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SAN DIEGO — In tribute to John McCain, this Labor Day weekend I’m serving up straight talk about the American work ethic.

McCain was, of course, an early champion of comprehensive immigration reform — including a path to earned citizenship for some undocumented immigrants.

The Arizona senator had a powerful ally on his side: reality. Protesters would get in his face and challenge his claim that illegal immigrants do jobs that American citizens wouldn’t take.

Fed up, McCain at one point gave an audience a personal offer. The senator told them: “I’ll offer anybody here $50 an hour if you’ll go pick lettuce in Yuma … and pick for the whole season. So, OK, sign up!” There wasn’t exactly a flood of applications.

Today, in the agricultural hub of Central California, farmers tell me they’re paying $30 per hour to pick tomatoes and $40 per hour to pick melons. On the coast, they’re paying $60 per hour to pick avocados. They still can’t find enough workers.

Is this the glorious American work ethic that we’re all celebrating this weekend?

Setting aside one day a year to honor the nation’s workers by not working — and instead engaging in leisure activities such as barbecuing and going to the beach — seems bizarre. This is especially true when there is a labor shortage and more vacant jobs than there are people who are willing and able to do them.

Remember just a few years ago when people used to say there were no jobs and that no was hiring?

Look around your town. When have you ever seen so many “Help Wanted” signs? Restaurants, dry cleaners, florists, drugstores. They all need employees.

Who’s going to do those jobs? Probably not your kid. The percentage of teenagers with summer jobs was this year at an all-time low.

Given that we’re raising another generation of children with a poor work ethic, and who often think they’re entitled to a free ride through life, I propose we change the name of the holiday to what it really signifies: “Parental Failure Day.”

When have you ever heard a politician say that? It doesn’t take guts to tell a roomful of voters that Mexico is invading the United States. What takes guts is telling people they stink at parenting.

When I hear Americans try to justify why they’re not taking this job or that one, it always boils down to money. Some jobs are just not worth our time, it seems.

A lot of people insist that employers overlook U.S. workers so they can hire foreign laborers — either low skilled or high skilled — because supposedly they’re cheaper.

Rubbish. Talk to a human resources manager, and they’ll set you straight. Not only do immigrant and foreign workers have the same cost-of-living expenses as U.S.-born workers, the former often cost the employer more money at the beginning because of the price of visas.

How many journalists go out and talk to employers to get their side of the story? I do. I hear from employers all the time — at speeches, in my inbox and at worksites.

What I hear does not speak well for American workers.

Employers tell me that American workers fail drug tests, show up to work late, rush out at quitting time, pretend to be sick when they want to ditch, refuse to do certain jobs, and generally act like they’re doing the employer a favor just by clocking in.

One small business owner told me that when she hired American workers, the first thing they asked about was salary and time off. With immigrants, all they wanted to know was how much work they could get. Who do you think she preferred to hire?

As for the critics who used to hound McCain, the senator got the last laugh.

By 2007, Jon Kyl, his fellow Arizona senator, had joined the fight for immigration reform. And before long, both of them were having their Senate offices in Phoenix picketed.

I saw a video of one memorable encounter. Clearly stung by McCain’s challenge to put up or shut up, one group showed up at his office holding heads of lettuce. “See, we can pick lettuce too,” said one of the protesters.

They were handsome heads of lettuce, too. In fact, they looked so pristine, I assumed they came from a produce aisle instead of a field.

I bet that spectacle made McCain grin. And, in his honor, it should make the rest of us think.

Ruben Navarrette’s email address is ruben@rubennavarrette.com.

SAN DIEGO — Current events being what they are, the death of John McCain is especially poignant for those of us in this coastal city.

That’s because, just days before the 81-year-old went to his rest, San Diegans witnessed a spectacle that was the antithesis of everything McCain stood for. And it drives home what Americans have lost.

The Arizona senator was defined by courage and character. The former POW showed both when he told his North Vietnamese captors to shove it rather than accept early release so the son of a four-star admiral could be turned into a propaganda tool. As a result, his stay at the Hanoi Hilton was extended.

Meanwhile, Rep. Duncan D. Hunter, R-Calif., appears to have never made the acquaintance of either courage or character. It’s a deficit for which the 41-year-old has long been given a free pass because he’s an ex-Marine who served in Iraq and Afghanistan.

It is assumed that when you volunteer to serve your country in uniform and go into battle on its behalf that you must automatically have courage and character.

But those of us with a few more miles on our tires know that it’s not that simple. Some who serve have those things; some don’t.

It turns out, Hunter doesn’t. Last week, the congressman — who represents a district just northeast of San Diego — found himself on the wrong end of a 47-page indictment on federal corruption charges for allegedly misusing campaign funds. Hunter and his wife, Margaret, are accused of dipping into the campaign till to pay for various personal expenses, ranging from dental bills to football tickets to a family trip to Italy.

