My dad would have been 107 today. (2018)
It is his birthday.
Although we celebrated so many wonderful birthdays with him, I distinctly remember the year he turned 50.
Because it is stamped on a passport. And forever in my memory.
I know it is stamped the 12th. But the flight didn’t take off from Havana until after midnight. We waited for hours in “la pescera” (the fishbowl) to be allowed to board.
We didn’t tell anyone we were leaving.
There were no goodbyes.
My mother never saw her own mother again.
My dad had left Cuba months earlier and was just waiting until my mother could get visas for the 5 girls.
My brother left Cuba as an unaccompanied minor on December 26, 1960. One of the original Pedro Pan kids taken in by Father Bryan O. Walsh in Miami.
So it was my mom, and us girls, and 13 suitcases on that midnight flight.
Back then, in early 1961, Cubans would still go to the airport to greet other arriving exiles.
I remember being oh-so-tired and happy. I remember seeing my dad on the other side of the customs counter and not being allowed to go to him. I remember that he and my brother were yelling directions to my mother: “Ask for 3! Ask for 3!” I later found out that it was for the length of the visa. I remember the cheering and clapping when we finally made it through customs.
I remember wishing my dad a happy birthday and thinking how very old 50 was. I can only imagine the relief that was in his heart that day as the eight of us were reunited.
The next day we got red heart-shaped boxes filled with chocolates.
Happy Valentine’s Day.
Welcome to America.
Oh, and… Felicidades, Papi. Gracias por todo.
Weeping here, thank you so much for sharing Marta.
How heartwarming. I have tears in my eyes, very early this morning.
I want to protest. I’ve never heard that story before and was SOOO not ready for it this morning. Totally crying.Felicidades Papi.
I, too, am in tears.
I cant tell you how many times Ive read this post today. Each time with the same effect.Gracias, Marta. This is a post that I will revisit often, when I need a nudge, a slap in the face, to remind me why I do what I do.
BEAUTIFUL…brought tears to my eyes also.
Marti,Thanks for sharing this touching and wonderful memory with us. Your “papi” (Q.E.P.D.) is smiling from above with pride! He knows that all his girls and boy have a better life today as a result of a very difficult and heart-breaking decision he and your mother made so many years ago. What a gift of love to his loved ones!
I wish you well :} Melek
“You can kiss your family and friends good-bye and put miles between you, but at the same time you carry them with you in your heart, your mind, your stomach, because you do not just live in a world but a world lives in you.” ~ F. Buechner
I learned something new today: never read a tearjerker of a story at work. Fortunately, I didn’t learn the hard way. I was able to regain my composure before I was needed for anything.Thanks for a great story.
Thank you all for your very kind comments.”My Big Fat Cuban Family” has taken on new meaning today.
Now let’s all go support Val with his “El Exilio Project.”
Tell your own stories. They are so important.
That picture speaks volumes. What a brave family, and what joy to be reunited!And there was a Happy Valentines Day for all.
Thanks for sharing it. Not just a day, an event!
Marti,Your story is to resounding. My Papi left in November of 1960; my Mami, sister and I were to follow shortly. He went to NY because there were so many Cubans going to Miami, he felt he would have an easier time getting work in NY. So my banker Papi paid $25 to an agency to find him his first job – washing dishes at a Greenwich Village restaurant. His hands were so raw after having them in boiling water all night that he was unable to return, even to collect his wages for that one night. He then cleaned floors in the cancer ward of one of the NYC Hospitals before going to make widgets in a factory then to an import/export company to handle their books.
Mami, my sister and I were finally able to leave (after yet another 9 month story of experiencing the Bay of Pig invation and other stories)on August 27th 1961. We were scheduled to depart at 9 AM and after spending 12 hours in the “fish bowl” during which we were all “inspected” to ensure we were not taking anything (jewelry, etc.) they wanted to keep on the island, were finally allowed to depart at 9 PM.
I lived in LA from 1976 to 1980 and never met a Cuban; pretty lonely time. Wish I’d known you then, Girl!
My Dad would have used the word “coño” to express his thoughts after reading that beautiful story. (He often said stuff like that to block the fact that he was feeling emotional.)Thank God my office door is closed. I don’t need people asking me why my eyes are red. Thank you for sharing this. My parents and sister left together and I was born here, but I could imagine the difficulty of leaving home and never returning. My Dad is also gone now and it is my dream to one day go back to his homeland and see all the things I heard about while growing up.
Happy Birthday to your Papi.
You’re making me cry! Thank you for sharing.
Our story is a little different.We came in 1970 after 8 years on the waiting list,I was a teacher and send me to work in the farm.My husband was the same way but visit only w/e every 2 weeks.We can’t bring anything,they even took the chain from my daughter’s neck (she was 8 years old)and the 3 books she was reading on .They took her alone for the vaccines and they did such a job that 2 days latter(already in NY)we have to take her to the doctor.I went to work in a sewing factory (never did that)and my husband in a warehouse.
Everything was worth it!
What a beautiful post Marta!I love your blog! Reading it the last few months has given me the encouragement I needed to finally start sharing my family’s recipes and stories on a new blog, mmmmCuba.blogspotcom.
Thank you!
