Day # 38 - Independence Day

In 1968, my parents took my sister, who was an infant at the time and left Cuba, bound for the last, best hope for freedom in the world. They landed in Miami, were processed at Freedom Tower and spent some time there before moving to Brooklyn, New York, where they had family who had already arrived. My parents worked factory jobs to try to make ends meet. They didn't go to the government for help. They'd already seen what comes from expecting or asking too much of the government.

Three years passed and I was born. Now there were two little mouths to feed. My parents had nothing. They fed my sister the little there was and divided what was left. Still, they worked. They never asked for a handout. They were thankful for the opportunity. When I was old enough for solid food, my sister and I would eat what there was and my parents would eat what was left. There was scarcity, sure, but no one starved.

The winters proved to be too much for people born and raised on a tropical island. Also, I was kidnapped as a baby (more on that another time - it's a great story.) So by the time I was three, we were living in Miami - Little Havana to be exact. It was there that my first memories were formed.

One of my earliest memories is walking with my dad on a sidewalk that ran along a wall. Not a building, a wall. I remember walking a while and seeing a man laying in a doorway. My father was carrying a loaf of Cuban bread. I can still see the man's long, dirty fingers, capped with even dirtier nails. I can see his toothless mouth, the white whiskers, the lines on his face that told the story of a wasted life. I can remember my father tearing a piece of our bread and handing it to the man. I'm sure the man said something, but I still couldn't speak English so I don't know what it was. I assume it was, "thank you."

That was the day I learned humanity. I just realized this right now as I am writing these words. This was about thirty-five years ago so I assume that man has passed away. Maybe his life wasn't wasted after all. He instilled a value in a little boy. He didn't do it because he was my teacher. It was because he was hungry. Now I know why the image of his face and his hand and the breaking of the bread have never left me. That was God speaking to me.

It's now 2010 and my God things are different. My parents continued to work hard, two and three jobs, to move up. But they did move up. They bought a house by the time I was five years old. I still remember that house. It's on 31st Street in Hialeah. They raised two pretty good kids who have never wanted for anything. They have six grand kids. All without welfare, all without government assistance.

This is where I got my ambition.

Don't misunderstand me. I know there are legitimate cases out there. I know there are disabled individuals, children with special needs, the mentally ill. I also know we'd be pretty lousy as human beings if we didn't help the truly needy.

We fail when we miscategorize race, gender, marital status, immigration status, and socioeconomic background as disabilities. When we make excuses for failure, we invite it. When we see the color of a person, or their gender, and decide they need special treatment, it is just as racist as those who wish to harm those same people for the same reason.

My whole life I encountered racism. I have been called a spic. I heard the cracks about my family floating over on a raft. People have asked my if I was a drug dealer like the rest of the Cubans. I laugh and tell them "Scarface" was based on my uncle Tony. I couldn't care less.

But those remarks are less offensive than times when people have assumed I need special consideration because of my race. I am more offended by people who call me a Latino. I am more offended by the Census. If we are all equal, what difference should my race and ethnicity make? I am an American. I am not Cuban-American. Not Hispanic-American. American. Made in the USA. I couldn't be prouder. And unlike the First Lady, I have always been proud of my country, even when ignorant fools were calling me a spic. I wish to thank them for motivating me.

America has lost her promise. When we became a country that stopped emulating successful people and began demonizing them. When achievement became a dirty word. When we try to convince kids that it's not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game. When we assume that women and minority are at a disadvantage. When we use quotas in hiring or university admissions. When we allow political correctness to affect national security and public safety. When we try to take God out of everything we do... America has lost her promise. We have failed.

I once had a college professor try to convince me that it is better to receive welfare than work minimum wage. I told him I disagreed because my pride wouldn't allow it. If you depend on yourself, you always know where you stand. If you depend on the government, you will never stand, only fall.

This is the mentality that is destroying America - and her people.

Immigrants used to arrive here looking only for an opportunity. And that was all they got. Most of them did something with it. Some did something great. Some, like my parents, reached a smaller level of success, but it was still more than they could have achieved back in Cuba. They became citizens. They paid their taxes. You know what they got in return? Nothing. And they were fine with that. They didn't expect anything.

Now, immigrants arrive with their hands out. They are put in government housing, given health care, food stamps, money. Anything they want. What have they done to deserve being treated better that American veterans? Nothing.

Today, when you drink your beer, and grill your burgers, take a moment to think of the country you grew up in. Think of what America was and what it has become. The next time you want to say it's unfair that so few have so much while so many have so little, stop and think. Why is it this way? Is it that the system is unfair or is it that some are willing to work harder? Is it that some look for a way to make it in America, while others look for excuses why they can't? Is it that some listen to nothing but their instincts while others listen to politicians who constantly tell them they will never make it?

I for one, am going to do my damnedest to keep America's promise. I will never allow my last name, or my background to hold me back. I am declaring my own independence from the negative influences and the politicians who want me to be a loser because of my ethnicity. Guess what? I am an American. I am proud of it. I am proud to live in the greatest country in the history of humankind. If you don't feel the same, please let me know. I will buy you a one-way ticket to anywhere else in the world, provided you never come back. If you do, you'll have my uncle Tony Montana and the rest of my drug-dealing relatives to answer to. And you'll have to answer in Spanish.

No lessons today. No declarations today. Forgive me if I went on a tangent.

Make it your best Independence Day ever. God Bless You. God Bless America.

Adolfo