As a kid, I spent many summers and winter breaks running around my grandparents’ neighborhood in South St. Paul. They were refugees from the former Yugoslavia after WWII and moved to the U.S. as teenagers who barely spoke English. When I see the photos and videos of ICE raids and brutality on the news, I see their neighborhood. The swings I swung on in enclosed porches. The snow-covered driveways I watched my grandpa shovel each morning. I can’t imagine what you are all going through, but I can try. Thank you is never enough. You all represent what is good and bright in this world. I’d hug every single one of you if I could. Fight like hell, you are not alone!