Hunter got his job the old-fashioned way. He inherited it from his father, an ex-congressman with the same name, who no doubt used his own political influence to clear a path for his son.

I see junior as an underachiever who needed a leg up from Dad. In fact, if he had been named “Smith,” he might have found his true calling as a rodeo clown.

It’s OK that Hunter might not be the sharpest knife in the drawer. For instance, he says the most baffling things. He once said at a constituent meeting that it might be a good idea to deport the U.S.-born children of illegal immigrants.

Also known as U.S. citizens. Hint: We don’t deport U.S. citizens.

It’s not the end of the world that, after an FBI investigation, Hunter now finds himself in a scrape with federal prosecutors. Maybe he’ll beat the rap.

What is unforgivable, however, is how Hunter performed under pressure. He cracked. With his back up against the wall, and in danger of tarnishing the family name by doing at least a nickel in a federal penitentiary, the congressman did the unthinkable: He sacrificed his spouse on the altar of self-preservation.

Responding to the charges in television interviews, Hunter blamed his wife, Margaret, who had his power of attorney and ran the family finances.

So, congressman, you mean to tell us that you’re totally in the dark and that the guy standing next to your wife in those vacation photos from Italy, that’s not you?

What a punk. This ex-Marine may have been an officer, but obviously he’s no gentleman.

Let’s see. McCain wouldn’t break as a prisoner of war while subjected to beatings and torture and isolation. And Hunter falls apart under the bright lights of a television camera?

McCain’s greatness stemmed from the fact that he grasped — perhaps because of those hellish 5 1/2 years in North Vietnam — his proper relationship to God, country and family. Next to each, it was clear, he felt small and insignificant.

We all should feel that way. If you get that, you will be remembered. If you don’t, you will be forgotten.

God. Country. Family. Those were the things on McCain’s mind at the end. They were there in his final words — presented in a statement read this week by longtime aide and friend Rick Davis.

God: “Farewell, fellow Americans. God bless you, and God bless America.” Country: “Do not despair of our present difficulties but believe always in the promise and greatness of America.” Family: “I am the luckiest person on earth. … I owe that satisfaction to the love of my family. No man ever had a more loving wife or children he was prouder of than I am of mine.”

To borrow a line: Congressman Hunter, I knew John McCain. I admired John McCain. You’re no John McCain.

Ruben Navarrette’s email address is ruben@rubennavarrette.com. His daily podcast, “Navarrette Nation,” is available through every podcast app.

(c) 2018, The Washington Post Writers Group

SAN DIEGO – Today, I begin a new chapter in my career as a journalist. For the first time in three decades, I’ll have to face the daunting task of writing and talking about a world of politics that doesn’t have John McCain in it. I can’t conceive of it. Frankly, I dread it.

I think of McCain’s path — from the U.S. Naval Academy to the Hanoi Hilton to 36 years in the House and Senate to two presidential campaigns – and how well he handled it all.

Then I look at the newer models that make up America’s crop of Politicians 2.0. I see elected officials who break promises, flip positions, betray constituents, lie to supporters and work magic tricks worthy of Houdini to get out of scrapes.

In fact, when their backs are up against the wall, some will even sacrifice their loved ones on the altar of self-preservation.

Last week, after being indicted on federal corruption charges for allegedly misusing campaign funds on trinkets like a family trip to Italy, Rep. Duncan Hunter Jr., R-San Diego, blamed the whole thing on his wife to whom he had given power of attorney. Hunter – a former Marine who served in Iraq and Afghanistan — may have been an officer, but obviously he’s no gentleman.

McCain — who spent 5 ½ years as a prisoner of war after being shot down by the North Vietnamese during the Vietnam War — would often joke that he had built his career backwards. “I was in prison, and then I went into politics,” he said.

Hunter seems headed in the other direction.

I think of all that, and then I think of McCain. And I am left with the most anguishing sense of inadequacy — and loss.

Now McCain has gone to his rest at 81 after losing his last fight — a year-long battle against brain cancer. And, in politics, all that’s left is the dregs.

I knew McCain for 20 years. And yet I might not have ever met him at all had I not packed my belongings into my Jeep Cherokee in the summer of 1997 and moved to Phoenix — despite not knowing a soul in the Grand Canyon state — to take a job as a reporter and metro columnist at the Arizona Republic.

As I try to nail down what made McCain special and attempt to explain the huge footprint he left on the American political scene at the end of one century and the beginning of another, my heart swells and my mind races. In the end, all I can come up with is honor, Cambridge (Massachusetts), lettuce, nachos, and my mother.

Honor: This was the word that brought us together. In late 1998, I read a news article in the Republic about McCain’s phenomenal level of support from Latinos in his Arizona Senate races — upward of 65 percent. Everyone was talking about how Gov. George W. Bush was getting 44 percent of the Latino vote in Texas, and here was McCain outdoing that by 20 points. In the article, McCain described the Latino support as his “honor.”

