In the late 60’s we had five little children and lived in Denver. Two were adopted Vietnamese children, so we were already an unusual family. I remember my little Vietnamese boy sitting in the grocery cart asking me to buy grapes. I nodded No, week after week. “They aren’t Union Grapes”, I always said. My husband and I followed the UFW in print and on TV.
Finally the day came when the grape box announced they were Union Grapes (I made the grocer show me the box) and we bought come. For years that little boy called ‘grapes’ UnionGrapes as he thought that was the real name of them. And so it was in our household.