Lunch at the Rusty Pelican

As we arrived families were taking pictures outside St. Mary’s; group photographs.  I was a little late so was worried that I may have been too late.    I wasn’t.   During the ceremony I remember sitting in some pew and looking back to see if I could see my mom and dad and siblings.  I could not.  I may have been able to see my dad.  I am not sure.  They were too far in back.   Going up to receive my diploma via the center aisle of the church I only remember one thing; walking behind Patty Mazarredo.  I guess we were in reverse alphabetical order.  She was wearing a white graduation gown (not too difficult; all of us were wearing the same thing) but she had on very high heels.  When she took the first steps out of the pew she seemed a little unsteady and I kept worrying, what if she falls?   How do I help her?  What do I do?  I kept looking at her praying she did not fall.  Odd that one of the few things I remember about my graduation ceremony is walking behind Patty.

I know Father Lechiara spoke.  I believe he spoke about the two brothers, one who was happy, the other sad.  They were moving to a new town and stopped outside the city….  All of us remember that one.   I remember afterwards having all my friends autograph my cap.   I remember posing for a lot of group pictures.  As usual, after any of these things we had to decide what to do.  A group of us ended up going to Rusty Pelican.  I ended up getting a ride from Rocky and as we were getting off I-95, the song “Kodachrome” by Paul Simon was played: “When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school……..”   Someone in the car, I think it was Rick who said “appropriate”.  When we arrived at Rusty Pelican we were met by Mr. Mederos and joined a bigger group.  We had a very nice time.  

What is amazing is how little I remember about that particular day. 

All of us have memories of our high school experience.  All of us remember certain times; the school bus kidnapping, the time we wrapped the school,  the time we cleaned up after wrapping the school,  Nellis and a group of friends walking strangely in a retreat at Alice Wainwright Park, Karmen Kneivel driving the great Kazoo band in assembly, Blue Moon, certain colorful expressions of school colors on top of the hood of a car, conversations on the sideline in a football game, modern words for a Handel piece (Jose Huevo), imitations of the “Galloping Gourmet” during pre calculus (or was it Physics?), the whole class chanting Brother Ramon (clap clap) Brother Ramon a la Addams Family while the whole class was in detention in Driver’s Ed (and most importantly, seeing brother smile as he walked by, I still have that picture in my mind), Mr. Koziol getting a pie in the face,  Mr. Mederos saying “extra points” and everyone rushing to do the geometry problem and obtaining the coveted +2 on their paper, and I am sure all of you can come up with many more instances you remember, fondly or otherwise.  …….

We actually remember a lot more.  We just do not know it.  We just do not talk about it.  Mentally, I find myself referring to experiences in the past, either from class or from personal interactions with friends, when trying to address difficult situations.  Some of these I do not remember until the situation presents itself.  They may not provide the right answer but they provide an additional point of reference to draw from.   Even when we do not realize it we have built certain skills; social, intellectual and philosophical, where we draw from experiences we do not even remember, but are there.    We have been blessed that we have had all those experiences; together.  Fight on.

-Moose

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, his wife.

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. I am not sure why we would even sleep in the same 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 1960 -1961 so I guess I must have been three to four years old, he four to 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 a short time 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 his 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 have 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.  It must have been on the day he left.  He was wearing the same shirt he left with.  It may not have been then.  I do not know how many shirts of that type he had.  It was a regular t-shirt with the Belen emblem on the front.   The other things I remember 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.  I did know we had some money hidden in the old house.  Cousins of mine have asked me where the money was.  I was sad to say that I had no idea where it was.  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, the de la Vega Hevia branch 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. I actually spent a small amount of time with Alberto, but it was just around an hour.  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.    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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We nominate our brother, Roberto Lopez de la Vega for the St. John Bosco Award, 2015.

The López de la Vega family,

Teresa López de la Vega (ILS class of 1972) (formerly Teresa López) Carlos López (Miami Senior High School, MSH, Class of 1974) Ramón López de la Vega(ILS, class of 1975), (formerly Ramon López) Arturo López de la Vega (ILS, class of 1978), (formerly Arturo López) Rosa López (ILS, class of 1979) Juan Pablo López (ILS, class of 1982) Ana Maria López (MSH, class of 1985) Andres López (MSH, class of 1986) 

We nominate our brother, Roberto López de la Vega (class of 1970) to the Immaculata-La Salle High School Alumni Association 2015 Hall of Fame , St. John Bosco Outstanding Alumni Award.

