Why the Right to Vote is A Very Big Deal to Me

I was born in Havana, Cuba. My family came to America in early the 60's to escape the communist takeover of our beloved island home.

We were called “refugees.” For our first five years in this country, we were Cuban Refugees. Sometimes we were called “Exiles.” There was never any shame attached to this. We would have stayed in Cuba if the Castros had not come to power. America opened its generous and hospitable arms to us. We were happy to be here and felt welcomed.

By the time I was 12 years old, we were able to apply to become “Permanent Residents.” In case you don't know how this process works, this is when we were issued “Green Cards.”

I carried my Green Card with me at all times as was required by law. It was quite a challenge for a tween and then teenager to be responsible enough to do this, but I was more afraid of The Wrath of Papi (who was a serious stickler for this sort of thing - duh!) than of breaking one of the laws of the land, but that's not important right now.

In 1971, 18 year olds were given the right to vote, and it was a big deal at the time, but I would not be turning 18 until 1973. Just after my 18th birthday, I began the application process to become a Naturalized American Citizen.

The process involved:

• The Application
• The Naturalization Test
• Speaking and Writing English
• The Test (American History and Government)
• Learning the Rights and Responsibilities of American Citizenship

It took months (!) for the INS to acknowledge just the receipt of my application. (Things may be different now. This was back in the mid-70's.) I had to get myself down to the local police department and get fingerprinted. And wait. And go to the INS offices in Downtown LA to sign papers on multiple occasions which made me hate bureaucracies which made me a firm believer in small government. I finally got a date in early 1974 to take my Citizenship Test. And then I had to study. A lot.

It was an intense Civics course and I was serious about this. I remember reviewing some questions with my friends who had NO IDEA what the answers were to these questions. (If you're curious as to how you would do, try this test for yourself: Naturalization Test.

I was already in love with America, but it was at that time that it started to dawn on me what a truly exceptional country this is. My mom would take ESL* classes for over a year so she could pass her test. (*English as a Second Language.) My dad and I had many review conversations that involved the branches of government, the separation of powers, the wording of the Constitution, the genius that was this great experiment in freedom and democracy.

In my family, becoming an American Citizen was an important and serious business and we treated it as such.

I finally went to my Naturalization hearing on April 17, 1974, where I received a certificate that named me, Marta Maria Verdés, a Citizen of the United States of America. The Daughters of the American Revolution had a red, white and blue cake for us and gave us each an American flag. I remember feeling so proud and sighing a great, big, emotional sigh of relief. I vowed never to take my American citizenship lightly or for granted.

I voted in my first presidential election in 1976. (The Bicentennial!) and in every election since that time. I am a registered Republican and I am very conservative in my beliefs. (If you've been reading my blog for any length of time this shouldn't come as any big revelation.)

Voting is a sacred trust and it should be treated as such. I'm a super sappy American patriot. I love this country and the amazing system of government where the government derives its powers by the consent of the governed. I cry every time I hear the Star-Spangled Banner.

I choke up when I read this part of the Declaration of Independence: We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed... *sniff, sniff*

Having come from a place where there was genuine government corruption and having watched as socialism went on to destroy my homeland and so many lives, as socialism has always historically done, I believe in the beauty of our system of democracy, even with all of its flawed human representatives.

Having said all that, Happy November 6th!

Also, God Bless America. And, go Dodgers!

9/11 - Remembering

Eleven years ago today, the 11th of September, I remember awakening to the news that a plane had hit one of the World Trade Center Towers. So odd and random. It was before 6 am here in Southern California and had to take my son, Adam to school. By the time I returned home, a second plane had crashed into the second tower and the real horror of what was happening on the East Coast was just starting to unfold.

Without tv, I was riveted to my computer screen. I'll never forget where I was or how I felt on that day.

I've written about 9/11 and the ensuing weeks here.

My daughter, Amy shares her thoughts and a video from our visit to NYC two weeks after the attacks here.

My dad used to say that what made America great was "De todo un poco." I share a little about coming to America and my recipe for Arroz Imperial in Remembrance.

I remember the day we visited the site of the attacks in May of 2009 and we finally told Jonathan and Lucy what had happened on that day in American history. I'll certainly never forget that moment.

On September 11, 2001, a beautiful young lady named Adele Sessa died in the terrorist attacks. Here is her story.

September 11, 2011, the day brings back images that will forever be burned in our collective American conscience. Ten years have passed.  That story here.

Every year on this date, I revisit the images, the feelings, the helplessness, the pain. No, I will never, ever forget.

God Bless the USA.

La Virgen de La Caridad - A Personal History

September 8, 1961.