Marta, your story is unique but is also part of our collective. My brother (@age10) and I (@age5) left as part of operation pedro pan in late summer 1960. My parents were able to reunited with us in spring 1961. We were luckier than many. My mother passed away a month ago at age 82 and she never, never, ever spoke about our separation or the condition she found us in when they came. It was too painful for her to bear. My father was an only child and had to leave his ‘viejos gallegos” behind. They insisted as they wanted to protect our possesions and business. after all it was supposed to blow over in a few months. He never saw his parents again. My mother was damaged forever by the experience. My papi was my light! However, he passed in 2007 with a bitterness in his soul that never abated. Oh well….painful as they are, our stories must be told and our cubanismo passed on to our children. thanks for your blog. It often makes my day.
Very touching.All of Us Cubans have many stories on how our parents made the sacrifice of leaving everything behind, face new struggles and star over. Thank you for sharing yours today. Thank you to all those parents on this Valentine’s Day.
I have tears in my eyes as I too remember that time all too well! My Mother and Father, Grandmother and my other 3 siblings left Cuba in 1966. It felt odd reading this just now. Almost as if I was reading about my family. I still have many relatives back in Cuba, but like many others, our life is here now.Wow, so many memories. Good ones and bad ones….I’m Thankful that I still have my parents and enjoy being with them when I can be. The stories they tell of struggles and fears are uplifting to know that they cared so much for us children to strive to give us a better way of life. Thank for sharing!
I have tears in my eyes from reading your story and the others. We came in 1969 en los vuelos de la liberta and remember my mother did not get “el telegrama” for her only me and my two siblings and father, because she was a nurse and did not go to “el campo” but that woman fought against every communist that stod on her way and told my father that if she can’t come neither could us, well she got us all here and thank God I don’t think my father would of made it here alone and I definitely would of been jailed in Cuba with my big mouth. Thank you for sharing your story is beautiful.
Another year, I never remember this date, until I see the post, and I cry, every year. This is a must read about the Cuban Exile experience. Happy Valentines Day.
I came when I was 6 yrs old in the early 1970’s. My mother told me that we were taking a trip & would be returning to Cuba soon to reunite with my aunts. My mother died 2 yrs ago. She was still waiting the day she would return to Cuba. I still remember that day & I too am waiting for the day I can return to my beloved Cuba.
I’ve often thought of what our parents did when they left Cuba. It’s as if we in our early 30’s would pick up & move our family to China, Russia …. a foreign country. Leaving a comfortable life behind and forging forward to a new life not knowing the language nor culture of this new country. Having no money, job prospect,,relatives & starting a new life. That is monumental !!!! I don’t think I could have done it, yet that is what Cubans did. They all did with the hope of “el ano que viene se cai Fidel” . We left Cuba in 1960, first my mom, than my father and four months later my brother & I. Just like the rest we had a very difficult time physically , emotionally, financially but proud to say my father never received a hand out from the government or anyone else. He was too proud & he & my mom worked very hard to get ahead. When I see photos of Cuba I think of the love my father carried in his heart for his island till the day he died & of my mother always saying “we are refugees not immigrants”
I remember picking up family members for years from the airport. The crying and hugging. Thank God for the USA.
Like bright stars in a dark sky our individual stories make up the constellation of our exile that shines for our children and grandchildren….may they know and may they never forget our resolve…our determination. ..and our strength. Miriam
I was also a Pedro Pan comming to the U.S. On Dec. 30th 1961, will never forget the experience of arriving just afyer Christmas, and a day before New Years Eve. 10 years ago I found out that our records of that time were kept at Barry University, and was only able to get mine through a court order, since the catholic church does not allow to be removed from there, you can only read them under the supervision of one of their employees, and can not make any copies, even though they are your personal record of Operation Pedro Pan.Last year, after 52 years, I was able to write my memoirs of this experience.
Coro de Silencio released al my traumas, and today I’ m a better person for doing the book and the documentary based on it.
I higly recommend doing this, wish I had done it many years ago.
Sounds familiar…….. I think this experience is the binding force for many Cubans… How many will never know….. The tremendous sacrifice.
Thank you for this post today. Reading your story reminded me of mine and that of so many Cubans’ like us. I, too, left Cuba on my birthday, when I turned 9. My mother said “this is the best birthday you will ever have” while we were kept in tents waiting to be released by the Cuban government. My reply was “tu crees, Mami?” It turned out she was right….. We are all uniquely marked by these experiences forever. No one else could ever understand, though we try to explain to our American children, spouses, friends about what we have been through. Love your posts and so many reminders of things that we only keep alive in our memories and traditions.
My favorite line, we are refugees, not immigrants! My parents came to this country in 1959 in the same way . I was born in the USA and proud of it. Although, my roots are Cuban, I am 100% American. I could never step foot on that island until ALL Castro brothers are gone.
BEAUTIFUL STORY Marta!
In solidarity…remembering my own day of departure in 1961….May both of our fathers rest in peace knowing they pushed open a door out of Communism Cuba that led to this life and this future for their daughters in the United States…
Sonrien con orgullo desde el cielo….
Miriam
September 19, 1967. I sent you my family’s story a while back, however I did not get any acknowledgment that you even looked at it :,( didn’t expect it to be published, but a nod would have been appreciated!
My family (father, mother, and three children, 9, 8, & 6) we arrived on August 26, 1969 to Miami International Airport.
My brother and I arrived on September 1, 1961.
We were two of 14,000 Pedro Pan kids.
Just celebrated my 64th birthday, lucky to be here!