...la tetera no llega al suelo...

I remember watching the movie, “An American Tail”, with Cristina. She would always get very sad when Feivel would get lost in the ocean and start yelling Papa…Papa…and the father aboard the boat would yell …Feivel…Feivel….. To this day I think she does not like that movie and gets a headache when she sees it…... My kids are very sentimental… we watched the movie the Lion King in Disney World and when Mustafa is killed…….. I was covered with crying kids in the movie theater. Sad thing was… I was crying too.

There was one famous musical number in “an American tail” where all the mice sing:

"….In America there are no… cats… And …..the streets are made of cheese."

Most people, upon hearing that song would think of West Side Story (…I like to be in America..) I, on the other hand remember when I was very small…

…My parents thought that America was the greatest place there was. In America you can do anything. America had the best athletes, except of course for the baseball players and boxers. As proof of America’s superiority my father would point out, while watching a movie, that the Germans would ask for American cigarettes. Even the matches were better in America. (They had just imported some Russian matches and they would go out before the match reached the cigarette, do not ask how I know that but it was true.) After the “revolution” Cuba had lost touch with America and what was going on there. Wild rumors would circulate on how advanced the Americans were. One of these was

…En los Estados Unidos cuando se abre una botella de Coca Cola, ya esta fria. No hay necesidad de ponerla en el Frigidaire. (In the United States, when you open a Coca Cola bottle, it is already cold. There is no need to refrigerate it.)….

And

…En los Estados Unidos, si a un bebe se le cae la tetera de la cuna, la tetera no llega al suelo. No hay necesidad de esterilizarlas. (In America if a baby drops a pacifier from the crib, it will not reach the floor. There is no need to sterilize it.)

This was in 1964, only five years after the embargo began. I kept hearing about these inventions.

…la ropa se lavaba sola… (clothes would get cleaned by themselves)

I could not wait to go to Miami, where my brother and sister were. I had not seen them in four years. They had come to the United States with my uncle. My parents were afraid that Roberto would be drafted into military service. In Cuba you would be drafted at the age of 12. All of us really missed them. I would get to see them again and could open the Coca Cola bottles and just watch them instantaneously get cold. And throw a pacifier and watch it float.. and dirty the clothes as much as possible, it did not matter anyway. America became a mythical place. I knew that we were in line to go to America but had to wait a number of years to get there. I would ask my father things such as:

… Papi, es verdad que en America uno puede volar en avion sin tener que esperar? (Dad is it true that in America you could fly on an airplane and not have to wait for years?) He would reply..mijo en America puedes ir a el aeropuerto y comprar pasaje para viajar ese mismo dia. (You could buy tickets and fly on the same day). I would think to myself WOW…..

Every once in a while Teresa or Robert would write us letters, in the letters they would place things for us. They were thin items because over there they would open all the mail before you got them. If it was too valuable, it would never get to us. ….. In one letter they placed a throw away ball point pen. This thing was amazing. You could click it and the point would come out. If you clicked it again it would go back in. It also had some letters on the side. I do not remember what they were but I believe it was the name of a hotel or a restaurant, maybe a bank…. We were very impressed. (I am sure there were pens in Cuba, I just had never seen one like this one.) Other times they would place a stick of Wrigley’s gum in the envelope. ……WOW!!!!! Carlos and I would share the stick. He would break off a piece about half a cm on each side and give it to me. He would break another piece about the same size for himself. We would save the rest for later. You could not taste anything. We all thought it was great, however. Not all food was available after the “revolution”. We were not starving, as anyone who saw me at that time would attest, but we did not get our choice of food. We would eat the same thing every day. Potaje. Potaje de garbanzo, potaje de judias…mas potaje… Carlos would tell me about this mythical food, it was called jamon. He remembered when he had tried it the year before. It was pink. I kept asking him questions about ham. I had no idea what to expect. Apparently we were only allowed to have it once a year. Carlos had heard the news that we were about to have jamon. I was thrilled with enthusiasm. …..Esta noche comiamos jamon…... That night Lydia, mi tata, served us each one slice of ham. Again we cut it into small pieces so it would last longer. We kept saying …WOW… I was kind of

disappointed but I did not say it.

