Read the excerpt from Pat Mora’s essay "The Leader in the Mirror."I read them my poem "Immigrants.”Immigrantswrap their babies in the American flag,feed them mashed hot dogs and apple pie,name them Bill and Daisy,buy them blonde dolls that blink blueeyes or a football and tiny cleatsbefore the baby can even walk,speak to them in thick English, hallo, babee, hallo,whisper in Spanish or Polishwhen the baby sleeps, whisperin a dark parent bed, that darkparent fear, "Will they likeour boy, our girl, our fine americanboy, our fine american girl?”As a writer, I understand the value and necessity of knowing my past, of keeping that door open.