Stills: "Moments in Time"

By Lazaro Agustin Alvarez

Stills are moments in time or memory recollections of the author. The moments described span a period from the pre-teen years to the age of sixty. *

From a child growing up in an inter-racial family in the island of Cuba during the decade of the fifties, to the sudden arrival and oppression of Communism.

Followed by a migration to the United States in 1962 as an unaccompanied minor, a historical chapter that later would be known as the Pedro Pan Children.

Soon after the father bid farewell to the son, the regime of Fidel Castro sentenced him to a 20-year prison term to serve at the Isla de Pinos concentration camp.

In 1980, the Mariel boatlift, a controversial event that brought Cubans to American shores, provided the venue for the long awaited reunion in the free world.

This achievement provided the turning point for the author to focus on his person and finally confront his inner most secret - "homosexuality". However, many hurdles lied ahead of this decision. Then the journey continued

* This book is intended for an adult audience. For privacy protection, names have been changed where required.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Feb 5, 2009
• ISBN: 9781438932682

Lazaro Agustin Alvarez

Lazaro Agustin Alvarez was born on August 28, 1947 in the island of Cuba, now a US citizen residing in Miami, Florida, USA. He is a freelance writer and the author of Stills: Moments in Time - AuthorHouse Publisher. The autobiography book idea began over ten years ago with the objective of providing his two daughters a true depiction of who their father is in this world. His inner feelings since an early age were always a well-kept secret. The marriage ended in divorce, where separation from the children during their early years generated many personal conflicts in his new phase in life. Stills became a serious undertaking, where reliving negative as well as positive moments became challenges to document. Both daughters received copies of the books private version during August of 2008, where at that moment, the author considered the project objectives fulfilled. During the assembly phase of the private book version, selective family members and friends of the author performing the revisions, suggested him to publish the book to the public. They felt that sections of the information contained in its chapters have historical value, and the personal events could provide insight to someone facing similar life situations. This gave the author the needed boost to pursue the new goal.

Book preview

© 2009 Lazaro Agustin Alvarez. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

First published by AuthorHouse 2/2/2009

ISBN: 978-1-4389-3268-2 (ebk)

ISBN: 978-1-4389-3267-5 (sc)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2009900895

Printed in the United States of America

Bloomington, Indiana

Dedication

I dedicate this book to the family; my interpretation of family is all those persons related by blood, or anyone who crossed your path on this earth. I would like to dedicate it specially, to my daughters Juliet and Daisy, in the hope that someday they can understand their father’s thoughts, heart, and purpose in life.

Lazaro Agustin Alvarez

Thanks

To God…

…for every moment,

…for every problem,

…for every joy,

…for the family,

…for every person that has touched my life,

…and for Lazaro.

Epigraph

The mind is a product of time, memory is the archive of the mind and thoughts; files archived by the mind. As things are, we see that the mind can only store all things that can be extracted from time…

Juan Manuel Cardona Frontana

(Excerpt from the book La Fisica Mental al Alcance de Todos, translated from its original Spanish version – Mexico, 1995)

Time is golden, but…

…memories are priceless!

The author

Contents

Dedication

Thanks

Epigraph

Introduction

Cuba

In Living Color

…To Grandma’s House We Go!

Spirits

Innocent Bystander

Three Strikes You Are Out

The Womb

Tools Of The Trade

Pruning The Family Tree

One Lump Or Two?

Park Place & Boardwalk

Alma Mater

The Apple

Apocalypse

Leaving The Nest

Water World

One Last Look

Miami, Florida USA

Everything’s Pretty In America

The Day The Music Died

Shake, Rattle And Roll

Tulsa, Oklahoma USA

The Beverly Hillbillies

A Bowler’s Split

West New York,

New Jersey USA

A Good Place To Live And Shop

…And God Created Woman

What The Lord Gives…

9 – 2 – 5

Politically Correct?

