When Castro took over, Grandfather (he wanted us to call him that because he loved the southern aristocrats) left Cuba first to finda job in Miami. A few months later, after begging a Cuban general for two extra visas, my abuela was able to get her kids out. They weren’t allowed to leave with much so they had to get creative. They sawed off golf clubs and rolled up money inside, then sealed them back up. They hid gold coins in the buttons of coats. They had each child wear some of their mother’s jewelry and my mom who was very young at the time, didn’t grasp the magnitude of the situation and was showing everyone she could meet her new pretty necklace.

They were just like many of the other Cuban refugees in Miami. Grandfather couldn’t find work and they lived with a host family. They played games all over the neighborhood, pissed off the neighbors, etc. I love hearing the stories about all of their shenanigans. Eventually, grandfather got a very good job in the Philippines working on sugar mills again and so they moved there until the kids graduated high school, after which each made their way back to the US. My mom and abuela went to NYC where my mom met my dad and the rest is history.