In 1999, I wrote a column about McCain and Bush facing off for the GOP nomination in the 2000 presidential campaign. I ended it this way: “One imagines that someone who spent 5 ½ years in the Hanoi Hilton does not take lightly a word like honor.” McCain read the column and found a classy, back channel way of expressing his gratitude.

Cambridge, MA: It’s the winter of 1999, and I’m standing in the well of the John F. Kennedy School of Government at Harvard, where McCain — who was then running for the 2000 Republican nomination for President — had just delivered an inspirational speech to students. A young man in the audience headed for military service got a round of applause when stood up and told McCain that he would be “proud” to serve under such a Commander-in-Chief. I approach McCain with a smile and a gift — a Kennedy School cap.

He sees me, says: “Ruben! My God, how are you? Good to see you, Man!” Standing next to me is my professor, David Gergen, who sees the whole thing. Then, McCain — shaking my hand vigorously — turns to Gergen and sings my praises. Later, Gergen would tease me in front of my entire class. “The gushing! It was embarrassing,” he told my classmates. Everyone had a laugh at my expense.

Lettuce: As an outspoken champion of comprehensive immigration reform, including a path to citizenship for the undocumented, McCain came under fire from members of his party — conservative Republicans whose understanding of the realities of the immigration debate was one taco short of a combination plate. Protesters would challenge him on his claim that immigrants — no matter how they got here — did jobs that Americans wouldn’t do.

Not one to back down from an argument, McCain at one point made protesters a personal offer. He would tell them: “I’ll pay you $50 an hour to go to Yuma and pick lettuce — for the whole season! Will you do it?” He got no takers. Maverick 1, Critics 0.

Nachos: McCain’s rational approach to immigration made other Republicans look bad. Few looked worse than Rep. Tom Tancredo, the openly nativist GOP Congressman from Colorado who also sought the GOP presidential nomination in 2008. McCain was likely thinking of Tancredo when — during a phone interview in October of that year, just before he would lose to Barack Obama — he told me this: “During the immigration debate, it’s very clear that a lot of the language and rhetoric that was used (by Republicans) made Latino citizens believe that we were anti-Latino.”

And this: “Throughout our history, we have always had people who stoked nativist instincts.” At one point, during the primary, all the GOP hopefuls were in a Mexican restaurant in Las Vegas before a debate. I asked McCain if there was any truth to a story floating around that Tancredo had taunted him over his support from Latinos. “Yeah,” McCain said, “we were in a restaurant and he just sent over a plate of nachos. What do you say to something like that? I just said, `Thanks very much.’”

My mother: My mom is a South Texas, Rio Grande Valley lifelong Democrat who, at 21, had her heart broken by the national tragedy that unfolded in Dallas on November 22, 1963. She went all in for Hillary Clinton in both 2008 and 2016 — the t-shirt, the book, the whole nine yards. In fact, she has only voted for one Republican in her entire life. In the 2008 primary, she was — as a child of the Vietnam era — so moved by McCain’s personal story of having turned down early release from captivity rather than allow the North Vietnamese a propaganda victory that she went so far as to change her party registration so she could vote for him. All of a sudden, my mom is the only Republican in a Democratic household.

A few weeks after McCain lost the nomination to George W. Bush, I asked my mom if she was equally excited about casting a vote for Bush against Al Gore. “What do you mean?” she asked. “I’m not a Republican anymore. I changed back to Democrat.” Dumbfounded, I asked: “What?” She explained: “Look, I became a Republican to vote for John McCain because he’s a hero. But, George Bush, no, no. That’s not the same man. There’s a big difference between the two.” I’ve long suspected my mom would be better at my job than I am.

John McCain was an American original, and we won’t see the likes of him ever again. We won’t be that lucky.

His life was a paradox: What made him so big was that he knew he was small. Next to his fellow prisoners, his country, his family, and now as he stands before his God, he was always clear that he owed the debt, not the other way around. People speak of his courage, but what made him special was something lacking in a lot of our elected officials: humility, wisdom, and perspective.

Yet, McCain was not perfect. He did not cover himself with glory when, facing a tough re-election against a right-wing cartoon figure in 2010, he endorsed the racist Arizona immigration law. The Latinos who loved him deserved better.

The last time we spoke was back in 2008, during that phone interview before his loss. “Thank you, Ruben,” he said at the end of it. “I’ve always admired you…”

God bless you, Senator. You’ve earned your rest. You served with honor. I didn’t always agree with you. I wasn’t always happy with you. And I wasn’t always proud of your decisions.

But I always admired you.

Ruben Navarrette — a contributing editor to Angelus News — is a syndicated columnist with The Washington Post Writers Group, a member of the USA Today Board of Contributors, a Daily Beast columnist, author of “A Darker Shade of Crimson: Odyssey of a Harvard Chicano,” and host of the podcast “Navarrette Nation.”