Roberto López de la Vega arrived in Miami, via the Pedro Pan project in 1961. He graduated from Immaculata LaSalle High School in 1970 where he played Junior Varsity Football, Varsity Football and Track & Field. He lettered in Football and Track. He was a member of the Chess Club and Key Club. He was a member of the National Honor Society. As part of the Key Club he participated in the excavation of the Moon Temple and other structures from the time ILS was part of Vizcaya.

After he graduated from high school he attended the University of Miami and then transferred to the University of Florida in Gainesville where he graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Chemistry. Upon graduation he began work as a chemist, performing research on making better adhesives. Not satisfied with working as a chemist, he decided to make a difference and pursued teaching as a career. In 1974 he became a faculty member at the Urban League of Greater Academy Street Academy NW located in 54th street and NW 7th ave, a facility for black students which due to busing and other integration efforts were being transferred to Miami Beach Senior High School among other High Schools where they were having a difficult time fitting in. The Street Academy was created to provide an education for black students who were dropping out of school at an alarming rate and had a propensity to get in trouble with the law. It was a way to provide troubled adolescents a place to study; an alternative from roaming the streets. A similar facility was then built for Cuban and Latin Children at 208 SW 8th street, The Latin Street Academy. 

The academy offered high school equivalency courses. Robert then helped found that facility. At this time Robert had already moved out of our home. The Street Academy was located not far from our home and he would come by to see us often and sometimes speak of his experiences with these students. 

I remember one time specifically where a palm tree was being chopped down (after the Yellow disease infestation) and he asked one of the city workers to cut him a slice of the Palm Tree. He showed me why he wanted the slice while also teaching me something about botany. He took it to the Street Academy as a demonstration of the rings which demarcate the age of the tree. He also spoke often about his experiences at the facility. From my perspective at the time, he enjoyed teaching in general; teaching these adolescents in particular.

As a member of the Faculty of the Greater Miami Urban League Street Academy, SW Robert witnessedwhere one of the bigger students, was bullying a smaller weaker, student. This student already had a criminal record, as did many students in the facility. Robert separated the fight and pushed the bully back. This person then threatened Robert; told him he would come back and kill him. Sometime later, possibly the next day, Robert approached the principal and various staff members since he was worried about what this person had threatened. As they were speaking in the main office this person arrived, pointed a gun at them. Robert went towards Mr. Aparicio Morejón reacting to the gun and saying: ¿estás loco? Mr. Morejón shot Robert with a 0.22 caliber pistol. He then proceeded to shoot the principal, and the parole officer that had been assigned to Mr. Morejón Everyone survived, except Robert. He died on the operating table at Jackson Memorial Hospital on November 7, 1975 at the age of 23.

I believe Robert is true example of what the St. John Bosco Outstanding Alumni Award should be. He was a student in good standing at Immaculata- LaSalle High School class of 1970, he graduated with honors. He graduated 44 years ago in 1970. As a student he contributed to the betterment of the school (as part of the Key Club). In the short time he was able to he contributed to his community, he affected the lives of his students in a very positive manner. He could have taught in many places. He felt at the Street Academy he could make a difference. He did. He was also an outstanding oldest brother to his 8 siblings.

We proudly nominate our brother, Roberto López de la Vega for the Immaculata-La Salle High School Alumni Association 2015 Hall of Fame; the Saint John Bosco Alumni Award

50 years.

This was mostly written on November 7 2025, 50 years later.  

It was Friday, November 7, 1975.  I was halfway through my first semester at the University of Miami.  I was headed home.   I did not drive at that time;  I did not have a car.  I would take the bus; would take it right behind the Science Building.   I took the Coral Gables bus, I forget the route.   The Coral Gables Buses always went to the Coral Gables Bus Depot.  All the buses took you there and from there you could take whatever bus you needed to get to your destination. 

I remember I was tired.   It had been a long day.  I began my day by attending Professor Hubinger’s class in General Chemistry.   Later on while I was in graduate shcool, I became good friends with him. I was one of his son's Ph.D. advisors.  I always had a hard time getting motivated to go to class so early in the morning.  One time I told him this and he became sad.  Made me feel bad.  Very nice man. 

I was now on a bus headed north on Coral Way.  I read a headline from far away (someone else was reading the newspaper). It said “Four shot in little Habana”. There was a small picture of a person in  a stretcher taken as if the person was in the ambulance and the photographer was at the end of the ambulance taking the picture before they closed the door.  I did not think much about it.  Probably would have forgotten in time.  I was finally getting to my bus stop at Coral Way and 28^th road.   Even though I lived on 12^th ave, I had done some extensive research and found that the shortest distance I had to walk (around ½ mile) was if I stopped at that particular bus stop and not at the one on 12^th ave.  At that time I had the time to think about those things.  I finally arrived home.  I was surprised by what I saw.