We could not wait to go to America. Things were getting scarce. My little brother Juan Pablo had to be in a hand-me down playpen. These playpens were not made from cloth mesh or plastic vinyl, they were made out of wood. They looked like a crib but they were square. They had vertical bars which looked like the child was in prison. Think of Michael J. Fox and uncle Joey in Back to the Future. This playpen had been used by a number of us and it was not in the best of shape. Juanpi figured out the playpen was not the strongest and actually maneuvered one of the bars off the playpen. Then he took off another one. One day we found him instead of in the playpen, on the floor. He was one happy Cuban kid. He was gateando (means crawling but literally means making like a cat) and laughing at the same time. We had to put him back in the crib. He must have been at most one year old. We put the bars back, but he knew which ones they were. We braced the playpen against the corner so the walls would stop him from getting out. Every once in a while someone would say, Han visto a Juanpi? and the whole family would mobilize trying to find him. We would find the playpen pushed away from the wall and it was empty. We would finally find him. Even at that age nunca se quedaba tranquilo. Once he was under a table. Another time he was under a bed. I think we were finally able to fix the playpen somehow.

We left Cuba and had to go to Spain to then go to Miami. While in Spain papi would walk around the neighborhood we were in and we would see shops which had meats hanging from the roof. I would ask papi…papi que es eso…. Mijo eso es jamon…I would point out another one and he would say ..mijo eso es mortadella. Once we arrived in Miami and got to the airport everyone was there. Some of these family members I had only seen in pictures. They all knew me. Tio Lulo greeted me with ..berraco.. ( I do not know what that means but I take it as an affectionate term) There were lots of hugs etc.. Heriber, one of my cousins, was the nicest. He took me to a coin operated machine. This thing was huge. He put money into it……. I was so excited…... Can you imagine what was coming out of the machine. This is the land of self cooling Coca colas. Where you could take a pacifier and try to hit the floor and it would not get there. Where clothes would clean themselves. I could not wait. My mind was expecting to be totally blown away. After the machine went through all the gyrations, Heriber gave me a plastic dinosaur. It was hot!!. I burned myself…. Later my cousin Silvia offered me some gum. I took the stick and broke off a piece and gave it back to her… She told me I could keep it. WOW…. Silvia took another piece of gum, and put the whole thing it her mouth. WOW!!!!!!…………..I like to be in America…

What I remember of El Nautico

We used to live in a pink house having two floors. Looking away from the house towards the west we would see a large empty field. North of this field was a house and north of this house was my grandparent’s home. Abuelo’s house was large. It was made of bricks, much like those they use in the University of Florida, only a little lighter in color. Crossing the street was a sidewalk and then the Atlantic Ocean (actuallythe Straits of Florida). There was no beach there. There were very sharp rocks. A certain places the rocks were cut and a small swimming hole type thing was made. We called them posetas. There was an opening, roughly the size of a door which led straight into the sea. When it was high tide the posetas were deep. When it was low tide it was shallower. Once in a

while for a few days they would have sailboat regattas. We all knew the names of the boats and pretended (at least I did) to know what was going on in the race. Looking south from my parent’s house was another empty field but much smaller. Across the street was Teresita’s house. It was at this house that my father would go to play domino with his friends. North of our house was a house owned by a young couple named Isaac and Anita. North of this house were three houses which were owned by my grandfather where my uncles and aunts lived (futi, lulo, Eduardo). Going around this house was Ester’s house. I do not remember much about her except that she always wore sandals. Next to that house was a family named Bustamante. We always watched what we said around them because they were politically active (members of the defense committee).
Crossing the street from Bustamante’s house was the first poseta. The sidewalk next to the ocean was sometimes full of tar, which we believed was due to boats leaking oil. One would have to be careful when sitting down since you could get big black ugly stain on your pants. Two blocks east was a second poseta. It was always said that these things were made so they could bathe the animals. We used them as our own swimming pools. The water was very clean since it was ocean water, but sometimes unexpected wildlife did seem to appear. Every day around 6 pm a shark would swim in to the entrance of the poseta and at 6:05 it would swim away. People said you could set your watch by it. One day someone killed the shark. It was a small shark, possible a nurse shark. I do not know why they did that. I now feel sorry for the shark. As you would drive north from this point the street turned south and later on you would reach the famous place called El Malecon. This was a very long sea wall which Cuban families and couples still pass the time there.