Never mind the undocumented. Donald Trump has a terribly complicated relationship with legal immigrants.

I’m not talking about the fact that he keeps marrying them, or that his in-laws — legal immigrants Viktor and Amalija Knavs — were sponsored for U.S. citizenship by their daughter, first lady Melania Trump.

And to think, Trump wants to end this kind of “chain migration” and replace it with a merit system that values education and skills. He may be on to something.

What’s complicated is that, to borrow a phrase, Trump was in favor of legal immigration before he was against it. And boy, now he is really against it. In fact, he seems determined to punish anyone who dares come to the United States — even if they come legally.

You’ve seen how hideously the Trump administration treats would-be refugees from Central America who play by the rules by walking up to the U.S.-Mexico border and turning themselves in to U.S. authorities. Some had their children snatched from them before being deported back home, and some of these kids remain in U.S. detention facilities.

Now the Trump administration is picking on legal immigrants who are already living in the United States, the vast majority of whom work and pay taxes. According to NBC News, the administration is hatching a proposal that would make it harder for these folks to become U.S. citizens or get green cards if at some point they relied on any sort of public-welfare program.

This scheme would reportedly represent the biggest change in how the United States handles legal immigration in several decades, and it seems to be part of the master plan devised by White House senior adviser Stephen Miller to reduce legal immigration.

What an insane idea. This country has a lot of problems, but legal immigration is not on the list. We tell people to play by the rules, then we change the rules?

A recent Gallup poll asked respondents: “Do you think legal immigration is a good thing or a bad thing for this country today?” Eighty-four percent said it was good; only 13 percent said it was bad.

Presumably, the 13 percent includes Laura Ingraham. The Fox News host recently suggested that the country was being ruined by “massive demographic changes” fueled by immigration — both illegal and legal. Later, under a hail of criticism, she offered a lame explanation that what she really cares about is securing the border, preserving the rule of law and ensuring that future immigration is merit-based.

Baloney. None of those GOP talking points has anything to do with “massive demographic changes.” So why did she use those code words? I think it’s because she really believes the country would be better off with fewer immigrants, no matter their legal status.

Nativists like Ingraham have a problem with poor, uneducated, low-skilled immigrants who come illegally from Mexico. But they also have a problem with middle-class, educated, highly skilled immigrants who come legally from India, China or Brazil. How long before people realize that nativists are the problem?

Meanwhile, Trump didn’t always have a beef with legal immigrants. While running for president, Trump promised a “big beautiful wall.” But he also said he wanted to put a “big, fat, beautiful open door” in that wall so that people could come legally.

In May 2017, The Economist interviewed Trump and asked him if he wanted to cut the number of legal immigrants who come to the United States.

“Oh legal, no, no, no. I want people to come into the country legally,” he said. “But I want people to come in on merit. I want to go to a merit-based system.”

The interviewer pointed out that, even under a merit system, the overall number of legal immigrants could be just as high as it is now. So, he asked Trump again if he wanted to reduce the number of legal immigrants.

“Oh yeah, no, no, no, no, we want people coming in legally. No, very strongly,” Trump said.

So much for that. The door keeps getting smaller, thinner, less beautiful and less open.

Ignore the spin. This isn’t about border security, or rule of law, or the merit system. By going after legal immigrants, Trump isn’t protecting America. He’s missing the whole point of America.

ruben@rubennavarrette.com

I’ve spent several weeks thinking about what my faith means to me, and — fueled by the curiosity of a nosy journalist — trying to get others to tell me what theirs means to them.

I haven’t always been successful in the latter. Even in our “share all” society, a lot of people don’t feel comfortable talking about God and religion.

That’s interesting, right? My parents’ generation was raised with the admonition to not discuss two things in polite company: politics and religion.

Nowadays, Americans won’t shut up about the first one, but they can still be tight-lipped about the second.

Still, I’ve taken in everything I could — and looked inside my soul. And now, as I spill it on the page, I remember to start with the words of the Prophet Paul (McCartney):

“When I find myself in times of trouble

Mother Mary comes to me

Speaking words of wisdom

‘Let it be’

And in my hour of darkness

She is standing right in front of me

Speaking words of wisdom

‘Let it be’ ”

McCartney has said that the inspiration for “Let It Be” came from a dream he had in 1968 about his mother who died when he was a teenager. He has said that the reference to “Mother Mary” was not intended to be biblical, but also repeatedly made clear that his fans can interpret the song however they like.

Wherever that dream — and those words — came from, I think we’re all clear on where McCartney got his gift for songwriting.

And so, his words ring true to me because I’ve lived them. In my hour of darkness, I reach out and Mother Mary is standing right in front of me.

It wasn’t always that way. I’m what they call a cafeteria Catholic, in that I don’t follow all the rules.