Everyone was crying.  At first I thought, “someone had died”.  I figured it was Abuela Julia.  She was 75 years old and her health was okay but I figured that was the most likely event.  I was surprised when it was she who told me, “mataron a Robert”. (They killed Robert).    I asked “Que?”, I could not believe it.  I do not know who was en la sala (the living room).   I did not know how to react basically.  I remember thinking to myself: The Headline.  The newspaper was within reach and I grabbed it.  Abuela told me what happened but I do not remember it, I just could not pay attention.   I tried to read the newspaper.  Everyone was so nervous that it did not register.   I did not say anything.  I just went to the back yard and sat in the back of the house, the portion closest to the mango tree, and began thinking. I finished reading the article.  I just wanted to be alone. I did not really know how to react.   I kept thinking, why am I concerned about how to react?  Does everyone think like this?  In the movies when something like this happens, the person being told knows how to react.  They essentially either become violent, sob uncontrollably, leave the house grab a gun and go out and shoot the guy who did this.  It did not matter how they reacted.  Just that they did. They at least knew how to react.  I did not. I had never gone through anything like this.  I honestly did not know how to.  I just sat in the backyard and just thought. And thought about all the above choices.  

I was back inside the house.  We were all talking about it.  It really helps to talk about it.  Someone said, Turi does not know it yet.  Someone else said why had we not told LaSalle High School.   And, in typical mom fashion, she said, what would the purpose of that be, he was not going to be able to do anything anyway.   Mom and Dad were making the arrangements.   We will tell him now, when he arrived.   He had to take bus number 18 from Mercy Hospital to our home on 12^th ave.   Carlos and I immediately volunteered.  We drove from the house to Immaculata LaSalle High School and asked where Baby Moose was (that was his nickname).  Someone told us he was in the locker room.   Turi was surprised to see us.  Turi's locker was actually mine in previous years.  In fact it is the one I used in the previous year.  Carlos and I told him why we were there, right there.   Turi knew exactly how to react.  To this day I think I should have done a better job of that.  

I do not remember very much of that day after that.  The magnitude of the occurrence had not emotionally hit me, yet.

Earlier that day, while I was in school, Mom and Dad received a call.  There had been a shooting at the Latin Street Academy for Boys, where Robert worked.  Robert not only worked there but, he was one of three or four who started the school. He had origingally worked at the Street Academy for Boys in Liberty City.  Robert and a couple of others thought this would be good also for Cuban or Hispanic students. They had obtained the funding frpm the Urban League.  Four had been shot.   All of them were taken to Mercy Hospital, except for Robert. He was taken to Jackson Memorial Hospital.  It was more serious.  Once they received the call, Mom and Dad immediately went there.  All the rest of us were at school or work.  We had no idea what was going on.  I would just picture Mom and Dad at the Hospital, finding out where they should go, wandering the halls of JMH, asking questions.  That, got to me.  Finally they were able to figure out where he was.   My mom or abuela, told me much later that someone was talking about a person in surgery, and, that it was bad.  She did not realize it was Robert and was hoping it was not.   They were told by someone that Robert had not made it.   They tried everything they could but he had lost too much blood.  I have no doubt they tried everything they could. Apparently one of the "students" brought a gun. Robert approached him, and he was shot. The guy kept shooting.  Robert just fell to the ground. No one could help. I am not sure if he died then or later in the hospital. I know no one could help him.

Someone had to identify the body.   By now Tio Lulo was there.  So was Misora.   Either Misora by herself or with Tio Lulo, identified the body.  It is interesting how when Mom needed something, she always called on Misora.   I know that Dad always called on his brother, Tio Lulo.  Misora was also the lady who helped raise Robert.  Misora said Robert looked as if he were sleeping.    Mom relied on Misora until until she was elderly.  When she needed something, she knew she could trust Misora. Dad just said Robert "era tan buen muchacho". (He was such a good boy).  He also expressed that he hardly knew Robert.  I know why he said that. In 1961 when Robert may have been 9, he had to go to the United States. Otherwise he could have been drafted into the Cuban Military.  Dad could not spend that much time with him.  For four years he did not see Robert.  Four years before that, Robert was suffering from Perthes disease.  Four years wearing a full body cast. I know they got very close during that time.  When my dad arrived in the United States, he had to work multiple jobs.  He could not really spend that much time with Robert, or us.  I could see why he was saying that. I believe he missed his children a lot. 