My family had been in the U.S. for seven long months. There was still a longing for anything or anyone that reminded us of "home." We eagerly waited for news that the revolution had failed and that the new regime had fallen and that we would soon be heading back to all things familiar.

The Catholic Archdiocese of Miami, which was instrumental in helping 14,000 unaccompanied minors travel to the U.S. to save them from Marxist indoctrination, was to have a mass. (My brother was one of those Pedro Pan kids. You can read about that here.)

September 8, 1961. That same day...

The image of Our Lady of Charity (La Virgen de la Caridad del Cobre) arrived from Cuba. She was first taken to the camps where the newly arrived children were interned waiting to be sent to host families in other parts of the country. Then she was to be exhibited during a mass at St. John Bosco in what is now known as Little Havana. My mother insisted we go. I think it was equal parts religious devotion and longing to be among other exiles.

The Verdés sisters minus one. Circa late 1961. I'm the little one with the curly hair.

Off we went to the participate in the mass, to see the newly-arrived-from-Cuba image of Our Lady, and to connect with other Cuban refugees. 

Picture my mother with her three youngest daughters (there are 5 of us girls) in tow. Into the throng we went. And there she spotted an Old Cuban Friend. The exchange went something like this:

Old Cuban Friend: "You! Here? What joy this brings me!"

Luza (my mom): "I can't believe it!"

They proceed to hug and cry and cling to each other like drowning children to a life preserver.

Breaking away and between the sobs, they begin to ask about the rest of the family. My mom introduces us as her three youngest. "You have THREE young girls?" The woman starts looking a bit suspicious.

Old Cuban Friend (or was she?): "Wait! What about young Arturito? And what about Zeida from down the street?"

It was at this point that both of them simultaneously realized that they did not know each other after all. But, of course, in Classic Luza Style, she said nothing. It was a case of completely mistaken identity.

She quickly grabbed us and we went into the mass.

"Mami, who was that?"

"I have no idea."

I think the emotions were genuine. We were here and we were free and there was some comfort in the familiar. The tears of grief and joy were heartfelt, even if they were grossly misplaced. And, to be honest, I've experienced that Cuban familiarity many times. My dad used to say that all of us Cubans have a map of the island on our forehead that only other Cubans can see, but that's not important right now. (Cuban Superpowers Activate!)

This happened 50 years ago and I can vividly remember the moment. I had never seen my mom cry so hard. It made such an impact on me.

September 8th is the 400th anniversary of the original finding of the statue in the rough Cuban waters in the Bay of Nipe (pronounced NEE-PEY). Here's that story.

The Archdiocese of Miami is celebrating with a mass and concert. And because the Cuban community has grown in the half century since the arrival of Our Lady, it will be held in a much, much bigger venue.

Here are the details:

Saturday September 8th 2012

American Airlines Arena, 601 Biscayne Boulevard, Miami, Florida 33132

• 4:00 PM - Doors of the AAA open to the public
  Statue of Our Lady of Charity departs by sea from the Shrine of O. L. of Charity
• 4:30 PM - Holy Rosary at the AAA
• 5:00 PM - Arrival of the statue at the AAA
• 6:00 PM - Holy Mass, presided by Archbishop Thomas Wenski
• 8:14 PM - Concert with the participation of well-known singers and musicians

*Admission is free, and there will be concession stands open throughout the event.

If you're in Miami, you should go. Maybe you'll see someone you know. Or think you know. Even if you don't know them, if they're Cuban and you're Cuban, you should hug and kiss them anyway.

It's what we do, isn't it?

Wassup En LA? A Kickstarter Project

Do you love sitcoms? Do you miss real-old-school-laugh-out-loud-funny sitcoms? Are you as tired as I am about what passes for comedy on tv sometimes?

Say hello to my little friends...

There's a group of very talented Cubans who are producing a fabulous bilingual comedy called "Wassup en LA?" And I've been following their progress for months now on Facebook. (You should too, but that's not important right now.)

They describe their effort as a family-themed comedy sitcom that follows in the footsteps of classics such as I Love Lucy, The Cosbys, Chico and the Man, and Que Pasa, USA?

Here's where you come in. Have you heard of Kickstarter? It's a way you can get involved and become a part tv history by helping to get this remarkable show on the tube. I'm proud to say we kicked in to help get this project made.You should, too.

I'm asking today for your support in this effort. They have until September 8th to reach their goal and every little bit helps. We can do this. You can kick in $5, $12, $25 or more. I encourage you to become a backer. Click on the Wassup En LA? Kickstarter Link and show them some big, fat, Cuban family love.

I fell in love with these guys the first time I saw them and I want to see this show get the recognition it deserves. It reminds me so much of the first time I saw ¿Que Pasa, USA? and my mind was blown.