Cuba

Coming Home

(The Arrival)

Coming Home

(The City)

Coming Home

(The Farm)

Coming Home

(Freedom)

Have Boat Will Travel – Part One

Have Boat Will Travel – Part Two

West New York,

New Jersey USA

Give Me Your Tired, Your Poor…

Earned One Stripe At A Time

(Red = Life)

Second Stripe

(Orange = Healing)

Third Stripe

(Yellow = Sun)

Fourth Stripe

(Green = Nature) – Part One

Fourth Stripe

(Green = Nature) – Part Two

Fifth Stripe

(Blue = Art)

Sixth Stripe

(Purple = Harmony & Spirit)

San Francisco, California USA

The Milky Way

I Will Survive

White Picket Fences

Where In The World Is…?

Caracas, Venezuela

Welcome To… Venezuela!

Santa Fe De Bogota, Colombia

Welcome To… Colombia!

Mexico City, Mexico

Welcome To… Mexico!

Dallas, Texas USA

Welcome To… Texas!

Miami, Florida USA

This Too Shall Pass

See You In Heaven

Rude Awakening

match.com

Final Chapter

Conclusion

Introduction

This book was started several years earlier of its publishing date; each year it was left on hold for either lack of interest, turmoil (They will be mentioned in it!), or just plain lack of time due to job assignments.

After realizing that my 60th birthday was just around the corner, I decided to complete it finally. Throughout life, I have thought of living to the ripe young age of 100. Therefore, the milestone of the half way mark and the amount of details during that period gave sufficient ammunition to write it. If the other half of my life changes as frequently as the first and with as many details, look for volume two in your bookstores just before the departure to the other world.

By no means, I am considered a writer; the sections contained herein were real life moments or what I call Stills that molded me to the person I am today. Often the realization that my children never knew their father’s past was urgency enough to publish the book. They are not to blame; life took many turns and never gave us the opportunity of talking face to face to discuss what was ticking inside each of us.

During some periods in life, I felt shame and did not want to live; these moments were created by the impacts made by the society and cultures of the times. The fear of failure or not fitting in correctly created most of the situations described in this book. Later, while living in San Francisco, California, I found that anyone could enjoy an average and free life no matter who or what you are.

Many people like me in the past did not live a free life, although to the outside world they represented something else, a facade! During my era, at least I was able to enjoy partial freedom. However, think the enjoyment those born in the future would have when they will live their lives to its fullest from their first breath, perhaps giving us the credit of naming us groundbreakers for their acceptance in the new society.

The definition of a Still derives from photography; it means a shot or photo made of an immovable object…a moment in time. To others it may seem more like an old movie, but in my mind, these moments are just standing still waiting for the right time to surface again.

Each Still appears with the details provided by the thought process as it originated. More detail is available, but the main element of the moment was the recording factor that I was after.

Everyone may experience the above just the same, but to me each moment comes full with the sights, sounds, and feel of the time, no matter how long ago it happened.

Please enjoy the book and always remember that each moment in your life is precious (Positive or negative). I believe that the Almighty charts life and we cannot change its path. When you look back at moments past, you will realize that it was all one giant puzzle where the pieces or Stills relate to each other.

Lazaro Agustin Alvarez

August, 2008

Cuba

In Living Color

Cuba’s population comes from a mixed background of Spanish, African, Chinese, and any other country folk who called this beautiful island their home.

My father Roy was a white man. His adoptive family members on the other hand were all blacks. My mother Ingrid is also a white woman. Her father moved to Cuba from Galicia (Spain), and her mother was of Cuban descent. The reason my father was adopted and why others moved to Cuba when they did has always been a mystery. When the questions were raised during my life in Cuba, the answers were not provided. The older family members that remain in the US do not know this information or are taking the secret to their graves.

Cuba had many eccentric people that were unique in many ways. These individuals were later immortalized in songs that today are still being played in many Cuban homes here in the US or abroad.

There was a bearded man dressed in a beret and a cape that carried an artist’s palette. He walked around Havana and the rest of the island from time to time loudly expressing poetic statements. He was named The gentleman from Paris.

We also had a black skater, who went around the island every year from town to town, singing and skating up a storm. He was always smiling and carrying a tune in his head, pre iPod era!