The three others who were shot survived.  In time I met some of them.  One was the principal of the school, another one was a drug and rehab counselor.  They had minor injuries.  The Latin Street Academy was a facility run by the Urban League of Greater Miami.   It had been built for students having a difficult time.  Many of the students were students with problems, such as ex convicts.   Robert was shot by one of the students. It may have been the next day or sometime after that, when T. Willard Fair came by our house to provide condolences.  I remember abuela's expression as he came to visit.  He was dressed in extremely colorful garb, something that we would never see in a funeral, but he was paying his respects in the way he knew how.  He was very kind.  

All the funeral arrangements were made.  I can only imagine mom and dad doing this.   I think Lalo helped.   The family tended to call him whenever something like this would happen.  To this day if you go to the cemetery, the tombs are in Lalo’s name, Lazaro Iribe.   Since he was killed on a Friday, it was a two day wake.   It was held at Caballero on 8^th street and 16th ave.   I had been in that funeral home before when Abuelo Arturo had passed.   

I do not remember too much about the wake itself. I remember not knowing how to act or what to do.  I would at times feel guilty because I was not feel as sad as I would have expected.   I remember we did not allow abuela Julia to go. She was in charge of answering the phone at home.  At the time there were no cell phones.  At least that is the excuse we used.  We also did not think it would have been good for her to go. I still think his death affected her profoundly. He died on a Friday.  Preparations would make sure he would not be buried until Monday.  I remember being proud of all my brothers and sisters, as I still am, as I saw them in the halls of the funeral home. How together we were. That day our lives completely changed.  I found myself being very protective of them.

Robert was a wonderful older brother.  I learned so much from him. He taught me how to play chess, play guitar and how to be a good student.  He was in the National Honor Society, Mu Alpha Theta, Key Club, Football, Track and Chess Club.   Many years later after my mom passed, I discovered a box of memories belonging to my mom.  In the box were letters from faculty members from LaSalle High School addressed to mom and dad.  I do not even know where that box is nor do I know if I have the box although for that type of thing, I was usually nominated to keep for the family.  I know I have it, I know not where.  I will definitely look for it. 

During the funeral I just could not go to where the body was.  It affected me.  It just did not look like him like that. 

Halfway through the funeral, two guys from Replica magazine came by.  I did not like this.  One of them basically cleared everyone from around the casket, while the other one took pictures.  I felt as if my mom and dad were tricked.  I became upset about this and between myself and other brothers and cousins, we cleared them out. They published a very large picture of Robert.  I still am very upset about this.  I kind of wish I had been more forceful at the time.  That is one of those times during my life that I felt I should have been more forceful.

Most of my friends went to the funeral.  I appreciated that.  However, I spent most of the time speaking to Robert's friends. We had always spent time together. It helps a lot to have friends at a time like that. They would exchange stories about him.  I guess the wake serves a purpose.  I was not overly sad during the wake.  I was sad, but it was bearable. In a way we were celebrating his life.  My whole family was there except for my little brother and sister. They may have gone but only for a short time. A few months after that, my sister developed Diabetes.  I always blame that on the emotional toll she went through at this time. She is okay.  

We went home very late that evening.  I felt a sense of guilt about doing that but mom convinced us to leave.  At least that is the excuse I used.  The death had occurred on a Friday.  I do not remember exactly when the wake began but I believe it was either Saturday night or early Sunday morning. I am not sure. 

On Monday morning, it was the day of the burial. I was really apprehensive.  I felt really sensitive towards everything.  I noticed that all my cousins were wearing sunglasses.  I did not realize why.  I was not; did not own a pair. I was making nervous small talk with my brothers and sisters.  I was actuall very nervous.  We were mostly really quiet.  I have no idea what we were talking about.  Then we went to the graveside ceremony.  I was okay.  Until.... they began lowering the coffin.... I lost it. I realized then why everyone had sunglasses on.   I wished I had sunglasses.  I remember Teresa seeing me and making a dash towards me and just hugging me. She just hugged me. She may not even remember this.   It was the best hug, ever.  I appreciated  her very much. 

After that I went home. I do not remember much else except that my friends would all call to see how I was.  I was sleeping.  They had all gone to school.  Frankly, I just did not want to talk to anyone.  I was always very nice to them but I just did not want to talk.  I have great friends.