That’s not ideal, but it’s also not surprising when you consider that I didn’t get off to a very good start. My parents did a great job of raising my brother, sister and me — with one exception. They didn’t take us to church. I went to catechism, made my First Communion, and that was about it.

My wife had a similar experience growing up in Mexico. And we’ve decided that we want something better for our own children. So we do go to church — at least some of the time.

I know that I should go to church more regularly — and that I should try to be closer to God in good times and bad times. But I also know that God is patient, and he certainly has been with me as I try to find my way.

And I always seem to try hardest when I’m in the dark fumbling around for a light switch. When I think back at the times over the last 20 years where I’ve sought comfort in Catholicism, they were the hardest days.

Days like the ones that Americans are living through now. On Ash Wednesday of this year, Nikolas Cruz walked into Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida, with an AR-15 and killed 17 people — including 14 students, one teacher, two coaches — in addition to wounding 15 others.

The troubled 19-year-old restarted the national debate over school violence, gun control, mental health and alienated youths.

And days like the ones we lived through in the aftermath of Dec. 14, 2012, when 20-year-old Adam Lanza entered the grounds of The Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut.

Armed with his mother’s Bushmaster XM15-E2S rifle, Lanza fatally shot 20 children and six adult staff members, before killing himself. The youngest victims were between 6 and 7 years old, and the makeshift shrines that popped up at the site of the atrocity were full of teddy bears.

And, of course, days like the ones after Sept. 11, 2001, when radical Islamic extremists plowed jetliners into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, killing nearly 3,000 people and wounding another 6,000. The attacks served to put Americans on notice that they were — whether they knew it or not — at war with terrorists who despised the West.

After each of these events, I couldn’t wait to go to Mass. In each case, I went because I was hurting, confused and enraged. I went looking for answers and a better understanding of what motivates people to commit acts of evil. I went for support, and a sense of community with kindred spirits.

In fact, on the day of the September 11 attacks, I was living in North Texas and writing for the Dallas Morning News. And, within hours of the planes hitting the buildings, my friend Tim O’Leary — a fellow journalist and fellow Catholic — and I were taking a long walk through downtown Dallas to the Cathedral Shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

The place was packed, and the parishioners included what seemed like an unusually high number of Spanish-speaking Latino immigrants. Everyone crying and praying, aware that the world had changed forever.

In the days after the Sandy Hook massacre, as with most parents of young children, my heart was breaking. I hurriedly dropped my kids off at Sunday school, not expecting to go inside the church. But at the last minute, I veered into a parking space, got out of my car and went inside. I sat in a pew in the back by myself, and hung on every word of the sermon desperate to make sense of a senseless act.

I also go to church in what McCartney called “times of trouble” because I want to feel God’s warm embrace.

That’s not just a phrase for me. I’ve actually felt it. About 25 years ago, I was in a car accident  on a country road near my hometown in Central California. I sent my jeep over a cliff and crashed to the ground about 50 feet below.

And, as I was flying through the air, I remember two things — hearing my mother’s voice utter her familiar phrase about how “material things can be replaced” and feeling as if some gigantic force was cradling me to cushion the impact.

I was rescued from the wreckage and loaded into an ambulance, but I was eventually released from the hospital with minor injuries.

Sometimes, trouble finds me not through a national tragedy but through a profound personal loss.

For Latinos, death is not this dark point of no return. It’s just a curve in the road on a journey into the afterlife. We take comfort in our faith that, one day, we’ll all regroup at our “abuela’s” table and swap stories over her legendary chile colorado, refried beans and homemade tortillas. Already seated: all four grandparents, six uncles, two aunts, two cousins, a childhood pal, a college roommate.

I grieved for them all. But one of the people at the table holds a special place in my heart. She’s the little girl who first made me a dad even if she was only in my arms for about an hour before the Lord called her to his side.

It’s obscene for parents to have to bury their children. And those who do it belong to a club that no one wants to join. Nothing that my wife and I have experienced since compares to the pain we felt then — and still feel today.

It’s what Bruce Springsteen might have described as pain that “rips the bones from your back.” And you never fully recover.

Though I felt alone, God has been with me at those moments.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve always loved that immortal poem that talks about “footprints in the sand.” Originally written by a woman named Mary Stevenson in 1936, and rewritten by others since then, it tells the story of someone who dreams that she is walking on a beach with the Lord.

She notices that, while there were two sets of footprints through much of her life, this was not always the case.

The poem ends this way:

“I noticed that during the saddest and most troublesome times of my life, there was only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why, when I needed You the most, You would leave me.” He whispered, “My precious child, I love you and will never leave you. Never, ever, during your trials and testings. When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

Right about now, some of the folks in this, my neighborhood coffee shop, are probably wondering why the big guy at the corner table is sniffling and tearing up as he taps on a laptop.