This neighborhood was an exclusive one. There was a guard at the entrance. The entrance was a big blue structure that thinking back on it was rather modern for its time.
In the entrance to my house there were three steps. The front door was made out of glass and once I remember there was much controversy since the wind had broken the glass and it was shattered all over the place. It was concluded that my dad had left it open when he returned home. Upon entering the house there was a huge stairs. At the top of the stairs was a painting of the sacred heart. On the left were our rooms (this I am not too sure about). On the first floor on the left of the stairway was the living and dining room areas. Behind the stairs was the kitchen. Beneath the stairs was a closet which was literally packed with toys. As my cousins kept leaving for the states they would leave all the toys to us. We literally did not really know what was in there. Behind the dining room was the patio. It was not a big back yard in fact it was small. Part of it was covered and half of it was not. It was surrounded by a brick wall around 3 feet high. There were bushes all around it. Some of these were hibiscus, because I remember playing with the flowers. There were other multicolored and darker bushes all around. It was here where I planted corn which grew tremendously.

It was the filling

When abuelo Arturo y Abuela Maximina left Cuba, they left with us and moved to Miami with us. They even lived in the same house for the first few days. In fact our house was the temporary shelter for every Lopez family member, even some more distant relatives who I did not know. At one point there were more than 20 people living in that house although not for very long, perhaps a few days. Later abuelo and abuela moved to an apartment close to West Flagler although I do not really know what the address was. I know there was a motel we passed on the way back with the name “Ramona”. We all joked about it. Our sense of humor has changed since then. They subsequently moved to a house which was three blocks from ours on the other side of Sts. Peter and Paul. We could easily identify it as the house with the airplane in the carport. The owner had a small airplane, with no wings, but with the motor still functional, in the carport. He would sometimes start it up and at the time we would always wonder why he would do that. It is not like he was going to go anywhere. Abuelo said he was a come mie…. One time the guy bought a bird for $400. He was proud of that bird but abuelo was kind of upset at him. I do not know why, he was just the landlord. I asked abuelo, was it a pretty bird. Abuelo was kind of surprised and said “ estaba bonito pero mas bonito estaba el dinero” (It may be a pretty bird but he liked the money better). At that time abuelo had lost most of his sizable fortune so I guess it was understandable.

It was summer vacation and I must have been around 10 or 11 years old and had just gotten a fairly nice bicycle (de uso from Merl’s bicycle shop). Almost every morning I would go riding to their house and hang out. There was always something going on there since cousins from all over the place would visit. One day it was particularly quiet and I started talking to Abuela. She started telling me about Arturo (the eldest son, see previous entry) and about their children going through so much en el exilio. They were all working as “lava platos” (dishwashers), bellhops, porters and janitors. She was telling me how she always dreamed of all of them being more educated. He was kind of blaming their current state on her husband, abuelo. She was almost in tears. It was kind of sad and I remember then trying to get away from the topic so when abuelo Arturo joined us (I think he may have been making me pan con mantequilla, his specialty) I asked if they remembered El Dia del vomito. They really did not know what I was talking about I described what I remembered about it…
…We lived in the Reparto Nautico. Abuelo and Abuela lived in the big house in the corner facing the ocean. Across the street were three housed which were joined together in the second floor. These houses belonged to tia futi, tio lulo and tio Eduardo. Jorgito was a little boy who lived two houses away from us in the houses formerly occupied by Tio Eduardo and his family. It was Jorgito’s birthday in 1964 and his family decided to make a cake and celebrate the birthday. My cousins had already left for Miami so different people moved into the house. The people who moved in was Jorgito, Vipa y Daniel. They had a cousin whose name was El Coco. His girlfriend was Ibelize I think. She was very pretty and would read us stories outside the house. I think Turi or Carlos had a crush on her. Not me uh uh. I liked Susana, she was the wife of Dr. Raimundo or Reynaldo or some other name starting with the letter r. It was the day of Jorgito’s birthday. It was a party and we did not have that many parties at that time. It was very difficult to get the stuff that was needed to celebrate a party. After the party, in which they even had a piñata, people returned to their homes and that evening we heard of people around the neighborhood were getting sick. All of a sudden I started vomiting. Everyone but Carlos, my brother, vomited…….
……Abuelo and Abuela now remembered what I was talking about. They then talked about the way they remembered everything. Everyone in the whole neighborhood began to get sick. Some actually went to the hospital or the clinica. They spoke about specific individuals and how they were affected. Abuelo then started laughing. He remembered and said that not everyone was vomiting. “Esta no vomitaba,” (pointing towards abuela). She had it coming out the other end. “First it was gas……” This conversation went on for a while. At first abuela seemed mad at him; actually she was probably embarrassed. But then in remembering she started laughing too. She laughed so hard they both had to take off their glasses and wipe away tears. While still laughing Abuelo and abuela then said something to the effect “mira que nos hemos reido”….. They seemed to be grateful that they remembered old times. I think at this time I actually acquired a name in the house. Before then I was kind of “uno de los de Roberto.” I was proud and surprised at all of this. I was happy to make them laugh. I really did not do much, just started the conversation.