The street vendors were also a barrel of fun, one that was unique to the town was the mulato man (A cross between a black and a white person), who was always dressed impeccably with a Cuban guayabera. This is a specially made cotton shirt that was the dress code of the island, sort of, what a flowered shirt is to the Hawaiian Islands. This person sold delicious tiny cookies that are similar to the American shortbread version but made with pure butter and natural ingredients. He carried them in his own display case, big enough to place on one of his shoulders while singing and tap dancing whenever a potential customer was spotted. If those moments could have been saved on tape to play back now, it would have been precious!

The Pirulelo or candy man was an older white man that carried his homemade cone shaped candies on a stick made in various sizes, from two inches to the colossal rainbow colored twelve-inch types. These were attached to a circular cardboard pole that was carried at a height of six feet while the bottom of the pole rested on a specially made contraption attached to his belt.

The Manicero man sold long paper cones filled with salted roasted peanuts and another type made with sweet caramel. These were stored in a carrying case that was built ingeniously out of a two-foot tall square covered can that was used in Cuba to sell oil or lard products. He prepared this can by adding a wire grill to its interior three inches from the bottom, and cutting away an opening to the outside. The bottom section would be filled with charcoal, where once lit, would keep the peanuts always hot and with a strong aroma that enticed everyone to buy after leaving the movie houses or bumping into him around town.

There were many other eccentric or unique people, such as the fritas vendor. He was an oriental man who sold delicious tiny hamburgers by the harbor’s main avenue. Today, I can still remember my father driving on breezy and starry late nights to this vendor’s streetcar and buying his goods by the bag-full. What a treat that was! Many people have tried to recreate this flavor here in the US, with no success.

Carnavales is Cuba’s version of Mardi Gras. Like New Orleans and Brazil, it is celebrated the days before the religious holidays of Lent. There is no way for me to express in writing the feeling of Carnavales in my town.

The preparation for this event goes on year round and it lasts approximately two weekends with the entire town in a constant party atmosphere.

One key event is the opening ceremony named The sardine’s funeral. It is a way for saying good-bye to the prior year and ring in the new, similar to our American New Year’s tradition. The city of Cienfuegos is the shrimp capital of Cuba and has a very important maritime industry, probably the reason why a sea creature was chosen for this event.

The sardine was placed inside a real coffin and paraded from the main plaza to the harbor. The procession moved through the city streets attracting people along the way. The dress color code for the event was black and conversation was kept to a minimum; all you could hear was the sound of marching feet. Women were crying and men sniffling (All faking). The deceased was carried on pallbearer’s shoulders. Once the crowd arrived at the edge of the harbor, words were said to the departed and the coffin was opened. The body was then thrown into the warm waters, must likely eaten before it hit bottom.

At that moment, all hell broke loose; lights went up all over town, church bells rang and the festivities started full blast.

The event was carefully staged through the city streets with floats, Comparsas which are neighborhood dance groups that try to upstage each other for a final prize of being named the best of the year, plus the fame and recognition that comes along with the title. Brazil does the same but on a very grand scale.

My grandparent’s home is located only seventy-five feet from one of the parade route’s main intersections. On Fridays, during parade season, my cousin Beth would move ten or twelve chairs and rocking chairs to the street corner to secure the perfect spot in anticipation of the parade. Later in the evening, we would all participate in the festivities. Usually we threw streamers at the floats with dancing women and men that were advertising a popular brand of household products, usually beer or liquor, in the parade. The rhythm of the music was hot and inviting. The streets and people were littered with confetti and colored streamers in celebration.

The whites would put on black cloth facemasks and imitate being black women with aprons dancing in the streets and making fun at the people by the sidelines. The sounds of laughter and camaraderie were all around. The music beat was loud and when the sound was close, you saw everyone join in from the sidewalks into the streets. Young and old alike, the skin color was all the same, perfume and sweat blending; bodies undulating to the African beat and the alcohol flowing. This may seem weird, but I had this vision of the sound being a fine golden thread that made its way through everyone’s ears keeping them close together, as if someone up in the sky was manipulating a bunch of marionettes, making them jump at will. Now, I do remember seeing someone selling these during the parade. Maybe that is what gave me the idea in the first place.

