My First Christmas in America

My nephew is getting married in September which is very exciting! As part of the preparations for the wedding, my sister has been rounding up some family photos. She shared this one with me. It was one I don’t ever recall seeing and yet it’s a special one.

This is my sister and me on our first Christmas in America.
First Christmas in America

That’s me in the back, closest to the tree, a Charlie Brown one if ever I saw one and yet you can see how happy we were.

We were somewhere safe. We were with my parents again. It had been nearly a year and a half since my parents had been forced to flee Cuba and came to the United States to request political asylum. My sister and I had remained with my maternal grandparents in Cuba, expecting that all of us would soon leave shortly to join my parents in the United States.

It didn’t happen that way. Not with Castro.

It’s a long story, but seeing this picture and our joy, I know that things worked out as they should have even if the road to get here was difficult.

Seeing where I’ve gone in all those years, how our family has prospered thanks to this Nation, I know the sacrifice and journey was worth it.

Thanks for coming by today! I hope you all have a lovely Tuesday.

On Being American…

Sometimes it’s hard to think about what to write on Thoughtful Thursdays. It’s such a mixed bag of info on days like today. But so many of you commented on my background the other day and expressed an interest in hearing more, that it occurred to me that I should share a little bit more about myself.

Maybe by doing so we’ll get to know each other better and you’ll understand the things about which I am passionate (LOL! as if you don’t know some of those already.)

For starters, I am an American born in Cuba.

I’m sure that’s raising eyebrows, but that’s the way I feel. I had the chance to hear Marco Rubio talk the other day on the radio and he mentioned being an American of Cuban descent. Of how grateful he was about all this Nation had given him and I realized that he was speaking much as my mother had spoken to me for all of my life.

That we were Americans now. That being American was a great gift. That we should not take that gift lightly and always honor it. In my mother’s mind that meant getting good grades, obeying the law, standing up for ourselves and those that were weaker and most of all, standing up for America.

So I can’t call myself an American of Cuban descent because I wasn’t born here, but I will call myself an American born in Cuba.

You might wonder why my mother was so vehement on that topic and the story is a long one which I’ll abbreviate into one word — Liberty.

My mom and dad on their wedding dayWhen my mother lived in Cuba under Batista, life was good for her, but not for others. But even as good as it was for her, she lacked the ability to speak out about wrongdoing or what she thought needed change in the government. It’s why she worked with Castro during the Revolution. Not that she ever really told us much about that as kids. It came in snippets at unexpected times. In reality, I learned more about my mother after her death than I had known throughout my life.

Of course the change that Castro had promised for Cuba turned out to be nothing like what my mother and father had expected or for which they had worked. Instead of a free republic, they soon came under the control of a government that was slowly robbing them of their short-lived Liberty as the government nationalized businesses and plantations they felt were necessary for the public good. Newspapers and individuals who spoke out against the government were either demonized or shut down. The government fomented class warfare as a way of justifying taking the labors of individuals for the good of all.

Just as my parents fought against Batista, they now decided to fight against Castro. Unfortunately those plans placed them in peril of imprisonment (or death) necessitating my parents’ hasty retreat from Cuba. In their minds there was only one Nation that could provide them the Liberty they sought – the United States.

But Castro wasn’t done with them. My parents had been forced to leave my sister and I behind along with my maternal grandparents. My parents thought we would join them shortly after their abrupt departure. I’m told that our Cuban passports were taken to prevent us from leaving Cuba. That for over a year my parents sought every way they could think of to get us out with no success while Castro would send his men to roust our house and threaten my grandparents to get my parents to return. Possibly he feared they would work against him in the United States. Who knows?

My sister was six months old when my mother left. I was three. Imagine leaving children that young behind, but they had no choice.

Eventually we got out and spent another six months wandering through Central America and Mexico until the immigration laws changed and my parents were able to get us into this country.

During that year and a half, my parents had not only been trying to get us out, they had been building a life here. Getting jobs and finding a home. It wasn’t necessarily easy. People didn’t want to rent to Cubans.

That never diminished my mother’s appreciation for the one gift that made all that hardship worthwhile – Liberty.

Her one response to all that negativity was simple — Succeed.

Succeed because to not do so was to dishonor the gift we had been given. Succeed because we did not want to shame other Cubans. Succeed because we wanted to prove that anything was possible in America. Succeed because success is the best revenge.

So why am I telling you all this today?

I guess because I want you to understand why I am passionate about America. Why my heart beats faster and emotion chokes me every time I hear the national anthem or see the flag. Why I take so seriously the gift of Liberty and why I honor it by reaching forward with one hand while reaching back with the other to help someone else.

So those are my thoughts on this Thoughtful Thursday. I hope you understand a little bit more about me. I’d like to get to know more about you if you care to leave a comment.

Thoughtful Thursday – Sisters

I mentioned a few weeks ago that I’ve got a new blogging gig over at PowerfulLatinas.com and this month’s theme at Powerful Latinas is sisters – La Hermana.

We’ve got blood sisters and soul sisters, but as women, sisters play a powerful role in our lives. Take a moment to stop by Powerful Latinas and also visit me there for more on the importance of sisters in our lives. Drop by on November 26th to hear more about sisters, family and a wonderful novel by my friend and fellow author Julia Amanta – EVENINGS AT THE ARGENTINE CLUB. Julia has graciously offered a copy of her book as a giveaway, but remember, that’s on November 26th (and continuing through the Thanksgiving weekend).

Here is a photo of my little sister and me! It was taken in Nicaragua after we had left Cuba and were trying to meet up with my parents in the United States. My poor grandparents were hauling us all around Latin America for quite some time thanks to Castro. My mom had to leave us when my little sister was only six months old. I don’t know how she had the courage to do it. I’m not sure I could have.

sisters

This is a picture of my sis and me now (I think she caught up to heightwise, don’t you think? LOL!)

sisters2