I'd love for us to become a part of TV history here. Kick in a few bucks and tell them Marta sent you, and share it with everyone you know. Let's make this happen.

Or as my friend, Pitbull would say, "Dale!"

You will recognize your own Cuban family on the screen. It's awesome. Be sure to spread the word. This is a project that's worthy of our backing and our support. I want to bring back family television. How about you?

Con mucho cariño,

Marta

Mrs. Darby Goes to Washington.

Today is the celebration of my 57th year on this earth. I'm in Washington DC, at the White House.

I'm holding a reminder that it's only "90 Miles to Cuba." I think that IS important right now.

Happy Birthday to me.

The Circle of Life

Some (very simplified, don't judge me) Cuban History for today:

In 1902, a bloody war had been fought between Cuba and Spain for Cuba's independence. The Cuban's won. It was quite a crushing defeat for the Spanish. They never quite recovered from it.

The president of the United States at that time was Theodore Roosevelt who had actually fought with his Rough Riders in Cuba and believed in Cuban independence.

On May 20th, 1902 Cuba was declared free of Spanish rule and winner of the war. (Not sure exactly how this is achieved. I picture a boxing ring and a referree holding up the hand of the winner, but that's probably not how it happened, and for sure it's not important right now.) Cuba was free.

May 20th is still celebrated as Cuban Independence Day.

(I found this somewhere in my archives. It reads:

"In celebration of the Anniversary of the Independence of Cuba

The Ambassador of Cuba

requests the pleasure of our compnay

at a reception

On Thursday, May the twentieth

at ten o'clock p.m.

Rsvp                                     Cuban Embassy"

The U.S. had been involved in this Spanish American war and was now committed to helping the Cubans rebuild. One of the proposed initiatives was to send Cuban teachers to Washington D.C. to the White House to be honored as the best in their country and given support and materials to take back to Cuba. 

Why all the history? I had a conversation with my mother, Luza last week....

Me: "I've been invited to the White House!"

Luza: "Then you'll be the 2nd one in our family."

I scoured my mental rolodex trying to remember who exactly in the family had received an invitation to the White House. As it turned out, she was referring to her own mother, Osmunda Perez-Puelles, one of the teachers chosen by President Roosevelt to be honored there. That was in 1902.

This photo was taken much later, obviously. Circa 1959. That's my grandmother, Osmunda, in the center surrounded by her (grown) children.

Fast forward to this week in My big, fat, Cuban family's history:

I am honored and humbled to announce that I was chosen as one of the Top Latina Blogueras by Latism (*Latinos in Social Media). And I also received an invitation to the White House. (I know. Shut up.)

Here I am surrounded by my supportive (and long-suffering) husband and (grown) children.

As you read this, I will already be on my way to Washington D.C. to represent. Represent what?

My culture, my heritage, my passion for all that is good and holy about family.  This is why I write my stories and invite you into my world. And now I'm getting some cool recognition. From the White House. On the exact 110th anniversary of Cuban Independence. Coincidence? I think not.

It's the circle of life.

Happy 20 de Mayo!

Dear Desi... (A birthday love letter.)

A few years ago, thanks to the magic of the internets and because of a series of happy accidents, I got to meet one of my Cuban childhood crushes.

In fact, you can read about My Adventures with Desi in the Blog Category that has his name, Desi Arnaz Jr. (I know I could change the category name to "My Adventures with Desi." I don't, because I just really like seeing his full name on my blog * sigh*, but that's not important right now.)

It's Mr. Marta's-Childhood-Crush's Happy Birthday today. =D

Dear Desi,

I wish you the happiest of birthdays today! Much love and good wishes!

Besos,

Marta

P.S. I promise to make you some of my famous arroz con pollo and maybe some more pastelitos on my next visit.

Feel free to leave Desi a birthday greeting on this post. I know his wife, my friend Amy will make sure that he sees it. ;-)

I know. I'm a fool. *sigh*

Stop SOPA and PIPA

Imagine no Google. No Wikipedia. No Facebook. No YouTube. No My big, fat, Cuban family.

End piracy, not liberty. Tell Congress: Please don't censor the web.

Teaching Generosity?

As you know if you've been reading this blog for a while, we have homeschooled our kids. I often say that one of the reasons we have chosen to homeschool is that we're not as concerned about their academics as we are concerned about their character.

We have attempted to teach them kindness, thoughtfulness, hospitality, and generosity - high values for us - mostly by modeling them as best as we know how. Because, seriously, has anyone ever learned these kinds of things by being lectured?

During this time of year we love participating in Samaritan's Purse Operation Christmas Child in which we thoughtfully and lovingly fill up a shoe box with gifts for a child on the other side of the world. We pray for our small recipient as we do so. We look forward to this small act of charity every year.