That summer I spent a lot of time at my grandfather’s house. There was no particular reason, but I was glad I did so. It was fun to go play baskeball at the school and then go to their house afterwards. I think they liked my being there as well. They never said it but then again we never do say it…

As far as why everyone started vomiting, everyone pretty much agreed that it was the cake (it was not like there was that much other food around in 1964..) Carlos proved to be invaluable in the forensic investigation. He was our pickiest eater. I remember he would eat the cake, but not the stuff in between the layers of panatela. He ate the cake but not the filling. It was the filling…definitely the filling.

Roberto, Rosa and El Nautico

Rosa de la Vega was born on December 11, 1928. She is one of five children born to Julia Falcon and Benito Ramon de la Vega. The other siblings are Jose Ramon de la Vega, Alberto de la Vega, Maria de la Vega (twin of Rosa) and Julia de la Vega. The family was from El Vedado which is a suburb in the city of La Habana within the province of La Habana, Cuba.

Roberto Lopez del Valle Izquierdo was born on January 15, 1926, the son of Arturo Lopez Izquierdo and Maximina del Valle. He was one of 8 siblings, Arturo,Amada Ernestina, Ester, Agueda, Fausto and Eduardo. The family originated in “Marianao”.

Maximina del Valle was the daughter of a tabaquero. These were people who made the popular cigars made in Cuba. In these tabaquerias since it was boring for people to just be making cigars, and there was not radio or television, the companies would employ readers who would read everything to the tabaqueros. This would include novellas, news even academic materials. Some of them were very knowledgeable since they were always listening to such materials. Abuela Maximina always said that the reason she was named Maximina was because of a “novelita” that her father liked. The name of the novelita was “Maximina y Riverita”. I always joked that she would have been better off with Riverita. She agreed. Abuela Maximina studied to be a teacher. I do not think she ever practiced the profession, or perhaps she taught for one year and then was married.

Abuelo Arturo was a business man. I know he owned a small restaurant in la playa de Varadero. He was later involved in gambling and was one of the biggest banks in La Habana. I know he was a man who really was loved by a lot of people. When he passed away in Miami, it was the biggest funeral I have ever been to. In fact at the time it was the only funeral I had ever been to. This kind of made all the other ones seem small by comparison.
The eldest of their children was Arturo. My father, Roberto, never met him. Arturo was made to study by his family. Arturo died very young (possibly 11 or 12, perhaps even younger). He developed an acute abdominal pain and was given a “purgante” which I believe is something to induce vomiting. His appendix burst and he passed away. Abuelo Arturo became very sad and he felt particularly bad since he had made his son study so hard that he was not able to live his life. He decided not to make his children study as hard. He did not believe it was that important to study since they were wealthy anyway and would always have enough money to support themselves. All the sons joined in the family business and were not employees outside(except for my dad, which I will explain later). This was something abuela Maximina always regretted, particularly later on when we were in Miami and all of them had to take menial jobs in order to survive. Sometimes when things are tough in my own life, I marvel at how well our parents handled the changes they were going through and the fact that they did not really make us suffer for it.

I remember a lot of incidents in my childhood with abuelo and abuela. There was always a lot of political talk going on in their house. They would always talk about how Fidel nos engano a todos (apparently some were Fidel supporters and later regretted it.
Abuelo and Abuela lived in a very big house in “El Reparto Nautico” which I believe is a small neighborhood in Playa, a municipality of the Province of “La Habana”. It is located west of El Vedado and West of the City of La Habana.
They lived with Tita, one of my father’s sisters, whose real name was Agueda Lopez. The house was made of red or orange bricks. They bricks were kind of rough and would make the perfect surface to scratch your back when it itched on a hot day (actually it worked well on a cold day but it just seemed more poetic to say a hot day). As you went into their house you would see a huge table. Seemed to be a dining room table but it was huge. I sometimes saw abuelo Arturo eating there. Abuelo Arturo and Abuela Maximina loved to be with their family. All of the grandchildren would visit the house periodically. We would always sit aroung the living room which was filled with Cuban sillones. I always loved going to the house. Abuelo would make the best sandwiches, abuela the best picadillo I had ever tasted.