Through the Eyes of An Elder: A profile of Doris and Jovil Galvez

Born to agricultural workers in California, Doris describes her childhood as “constantly moving around,” finding it hard to find steady work. She recalls going to the labor fields with her family: “Some days we would wait for hours,” only to work for a few hours.

Her father once left for an entire summer to pick lettuce, but this was still not enough to make ends meet for a family of seven. When Doris was 16, the family heard about the cherry harvests in Oregon, packed up a few belongings and made the long trip to the Hood River Valley. They felt unlucky at first, finding just a few days of work picking berries. But one afternoon as they sat in their car on Van Horn Drive deciding whether or not to head back to California, a passing orchardist asked if they needed work “and that was it, we never went back.”

They settled in workers’ ‘cabins in Pine Grove, loving the area’s beauty, though shocked in town: “At the store there were no chiles, no El Pato, Mexican cheese, tortillas, nothing!”

Jovil, born in Jalisco, Mexico, speaks fondly of his childhood growing up in a small town. During the summer, his family went to “el rancho” to plant corn. Despite the many chores, he and his siblings had a lot of time to play outside and an abundance of fresh fruit to eat. Jovil attended school and after graduation landed a job in the county courthouse, but soon realized that a prosperous future for a family of 13 would require something more.

“Tenía una visión, una visión de que había algo mejor.”

Around that time, he began to hear talk about “el norte,” so he began gathering required documents for a visa. When denied a visa for a second time, he made the hasty decision to catch a bus from Guadalajara to Tijuana and from there, he reached the U.S.

Later, still thinking he would return home, he instead landed steady work during his second year in Pine Grove. Most of the workers had returned to Mexico, but he stayed back. He recalls that winter as the coldest and darkest days he had ever experienced. Every morning, he would stand outside his cabin with his lunchbox and his boss would give him a ride to the packing shed. He speaks with pride of that winter when he became a “trabajador de planta” (steady worker) as it changed the trajectory of his life — he stayed in Hood River, and that spring met Doris while working at Wells and Sons Orchard. They married two years later at St. Mary’s Catholic Church.

In the years that followed, they had three children and began building a deep network of friends and family, always relying on steady work as the foundation to building their life in Hood River.

Doris says, “Even though we were working hard, we appreciated the stability.” Jovil recalls getting up on cold spring nights, lighting smudge pots to keep the fruit buds from freezing. He fondly recalls the workers and growers working as a team to ensure a successful harvest.

To them, the life they have built is a blessing that stemmed from steady work allowing them to settle in one place. “Los rancheros nos dieron el trabajo, nosotros supimos aprovecharlo” (“The growers gave us work; we knew how to make good use of it”).

Both see many positive changes here, noting that immigrants and their families have become part of the fabric of the Hood River community.

They are grateful for their health, their friendships, the fertile valley, and the growers. “Good people have touched our lives; we have been blessed.”