We get to go and shop for little items to put into the shoeboxes. As we're shopping, we think about what would bring a child joy.

"These trucks, Mom. I would have liked them as an 8 year old. Very cool."

"Let's get this little doll with an extra outfit. I think she's very sweet."

"Crayons! Modeling clay! Watercolors! YES!"

Shoeboxes are collected at various churches all over the country and then packed and disbursed to different places to kids around the world. What's very cool about this is that we get to track our shoebox to see where it ends up

From the Samaritan's Purse Website:

National Collection Week: November 14 - 21

Use an empty shoe box (standard size, please) or a small plastic container. You can wrap the box (lid separately), but wrapping is not required. Most importantly, pray for the child who will receive your gift.

Determine whether your gift will be for a boy or a girl, and the child’s age category: 2-4, 5-9, or 10-14. Print out the appropriate boy/girl label by downloading the artwork to the right. Mark the correct age category on the label, and tape the label to the top of your box.

Fill the box with a variety of gifts that will bring delight to a child. 

Please donate $7 or more for each shoe box you prepare to help cover shipping and other project costs. You can give online by using our “Follow Your Box Donation” option, or you can write a check to Samaritan’s Purse (note “OCC” on memo line) and place it in an envelope on top of the gift items inside your box. If you or your family are preparing more than one shoe box, please make one combined donation.

Place a rubber band around each closed shoe box and drop off at the Collection Center nearest you during our collection week, November 14-21.

For locations and hours of collection visit our Drop-Off Locations page where you can find the nearest place to take your shoe box by entering your ZIP Code or you can call 1-800-353-5949.

You can also send your shoe box gift to:
Samaritan’s Purse
Operation Christmas Child
801 Bamboo Road
Boone, NC 28607

*********************************************************

Our kids have all grown up to be very generous people. I say this, not to brag but as a matter of record. Apparently the lessons were picked up somehow. My theory, then is correct. Character values are more "caught than taught."

Do you support any charities? Tell me.

{Disclaimer: Samaritan's Purse is a charity we believe in and support. I have not received any compensation from them to write this post. It's my privilege and pleasure to tell you about them.}

Operation Pedro Pan. It's been 50 years and the pain is still present.

When I mention to someone that I've just met that I'm Cuban, the first thing they do is recall the only other Cuban person they've ever met. Then next thing that happens is that they ask me if I know them. 

Most of the time I don't, but being Cuban, we do manage to find connections in the oddest places. See this story.

Just as often, I meet someone whose only exposure to Cubans was that they remember "a Cuban kid came to live with a local family in the early 60's." 

What they're unknowingly referring to is Operation Pedro Pan. During the early days of the Cuban Revolution that destoyed so many lives, parents desperate to save their children from the communist takeover sent them unaccompanied to the U.S. 

This heartbreaking chapter in our exile story is not very well known outside of Cuban circles. There were 14,048 unaccompanied minors placed on airplanes, some never reuniting with their families. 

My brother was one of the lucky ones. He was 15 and it was the day after Christmas 1960 when he was sent to the U.S. on the very first Pedro Pan flight. He was taken in, along with dozens of Cuban kids by Father (later Monsignor) Bryan O.Walsh until our family was reunited a few months later.

This rememberance card was given to my brother by Msgr. Walsh during his stay at St. Raphael Hall.

This weekend members of Operation Pedro Pan Group will mark the 50th anniversary of the airlift that brought 14,000 unaccompanied minors from Cuba to the U.S. with a Mass of thanksgiving on Sunday, Nov. 20, at 3 p.m. at Immaculata-La Salle High School in Miami. 

The Mass will be celebrated by Archbishop Thomas Wenski and will be followed by the dedication of the original La Salle building in honor of Msgr. Bryan Walsh, the Catholic priest whom the Pedro Pans consider their “foster father.” The building will be renamed the Msgr. Bryan O. Walsh Humanities Pavillion. 

The Mass and rededication ceremony will come at the conclusion of three days of Pedro Pan-related activities, Nov. 18-20. On Friday, Nov. 18, Archbishop Wenski will kick off a day-long conference on “Pedro Pan: A 50-Year Perspective,” with a reflection on the legacy of Msgr. Walsh.

Neither my brother, nor my mom ever talk much about this painful drama in our family life. I, personally, can't imagine the agony of separation from my kids in this way. My guess is that members of this particular group would find it difficult to relate to others unless they, too, experienced the same pain. 

Today, my mom (97) says she mostly remembers the relief and the gratitude. But even after 50 years, the look in her eyes says she feels the pain accutely. 

Are any of you Pedro Pans? Will you share?