I am surprised how much I remember from that day. I write this so I will not forget him. 

I think it is important to write this. It still affects me. I do not want to forget him. 

I miss you Robert.   

 

Ring Day Ceremony

 

The ring day ceremony, I always remember that day. A rite of passage. On this day we became the  senior class.

In preparation for the ceremony, Sister Elizabeth was showing us how to sing the song “The Long and Winding Road” by Lennon and McCartney which had been released four years before. In order to demonstrate, how it should be sung, one of the rising Juniors sang a beautiful version of it. The class liked it so much that by acclamation, they voted to have her sing it during the actual ceremony. 

After the celebration of mass and the ceremony where each member of the class received their ring, we were all supposed to go back to our classes and continue to the school day. No one wanted to do that. 

Some students produced the idea of going to breakfast to celebrate. The idea gained momentum and all of us wanted to ask Father for permission. Finally, one of the ladies, I have forgotten which one, finally asked Father if the class could go to breakfast and then return to school. Father asked one question and it was: Suppose I let you go to breakfast? How do I know you will return? To myself I was thinking Forget it. It is not going to happen. All of a sudden and much to my surprise,  Father Lechiara yells Moose! Now Father had a distinct was of yelling Moose that was as impressive as the way Coach Grosso would do it; not scary but pretty close. Father said something like Moose, the problem is that I do not know if I can trust these students.  Will they return?  Will they return after having breakfast.  He kind of asked  us and of course everyone said, of course we will. Father went on and said.  I don’t know if I can trust these guys and said to me:  Moose, I can trust you.  Will they return? I said  yes.

I was totally surprised.   Can you guarantee that all these students will be back after Breakfast?  Will you give me your word that each and every one of the students would return after breakfast? Again I said yes. 

I always regard myself as an understated individual.  Why would father ask me of all people? I was kind of pleased and proud he actually asked me.  I was taking a Religion class with him, maybe that is why. He knew my name.  I ended up getting a ride from Victor and we went to the Airport Marriott.  And, we had breakfast.  All the time I kept was worried that half of us would not return.  What will father think then?

We arrived back at ILS and we had time to kill until the next class in the schedule.  Tom Maroon decided to drive some golf balls off the sea wall behind the Ermita.  He said he had some new golf clubs.  I had never used a golf club, ever.  I may have used a putter at the “golfito” or the putt-putt.  I figured how difficult can this be?  So, I watched Tom, and I think Joe Yesbeck drive some golf balls into Biscayne Bay.   I said: Can I try that?  I placed the golf ball.  I think it was just on the cement but I do not remember.  I doubt we had tees available.  I just do not remember.  I remember I yelled Fore!  Golfers do that I heard.  I looked for the ball in the sky.  And heard a strange sound as the sound a quiet helicopter would make as it was taking off.   I looked up and said to myself, Wow, Brother Ramon was right.  The club would spin around its center of gravity.  I then saw the golf club, a #3 wood spinning around its center of gravity and falling into the bay.  I was shocked. I did not realize the center of gravity for the club was so close to the portion which is used to hit the ball.  I also did not know what to say.  To make matters worse a number 3 wood is not that common.  I kept saying what will Tom say?  I felt really bad. Tom said not to worry.  They will get it later.  It may have gone into the little island which could be reached at low tide.  Both Joe and Tom told me the following Monday they were able to retrieve it.  I am not sure if they were just trying to make me feel better. 

I remember the kiss.

 

On May 20, 2022, at 5:41 PM, Ramon Lopez del la Vega <lopezdel@fiu.edu> wrote:

I have been on vacation for the last two weeks.  During vacations I purposely do not answer emails; I need to get away.  It was during that time that everyone began writing back and forth about different topics.   I would read the email,  it would remind me of something and I really wanted to comment but then I had other responsibilities like relaxing and not thinking of anything else.  

Your stories are incredible. Pat, every time I would read one of yours I would be on the edge of my seat.   What happened now?  I really love everyone’s contribution to our emails.  They are a great resource for all of us to trigger beautiful memories. 

I did notice that the baseball and track athletes seem to have a better recollection of many instances than football players.  I have one football story.

It was the first game of the season.  We were playing at Milander Park (Hialeah Stadium), it was a night game.  I do not really remember the team we were playing against.  I do remember I felt good about it.  We probably won.  

On the first play the opposing team ran an option play.  I was very happy that I tackled the running back or the quarterback.   The announcer said “López on the tackle”.   

That was a really big deal to me.

