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Imagine its August 1957 in California's San Joaquin Valley.

You're just outside a little town called Lodi picking grapes in a large vineyard.

Remember what's known as a Bracero, a temporary laborer from Mexico, who's allowed into

the United States to work the farms and vineyards of the American West.

The faster you feel your wooden baskets with grapes, the more you'll get paid.

But today, the sweltering lights are he to slowing you down.

You haven't been allowed a break in six hours, and you're exhausted, dehydrated, and starting

to feel a bit dizzy.

The heavy basket slips from your grass, spilling grapes everywhere.

As you scramble to pick them up, you notice a young woman approaching between the rows

of vines.

She bends down to assist you.

Let me help you with that, sir.

Well, that's all right.

I can manage.

But you can barely stand.

It's nothing.

I'm just a little light headed from the heat.

The woman takes a handkerchief from her pocket and hands it to you.

As you wipe the sweat off your brow, you notice that she looks to be only in her early

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