I remember what another big guy — former Utah attorney general Mark Shurtleff — told a roomful of immigrant advocates about 10 years ago. Though built like a linebacker, Shurtleff has been known to get emotional when giving speeches.

Now a lawyer in private practice, he pleads guilty to the charge. Shurtleff told the group, “I only cry when I talk about my family, my country or my God.”

I was in the room at the time, and those words stuck with me. Later, I got to thinking about the three items in that series — family, country, God — and what they have in common.

Answer: They cut through the hubris and self-centeredness of daily life, and remind just how small we really are.

I go to church, and embrace my Catholicism, when I feel small. And as my fingers touch the holy water, and I wave my hand in the sign of the cross, I know I’m home.

My college roommate has a childhood memory that represents simplicity at its best — one that is not likely to be repeated with his own children.

It’s the 1970’s. My friend is waiting in a hot car with the windows down, while his Mexican immigrant parents work in the fields of the San Joaquin Valley. All he had to entertain himself is a stack of baseball trading cards. He plays with them for hours.

My friend is now a successful lawyer living a comfortable life in Beverly Hills. He has a smart and beautiful wife, and two adorable twin sons.

And, by now, he has given up all hope that his boys will ever be able to entertain themselves for any substantial period of time with anything that doesn’t have an on-and-off switch.

Like many of us who parent young children in the digital age, my friend is fighting a losing battle as he tries with little success to get his kids to put down their electronics — iPhone, tablet, video games, etc. — and pick up a book or just go outside.

It’s misery. And, as they say, misery loves company.

I have another friend who is a career educator, and he recently gave me a ride to the airport — bringing along his 12-year-old daughter. She was a sweet girl, albeit a tad quiet as she tapped on her smart phone. When I told my friend how I enjoyed meeting his daughter, he chuckled. Referring to the fact that she was so shy, he lifted his hands and wiggled his thumbs.

“This is what she likes to do,” he said in a frustrating tone.

My cousin and his wife are both educators, and they have two well-behaved boys. One of them, they assured me, would play video games for 12 hours straight until he passed out if they let him.

According to a recent study, kids and teens age 8 to 18 spend an average of more than seven hours a day looking at screens.

I believe it. Everywhere I look — post office, supermarket, swim class, Little League games, etc. — I see more and more parent warriors fighting a lost cause.

I’m right there with them. It’s not unusual to walk into our family living room and see my 13-year-old daughter, 11-year-old son, and 9-year-old daughter sitting quietly, not talking to one another, because they’re poking away at their devices. And when they’re on their electronics, it seems they don’t hear, listen, or concentrate on anything that doesn’t fit onto that tiny screen.

I don’t know how we got here. It likely had something to do with that first time I handed one of my kids my phone to entertain them. They were probably young at the time, too young. Chalk this up to a parental failure. Not my first or last.

Or maybe it’s because they see my wife and I — their mom and dad — at our laptops, or picking away at our phones.

The real problem is that, when it comes to their screen time, my kids find it almost impossible to self-regulate. They don’t know when to stop, put down their device, and walk away.

And when my wife and I do occasionally manage to chalk up a victory and they put down their little best friends, my kids get angry, moody, grumpy and mean.

These are the same withdrawal symptoms I display when I miss my morning cup of coffee. And I’m addicted to caffeine.

Which makes me wonder: Are my kids — and those of many other people — addicted to their electronic devices? And what long-term harm is being done to them because of this habit?

Some of the early research is in, and the news is not good.

A 2015 report by the Pew Research Center found that most teens today own a smartphone and go online every day, and about a quarter of them use the Internet “almost constantly.”

A 2016 study suggested that teens who had greater exposure to social media were likely to be diagnosed with depression.

A 2018 study suggested that adolescents that frequently use digital media might have a greater chance of developing symptoms of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.

And most recently, the American Heart Association warned that children have way too much screen time and this may actually be hurting their health by promoting a sedentary lifestyle which often contributes to ailments like obesity.

I think most parents know that too much screen time is hurting their kids. So why don’t we do something about it?

Parents are hardwired to protect their children from dangerous behavior — from drinking to drug use to premarital sex. We draw the line and say that somethings are off-limits.

When will we draw that line in our own homes and turn off their electronic devices?

Ruben Navarrette is a contributing editor to Angelus and a syndicated columnist with the Washington Post Writers Group and a columnist for the Daily Beast. He is a radio host, a frequent guest analyst on cable news, and member of the USA Today Board of Contributors and host of the podcast “Navarrette Nation.” Among his books are “A Darker Shade of Crimson: Odyssey of a Harvard Chicano.” 

COALINGA, Calif.—It’s taken the better part of my life, but I’ve come to acknowledge the soil in my veins. Despite living in a half dozen major cities over the years, I’m a country boy—born and raised in the farmland of Central California.