It was difficult to spot the segregation of the people by looking at their style of living or the day-to-day faces that became part of my immediate world.

The party will soon be over, everyone take their places! Even when the people seemed to get along fine as one race, in real life, this was not really accepted. Coming from an affluent black family background, I learned to know the limitations the dark skin color had to endure. My father, mother, and I were able to go to the beach club for whites only but were also welcomed at the black beach club only a few miles apart. However, on the other hand, the black members of the family attended their beach club named Minerva, but were not allowed in the white sections. There was also a city club across from my grandparent’s home with the same name where the rules were the same.

In Cuba, the minorities were still treated far better than in the US. The separation was accepted and kept private. Due to the fear of government retaliation, there were not many people voicing their opinions on this subject.

Segregation became difficult to handle in my later years. The older I got, the more I wanted to change people’s attitude towards my black family side. No progress was made. The black movement in the United States was not yet known.

When I immigrated to Florida in 1962, I could still see the segregation of the minorities, even after the law was passed prohibiting such practices. Public transportation buses were still displaying the fine painted line dividing whites (Front) from blacks (Back). The drinking fountains were also divided. There were two units placed side by side with a sign indicating which one could be used and by whom. Most places would rather cater first to whites, followed by anyone else (Including Cubans in this group), then blacks.

A daring television show named Julia was breaking the barriers by allowing a black woman (Dianne Carroll) to be its primary star. It was a sitcom, in which Julia played the part of a Donna Reed type, but widowed and with a child.

This show was brought to you In living color, while color television was still in its infancy.

Progress? Yes.

Free, free at last! Yet to come.

 …To Grandma’s House We Go!

My grandparent’s home on the side of my father was a beautiful and huge house built in the center of town. I spent a lot of time at this location in my earlier years while both my parents were at work.

This home was very plush with large spaces. It had five bedrooms with two baths and the ceilings were at least 12 feet high. There was a main living room, followed by another room specifically made for the grand piano, where on many nights; friends and relatives enjoyed our Cuban melodies. This music room was adjacent to a family room type of area used solely for seating in the afternoons on wooden rocking chairs and for watching television. The main patio followed, and then a divisionary wall with another secondary patio that was used by the maid for performing laundry and home cleaning chores. On the opposite side were located the bedrooms and main bath. One of the five bedrooms was turned into a chapel, which included a full size altar and some small pews. Then there was the main dining area that had seating for approximately 12 to 16 people, followed by the kitchen area. A main hallway that ran from the front door to the farthest point of the home connected all of the rooms in the home.

Stairs located in the main patio took you to the rooftop, where you can see the neighboring Masonic building complex, which was usually very dark and quiet, I always wondered as to what went on in this place since kids were never allowed. The house roof was used mainly for hanging laundry to dry, but could also be used for seating in the sun.

The home was located on Calle Arguelles between Prado and Gacel (Street names). In that particular block, you would find on the corner of Prado, a famous coffee shop that was named El Palais. Right next-door was the car repair business of Bienvenido, a friend of the family. In this shop worked Bacallao, who later in life became another famous Cuban singer and dancer of the Aragon music orchestra. Bacallao used to carry me around as a baby when my mother passed by their front doors.

Minerva, the black social club, was also located within the same block, and right after that was an apartment building, where a school friend named Oscar was living with his grandmother. There were not many friends from school living in that part of town, so Oscar and I spent a lot of time together when in that vicinity.

Crossing the street on the corner of Gacel, you would find a Chevrolet car sales showroom. As well as other smaller houses, a Chinese fruit & vegetable store, then prior to arriving at the corner of Prado, a Soda Shop was located. I frequented this last one daily to buy my favorite Bazooka chewing gum and drink their handmade Cola drinks. This was truly delicious stuff!

One day I was running home and jumped to one of the long steps that were in front of the Masonic building and continued going through. Stupidly, I had my two