Carrie and I walk a lot. Most evenings you’ll find us circling our neighborhood or winding through Summit Park. Sometimes it feels like we’ve worn our own paths into the concrete.

Last Sunday, just after the Dodgers’ big triumph, we were out again on our usual loop when I noticed an older pickup parked in front of a friend’s house, its trailer filled with landscape debris. After 45 years in the landscape business, I’ve met more than a few workers and had a hunch I might know these guys.

Two men emerged from the backyard, and one called out, “Gary — Mr. Gary!” We crossed the street. Hands were shaken, smiles shared. The man said he’d worked for our company until a decade ago. His friend nodded — he too had once been part of our crew.

We caught up on old times.

“How’s business these days?” I asked.

He sighed. “Slowing down. Fewer jobs during the week, and people are cutting back on weekend work.”

“Yeah,” I said, “money’s tighter for everyone.”

Still, his family was doing fine. His kids had gone to college; everyone was healthy and working hard. Then our conversation turned serious.

“How’s it going with ICE?” I asked quietly. “Do you know anyone who’s been taken away?”

He nodded. “Yes. A couple of guys I’ve known my whole life. It’s terrible.”

He explained that many workers here come from the same small region of Mexico — ranch hands, farmworkers, construction workers. People who love working outdoors and take pride in it. Many who know........

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