I don’t speak for farmers and ranchers. I just listen carefully when they speak to me, as a group of them did recently in a gathering at a cattle ranch in this rural town.

The farmers tell me that not many journalists venture out into the fields to see for themselves how farming works. Farmers don’t get many visitors. What they do get is plenty of free advice from the uninformed about how to do their jobs, treat their workers, bring in their crops, sell their products and provide for their families.

Speaking of the uninformed, there are these days more than a few of them hosting primetime shows on Fox News.

Last week, Laura Ingraham let loose with a screed in which she essentially said that America—this country of immigrants—has been ruined by immigration.

“In some parts of the country, it does seem like the America we know and love doesn’t exist anymore,” she said. “Massive demographic changes have been foisted upon the American people. And they’re changes that none of us ever voted for and most of us don’t like. From Virginia to California, we see stark examples of how radically in some ways the country has changed. Now much of this is related to both illegal, and in some cases, legal immigration that, of course, progressives love.”

Sorry Laura, it’s not only “progressives.” In the most recent Gallup poll, 84 percent of Americans said that legal immigration is a good thing; only 13 percent said it is a bad thing.

For years, anti-immigrant liberals and conservatives (they come in both varieties) have claimed they have no problem with legal immigrants, only illegal ones, and they’ve scolded the pro-immigrant camp for conflating the two.

Now, thanks to Ingraham, the cat is out of the bag. For nativists, it doesn’t really matter if someone comes legally, on a visa, or with a letter of recommendation from the Queen of England. What matters is that they’re here, they’re different, and they’re changing everything.

The problem isn’t just poor, low-skilled, Spanish-speaking immigrants from Mexico. It’s also the middle-class, high-skilled, English-speaking immigrants from India.

Still, as a child of the farmland, what I found most offensive about Ingraham’s monologue is something that no one else seems to have caught. When she’s talking about “massive demographic changes have been foisted upon the American people” that “none of us ever voted for and most of us don’t like,” over her shoulder, we see a video of farm workers toiling in the fields.

Is this who Ingraham thinks is ruining America, hard-working people who do back-breaking jobs that Americans won’t go anywhere near?

We vote for that every time we buy a piece of fresh produce at one-third the cost that it would set us back if not for illegal immigrant labor. We vote for that when we ourselves hire illegal immigrants as nannies, gardeners, housekeepers—or turn a blind eye when our neighbors, friends and relatives do. And we vote for that when we raise our kids to be soft and unable to work at any job more strenuous than making lattes.

On the farm, they know better than to swallow what Ingraham is selling from her perch on the Potomac.

Such nonsense is not limited to Fox News, of course. There is a tremendous amount of misinformation about farming, and the record needs to be set straight, the farmers tell me.

Near as I can tell, here are five lies told about farming and the people who heed that calling:

Farm work is “unskilled” labor

No one who has ever watched farm workers in action could believe this elitist whopper. “Skilled” doesn’t just mean educated or specially-trained. In an avocado grove, it means keeping your balance on a ladder, planted on an incline 12-ft off the ground, with a burlap sack around your neck while you reach for fruit.

There is no labor shortage because American workers will do even the most grueling field work if the pay is high enough

Good luck with that. Farmers openly scoff at the idea that these jobs are something Americans could do, or would want to do. Many of them report that—in 20 years—they’ve never had an American approach them for field work.

Farmers and farm workers are in an adversarial relationship

This throwback to the ’70s—created by the propaganda arm of the United Farm Workers—sets up a paradigm where, in order for farmers to prosper, farm workers must suffer and vice versa. In reality, the relationship is co-dependent. Both parties succeed or fail together.

Farm jobs can be done by machine

The folks who cling to this assumption have already accepted that Mexican farm workers aren’t going to be replaced by American kids whose exposure to produce is a trip to the salad bar. So, they insist, the replacements will be robots. But many crops must be picked by hand, and even machines are run by humans.

Farmers take more from society than they give back

Anyone making this argument shouldn’t do it with their mouth full. U.S. farmers are so efficient at feeding the country, that now they’ve moved on to feeding much of the world. They also pay taxes, employ people, pump money into local economies, and support charities.

Farmers are generally soft-spoken and not comfortable bragging about their accomplishments. They’re good at singing the praises of their crops but not always at telling their own stories. They have thick skins and don’t suffer fools lightly, which means they don’t waste time worrying about those people who don’t like them, respect them, or understand them. They believe in family, hard work, and Mother Earth.

One thing they don’t believe in—or have much experience with—is a united front. They’re like separate tribes who all pursue their own separate interests, which are defined by where they live, what they grow, and what they need to bring in the harvest.

Those who grow water-intensive crops in a drought-stricken state like California are naturally going to worry more about the availability and cost of water than those who grow crops that are easy on water and live in states where there is plenty of it.

