Excerpt
What do you think of when you hear the word "Cuba"? Do you think of Fidel Castro? Or, if you are old enough, the Bay of Pigs or the Cuban Missile Crisis? My children might remember the little boy, Elian Gonzalez, who lost his mother while fleeing Cuba and became a national icon as government leaders debated where he should live. I can relate to that little boy. I love my Cuban family and my homeland, but I cannot forget the suffering that still exists there today. In 1956, the year I was born, Cuba was a popular place for a weekend getaway. From Key West, Florida, to Havana was a ninety-mile trip across the Straits of Florida. Illiteracy was high, and about 25% of the country's adult males were unemployed. The need for change was obvious, so many were glad when Fidel Castro came down from his rebel headquarters in the mountains on January 1, 1959. A white dove on his shoulder, a Cuban cigar in his mouth, a long beard on his face, and the strength of his resolve gave the impression that he was a type of savior for the Cuban people. I was three years old.