Carlos

 

I am trying to write about Carlos.  This will be a continuing story.  The problem is I do not even know where to start.  One day when I finish this, I will give it to his kids and Betty.

One of the first memories I remember was when he was four or five, I was three or four.  I do not really know.  I remember we were fighting.  He was upset because when I slept, I apparently would go towards his side of the bed.  It was a big bed, and he would draw an imaginary line down the middle of the bed.  He would say when we slept, I could not pass that line.  I kept wondering how to be able to tell that when I was asleep.  I really did not know. And lost sleep over it.  This must have been at around 1961 so I guess I must have been four years old, he five.  Carlos and I were incredibly close.  It is no wonder, he was only 13 months older than I was. We were sharing many experiences.  It was really great actually.  Turi was always around, I do not think Rosa nor Juanpi had been born yet.  I believe a few days later Robert and Teresa would leave for the United States.  I am not absolutely sure about the timing here. I know it happened, but I do not remember if it really was at that particular time. We would not see Teresa or Robert until around four years later in 1965. 

Around that same time, Robert and Carlitos, a friend of his, were fighting in the bedroom.  In Cuba in my youth, it was not really called fighting but “jugando de manos”.  I guess in our language today it would be called rassling.  I remember mom getting very upset at them.  I never actually met Carlitos, or at least, he never spoke a word to me.  I remember seeing him rassling with Robert but remember nothing else.  It is as if a whole person was summarized in the one scene I remember.  As I think back on it, this must have been just a little bit after Robert got all numerous casts removed.  I am now kind of wondering if that was why mom was so upset.  Just thought of that now.

I learned a lot from Carlos.  We kind of thought together.  Sometimes, as I write this, I am not sure what he said and what I said; what I thought and what he thought.  We were hardly ever apart, always experiencing everything together.  We were joined at the hip.

Carlos and I roamed the neighborhood together.  I remember carrying out experiments with him.  Or at least that is what we called them.  This would lead to great confusion in my later career as a chemist.  We would just mix all these concoctions together and see what came out.  Sometimes it was old paint, possibly a bunch of small rocks.  It looked kind of cool.  Only many years afterwards, after becoming a chemist, I realized that we used the same word as we used in my class. Wasn’t sure why. I had always thought carrying out an experiment was just having fun with my brother and mixing things we found in the neighborhood. I always wondered why I became a chemist.  Perhaps it was that …..

As I have gotten older, I do not remember our interactions as much. We were so close when we were young.  I cannot discern what he said and what I said.  One time Carlos and I were gifted a couple of either red or blue plastic buckets.  These were toy buckets much like the ones you would take to the beach.  Carlos and I were so proud of these.  We thought they were great.  We may have been six years old.    We came out of the house and were met by our cousin, Sylvia.  Sylvia was my age. Sylvia had this beautiful bucket.  It was white, had some flowers on it.  Now it looks like what a lady would carry on her wedding day. I am not sure what it really looked like.  Those are the qualities I think I am assigning to the bucket.  It was a very pretty bucket though.  Carlos and I were upset.  Our buckets looked like children’s toys, compared to hers, and they were.  I do not know how it happened, but Sylvia’s bucket ended up floating in the poseta.  The poseta was a swimming hole which was on the coast, right next to the sidewalk but a few feet down from it.  To this day, Sylvia claims that I pushed her into the poseta when she asked where her bucket was (I did not).  It is kind of interesting how one’s mind plays tricks on you.  At that time in the old country, all of us would kind get the same gift.  I am not really sure why.  I wonder if a bucket salesman came in the day before, or there was nothing else to buy so the limited selection drove the purchase.  At another time, Carlos and I made up an early phone type system.  I am being generous.  It was two empty cans tied together by a string. If you would get far apart, you could talk into the can and the other person would hear you.  Carlos would sit on one edge of the street and I on the other. Carlos and I had a great time with this.  Only problem is that we would repeat all these anti government things we had heard.  Mom explained it to us and we never did that again.  Now I understand why many of our freshly landed Cuban students in school never say anything at the University. Once they are there for a year it is a lot easier to get them to talk.

It is kind of funny.  I have written a lot about Robert.  It is not difficult for me to do so.  It may be because Robert was an independent person.  I really got to know Robert and I would strive to be like him when I arrived from the old country.  Carlos and I were also approximately the same age.  I guess that is what it means by being joined at the hip.  Teresa and Robert were missed in the old country.  I was always drawn towards Teresa.  Carlos was drawn towards Robert.  I honestly barely remembered either of them.  Only remembered a couple of scenes.  One was Robert jumping over the sillon de la sala. I do not really remember him being in a cast.  Another was Teresa and I fighting over who would use the bathroom first.  I think that one I will tell my psychiatrist about; if I ever get one.  These were not images as in pictures.  These are things I remember happening live.  The only one that is actually an image is Robert jumping over the back of the sillon.  The others are more like my own remembrance of a narration of the incident.

