican consulate. He proved himself in the business world and community many times over.

I don’t know what my father’s life would have been like had he not settled in a community where he was the sole “foreigner” for many years. I do know he helped raise and educate five children who all have a strong appreciation of ethnic diversity. They often missed him at the dinner table, but today they love and respect him very much.