When it comes to trade, farmers who grow soy, cherries, avocados, almonds, and other crops that are on the list of products on which China has imposed retaliatory tariffs are naturally going to worry more about the closing of foreign markets than those whose crops are not being targeted.

On immigration, those who grow crops that are picked by hand—oranges, strawberries, avocados, table grapes, etc.—will be more concerned about the Trump administration’s crackdown on the undocumented than those in the Midwest who grow corn and grain that can be harvested by machines.

What all these groups of farmers have in common is being underappreciated—and these days, under fire from multiple sides. They shouldn’t be abandoned.  Those who feed the nation need our support.

They’d have more of it if the public discourse about farming had more truth and common sense. As it stands, the only thing it has more than its share of is manure.

Who is afraid of legal immigration? More people than you might think.

True, legal immigration remains every popular with most Americans. A recent Gallup poll asked: “Is legal immigration good thing or bad thing for the country?”

Eighty-four percent said it was a good thing; only 13 percent said it was a bad thing.

Trouble is, that 13 percent can be very vocal, and it seems have secured a beachhead among anti-immigrant organizations, conservatives in the media, and top White House advisers.

Recently, a center-right radio host — who happens to be a friend of mine — pushed back on air against something I’d said by asking me some simple questions that deserve thoughtful answers.

What I said was that — once you go beyond being concerned about illegal immigration to also opposing legal immigration — it’s a short walk to the racist part of town.

After all, what do low-skilled illegal immigrants from Mexico have in common with high-skilled legal immigrants from China, India or Brazil? Answer: They’re not white.

We were talking about Laura Ingraham, the Fox News primetime host who last week took that walk to the racist part of town when she said that immigrants — even the legal kind — are ruining the United States by causing “massive demographic changes.”

Ingraham caught heat for those comments, and so she tried to walk them back the next night by claiming that what concerned her most was securing the border, preserving the rule of law and making sure that future immigration is merit-based.

That last item — which is embraced by the White House and could lead to America having an admissions policy that rivals the Ivy League — aims to keep down the overall number of immigrants. The Trump Administration also wants to deny U.S. citizenship to legal immigrants who, at some point, use public welfare programs.

My radio friend claimed that he hadn’t heard Ingraham’s comments, and so he opted not to comment on them.

By the way, he used to be a reporter and host at Fox News. That fact might have influenced his willingness to slam someone who works for his former employer.

Nevertheless, my friend’s questions were legitimate:

“Is there a problem with objecting to the rate of LEGAL immigration in this country? Is there a problem saying maybe we should slow it down? What if you look at the number of legal immigrants, and you think it’s too much? Is it not fair to object?”

In other words, can’t someone suggest that America has too many LEGAL immigrants, and that we need to limit the number?

That depends, I told him — on three things.

First, for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t help if you’re one of those Americans who insists at dinner parties and baseball games that you have no beef with legal immigrants, only those who come illegally. That may sound good, like you’re a perfectly reasonable person. But the fact that you now want to cut the very thing that you claimed you had no problem with should make us all wonder why we should take seriously anything you say.

Second, any anxiety you’re feeling should never be about the race and ethnicity of those who come legally. Ingraham’s giveaway was the word “demographics,” which has nothing to do with securing the border, preserving the rule of law and making sure future immigration is merit-based. Changing demographics is all about numbers, about one racial or ethnic group replacing another. That’s foul. And it’s where Ingraham crossed the line.

And third, if your cold little heart is set on turning away legal immigrants who play by the rules to get to this country, then you probably shouldn’t say that the reason you’re shutting the door is because there is something wrong with the immigrants or that they’re ruining America. That was also Ingraham’s point. She basically said that this country of immigrants was being ruined by immigrants. That’s crazy. Proud Americans should take offense.

Sadly, Ingraham is not alone. Her fellow Fox News primetime host Tucker Carlson recently interviewed former House Speaker Newt Gingrich about whether illegal immigrants were voting, and whether Democrats were counting on those votes to win elections.

“When you were Speaker there were about 22 million foreign-born people in the United States,” Carlson told Gingrich. “That number has now about doubled.”

Whoa. Did you catch that?

What worries Carlson is the large number of “foreign-born people.” Not just illegal immigrants, but anyone who was born in another country and came here — even if they came legally, got naturalized, became a citizen and began paying taxes trying to make America great again.

Gingrich gave a quick answer and went on to express his support for legal immigration. After that, the segment came to an abrupt — and merciful — ending.

The ugly and racially-charged debate over legal immigration will not be so merciful. It will not end anytime soon. Americans will not get off that easy.

Ruben Navarrette is a contributing editor to Angelus and a syndicated columnist with The Washington Post Writers Group and a columnist for the Daily Beast. He is a radio host, a frequent guest analyst on cable news, and member of the USA Today Board of Contributors and host of the podcast “Navarrette Nation.” Among his books are A Darker Shade of Crimson: Odyssey of a Harvard Chicano.