Those of you who played the “skill” positions get your name announced by the announcer often. Linemen hardly get their name called.  That was the first time my name was announced, ever.   I was even happier since my family, including my dad, was in the stands.  My dad had never seen me play.  That is what happens when you have a huge family and your dad has to work so much.  All of us want to impress our dad. Even though my dad has passed, I still do. I was really happy.  

On the next play the opposing team ran up the middle; Cesar’s position.  The announcer said “Pumariega on the tackle”.  

 All through the game very often I would hear either López on the tackle or Pumariega on the tackle.  I was having a great time.  But then I realized I was getting called a little too often.  Several plays later the announcer said “López on the tackle.”  The problem was that it was on the opposite side.  I was nowhere close to the play.   A bit later I was on the sideline when the announcer again said: “López on the tackle”  I just laughed to myself.  Lets face it my dad must really have been impressed.  

I asked someone: who was the announcer?  They told me it was George Armada.  I knew he was one of us. He pronounced Pumariega perfectly.

George and I go way back.  George’s brother Al was my brother Roberto’s roommate in Gainesville.   I just thought: George was just being nice to Cesar and me.  

After the game I changed clothes and went toward Rocky’s car since he was going to take me home.  I see Jorge who had parked behind the Science building.  I actually thanked him.  He said Pero Moose, es que no me dieron el roster.  Yo no sabia quien era quien.  Y cuando tu estabas cerca I would call out your name.  (sorry for the Spanglish; Moose they did not give me a roster for the team.  Whenever I saw you close to the play, I would call your name).  It turned out very well, my family was very impressed.  Thank you, Jorge.  

Rocky and I kept walking to his car.  On the way I spoke to one of the beautiful ILS ladies. 

She said she was proud of me.  She said I must have played very well.  She heard my name a lot. Then she hugged and kissed me.  

Thank you, Jorge!!!

What our minds choose to remember years after any occurrence or happening, has always intrigued me.  Some may not remember any of this story or that game. 

I remember a lot but specifically remember only several things.   I remember being happy when I made the first tackle and Jorge called out my name.  The actual making of the tackle I do not.   I also remember arriving late at the next tackle on the next play and watching Cesar make the tackle.  The rest of the times my name was mentioned I just remember noticing it and laughing internally.  

What I actually specifically remember this many years later was .....the hug ....and the kiss.

I  remember the kiss.

Fight on my friends  

 

Moose.

Time on a logarithmic scale

 That is a good video, Elvis. 

I have heard that time is perceived in a logarithmic scale.  The younger we are, the longer time takes.  The older we are it seems everything goes by really fast.  Sad thing is that the older we are, the less details we remember from our time as children. 

I remember in seventh grade, Ms McElligot, our teacher, spoke about keeping a diary.  A diary of just little things we like to write because later on we will get to know ourselves better as we grow older.  She may also have been the person who introduced me to time in a logarithmic scale.  I have never been good at keeping diaries and frankly the only reason I remember is because I liked Ms McElligot (later Ms Murray) very much.  And, I thought she was very nice looking.  She would wear short skirts and all the time the guys would sometimes drop their pencil, just to have to pick it up as she passed by.  I only realized much later why they would drop their pencil.  

She would give us an assignment where she would make us answer one question on one page.  The question could be a very general question or something more specific.  I frankly do not even remember the questions.  I do know I liked the assignment.  In part because it made me think.  And, I had to think in English.  I would love to have the stuff I wrote from that time, just to get to know myself better. Right now, I barely remembered who it was that gave us those assignments.  Only after thinking about it for a while, I remembered it was her.  After thinking a little while longer I remembered more specifics about her.  Funny, I do not remember the assignments in detail.  

I remember once, I was going in to school.  I was walking around classroom 6-1 at Sts. Peter and Paul and ran into her as we both came in. And she asked me something about what I had written in my assignment.  I did not even know where she was getting her information from. What she said was very kind.  She said she wanted me to write more because she could tell that I enjoyed it.  She also asked me to write not using cursive but to print.  She could understand it better.  Funny, the whole class had to write in cursive.  I had a special dispensation of some type.  I could use block letters.  

She was right, I did enjoy writing those.  I kind of wish I would have kept them. 

I now appreciate whoever said that time actually goes by on a logarithmic scale.  Thinking back to my first seven years of conscious life, I do remember things taking a lot longer than they seem to now.  Thinking back on the most recent seven years, it seems that time is going by too fast.  

Be well everyone,  

Fight on LaSalle. 

Moose