Carlos and I would do things together.  On Saturdays, dad would sometimes take us horseback riding.  I am using a very liberal definition of horseback riding.  Dad would walk the horse with me sitting on top of it.  I was fine until one of the horses seemed to hit my foot with his mouth.  After that it was not so much fun.  Carlos was better at it.  You must remember Carlos was just a little bit older than I was.  He was older enough to make a difference in our ages.  Whatever Carlos said I would believe.  I had no reason to doubt what he said was true.  I never have had any reason to do that.  It was reassuring to know you had someone to ask about this.

We were really bored in the old country or at least we thought we were. Abuela Maximina would try to pass the time with us.  I remember when she started teaching us how to “bordar” or embroider. We would place the cloth in between two embroidery rings and we would try to sew different designs on the cloth.  Part of the fun was that we could not show anyone we were doing that.  That was stuff only girls did, not men.  Carlos and I were men (stated in a deep voice).  Abuela and Abuelo had a had a huge dining room table.  Abuela would sit at one end and us men would sit by her side and we would try to do what she taught us.  As uncles and aunts came by, we would put the rings away so they could not see them.  I think they knew but I do not really know.  Carlos did a much better job than I did.  Both of us had a great time.  I always thought that in the days before Fidel that dining room table would have all these family members sitting there and having some type of feast.  That was strictly my imagination.  I never saw it happen.

Carlos and I discussed traps and how they would be built.  Abuela lived in a house with a huge backyard.  On day for some reason there were a few holes in the backyard.  Someone, may have been one of the cousins, taught us to put light tree leaves and sticks on top so when one of the heavier members of the family would walk over this trap, they would just fall in.  Of course, we never did that.  I am not sure why those holes were there and now I wonder if these were there to hide some money.  I doubt it though.  These were towards the middle of the yard.  Since I cannot really ask anyone, I have always wondered.

Before we left Cuba, we had to declare an “inventario”.  This is literally an inventory of all your possessions.  The government could take what it wanted.  Since at that time the whole neighborhood was leaving, everyone would leave us all this stuff for us to store, so when the government came down, at least the family members would keep it.  We had this closet under the stairs were all the toys that were being left would be placed.  I remember everyone loading up and taking stuff also to Ana and Isaac’s house next door so the inventory would not take hold of them.  A lot of these were then taken back to our house until we left.  These were then given to different family members as we left.  We were running out of family members.  I know we gave Lydia and her husband some stuff that had not been inventoried.  I never saw her again. I have always felt bad about that; always wanted to see her again.  All this stuff, although I experienced it myself, I also experienced it with Carlos, and from Carlos.  Most of the time I did not know what was going on. 

Although it may seem funny now.  On the 90 mile trip from La Habana to Miami, we had to go via Spain or Mexico.  We, the Lopez de la Vega family, went via Spain.  Our Mexican group went via Mexico.  Except they just stayed in Mexico. I have always regretted not being able to spend more time with them.  Carlos and I later spent time with Carlos from Mexico and Miriam from Mexico.  We have never spent time with Alberto or Javier. All of us really got along well.

All of us went to Spain. I do remember the day we left.  Carlos was usually my one source of information, and my model towards a proper reaction.  I was never too worried about leaving my house.  Why should I be, Carlos was not worried.  We knew were going to finally see Robert y Teresa, that is all we thought about. I remember we were at the airport.  They left Carlos and I alone in some room.  There were people there, but mom and dad were not with us.  That is all that mattered. I had been told that we would be searched before we boarded the plane.  Mom had prepared all of us for this search. Carlos and I were not searched.  Mom and Dad were.  That is where they were.  They were being searched. I just kept imagining how the search was.  During that time in Cuba, the planes were not loaded via a long tube leading to the airplane.  We actually had to walk on the airport tarmac to the plane.  I remember Rosa just not taking any more.  She went on the floor of tarmac and just did not want to leave.  This is what I was told, not what I remember.  Carlos and I just walked into the plane.  To me it was just a new experience, one I was looking forward to and we were looking forward to for a while.  This was in 1965, before July.  The reason I remember it was before July was because we celebrated Carlos’s birthday (July 19) in Spain.  I just walked up the stairs and sat down where I was asked to.  Carlos took a window seat.  I did not. Turi asked dad for two dollars (actually pesos) that were owed to him by I believe Hans, a German friend of dad’s.  I know Turi asked dad about the money.  I do not remember what dad said before or after he laughed.  We were all wary of how abuela and abuelo felt.  Mom and dad were being careful since they had left everything behind.  We really could not imagine how Abuela and Abuelo felt.  That is all I would always hear.  They left everything behind.  I never knew how important that was.  Can you imagine leaving Everything behind.  I could not tell any difference in their demeanor.  Abuela was always very serious anyway so it was difficult to tell. 

It was a strange feeling leaving Cuba.  I was not really thinking about this too much but that would be the last time I would be there.  I never thought of that either.  I was more thinking about the flight to Spain.  It was scheduled for 24 hours in a four engine plane.  This was not a jet plane. It was a propeller plane. I had not even been on a plane before.  Carlos and I sat together the whole way.  I was happy he was there. 

I asked dad or Carlos a lot of questions.  I could not understand how a plane could fly (I still can’t, really).  I can explain it perfectly but how can it fly?   They were all happy we had a four-propeller plane.  And quoting Carlos, if one of the propellers failed, we. had three more.  And what if a second propeller failed.  Etc… During that time, and probably now, I would be very much affected by how others felt during the trip.  

After 24 hours with a stop in Bermuda and a stop in the Azores, we finally got to Spain.  There are things I think about during the trip where I feel very sleepy even now. 

In Spain, life was very different.  We took a cab, actually a number of cabs, to hotel that had been arranged by a good friend of Abuelo.  I have no idea what his name was.  I knew it then and someday I will remember but I cannot remember now.  All of us ended up in two hotel rooms, in an apartment house which was about to be closed.  We got two rooms, one was for abuelo and abuela and the other was for the rest of us.  We were all very uncomfortable. A lot of us ended up sleeping in one bed.  Halfway through the night the pim pam pum broke and dad was on the floor.  Then mom started screaming.  She was having nightmares.   I actually slept through most of this.  Carlos told me what happened.    It was a large apartment located at 23 Juan Bravo. We then went to a hotel room in a building named 23 Juan Bravo. Years later, Juanpi visited it and sent me a picture of it.  I thought it had been destroyed once we left but apparently it was still there.  At least the building was there. Juanpi said the central elevator was, but he was maybe one year old. I doubt he remembered much.

We had a great time in Spain.  We were there through Carlos’s Birthday and mom and dad bought him a toy I have never seen again.  The idea was to shoot down a plane which was flying in circles above you.   We played with that a lot. One month later, for my birthday, we bought a toy car which you could make it run with batteries.  That one was not a good choice. When we had to leave Carlos’s planes behind we were upset.  My car no one missed.  It may have worked for a few hours after I brought it home.  Oh well.

We stayed in Spain for three to four months approximately.  Every once in a while, we would go to El Refugio to get clothes.  I was hard to fit but I was able to find clothes.  Actually, I should repeat that.  I was hard to fit but mom was able to find clothes for me.  This was important since we could only take one bag at the most. 

The trip to Spain was quite memorable.  I was very happy Carlos was there.  He is the only one I remember.  I do not remember Turi, Rosa.  I do remember Juanpi since he was right next to mom and dad. I spent most of my time talking to Carlos.  One year difference when you are 7 is a big difference. 

Sometime after Halloween, we finally arrived in the United States.  Finally, we would get to see my brother and sister.

Upon arriving here to the United States it was such a shock when Carlos and I had to attend different schools.  Having the family split in half when Robert and Teresa left was quite a blow but now I was going to be split from him. I had always thought he and I would be together all the time.  Actually, I had never really thought about it. I never knew. Until I was told we would go to school separately: then I just thought Whoa, in Spanish.  It is not easy to imagine that at this time all my thoughts were in Spanish.  I am not even sure how I thought in Spanish.  We started together in Coral Way Elementary.  He was bussed to Citrus Grove and I could walk to Coral Way Elementary in Miami. To this day I feel badly about being separated.  We would walk home from school together.  Turi was doomed to attend Sts Peter and Paul.  I remember mom telling me about going to see several people she knew from old country, trying to keep the family together.  One of them was the head of Belen Jesuit Prep which was where dad had gone to school.  I have forgotten his name but mom in the end decided against it. All these thoughts I am sharing are what I remember.  Carlos and I were never in the same classroom together after the beginning of my third grade and during the same day of summer school.  We only went to summer school for a couple of days. I think mom realized we did not need to go to summer school.  That summer instead of going to summer school, Carlos and I did go to summer camp.  We went to Sts. Peter and Paul for summer camp.  I always had easier teachers in Summer Camp than Carlos.  I actually wrote about that in the blog which I keep.